The Magic Of Christmas. Sarah Morgan

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      ‘Nanny TV didn’t like children. She told me that I was more trouble than I was worth.’ Aggie smoothed her coat. ‘Do we have to have another nanny? We’re at school all day. Can’t we just come home with you in the evening?’

      Chloe shook her head. ‘You know we can’t do that. Daddy has to work. He has a very important job. He can’t always leave at the same time every day. And then there are the nights and the holidays and all the things to be done around the house, like picking up the clothes you drop everywhere.’

      Christian let out a long breath. ‘Chloe’s right, sweetheart. And, at the moment, my work is very busy.’ He didn’t even want to think about it. Even taking two hours off to take his daughters to see Father Christmas pricked at his conscience. His colleagues in the emergency department would be stretched to breaking point. But there was no way he was disappointing his children.

       They’d had the year from hell.

      He glanced at his watch again and then at the queue, which just didn’t seem to be moving.

      Aggie tilted her head to one side. ‘Are there lots of broken people at the moment?’

      Christian blinked at her description. ‘Yes—I suppose so. People have accidents—’

      ‘And you stick them back together again.’Aggie gave an understanding smile. ‘I know. I know you’re very clever. And you need to work, otherwise we wouldn’t have any money. Would we have to go to the workhouse?’

      ‘The workhouse?’

      ‘We’re learning about it in history. In Victorian times poor children sometimes went into the workhouse. I hope we don’t do that. I really like our new house and I love my bedroom. Will we be able to unpack soon?’

      Christian opened his mouth and closed it again. Keeping up with the speed of his daughter’s conversation required a decent night’s sleep and he hadn’t had one of those for months. ‘We’re not poor, Aggie, and you won’t go into the workhouse. Workhouses were abolished a long time ago.’

      ‘What’s abolished?’

      Chloe hushed her. ‘Stop asking questions, Aggie! All you do is ask questions and talk, talk, talk! It’s no wonder Nanny TV fell asleep on the sofa. She probably died of exhaustion, listening to your chatter!’

      ‘It’s fine to ask questions,’ Christian interjected swiftly, noticing Aggie’s lip wobble in response to her sister’s rebuke. ‘And abolish means to do away with something. And we’re not leaving our new house and we’ll finish unpacking the boxes as soon as I get a free minute—’ He broke off as the queue moved forward a little and then stopped again. His heart sank. ‘Aggie, how badly do you want to see Father Christmas?’

      Aggie beamed. ‘More than anything. I think this is the happiest, most exciting day of my life. Thank you, Daddy, for bringing me here. It’s my dream.’

      No chance of leaving, then, Christian thought wryly as he discreetly checked his watch. He cast a look at Chloe, worried about how quiet she was.

      She intercepted his concerned glance and gave a brave smile. ‘It’s OK, Dad,’ she said in a faltering voice. ‘Everything is going to be OK. Our new house is lovely. We’re all going to have a great Christmas. As soon as I’ve broken up from school, I can start on those boxes. If Aggie would just stop talking for five minutes and help me, we’ll get it done really quickly.’

      ‘You’re amazing, do you know that?’ Unfailingly impressed by his daughter’s resilience, Christian reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘What do you want from Father Christmas, sweetheart?’

      He would have given a lot to know, but Chloe didn’t reveal her feelings.

       Did she talk to her friends?

      He almost laughed. Who was he to criticise? He didn’t talk to anyone, either.

      She looked at him now, her gaze clear and direct. ‘I want you to be happy again. I want you to have fun,’ she softly. ‘That’s what I want more than anything.’

      Fun? Fun for himself wasn’t a priority. All he wanted was to see his daughters relaxed and happy. ‘I’m happy, Chlo. I’ve just been incredibly busy…’

      Chloe nodded. ‘I know. It doesn’t matter. We’re doing fine. I know you’re busy.’

      Too busy to laugh. Too busy to unpack the boxes in their new home. Too busy to see Father Christmas. Too busy to give his girls everything they needed.

      Christian gritted his teeth, vowing to somehow make himself less busy.

      ‘It’s now!’Aggie jumped up and down like a yo-yo. ‘That fairy is waving to us. I think it’s our turn.’

      * * *

       Why on earth had she ever thought this would be a good idea?

      Still recovering her breath after her mad dash from the hospital, Lara smoothed a hand over the glittering net and tulle that floated around her pink tights. It wasn’t that she minded the children. She loved the children. She loved the way they stood almost bursting with excitement as they waited, eyes shining, cheeks still pink from the cold. It was the parents that made her despair. She listened to them in the queue, scolding and snapping as if taking the kids to see Father Christmas was just another chore to be ticked off a long list.

      Why did people have children if they found them so irritating?

      Or maybe that was just one of the ironies of life. Once you had something, you no longer appreciated its value.

      Engulfed by a sudden wave of nostalgia, she tried not to dwell on the fact that this would be the first time in her life that she wouldn’t be with her own family for Christmas. Her parents had decided to spend the festive period at their cottage in France and her brother was in Australia with his girlfriend.

      And it was no good telling herself that she’d be joining him in a matter of weeks. It still felt wrong, not being with her family for Christmas.

      Lara felt a flash of sadness.

      Things were changing. Her family was changing. She was the only one who had stayed the same.

      Would she ever find a man that she wanted to spend a lifetime with? Would she ever have her own children?

      Two would be a nice number. Two little girls, exactly like the ones who were next in the queue. Even at a glance she could see that they were entirely different personalities. The elder was quiet and serious and the other was fizzing like a bottle of lemonade that had been shaken until it was ready to explode.

      They were gorgeous.

      She watched them for a moment with amusement and then looked at the father.

      And froze in panic.

      Oh, no, no no!

      It was Christian Blake—looking nothing like his usual self, which was why she hadn’t immediately recognised him. Only an hour ago he’d been wearing a blue scrub suit and a distant, forbidding СКАЧАТЬ