A Mummy for Christmas (3 page)

“He isn't here right now. Can I take a message?”

“I was at the Christmas party at the school this afternoon, and I'm doing a follow up piece on some of the children. I'd like to talk to his daughter, too, and as I know both of them, I was wondering if he'd be interested in participating.” OK, she was stretching the truth a little, but this was her one chance and she wasn't going to waste it.

“I don't see why not. He'll be home around five thirty.”

“Great, thank you. I'll be over at six. Bye.” Carly put the phone down and fist pumped the air.
Yes.
Then she created a new document and started typing.
Center page spread, here I come.

~*~

Stan arrived home just after five to find most of the house in darkness. “Hello? Where is everyone?”

Mum appeared in the kitchen doorway. “I'm in the kitchen. Haley-Jo is in her bedroom. She's full of Father Christmas visiting and the book she was given. She's had her nose stuck in it ever since we got back from school. She said for a made up person he was really nice.”

“Is that Father Christmas or the main character in her new book?” Stan stifled a grin as he hugged and kissed her.

“Father Christmas.” Mum hugged him back. “She's done nothing but rave about him.”

“Has she now?” Stan hoped his daughter hadn't told his secret. It wasn't that he didn't want his mother knowing, but he'd rather tell her himself when the moment was right. “I'm glad she enjoyed herself. How was your day?”

“It went really quickly actually. How was your flight?”

“I swapped shifts with Frank. He needed someone to do his London to New York this weekend. I went Christmas shopping instead. It's all in the boot of the car. I'll bring it in once Haley-Jo's asleep. I also picked up your dry cleaning and that aftershave you wanted for Bryan.”

“Thank you.” She paused. “This weekend? You'll be away on Sunday?”

Stan nodded. “I don't normally do weekends, but it's Frank's twenty-fifth wedding anniversary and no one else would do it, so I offered.” He shrugged. She didn't need to know he'd done it in order to do this Father Christmas thing at the school. “I fly to New York Saturday afternoon, and I'm home again Tuesday at some point.”

“That's two long hauls this month.”

“I know, but the money will be handy. You don't mind, do you?”

Mum shook her head, although she did look more tired than usual. “Just feeling my age tonight, that's all.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “You're only sixty. That's not old. Wait till you get to seventy.”

Mum chuckled. “Then I shall retire, and who'll look after Haley-Jo for you?”

Stan laughed. “She'll be eighteen and quite capable of looking after herself.” He paused. “You would tell me if it got too much for you? I know she can be a handful at times.”

“No more so than you were at her age. And I had Dad to help me. You're doing this on your own.” Mum dried her hands on the tea towel. “Before I forget, a Carly Jefferson rang from the paper. She asked if she could do an interview with you. She'll be here at six.”

Carly Jefferson was the reporter that was at the school. Stan's stomach plummeted. Press interviews never went well. Even when he was being portrayed as the hero, things inevitably came up that he didn't want to discuss. And why him? He could almost guarantee this had something to do with Haley-Jo's request to Father Christmas.

“Did she say why?” Somehow he managed to keep his voice level. Although he was surprised it didn't come out as a high pitched squeak.

“It's a follow up from the school party or something. She said she knew you, so I didn't think it was going to be a problem. She sounded really lovely on the phone.”

“Yeah, we've met.” He pushed a hand through his short curls, getting his fingers caught in a knot at the back of his neck.

“Is she nice?”

He groaned. “Mu-umm…”

“Don't you Mu-uum me. It's about time you found someone else. Julie has been gone a long time now, and Haley-Jo needs a mother.”

Stan closed his eyes for a moment, shoving down the despair rising through him. He'd hoped to be understood here at least. “You know she's asked for one for Christmas?”

“Has she? Then maybe you'd better find her one. And I don't mean me.” Mum grinned and kissed him. “I'll see you Saturday.”

“I'll drop her over around eleven.” He headed to the stairs. “Gramma's leaving. Come say goodbye.”

“Bye…” Haley-Jo's voice floated through the dark hallway.

