Alison Roberts - The Night Before Christmas

He had to admit he was getting curious about this child, though. It wasn’t hard to straighten a little and move his head to where there was a gap in the curtain that would allow him to have a peek.

He could see the back of Santa’s head and the arm that was around the child on his knee. He could see a mop of blonde curls around a very pretty face that was staring very intently at the man hearing her wish. She had the biggest, bluest eyes Jack had ever seen. Give her a set of wings and a little halo on a headband and this Holly would make a perfect Christmas angel.

How sad that she had a twin sister who was so sick.

Santa must be feeling the same way. He was certainly giving this child a little more time than others might have had.

‘She’s going to be all right. Mummy’s hoping she’ll get a really special Christmas present that will make her better, but you know what?’

‘What?’ The tone was wary.

Jack’s interest was firmly piqued. A special Christmas present that would make her better? It was the sort of thing a parent for a child waiting on an organ to become available might say. Bit much to expect a miracle before Christmas if they were on the kind of waiting list the majority of his patients had to rely on, though.

‘I think having a daddy would make her feel better. It would make us all feel better.’

‘I’ll … see what I can do.’

‘He has to be nice,’ Holly said firmly. ‘And kind. And he has to be really, really nice to Mummy so she’ll like him too. That’s my mummy over there, see?’

Jack’s head mirrored the turn that Santa’s head made. The woman standing beside the photographer was un-mistakeably Holly’s mother. An older version, really, with shoulder-length, blonde curly hair and a cute nose and, while it was far too far away to see the colour of her eyes, Jack just knew they would be as blue as a midsummer sky. Mummy was curvy in all the right places, too. In fact, it was a bit of a puzzle why she was alone. Looking like that, surely she’d be fighting off potential daddies? What man wouldn’t want to be really, really nice to her?

Apart from him, of course. He’d been there and done that and the failure was a huge black mark on a personal history that otherwise shone with achievement. A wise man did not repeat his mistakes.

Santa stared for a moment or two and Jack could hear him sigh as he turned back. Holly’s head turned as well. Far enough to catch sight of Jack peering through the curtain.

‘Ooh,’ she squeaked. ‘Who are you ?’

Jack had to think fast. ‘Just one of Santa’s helpers,’ he whispered.

‘Are you a … nelf?’

‘Yes.’ Jack nodded. His smile seemed to come from a different place than usual. It felt … softer. ‘That’s it. I’m a nelf.’

‘Why haven’t you got a green hat?’

He was spared having to answer. The photographer was tapping his watch and the next woman in the queue was edging forward with a small boy who had a very expectant smile. It was clearly the next child’s turn to tell Santa what he wanted for Christmas and Holly was distracted by the gentle nudge that was intended to dislodge her from her perch. Not that she was having any of it.

‘He has to be nice to me and Misty as well as Mummy,’ she told Santa hurriedly. ‘That’s ‘portant. Uncle Nathan liked Mummy but he didn’t like us, ‘specially when Misty got sick, so Mummy told him to go away and never come back.’

‘O-kay,’ said Santa. ‘I’ll keep that in mind. But now it’s time for—’

‘Mummy said she wasn’t sad because she loves us so much she doesn’t need anybody else. She said we’re the two best little girls in the whole world and I’m trying to be extra-good even when it’s hard and everybody’s crying because if you’re good, you get want you want for Christmas, don’t you?’

Why was everybody crying? Jack wondered. Was Misty’s case hopeless?

He glanced at Mabel. She was crying.

‘The poor wee pet,’ she whispered.

‘Mummy looks after everybody.’ The voice was wobbling now. ‘Me and Misty and Nanna. But there’s nobody to take care of Mummy, is there? I’m still too little.’

The photographer was talking to Holly’s mother, who nodded and marched forward.

‘Come on, Holly. You’ve had your turn now.’

‘But—’

‘No “buts”. Come on, we’ll go and find that shortbread for Nanna.’

It was a grown-up version of the determination he’d been hearing in Holly’s voice.

‘Merry Christmas,’ Santa intoned, but he didn’t sound nearly as jolly as he probably should. ‘Ho, ho, ho.’

Denise came back. She had a middle-aged woman with her who turned out to be Mabel’s daughter.

The elderly woman was feeling much better. Her daughter said they were going to go straight to the doctor’s on the way home. She thanked Jack profusely for his medical assistance. So did Denise as she dashed back to her duties.

Jack was free at last. He escaped from the back of the grotto. Heading for the stairs, he passed Denise, who’d been stopped by a customer’s query.

The customer was none other than Holly’s mother. Holly gave him a suspicious stare and must have communicated something through the hand she was holding because her mother turned her head to stare at him as well.

The eye contact was like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life. As though they knew each other. Intimately. A prickle of something he couldn’t identify traced the length of his spine. His step faltered inexplicably. He covered the odd blip by glancing at his watch and seeing the time was more than enough incentive to keep moving. He had no choice, if he was going to have any chance of making his meeting on time.

Weirdly, what he was feeling now was a strong sense of disappointment. Because he would never know the end of the story about Holly and Misty and whether they would get what they wanted for Christmas.

No. It felt like more than that.

Almost as though he’d just lost something.

Something ‘portant .

‘He’s not really a nelf,’ Holly muttered. ‘He hasn’t got a hat and he’s too big .’

Lizzie was only half listening because Denise was trying to direct her to where she would find the shortbread she needed to take back to the hospital.

Who was too big?

That astonishingly good-looking man who’d just given her the oddest look? He had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. Chocolate brown and … interested? No. It had been more than the kind of appreciative glance she was used to getting from men. It had been more like he was surprised to see her here. As if he knew her from somewhere else. That thought was just about as strange as whatever bee Holly had in her bonnet about elves.

If she’d met him before she would have most certainly not forgotten the encounter.

Keeping a firm hold on her daughter’s hand, Lizzie went in search of shortbread. Holly was happy and so was she. In a little while their mission would be accomplished and she could get back to where she really needed to be.

Maybe later … much later, when she had a minute or two to herself, she would indulge in remembering those dark eyes. Relive that frisson of something amazing that she’d felt in that heartbeat when his eyes had touched hers.

A secret smile tweaked the corner of Lizzie’s mouth. She’d have to save it for later but there was no reason not to indulge in a harmless little daydream. After all, who didn’t need a touch of fantasy in their lives now and then?

THIS was payback.

On a cosmic scale. Punishment for the very real pleasure Lizzie had found last night, dreaming about a pair of chocolate-brown eyes.