The Millionaire's Christmas Wife Read online

  ‘Darling, I’m a wonderful listener. All my friends say so.’

  It took Miriam ten minutes to say what she wanted to say and, much to her amazement, her mother didn’t say a word, not even when she related the conversation with Jay word for word, or as closely as she could remember it.

  A silence fell as she finished speaking and it stretched for some time before Anne said softly, ‘I never dreamt you thought I felt like that about your father.’

  Miriam stared at her mother, seeing the too bright eyes with a rush of remorse. ‘Oh, don’t cry. Mum, don’t cry. I didn’t want to upset you. If it’s still too painful to talk about him, I understand.’

  ‘That’s just it. You clearly don’t and it’s all my fault. Sweetheart, even before you were born I was beginning to think I’d made a terrible mistake in marrying your father, and as for loving him in the years after he’d left us…I hated him. I hated him so much at first I suppose I was frightened of putting my feelings onto you, and after all he was your father. I’d seen friends who had been in a similar situation and transferred their bitterness to the children and it did untold damage. I didn’t want that for you. So I was careful about what I said and you didn’t ask any questions; in fact, you seemed to adjust overnight to him going.’

  Miriam blinked, feeling disoriented. ‘But you never showed an interest in anyone else; you never dated.’

  ‘I was holding down a full-time job and raising you—that was more than enough in the early years and I didn’t want a third party coming in and spoiling our closeness. With such an excuse for a father I felt you deserved every bit of me for a few years, and we had some good times, didn’t we?’

  ‘You know we did.’ Money might have been tight but her mother had always made sure they did lots together that didn’t cost much; picnics, walks in the park, curling up on a winter’s evening and playing board games. They’d saved tokens for free visits to museums and art galleries, and had days window shopping when they’d finish their excursion with a milkshake and a burger. She could still remember the thrill she’d got on those outings.

  ‘I was so angry he never tried to find out how you were, never even sent you a birthday card, things like that.’ Anne paused. ‘But you didn’t mention him and so it seemed a good idea to let sleeping dogs lie. I really wasn’t bothered about another relationship; I had all I wanted in you. And then George came along at just the right time, when you were growing independent, and it seemed right.’

  Miriam was feeling strange; she couldn’t believe her version of the past was so at odds with what her mother was saying. She had been angry most of her life that her mother had wasted years loving a man who wasn’t worthy of her and it turned out she hadn’t loved him at all. Moreover, her mother had chosen not to date and remain single because of her. ‘There must have been times you resented being left with a child when you were so young.’

  ‘I resented your father absolving himself of all responsibility and disappearing into the blue yonder, but never, for a second, did I regret having you,’ her mother said very softly. ‘Actually it was the fact he had given me you, the most precious thing in the world, that enabled me to see eventually I didn’t hate him after all. How could I? If I hadn’t met him I wouldn’t have you. But as for loving him…Oh, Miriam. Not in a million years. I fell madly in love with a charming, handsome young man who swept me off my feet and my head was full of visions of orange blossom and a white dress. We married six weeks after we met and within six months I knew him for the shallow, selfish, vain individual he was. But by then I was pregnant and from the second I knew you were on the way I loved you with a consuming love. It didn’t seem too much of a hardship to stay with him if it meant my child grew up with two parents.’

  ‘We—we should have talked about this before.’ Miriam’s voice was faint but she felt heady. She knew she had to get a grasp on this complete turnaround but as yet it wasn’t registering.

  ‘Yes, darling, we should, and it’s my fault we haven’t. I suppose I thought you were so together, so well-adjusted, there was no need.’

  ‘And I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to rake up the past and hurt you.’ Miriam took several big gulps of her coffee—she needed the caffeine. ‘But it was only after he died that you married George.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it was but, like I said, I met your stepfather at just the right time. Probably if I had met him earlier I might have been tempted, though, because—and I know this might sound odd coming from your mother with me being the age I am—he’s the love of my life, Miriam. And every day I’ve known him it gets better and better.’

