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Katy stopped dancing and looked at her. ‘Everything’s going to be OK, Mum.’
How did you explain to an eleven-year-old girl who still thought that life was perfect that everything was going to be anything but OK?
Keeping up a brave front was proving exhausting and she was almost relieved when
Alessandro arrived home. At least the children might stop noticing her.
They ate dinner as a family and Christy was glad of the excited chatter of the children. It meant that she didn’t have to speak, which was a relief because she honestly didn’t know what to say with Alessandro looking so icily remote across the table.
Not only did he not want her to stay but, judging from the look on his face, he couldn’t wait for Christmas to be over so that she would leave.
After dinner, she watched with a lump in her throat as Alessandro helped Ben fasten his huge red sock to the fireplace and write his letter to Father Christmas.
Finally the children were tucked up in bed and the house was silent.
When she was sure that the children were asleep, Christy tiptoed back downstairs and stuffed the stockings. It was a ritual that she and Alessandro normally performed together with the help of chilled champagne and smoked salmon. Memories filled her brain. How many years had they ended the evening by making love on the huge rug in front of the fire?
But not tonight.
Tonight, Christmas Eve had lost its magic.
She went to bed, but her mind was too full of thoughts to allow her to sleep, so eventually she padded back downstairs to the living room. Staring out of the huge windows into the darkness, she watched the soft swirl of snowflakes.
‘Aren’t you coming to bed?’ Alessandro’s voice came from directly behind her and she tensed, afraid to turn in case she gave herself away.
‘Don’t you ever wish you were still small and believed in Father Christmas?’ she breathed softly, watching the snow hit the pane and slide downwards leaving a watery trail. ‘It’s one of the most magical things about childhood. Believing in the impossible.’
‘So what would you want him to bring you?’
She was silent for a moment. ‘Love,’ she said softly, without turning to look at him. ‘It’s the only thing that really matters in the end. Everything else is nothing without love.’
He didn’t answer and the still silence of the room seemed to close them in and wrap itself around them.
‘Then I hope you find it,’ he said hoarsely, and she heard the firm tread of his step as he turned and walked away, leaving her with only her sadness for company.
‘Mummy, can we get up now?’ Ben’s excited voice was the first thing she heard when she finally woke the following morning after about two hours’ sleep.
‘He’s been prising my eyelids open for the past three hours,’ Katy complained as she bounced onto her parents’ bed. ‘He keeps saying, “Is it time yet?” like a parrot.’
‘That phrase is probably first cousin to “Are we there yet?”’ Alessandro muttered, sitting up in bed and stifling a yawn.
Christy risked a glance at him and saw that he looked exhausted, too.
And tense.
Was being with her really that much of a strain?
Oh, for crying out loud. It was Christmas Day and nothing, not even her crumbling, disintegrating marriage, was going to spoil it!
‘Come on, then.’ Pushing away the heavy bands of stress and tiredness that threatened to crush her skull, she slid out of bed and pulled on her silk robe.
The children careered downstairs, shrieking with excitement, and she followed more slowly, watching their pleasure with an indulgent smile.
‘He’s been, he’s been,’ Ben shouted, dancing up to his stocking and lifting it. ‘And look—he’s eaten the chocolate roll and left a footprint.’
Sure enough, a large, dusty footprint lay in front of the fireplace and Christy gave a smile. Alessandro must have come back downstairs during the night to make that, she thought to herself. He’d always done it, even when the children had been too young to notice. He was a brilliant father.
He walked into the room moments later, his dark eyes heavy with sleep, his jeans half-undone and his T-shirt rumpled. He’d obviously reached for the first thing in his wardrobe and still he managed to look impossibly sexy, she thought with something close to exasperation.
