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But she hadn’t been. Not for the last few months. It was as if his head was finally lifting from the fog it had been in these last five years. But Christmas time was a little different. It seemed to whip up more memories than usual. It made the thought of moving on just a little more tricky.
A little girl walked into him as she stared at a rocking horse. He bent down to speak to her. She was like something from a chocolate box. A red double-breasted wool coat, a little worn but clearly loved, dark curls poking out from under a black hat. She hadn’t even realised she’d walked into him—her eyes were still on the white rocking horse with a long mane decorated with red saddle. She let out a little sigh.
‘Come along, Molly,’ said a harassed voice. ‘We just came here for a little look. It’s time to go.’
He lifted his head instantly. The woman looked tired—her clothes even more so. Her boots were worn, her jacket was missing a few buttons and the scarf she had wrapped around her neck looked almost as old as she was. But it was her accent that drew his attention.
He straightened up and held out his hand. ‘Hi, Finlay Armstrong. What part of Scotland are you from?’
She was startled by his question and took a few seconds to answer. He could almost see the recognition of his own accent before she finally reached over and shook his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Karen. I’m from Ayrshire.’
There was something in the wistful way she said it that made him realise this wasn’t a visit.
He kept hold of her hand. ‘Have you been in London long?’
She sighed. ‘Three years. I had to move for work.’
He nodded his head towards the rocking horse. ‘Your little girl was admiring the rocking horse.’
Karen winced. ‘I know. I asked for one every year too as a child.’ She glanced down at her child again then met his gaze. ‘But we can all dream.’
He sucked in a breath. When was the last time he’d done something good? He’d been so wrapped in his own mourning for the last five years he hadn’t really stopped to draw breath. Even when it came to Christmas presents he normally gave his PA a list and told her what kind of things his family preferred. That was as much input as he’d had.
He thought about the prettily wrapped present that Mrs Archer had left for him at reception. He hadn’t even opened it yet.
He kept his voice low. ‘How about Molly gets what she wants for Christmas?’
Karen looked shocked, then offended. He knew exactly how this worked. He shook his head. ‘I work for a big company. Every year they like us to do a few good deeds. A few things that no one else finds out about.’ He pulled the card out of his pocket, still keeping his voice low. ‘There’s no catch. I promise. Give the girl at the desk an address and time for delivery. That’s all.’
Karen sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t want to be someone’s good deed.’ He could see her bristle.
He gave a nod of acknowledgement. ‘Then how about a gift from a fellow Scot who is also missing home?’
Her eyes filled with tears and she put her hand to her throat. ‘Oh...oh, then that might be different.’
He glanced down at Molly and smiled. ‘Good. Just give the girl at the desk your details. I’ll arrange everything else.’
‘I don’t know what to say, except thank you. And Merry Christmas!’
He gave her a nod. ‘Happy Christmas to you and Molly.’
He ruffled Molly’s curls and walked away, not wanting to admit to the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. That was the first time he’d wished anyone Happy Christmas in five years. Five long, horrible years.
What had he been doing? Had he been ignoring people around him like Karen and Molly for the last five years?
He heard an excited laugh and Grace walked through with one of the sales assistants from another room. Grace’s cheeks were flushed pink with excitement and she was clapping her hands together again.
The girl really did love Christmas.
One part of him felt a selfish pang, while the other dared itself back into life. In a way, he’d felt better sticking his head in the sand for the last few years. Some of this Christmas stuff made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. Parts of it were making him relive memories—some good, some bad.
But the thing that he struggled most with was feeling again. Feeling.
The thing he’d tried to forget about.
He touched the saleswoman’s arm as she was still mid-discussion with Grace. ‘I need you to add something to the order.’
Grace’s head shot up. ‘What?’ Then her expression changed. ‘Really?’
He gave a nod and gestured to the white rocking horse. ‘The lady in the dark coat, her name is Karen. Can you make delivery arrangements with her?’