  Miriam stared at her mother. Anne’s face showed the natural wrinkles and lines of age but it radiated happiness. It had done ever since the day she had met George. Why hadn’t she noticed this before? Her stepfather wasn’t second-best, not for a minute. ‘Jay said you’ve got a lot of backbone and courage,’ she said abruptly.

  ‘Did he?’ Anne smiled. ‘Bless him. He loves you, you know. Always has, always will. Like George loves me. Jay’s as far removed from your father as chalk is from cheese. I don’t believe for a minute he did anything with that awful woman and I never will. I know you don’t like me to say it but I can’t help it, not when so much is at stake.’

  Miriam began to cry. Anne set her coffee cup down and knelt in front of her daughter, taking Miriam’s hands in her own and shaking them gently. ‘Ring him,’ she urged. ‘Or at least see him when he gets back. Tell him you believe in him.’

  ‘But do I trust him? Like you trust George and women should trust the man they’re with? I love him so much it scares me.’ Miriam sniffed. ‘I’m not brave like you.’

  ‘Oh, yes, you are.’ Anne held one of Miriam’s hands against her cheek for a moment. ‘Believe me, I know.’

  ‘I want to believe it too but I’m not sure, that’s the truth of it. And I need to be sure.’ Miriam shook her head, her eyes downcast. ‘Besides which, I think Jay’s had enough. And you don’t know him like I do. Once he’s made up his mind about something there’s no going back. No second thoughts. That’s the sort of man he is.’

  ‘He made up his mind he wanted to marry you,’ Anne pointed out gently. ‘Doesn’t that count for anything?’ She stood up, hugging Miriam briefly before she said, ‘Coffee’s all very well but for the very important moments in life there’s nothing like a really robust red. I’m going to open a bottle and we’ll have lunch here; I’ve got a couple of steaks and salad and a wicked chocolate mousse waiting to be eaten. How does that sound?’

  ‘It was your and George’s dinner,’ Miriam guessed.

  ‘George would love to take me out tonight instead—he’s always suggesting we eat out more.’ Anne hugged her again. ‘And don’t beat yourself up too badly, sweetheart. You’ve got quite a bit to come to terms with; don’t rush it. If Jay is half the man I think he is, he’ll wait. He loves you.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  MIRIAM often brought her mother’s words to mind over the next couple of weeks.

  She had been in a state of feverish anticipation when Jay was due to return to the UK, part of her hoping he would contact her and demand they meet, the other part knowing she was still no nearer to being able to say to him that she trusted him absolutely. And with things having gone this far, she knew nothing else would do for Jay.

  As it was, the deadline she had set for herself came and went, along with the atrocious weather. With the mercurial ability of the English climate the second week of December was unseasonably mild, the blizzards of the first week a distant memory. If it wasn’t for the fact that all the trees were bare and the calendar stated they were in December, folk could have been forgiven for thinking it was early October.

  And Jay didn’t call.

  Miriam shopped with Clara for the clothes and accessories they needed for their Christmas break, wrote endless Christmas cards and made sure any gifts were taken care of by way of seasonal hampers being delivered. She couldn’t face bein
g in the midst of harassed Christmas shoppers this year. Pathetic, she knew, but with every minute that passed with no contact from Jay she just wanted Christmas to be over. In fact she was wondering why she had ever thought the season was such a great time.

  Her mother was—amazingly—incredibly tactful in the midst of it all. She didn’t ask after Jay once, although she must have been dying to know what was happening, and was positively encouraging about Miriam’s skiing holiday with Clara. Because this reeked of maternal pity it didn’t particularly hearten Miriam, but it did take a bit of the heat off. Especially regarding Great-Aunt Abigail.

