Lucy Gordon - A Mistletoe Proposal

Roscoe stood there. He was staring, seemingly dazed by the sight that met his eyes-his mother, in transports of joy and relief, in Pippa’s arms.

This was what he was trying to do for her, but never managed it, she thought. Perhaps he’ll hate me.

She recalled his chilly hostility when he’d discovered she knew about his father’s suicide. To him, this would seem even more of an intrusion.

She patted Angela’s shoulder. ‘Roscoe’s here.’

Angela raised her head. To Pippa’s pleasure, she smiled at the sight of Roscoe and reached out a hand.

‘Mother, what is it?’

‘It’s all right. Dear, dear Pippa has made me understand so much-she said such wonderful things-’

‘I heard what she said,’ Roscoe told her quietly. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed Angela’s face. ‘Don’t cry, Mother. There’s nothing to be sad about.’

‘I know. It was wonderful. Charlie won and he’ll be in the next round and, before we know it, he’ll be rich and famous.’

The phone rang and she snatched it up. ‘Charlie, darling, we were just talking about you-’

Pippa took a step away from Roscoe. Everything-her mind, her heart, her flesh-all were in turmoil at his appearance and the uncertainty over what he’d heard. Only one thing was sure. She must get away from him.

But she felt her hand taken between his in a grip she couldn’t resist, and he drew her away, out of Angela’s sight.

‘How can I ever thank you?’ he asked in a low, passionate voice. ‘I never dreamed I could see her so at peace again, and you did it.’

He raised her hands to his lips, kissing them, while she felt a happiness she’d feared never to know again. She tried to fight it, but it wouldn’t be fought.

‘You don’t mind that it was me?’ she asked.

‘If you mean would I rather have been the one who brought my mother peace again, then yes, I would. But as long as somebody can make her such a priceless gift, that’s the only thing that matters.’

‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘It hurt so much when we quarrelled, but at least we can part friends.’

‘Part? Are we going to part?’

‘We’ve already parted, Roscoe. You know that.’

‘But I don’t. Just because we said some terrible things-you pretended to be a floozie and I pretended to believe you. We can get past that if we want to.’

The turmoil of feeling that went through her was part joy at his love, part misery at the parting that she knew was inevitable, although he could not see it, and part terror that her own nerve might fail. She must leave him, but the knowledge filled her with anguish.

‘Surely you’re ready to try again,’ he said in a pleading voice. ‘The fact that you’re here-’

‘Charlie told me you wouldn’t be here tonight.’

‘He said that? Surely not? He knew I was coming.’

‘Maybe I misunderstood,’ she said huskily. ‘But it’s too late for us.’

‘It’ll never be too late while we love each other.’

She didn’t answer that. She didn’t dare.

Hearing Angela hanging up, Pippa said quickly, ‘I’ve got to go.’

‘I didn’t see your car outside.’

‘It’s finally had it.’

‘Then I’ll drive you. Don’t argue.’

Angela kissed her goodbye and watched them depart with a smile that said she was crossing her fingers for her hopes to come true.

‘Wrap up warmly; it’s snowing again,’ Roscoe said as he helped her on with her coat, drawing the edges together. ‘Your trouble is that you haven’t got anyone to look after you. Never mind, you’ll have me in future.’

She didn’t protest. It wasn’t true but she didn’t have the strength to dispel the beautiful dream right now. There would be time enough for heartbreak later.

AS THEY headed for Roscoe’s car they realised that there was a ghostly figure standing beside it, half obscured by the driving snow. Pippa gasped with horror when she realised who it was.

‘That’s Franton,’ she said urgently. ‘The man you fired for insider trading. He’s probably damaged your car.’

But there was nothing threatening about Franton’s appearance as he stood waiting for them by the road.

‘What are you doing out here in this weather?’ Roscoe asked him, sounding irritated. ‘Do you want to catch your death?’

Franton loomed at them through the flakes.

‘I’m not staying long. I only came to thank you. I found out who got me the job.’

‘I told them you’d do it well and I know you will,’ Roscoe said gruffly.

‘And the paper you signed…about my debts…’

‘It’s only a guarantee. You still have to pay them.’

‘But, thanks to you, I have time now. I had to come and thank you.’

‘Fine, but clear off now before you get pneumonia,’ Roscoe snapped, sounding annoyed. ‘Where’s your car?’

‘I sold it.’

‘Get in; I’ll drive you home.’

Franton tumbled thankfully into the back seat. Pippa, sitting in the front, tried to sort out her tangled thoughts but without success.

Why, she thought fretfully, couldn’t Roscoe stay the same person for five minutes at a time?

Franton’s wife and three children were waiting at the window, looking anxious. They streamed out to embrace him and Roscoe sat watching the family scene, before firing the engine and driving off.

‘I don’t believe what I’m seeing,’ she breathed. ‘You got him another job? After what happened?’

‘What else could I do?’ he demanded. ‘You saw his family. It’s not much of a job, handling the finances of a little group of shops.’

‘But didn’t you have to tell the owners why you fired him?’

‘I’m a partner in the business.’

‘So you pulled strings for him?’

He grunted.

‘And you’ve guaranteed his debts?’

‘Guaranteed them. Not paid them. Now, can we drop this?’

‘I just can’t get my head around it. Nobody would guess the truth about you.’

‘But you think you know the truth?’ he asked savagely. ‘After the way you attacked me about him, what did you expect me to do?’

‘I didn’t expect you to take any notice of anything I said. And I’m not even sure you did. I have a suspicion that you’d have done it anyway. Scrooge outside and Santa inside.’

‘How dare you?’

‘I don’t know,’ she mused. ‘But I dare.’

After a while she said, ‘This isn’t the way to my home.’

‘I’m taking a detour. The traffic’s heavy because we’re close to Trafalgar Square.’

‘Ah, yes. That’s where they set up the huge tree that the Norwegians give us every year.’

‘Let’s go and see it,’ he said, turning into a side road and stopping.

Taking her hand, he drew her forward to where the crowds were gathered. There was the great tree rearing up into the night, covered in lights. More lights set the fountains aglow and the huge buildings around the edge of the square. All around, carol singers gathered, their voices rising into the chilly air.

‘Beautiful,’ Roscoe murmured.

Receiving no reply, he turned to see Pippa standing with her eyes closed, her face wet from snow, or maybe tears. Her head was uncovered and now her glorious hair was drenched and hanging drably.

‘Pippa,’ he said urgently. ‘Pippa, what is it? Tell me, for pity’s sake.’

He shook her shoulders gently and, when she didn’t react, he drew her close, kissing her with the fierceness of a man trying to reawaken life.

‘Pippa,’ he whispered. ‘Where are you?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said helplessly. ‘But I can’t escape. I’m trapped there and I always will be.’

‘You can. Let me help you.’