Christmas Wishes Page 5

  ‘No one.’

  He debated whether to call her on such a sweeping statement but going through the names of every child he remembered and have her deny liking them or telling him loftily they were all in Mrs Symonds’s class wouldn’t help. He changed direction. ‘Tell me what’s your favourite thing to do at school and who you do it with.’

  Josie released herself from his embrace and slid from his knee. ‘Home time with you,’ she sniffed, neatly converting his different approach into a blind alley. ‘I’m going to the toilet.’

  She trailed out of the kitchen, shoulders sagging. Nico stared after her. The negativity about school was worrying enough but why had she hit on him fetching her from school as her favourite thing? He rarely did it. Mid-afternoon, when school finished, he was usually in his company’s offices in Holborn, visiting clients at their premises elsewhere in the country or in Stockholm for meetings.

  He passed his hand over his face. If his life depended on it he couldn’t face the rest of his bowl of granola. It felt as if eating it would betray his daughter, though that made no sense or logic. His little girl was unhappy and was getting unhappier.

  Emelie blew out a breath, a frown on her young forehead. ‘I took her to the indoor gym yesterday and Jessica was there. Josie was quiet last night and kept asking when you’d be home but I just thought she was missing you. I’ll bet Jessica had been mean to her but Josie kept it to herself.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He flicked open his phone calendar. He didn’t actually have a meeting until eleven. ‘You get off to uni, Emelie. I’ll stick around for a few minutes.’ Quickly he texted his assistant, Katya.

  Delayed by an issue with Josie. Will be in by 9.30 a.m. Please explain to anyone who needs to know. Thanks.

  Katya was a star. She’d tell his team and recently arrived CEO Anders. He shoved his phone away, readied briefcase, jacket and coat then went upstairs to await Josie emerging from the bathroom so he could spend half an hour with her before battling the tube.

  Emelie, who’d been bustling around downstairs, shouted, ‘Goodbye!’

  Then Tilly arrived and shouted, ‘Hello!’

  ‘Just spending a few minutes with Josie,’ Nico called back.

  Finally, Josie emerged, eyes pink. Nico eased her into his embrace and they sat on the landing listening to the sounds Tilly made in the kitchen.

  ‘It was cold in Stockholm,’ he said. ‘It’s only five weeks until we travel to Småland for Lucia.’ St Lucia’s Day was on the thirteenth of December … term time. Observing the abortive efforts of other parents to get term-time absences authorised Nico had simply decided to lie and say Josie had had a stomach bug. If she mentioned her trip at school and they challenged him, he’d admit the crime and pay the fine. It was probably a reprehensible attitude but it would get the job done. ‘Farmor and Farfar can’t wait to see you,’ he added. They’d always used the Swedish for her Swedish grandmother and grandfather. ‘And Mattias and Felicia.’

  ‘Mm,’ Josie answered unenthusiastically.

  ‘And in a couple of weeks we’re going to spend a weekend in a hotel, you and me, aren’t we? We’re going to a wedding.’

  Josie perked up. ‘Your friend Rob is marrying Leesa, isn’t he? Will she have a dress like a princess?’

  ‘We’ll have to wait and see.’ His tension slackened at her smile. ‘I think you’ll like Rob and Leesa. I used to know Rob’s sister Hannah too and I met her in Stockholm at the weekend. She’ll be at the wedding.’ He had a sudden flash of schooldays at Bettsbrough Comp when bringing a girl’s name into conversation was referred to as ‘mentionitis’ and was meant to mean you liked her.

  ‘I’m going to have a new dress. We’re going on Saturday to buy it, before trick or treating, aren’t we?’ Josie snuggled up to Nico on the mushroom-coloured carpet, relaxing as they talked of good things.

  ‘That’s right.’ He kissed the top of her head. Would his heart get through his daughter’s childhood in one piece?

  He remained for another ten minutes, cuddling, chatting, comforting, until he could take Josie down to Tilly and belatedly hurry off to work.

  At lunchtime, when he’d returned from getting his hair cut, he received a reply from Rob: Thanks for checking on Hannah. Glad she’s OK. See you at the wedding.

  Nico replied: Sure. Then he dived into meeting notes, eating a salad from the cafeteria.