  Three days before Christmas Eve it began to get markedly colder. Colleagues at work who were normally cynical and cool talked excitedly of a white Christmas and every time Miriam turned the radio or TV on the latest pop song—‘Christmas Every Day of the Year’—seemed to burst forth. Even the worldly-wise Clara was infected with the festive bug, or maybe it was just her relationship with Brian, which was going from strength to strength, that had Clara humming carols and buying a tree for the lobby of the house. Miriam helped her friend decorate it with tinsel and baubles, laughing her first genuine laugh for days when instead of a fairy for the top of the tree Clara produced a somewhat scary-looking scarecrow complete with red Father Christmas hat.

  ‘Can’t be too traditional, now, can I?’ Clara grinned. ‘Got my reputation to think of. Cool, eh?’

  ‘Dead cool,’ Miriam agreed affectionately. ‘Although why you’ve gone to all this trouble when we aren’t going to be around for Christmas, I don’t know.’ They were due to leave early morning on Christmas Eve and be away for nine days.

  Clara reeled off the names of the other occupants of the house. ‘They’ll enjoy it,’ she said, a holy glow of magnanimity surrounding her. ‘It is the season of goodwill to man after all.’

  ‘True.’ Miriam smiled as she looked at the sweet-smelling tree with its ridiculous topknot but her heart was aching. It was getting worse, not better, this gnawing yearning for Jay. The heaviness in her spirit was weighing her down, making everything an effort, the more so because she was now questioning how he could have cut her out of his life so completely if he loved her as he said he did.

  It was unreasonable, she told herself sternly. Totally unreasonable in view of all she’d said to him. She was the one who had sent Jay away, who’d insisted there was no hope for them, so why would the poor man attempt to see her again? She was asking too much. Probably she had always asked too much of him and with women throwing themselves at his feet Jay didn’t have to put up with a nutcase who had all manner of hang-ups cluttering up her psyche. No, she couldn’t in all honesty blame Jay for deciding enough was enough and moving on.

  But she did.

  She could always pick up the phone and call him. This was another thing she told herself constantly, but somehow, in spite of now knowing she had been wrong about her mother all those years, the thought of laying herself wide open was beyond her. Which probably meant she still had some gremlins to get rid of, she admitted miserably. No, not probably. Absolutely definitely. And so the endless soul-searching continued.

  The day before Christmas Eve saw the first light snowfall, just enough to provide a frosting on the bare trees and rooftops and send already excited children into a frenzy of anticipation. As it was the office Christmas party in the afternoon little work was done, the firm winding down for a Christmas break which extended to the day after New Year’s Day.

  Miriam had a couple of glasses of wine and some nibbles, joining in the chatter and laughter and pretending an excitement about her holiday she didn’t feel for the sake of social intercourse. She had been doing the same with Clara for the last couple of weeks, not wishing to spoil her friend’s anticipation just because of how she was feeling.

  By the time she left the centrally heated confines of the building for the London streets it was bitterly cold and the smell of frost was in the air. The pavements were crowded with Christmas shoppers carrying laden bags and parcels, everyone intent on their own business and seemingly devoid of any Christmas spirit if the pushing and shoving was anything to go by.

  She’d had her fill of city life. As the thought hit, Miriam realised it was in the form of a revelation. She’d had years of living and working in the metropolis and it had been great at first, stimulating and exhilarating, even if her job was fairly predictable. But did she really want to fight her way through a stream of people every morning and again at night for the rest of her life whilst living in a concrete jungle?

  A harassed mother with a toddler hanging on to the side of the pushchair and a snotty-nosed baby crying its head off passed her, the woman’s shopping bag bumping into her with enough force to cause her to stumble. The woman marched on as Miriam looked, barging her way through the crowd as she used the pushchair almost as a weapon to clear the way in front of her.

  But this was Jay’s world. This was where he functioned, where he wanted to be, right in the heart of the pulsing city. His apartment was proof of that. And there was nothing wrong with his choice; it wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t what she wanted any more.

  The thought was incredibly disturbing but one she realised she had been coming to for a long time, probably from the first day they had split. Loving him as she did, she had fitted into the hectic social whirl of dinner parties and entertaining, and to be fair she had enjoyed it some of the time. But now, although she didn’t want to live as a hermit, she needed something different. Grass, trees, fields. A small market town perhaps. Somewhere where she could get a good job and maybe wake up to the sound of birdsong rather than the roar of the city streets, smell fresh air and woodsmoke rather than traffic fumes.