“Come and say it. Don't shout, or Gramma might not let you stay there this weekend.”

Haley-Jo thudded down the stairs in double time. “Bye, Gramma. Can I sleep in the pink room this time?”

Stan headed into the kitchen and checked on dinner. Five more minutes and it'd be ready. They should just about have time to eat before this reporter showed up. He got two plates out of the cupboard. “Lay the table for me, wombat.”

The nickname had come from a stuffed wombat he'd brought back for her on a trip to Australia shortly after she'd been born. She'd refused to sleep without it ever since. It was the first thing into the case whenever they went away anywhere.

Haley-Jo took the plates.

“Gramma tells me you've been reading the book the school gave you. How was the party?”

“It was good. The streamers didn't come off my hat once.”

“Gramma said Father Christmas came.”

His daughter laughed and gave him a knowing look. “You know he did, Daddy. You were there.”

“Yes, and that needs to remain our secret. You are not to tell anyone, not even Gramma. However,” he pointed a finger at her, “we do need to talk about what you asked him for.” The doorbell rang. “But that's going to have to wait for later. Go put those on the table.”

Stan headed to the front door and opened it. His heart sank. It was the reporter, and she was early. “Hello, Miss Jefferson. Carly,” he corrected.

“Hello, Mr. Fuller, I'm sorry I'm a little early.”

“It's Stan, please, and come on in.”

“Thank you.”

He stood to one side to allow her entry into the hallway and closed the door against the frigid December air. It was going to be frosty tonight. Maybe he should have put the car in the garage as soon as he'd gotten home.

Haley-Jo came out of the lounge. “Hello.”

“You remember Carly Jefferson from school this afternoon? Well, she wants to talk to us both about Christmas. Is that OK?”

Haley-Jo nodded slowly.

“OK. Come on in the warm.”

“Thank you.” Carly followed him into the lounge. She glanced around, setting her bag on the floor beside the couch. “You don't have your decorations up yet.”

“Daddy says it's too early,” Haley-Jo said. “If he had his way the tree would go up on Christmas Eve and down again on Boxing Day. Gramma says he's a regular Ebeder Schrudge.”

Stan's face burned, the horror deepening as Carly laughed.

“Sounds like it.”

“Can I get you some tea or coffee?” he asked, desperate to make an exit to control his rampant feelings. The same sense of dizziness as before was sweeping over him like a relentless wave, and he wasn't going to put up with it. The last woman to have affected him this way was his wife.

“Some tea would be lovely,” Carly said. “White, no sugar, please.”

“Be right back.” He pointed at his daughter, giving her the ‘
I'm watching you'
gesture. She scrunched her nose up at him as he hurried from the room, praying desperately for help to get through the next little while and that dinner wouldn't be ruined as a result.

~*~

Carly smiled awkwardly at Haley-Jo as Stan left the room. “How was the party?”

“It was good.”

Carly nodded. She was no good with kids. She never knew what to say to them.

“Do you believe in Father Christmas?” Haley-Jo perched on the couch and looked intently at her.

“He was there today at the party, wasn't he?”

Haley-Jo shrugged. “Well, there was a man dressed in a red suit there. He might not have been the real thing.”

“How can you tell?”

The child twisted her hair around her finger vehemently. “Well, this one had a fake beard, and he smelled funny. And I don't think the real Father Christmas would smell funny.”

Stan appeared at her side and held out a steaming mug of tea. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Carly smiled as she took it, the smile freezing as she caught sight of the plates on the table. “Oh, I'm interrupting your dinner. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. We hadn't started yet.”

“Why don't you eat with us?” Haley-Jo asked. “Gramma always makes too much.”

“Oh, I couldn't do that…” she objected, trying to come up with a reason why not. Truth was she hadn't eaten all day and just the smell was making her stomach rumble in a very unladylike fashion.

“Have you eaten?” Stan asked.

“No. I…” She paused. “Actually I was going to grab something later.”

“Then please, join us. I'll get another plate.”

. “I wasn't trying to ask for an invitation.” Her stomach growled loudly, and she pressed her hand to it.