  His business week proved exhausting. Meeting chased meeting. A UK ice-hockey team client came to him with doom-and-gloom prophecies over a sponsor going bust. Two members of Nico’s SLS team, Ellie and Jack, were found out in an affair and Ellie’s husband worked for an SLS client. The husband screamed at Ellie and she turned up at work red-eyed. Jack stormed over to the client’s premises in Borough and screamed back at the husband. It absorbed a lot of Nico and HR’s time. After Josie went to bed each evening he caught up on emails, writing tenders or reading contracts and then fell into bed and struggled to switch off his brain.

  Throughout it all, he ate conscientiously three times a day. Sometimes it wasn’t as much as planned, but he ate. Emelie had checked out his haircut and given it the seal of approval with: ‘’Bout time,’ and a thumbs up. He was meeting all his goals.

  Now, Saturday, he refused to so much as glance at his inbox.

  Today was for Josie. He’d take her to Brent Cross in search of a pretty dress for Rob’s wedding and later they’d meet with Stephanie, Martha and their mummies and spend two hours begging at strangers’ doors for tooth-rotting sugary crap – his interpretation, not Josie’s. To her, trick or treating meant excitement and an excuse to gorge on treats not normally encouraged. Afterwards, he’d deliver her to Loren.

  On Sunday, while Josie was with her mum and little sister, he’d treat himself to a long, long outdoor run. He’d go to Hampstead Heath and clear his lungs of fumes and over-breathed suburban air. Maybe then he’d get his emails and reports up to date before he picked Josie up ready for school on Monday.

  School on Monday. School on Monday. SCHOOL ON MONDAY.

  He didn’t know if it loomed in Josie’s mind but it did in his.

  By mid-afternoon, Josie was the proud possessor of a cobalt blue dress studded with silver beads for Rob’s wedding and was excited about jumping into a witch costume and acquiring a green face and a wart on the end of her nose, courtesy of Emelie’s face-painting skills. Then they called for Josie’s friends to go trick or treating. Nico strolled behind with the mummies, listening as they discussed balancing a career and parenthood, as if he didn’t face that challenge. Josie, Stephanie and Martha gabbled and giggled, losing pointy hats and tripping over broomsticks as they trod garden paths at houses with pumpkins outside and knocked on doors, calling, ‘Trick or treeeeee-eat.’ He hoped fervently that renewing her links with Stephanie and Martha would reassure Josie that Jessica’s defection wasn’t the end of her world.

  Finally, they said their goodbyes and, after going home to stash Josie’s share of the tooth-rotting sugary crap and pick up her overnight bag, set out for Loren’s soulless modern flat. It was eight-thirty when they climbed the stairs and rapped on the door. Josie, her face paint smeared, had already moved her focus from Halloween. ‘Are we going to a fireworks display soon? And when will the Christmas lights go up in Oxford Street?’ She knocked again, banging the letterbox with both hands.

  Nico consulted his phone. ‘Fireworks display on Saturday the seventh.’ He was making a note to find out about the lights when Loren finally answered the door.

  Josie gasped, ‘What’s the matter, Mummy?’ and Nico looked up sharply. Loren, framed by the doorway, looked spaced out. Her short hair a dull brown bush, mascara crescents stained the skin below unfocused eyes. Maria could be heard wailing from another room.

  ‘Oh.’ Loren made an attempt to rearrange her narrow features into a smile. ‘Is it that time? Love your witch costume, sweet pea.’

  Nico, suspecting Loren had entirely forgotten Josie was supposed to be sleeping over, rested a
reassuring hand on Josie’s shoulder, noting the sudden tension beneath his fingers. ‘She looks fantastic, doesn’t she? Told you Mum would be impressed, Josie.’

  Josie drew closer to Nico, her voice high and unhappy. ‘Why’s Maria crying?’

  Loren twitched round as if only just hearing the heartbroken sobs. ‘I’ve put her to bed but she keeps getting up. She has to learn to go to bed, doesn’t she?’ She forced a smile. Josie took a couple of tentative steps towards her and lifted her arms.

  Then she stopped and wrinkled her nose. ‘You smell funny again.’

  All Nico’s red flags flew up. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside the flat and closed the door. It brought him close enough to his ex-wife to catch a strong whiff of stale alcohol. And maybe vomit. What the hell?