  But where did that leave her and Jay? she asked herself bleakly as she fought her way down the steps of the tube station.

  Where they were right now. A million miles apart.

  Miriam sat in grim contemplation until her stop, and once on the surface again walked home on leaden feet. Her mother had said George was the love of her life. Well, she knew Jay was hers. Without any doubt whatsoever. And she didn’t want to live the rest of her life without him, waking up one day to find she was a barren old lady, withered away, grey, wrinkled.

  She wanted to love him and trust him and believe in his love for her; she did, so much. But could she? And could she go back to that apartment and take up the sort of life they had shared? And why, why hadn’t he loved her enough to sweep away all her foolish arguments and demand to see her after he had got back to England? Why, why?

  She had been so immersed in her thoughts she didn’t notice the car outside the house, so when a car door opened and a voice said, ‘Miriam?’ she thought for a second she’d imagined Jay into being.

  She stared at him through the shadows and he smiled, tawny eyes meeting hers calmly. ‘Hi,’ he said softly. ‘You were miles away.’

  Her heart was racing and try as she might she couldn’t match his air of quiet self-control. She knew her voice was shaky when she said, ‘Hello, Jay.’

  He came towards her and she didn’t move, a trembling in her stomach causing muscles to clench. He looked gorgeous, big and dark and masculine, his bulky overcoat emphasising the strength and power of his virile attractiveness.

  ‘How are you?’ he asked when he reached her, one hand lifting her chin as he kissed her lips in a way that suggested he had every right to do so. ‘Mmm.’ He drew back a little to look into her eyes. ‘You taste of chocolate and wine.’

  ‘It was the office Christmas party,’ she answered automatically before realising that that probably wasn’t the most tactful reply in view of the events of last year.

  Jay nodded. ‘Ours too.’ He continued to regard her steadily. ‘So, how are you?’ he said again.

  ‘Fine.’ It was a lie and Jay knew it; she could tell from his face. ‘How about you?’ she added brightly.

  ‘The better for seeing you.’

  He could have seen her any time he fancied over the
last couple of weeks. Suddenly she wanted to shout at him, to say or do something outrageous to jerk him out of the relaxed, almost nonchalant air he was displaying, but she knew perfectly well she couldn’t. He had done nothing wrong after all. He had stayed away because she had made it very plain she required him to. But now he was here she knew that was the last thing she’d wanted. Forcing herself to speak normally, she said, ‘How did Germany go?’

  ‘Germany went very well.’

  It was faintly mocking and immediately Miriam’s hackles rose. It was one thing to lie awake night after night eating her heart out for this man, and quite another for him to stand there making fun of her. ‘Good.’ She took a step back from him. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me I’ve got things to do. It’s going to be an early start tomorrow.’

  ‘Ah, yes, your holiday with Clara. Doesn’t Brian mind being left home alone?’

  She didn’t like him in this mood. Bristling, she snapped, ‘Why are you here, Jay?’

  ‘Because I couldn’t keep away.’ He reached out and took her into his arms, kissing her breath away. Literally. When he raised his head, his eyes glinted down at her. ‘And because I wanted to give you your Christmas box.’

  ‘But I haven’t got anything for you,’ she protested, horrified.

  ‘I’ve just had what I wanted.’ His eye caressed her mouth, making it tingle. ‘And don’t look so stricken. If you’re really concerned, I’ll have more of the same later.’

  She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t join in whatever game he was playing. She loved him too much and this was agony. ‘Jay, I don’t think—’

  ‘Good.’ He put a finger to her lips. ‘Don’t think. This is Christmas. Or nearly. Just go with the magic. Look, I can’t give you your present here, and if I come in, ten-to-one the pit bull will be on duty. Come for a ride with me.’