He smiled. “It's fine. Haley-Jo, set another place, please.”

Awkward didn't begin to describe how Carly felt as Haley-Jo laid another place setting.

“You can sit next to me,” she said.

Stan came in with the plate and cutlery. “Have a seat, and I'll be right back.”

Dinner looked as good as it smelled. Golden brown potatoes atop what she knew had to be beef mince, with carrots, broccoli, and cauliflower in a separate dish. Stan put the dishes on the table and sat. He took Haley-Jo's hand.

Haley-Jo snatched Carly's hand and looked at her. “We say grace like this.”

Carly hesitated, and then took Stan's outstretched hand. Her face burned, and she was glad everyone had their eyes shut as Stan prayed. Disappointment speared her as he let go and then anger flared within her. What was she; twelve or thirty-two? She'd even been married, for goodness sake, so she wasn't about to go all jelly-bellied because some extremely good looking bloke held her hand for all of ten seconds while he prayed. She knew all too well that good looks didn't make a good man. Neither did praying the blessing before a meal.

“It's usually guests first, but some small people can't wait.” Stan put a spoonful of food on Haley-Jo's plate, before offering Carly the serving spoon. “Dig in.”

“Thank you.” Carly loaded her plate and took in a deep breath. Her mouth watered and the first bite more than lived up to her expectations. She relished it. “This is lovely. I haven't had a home cooked meal in ages. It's normally beans on toast or a ready meal.”

“I find it cheaper to cook and divide it into portions and then freeze the leftovers.” Stan smiled. “Of course, I forget to label things sometimes so dinner is a surprise.”

Haley-Jo laughed. “We had sausage surprise last night.”

Carly looked at her. “What's that?”

“Beans, chopped up carrots, and potatoes all layered on top of each other with cheese.”

“What was the surprise?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “The surprise was I forgot to put sausages in it.”

She smiled. “Sounds like the sort of thing my mother did when we were kids, in an effort to make us eat everything on the plate in the hope of finding the sausages.”

Haley-Jo took a mouthful of her food. “Do you go to church?”

“I used to,” Carly said. “I haven't been for a long time now.”

“Why not?”

“Haley-Jo,” Stan said, frowning at her. “Don't be rude.”

“I'm not,” she objected. “You said everyone needs to go to church because God loves them.”

Carly shifted on her chair. She'd used to feel the same way. But she hadn't since the accident.

“Sorry,” Stan apologized.

“It's fine.” She loaded her fork with food. “Sometimes things happen and you stop talking to God. It's a bit like when you fall out with a friend and don't go to their house anymore.”

“Like Melissa,” Stan said. “You used to be best friends.”

Haley-Jo pulled a face. “She was mean to me. That's why I don't play with her anymore.”

“The same thing happens with grown-ups sometimes,” Carly said.

“How was God mean to you?” Haley-Jo looked confused. “God loves us. He isn't mean to us.”

Carly paused, not sure how to answer that one. “I guess, I just got upset because He let something happen.”

“What was that?”

Stan shook his head. “Eat your dinner, wombat, or there is no pudding.”

Haley-Jo reluctantly started eating.

He looked over the table at Carly. “Sorry,” he mouthed.

She nodded. Best thing would be to shove her feelings aside and change the subject, fast. “This is the best shepherd's pie I've had in a long time. Did you help make it, Haley-Jo?”

The child nodded. “It was fun. I like cooking.”

“What's your favorite thing to make?”

Fortunately, the child went with the change of topic, and Carly's insides gradually stopped twisting and turning. She wasn't here to discuss her failed marriage or falling out with God.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Stan asked as they finished eating.

“Actually, it was both of you. My editor was intrigued about Haley-Jo's request to Father Christmas, and he wants me to do a couple of follow up articles on being a single parent at Christmas.”

“I don't…” Stan began.

Haley-Jo grinned. “Will I get my picture in the paper?”

Carly nodded. “You will.”

“Wow. I'll be famous. Take that, Melissa.” She pointed with her finger.