  Instantly, he prioritised protecting Josie, whether or not that meant making decisions that weren’t his to make. ‘It’s OK, Josie,’ he said reassuringly, popping her overnight bag just inside the door. ‘Maria’s probably crying because she can hear your voice and wants to see you. How about you go and play with her while I talk to Mum?’

  Josie gazed at him for several moments but Maria was still crying long, exhausted, heartrending wails, the hopeless kind of sobbing that had been going for a long time unanswered. ‘All right,’ she said. But she didn’t move.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he repeated. ‘I’ll be here.’

  Finally, she headed down the hallway.

  Touching Loren’s elbow, he ushered her into the lounge and pushed the door to, taking in her pasty skin and crumpled clothes. On the table stood an empty red wine bottle and a glass, also empty. A drying patch on the sofa could only be the vomit he’d detected earlier. His stomach churned.

  ‘Are you drunk?’ he asked neutrally, staring into her dilated pupils.

  ‘No!’ Loren said too loudly. She lowered her voice. ‘I was … winding down. I had a headache. I’m not sleeping well.’ Then she put her hand over her eyes in the familiar gesture. ‘OK. I might be tipsy. It’s hard being a single parent.’

  Nico bit both lips to prevent himself from snapping, ‘You don’t have to tell me!’ Instead, he said, ‘I’m sorry you’re finding it difficult. Go and shower. You’ll feel brighter and then we can talk.’

  After a moment when it seemed she might refuse, Loren nodded shakily and headed into the square hall from which other doors led. He headed off to find Josie, following the exhausted hurrrrr, hurrrr of a child who’s been crying so long she doesn’t know how to stop.

  Softly entering the bedroom he knew Josie used on visits, he found his daughter kneeling on the floor, her little half-sister clinging to her like a bear cub halfway up a tree. The room smelled.

  Josie looked up, witch hat sitting drunkenly on her head. Tears tracked through her green face paint. ‘Maria’s weed herself,’ she said in outrage. ‘She never wees herself, even though she’s little. And she’s not in her pyjamas so she can’t have been put to bed.’ Her candid blue eyes gazed at him and Nico could see she was drawing the same conclusions he was.

  Loren had lied.

  Maria had been left in her room unsupervised for so long she’d been unable to hold on for the toilet.

  The two-year-old gazed at him through swollen eyes but remained trembling in her big sister’s embrace.

  Nico saw Maria regularly. She was a sunny, likeable child with blonde hair that curled at the ends. Josie loved her with a passion and Nico had begun by refusing to blame her for Loren’s betrayal and, over time, had come to realise he genuinely didn’t harbour rancour towards her.

  Now, anger and alarm boiling up at the distress of an innocent toddler, Nico assumed a reassuring don’t-worry-daddy-always-knows-what-to-do facade. ‘We’ll give Maria a quick bath and find her clean pyjamas, shall we? How about you show me where the bathroom is?’ Loren’s room he already knew to be en suite and he could hear her shower running. Then he thought of how a child might feel after being shut away to cry and reprioritised. ‘Actually, you get the bath running while I pop into the kitchen.’

  Leaving the two girls heading hand in hand for the bathroom he raced into the kitchen and located a plastic beaker, orange juice and two biscuits. He’d have preferred to make Maria a sandwich but couldn’t find bread or much to put in it. When Maria saw the beaker she ran to him. ‘Juice, p’ease!’ Snatching the beaker, she gulped down the whole lot, breathing heavily through her nose.

  Nico’s anger and concern grew but he kept his voice gentle. ‘More?’ Maria nodded emphatically as she grabbed a biscuit and took a big bite. Nico fetched another drink, leaving Josie to keep an eye on the filling bath.

  Then he checked the bathwater temperature while the girls threw off their clothes, Josie’s heaped costume looking like the witch who melted in The Wizard of Oz. Maria, having eaten both biscuits and drunk most of the second lot of juice, scrambled over the bath side looking more cheerful, Nico automatically hovering his hands to catch her if she slipped. For several minutes he sat on the floor while they played, chatting to them, smiling as Maria yodelled, ‘Yozee, Yozee, watch!’ then clapped handfuls of suds to spatter the room. Her little girl laughter burst into the air. Then she beamed at him. ‘Mydad, watch!’ She repeated the trick.

  ‘Yay,’ he said softly, knowing all she needed was a smiling face and a response.

