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‘And Lucy did mine.’ Heather, not to be outdone, climbed on the other side, still clutching her stocking.
‘Look what Father Christmas brought me …’
‘And me …’
‘Something tells me if I want any breakfast, I’m going to have to make it on my own,’ smiled Jay.
‘I’ll be down in a minute,’ Claire assured him, shooing both girls off the bed.
‘Mummy, have you got a new dress to wear too?’
She was going to wear the pretty red one she had bought in Bath. The girls’ excitement was infectious, and Claire felt it bubble up inside her as she showered and dressed.
When she got down to the kitchen, Heather and Lucy were happily tucking into bowls of creamy porridge. Jay had made the coffee, and the rich smell of it floated aromatically on the air.
‘Can I leave you in charge while I go up and get dressed?’
‘Don’t be long, will you, Daddy?’ Heather demanded impatiently.
It was impossible to keep the girls at the table after they had finished eating. They had already seen the pile of brightly wrapped presents surrounding the tree, and Jay and Claire exchanged amused looks over their heads as they hurried Jay to finish his toast.
‘You’re looking very festive,’ he murmured to her as they followed the girls to the sitting-room. ‘Red suits you.’
He was wearing a pair of mid-blue trousers that clung to the hard muscles of his thighs. His checked woollen shirt was open at the throat, the softness of the cashmere sweater he was wearing over it touching Claire’s skin as the girls dashed past them and she was forced to move closer to his side.
If having one child at Christmas time was fun, having two was more than double the pleasure. As she remembered her pathetic attempts to make something special out of Christmas for Lucy when she was a baby, Claire thought wistfully of the delight it would be to be able to watch that wide-eyed joy and bewilderment now, in these warm protected surroundings.
Lucy’s first Christmas had been in the cold damp of their flat, her first Christmas tree one Claire had salvaged at a jumble sale. Expensive presents didn’t make Christmas, she knew that, but warmth, comfort, security; these all added an indefinable lustre of pleasure to this special time of year.
For a few seconds there was pandemonium as sheet after sheet of wrapping paper was shredded in their wild attempts to discover what was inside, but Claire had deliberately given them the much desired ponies first, and once they had assured themselves that Father Christmas had not been remiss in this regard, they settled down quite contentedly to savour the rest of their booty.
Claire, who had not been expecting any presents at all, was surprised to discover that she had quite a pile, two of them very inexpertly wrapped, and decorated with stick-on home-made Christmas trees.
‘We made those for you,’ Heather told her importantly. ‘Daddy helped us.’
It brought a lump to her throat to think of Jay finding precious time to assist with the choosing and wrapping of her presents. Another man could quite easily have carelessly ignored the sensitive feelings of two very feminine six-year-olds and had them gift-wrapped instead. Even though she prided herself on being practical, Claire knew quite well that those lovingly made wrappings would find their way into the large cardboard box in which she hoarded all her sentimental treasures.
This was the first year Lucy had had someone to assist her with such a task, and as she looked into her daughter’s shining eyes as she unwrapped the soap and bath oil she had chosen, she felt a tremendous surge of gratitude and joy.
This marriage was right; right for Heather and Lucy and right for her. But was it right for Jay? a tiny inner voice asked her. Would he come to regret his selflessness in putting Heather’s needs before his own?
‘Smell it, Mummy,’ urged Lucy. ‘I chose it specially, because it reminded me of you.’
Rather cautiously Claire took the top off the bath oil, and was surprised to discover that despite its rather virulent colour it smelled pleasantly of roses.
‘Now mine,’ Heather instructed, watching her with anxious eyes as she carefully unwrapped her second untidy parcel.
‘We saved up with our spending money,’ Lucy explained importantly. ‘Daddy saved it for us, didn’t you?’
Although Heather had been calling her ‘Mummy’ for some time, and had indeed anxiously asked to be allowed to do so, this was the first time Lucy had referred to Jay as ‘Daddy’.
Wondering if Jay was as aware of this completely natural acceptance of him as she was herself, Claire glanced across at him, and saw that he shared her feelings.
In a moment of shared intimacy and awareness they continued to look at one another, and Claire experienced a closeness to him that made her feel both exalted and humble.
‘Look at mine,’ Heather urged her impatiently, tugging on her sleeve. ‘Look at mine!’
The moment was gone, but Claire knew that she would remember and savour it later.
