Christmas Gift: A Family. Barbara Hannay

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СКАЧАТЬ he stared back. Then he smiled. But it was rather a stiff smile and she sensed instantly that he was searching for something. By the time he entered the shop her curiosity was fully aroused.

      ‘Good afternoon,’ she said warmly. He was close enough now for her to see that his eyes were green rather than blue and fringed by the blackest of lashes. ‘Can I help you?’

      This time his smile was of the slightly crooked variety, the kind that should come with a health warning about dangers to women.

      ‘I’ll just look around for a moment,’ he said, casting a doubtful glance at the bags of sugar and flour and the shelves of tinned food that filled the store.

      As soon as he spoke Jo realised he was English. His voice was deep and rich—refined and mellow—reminding her of actors in Jane Austen movies and men who lived in stately homes surrounded by green acres of parkland and edged by forest.

      ‘Look around as much as you like,’ she said, trying to sound casual, as if divine Englishmen were a regular part of life in Bindi Creek. And then, because he wasn’t a local, she added, ‘Just sing out if I can be of any help.’

      At times like this, when the shop wasn’t busy, she usually amused herself by trying to guess what a customer might buy. What was this guy after? Engine oil? Shaving cream? Condoms?

      From the far side of the shop he called, ‘Do you have any dolls? Perhaps a baby doll?’

      Good grief.

      ‘I want the best possible gift for a little girl.’ It was a command rather than a request. ‘Little girls still play with dolls, don’t they?’

      ‘Some of them do. But I’m sorry, we don’t have any dolls here.’

      He frowned. ‘You must have little tea sets? Or perhaps a music box?’

      In a general store in the middle of the outback? Where did he think he was? A toy shop? ‘Sorry, we don’t have anything like that.’

      ‘Nothing suitable at all?’

      Think, Jo, think… She walked towards him along the aisles, checking the shelves as critically as he had. Food, household items and pet supplies, a few basic hardware products, a tiny collection of paperback novels… ‘I assume you’re looking for a Christmas present?’

      ‘Yes, for a little girl. She’s five years old.’

      It was the same age as her little sister, Tilly. Jo shook her head. ‘I’m afraid you’re not going to have much luck here.’

      She pointed to the old-fashioned glass jars on the counter. ‘We have some fancy sweets and chocolates especially for Christmas.’

      ‘I guess they might do.’ He groaned and ran long fingers through his ruffled hair. Jo caught the glint of gold.

      ‘I’d better get something as a fallback.’ He began to pick up items at random—throw-away pens, Christmas decorations, a wooden ruler and a school notebook.

      Thinking of the beautiful baby doll with a complete change of clothes that she’d bought in Brisbane for Tilly, Jo decided he definitely needed help. But given their limited stock it wasn’t going to be easy.

      How intriguing…What was this man doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

      ‘How far are you travelling?’ she asked.

      ‘To Agate Downs.’

      ‘Oh, I know that property. The Martens’ place. It’s not far. So you’re looking for a present for the little girl they’re caring for, are you?’

      He looked startled. ‘You know her?’ He moved closer, his expression more intense.

      ‘Ivy? This is a small town. Sure, I’ve met her. Do you know what she likes?’

      His throat worked. ‘No, I’ve never met her.’

      ‘She’s a lovely little thing.’ Jo was being totally honest. She’d been quite smitten by the little girl. She had the most exquisite face Jo had ever seen on a child and her prettiness was all the more striking because it contrasted so strongly with the ugly scars on her arm. The poor little mite had been terribly burned in an accident a few years ago. ‘Ivy’s been in here to shop with Ellen Marten a couple of times this week.’

      ‘Really?’

      The eagerness in his voice and his eyes was perplexing. Jo looked at him sharply. Was she getting carried away or was there a resemblance between this man and the child? Ivy’s hair was dark and her eyes were clear green like his.

      What was going on? Could he be Ivy’s father? Jo didn’t like to be too nosy, so she hadn’t asked the Martens about Ivy’s parents, but she’d heard rumours about a tragedy and there’d actually been talk about an estranged father coming to claim her.

      Her customer sighed and gave a little shake of his head. ‘I’d completely forgotten that a little girl at Christmas needs a present.’

      She felt a rush of sympathy. Come on, Jo, do something to help.

      ‘Would you like some of these?’ she asked, lifting the lid on a huge jar of chocolates wrapped in red, silver and gold foil. ‘Ivy’s quite partial to them.’ Just yesterday she’d slipped the little girl a chocolate when Ellen Marten wasn’t looking and she’d been rewarded by a beaming smile.

      ‘I’ll take the lot,’ he said, looking exceptionally pleased. ‘And I’ll have a couple of tins of the shortbread and a bag of those nuts.’

      Jo lifted the metal scoop and said, ‘Perhaps I could gift wrap these things to make them look a little more festive?’

      She was rewarded by another of his dangerous smiles. ‘That would be wonderful.’

      Leaning one hip against the counter, he folded his arms across his chest and watched her as she began to wrap his purchases in red sparkly paper. She felt self-conscious as his green eyes watched her hands at work, cutting and folding paper, reaching for sticky tape and then measuring lengths of shiny silver and gold ribbon.

      If it had been any other customer she would have chattered away, but she was too absorbed by the mystery of his connection with Ivy.

      He didn’t seem in a hurry so she took her time making the gifts as pretty as she could, adding a sprinkle of glitter and a tiny white fluffy snowman on the chocolates.

      ‘Thank you so much, that’s terrific.’ He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, extracted several notes and held them out.

      She noticed the glint of gold again. He was wearing a signet ring, engraved with a crest and worn on his little finger.

      ‘You will charge extra for all the trouble you’ve gone to, won’t you?’ he said.

      ‘Not when it’s Christmas.’ She sent him a quick smile as she handed him his change.

      She expected him to leave then, but he continued to stand there, looking at the bright parcels on the counter with a long distance look in his eyes, as if he were lost in thought.

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