  After several minutes, Loren appeared silently at the bathroom door. Asking Josie to wash off her green face paint and help Maria wash too, he backed up until he and Loren were standing in the hallway, able to see the sisters laughing together but out of earshot. ‘Better?’ he asked her quietly.

  She nodded. Wet hair was combed back from her forehead, her skin pasty, so unlike the smart, sexy woman he’d married that it wrenched at his heart.

  ‘You’d forgotten Josie was coming,’ he murmured, feeling a statement was less likely to meet with a flat denial than a question.

  Loren nodded again.

  ‘And you were drunk. Maria had been ignored for hours. She was wet, hungry, thirsty and in distress.’

  A sorrowful sound escaped Loren. ‘I’m having a bit of trouble,’ she acknowledged. ‘I-I’m …’ She took another deep breath. ‘I shouldn’t drink with my happy pills but I thought one wouldn’t hurt. I didn’t think it would make me sleep like that. I’ll make sure not to do it again.’

  ‘Maria’s had two biscuits. Is there anything else for her to eat?’ he asked.

  Loren nodded, went away and then returned with two more biscuits.

  Without comment he went back into the bathroom. ‘OK, you two. Let’s get you dried. Josie, you can get back into the T-shirt and leggings you had on under your witch’s dress. There’s a fleece in your bag. Maybe Mum could find Maria’s clean pyjamas?’

  Silently, Loren went into Maria’s room and returned with a matching set, lemon yellow with a sun on the front.

  When both girls were dressed he said, ‘Josie, if you read to Maria in her room for a minute while she eats the biscuits, I’ll talk to Mum in the lounge.’

  Mutely, Loren followed him. Each avoided the soiled sofa and took a chair. Loren’s eyes flicked over the empty wine bottle.

  Nico’s heart chugged like a train. ‘I hardly know where to begin. Maria was properly distressed.’

  Loren clasped her forehead. ‘I know I’ve been stupid. I didn’t mean that to happen. I put her down for a nap and just slept. That’s all.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s all, Lor,’ he said gently, using his old name for her, the one from happier days. ‘The wine bottle’s empty. You’d puked on the sofa. You looked and smelled as if you hadn’t washed for days and so did Maria. Josie’s been odd about coming to visit you so I’d begun to worry you were drinking again. I wish I’d come right out and asked you.’ He hesitated. ‘I suppose it would have been futile because you’ve always hidden the extent of your drinking.’ At least Josie hadn’t suffered as Maria had, though thinking as if one child was more important than another made him feel guilty. ‘I
’m not buying this being a one-off. I presume the weekends you said you couldn’t have Josie you were drinking? You’ve always seemed fairly together when I’ve dropped her off so I guess sometimes you’ve been able to make the effort. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have left her here.’

  He wasn’t leaving Josie here tonight, either, but he didn’t see any point in saying it just yet. ‘What about Maria, Lor? You weren’t looking after her today.’

  Loren’s hand slipped off her forehead and over her eyes. Tears began to leak down her cheeks.

  Nico watched, trying to decide what to do. At length, he got up and went to the kitchen and fetched her a glass of water and the kitchen roll. Before sitting down again he took a peek in at the girls to see Maria once again clinging to Josie while Josie read aloud from a brightly coloured book. When he got back to the lounge Loren was blowing her nose.

  He patted her arm. Her tear-ravaged face looked as if ten years had passed since she’d been his wife, not less than three. Apart from her period of postnatal depression she’d always looked after herself, had her hair cut and coloured, splashed out on clothes, make-up and shoes and generally lived up to her income from selling apartments in upscale retirement villages. Now she looked a pallid, broken wreck and he was getting a new and unpleasant perspective on the consequences of him ending their marriage. He’d provided security. He’d looked after her.

  Softly, gently, he said, ‘Lor, I think you need help.’

  She nodded, keeping her gaze on the piece of kitchen roll in her hands as she searched for a dry spot.

  ‘Maria mustn’t suffer.’

  She shook her head, managing a watery smile. ‘You’re a good man, Nico. Most men would have refused to have anything to do with Maria.’

  ‘Josie loves her and Maria can’t help what happened,’ he said. ‘She’s a sweet little girl and I can’t clear off home and risk her being left alone to cry for hours. She deserves healthy meals and drinks when she wants them. To have access to the toilet.’

  Looking guilty and contrite, Loren nodded. ‘How long can you take her for?’