A Nanny for Christmas (21 page)

'Does that look all right?' Phoebe asked, descending from her ladder.

'It looks magnificent,' Dominic said from the front doorway. The shuttered look that Phoebe had grown used to was gone, and he was smiling.

'Daddy—Daddy.' Tara was dancing with excitement. 'Phoebe's under the mistletoe. You've got to kiss her.'

'Here, then.' Dominic handed his daughter the lead, with a frantically squirming Muggins at the end of it, and walked to Phoebe, who was rooted to the spot. 'Sorry about this,' he murmured. 'But rules are rules.'

His hands closed on her shoulders and he drew her forward. His skin smelt cold and fresh, but it warmed every fibre of her being as she went into his arms. His lips were cool too, and infinitely tender, but there was none of the passion he'd once showed her.

He had made his choice, she realised, standing passively in his embrace. And this was his way of saying goodbye. And, oh, dear God, how could she bear it?

'Kissing the staff, sweetie? How very feudal.' Serena came slowly down the stairs. She was wearing a lounging robe, the colour of ripe cranberries, and her hair was loose on her shoulders. Shopping seemed to have put her in a better mood, because her eyes were brilliant, although the expression in them when she looked at Phoebe was far from friendly.

'A grand old tradition.' Dominic released Phoebe without particular haste.

'Does it include wives?' Serena reverted to playfulness. As Phoebe stepped back Serena came up to Dominic, sliding her arms round his neck and thrusting her hips forward against his.

This was not something Phoebe wanted to watch.

'Suppertime,' she said, and led Tara away.

* * *

Christmas Eve at last, Phoebe thought wearily as she parked the car at the rear of the precinct. And soon she'd be able to count her remaining days as a nanny on the fingers of one hand.

Quite apart from her emotional involvement, she would be thankful to leave.

Serena's attitude—while never cordial after the opening gush—had deteriorated fast after she'd caught Phoebe under the mistletoe with Dominic.

Phoebe was left in no doubt that she was an enemy, and therefore to be subjected to all the petty tyrannies that a fertile mind could invent. And Serena Vane was incredibly inventive.

The barrage of small unkindnesses, and snide, contemptuous remarks, seemed unending. Even Tara was the target for some of it, as punishment for the affection in which she obviously held Phoebe.

It was a ghastly situation.

Phoebe pinned on a smile as she went into the craft shop.

'I've come for the dolls' house and furniture.'

'Oh, yes, of course—for Mr Ashton. It's all packed up ready. Shall I help you carry it out to the car?'

'Oh, please,' Phoebe accepted gratefully.

'I do hope the little girl likes it,' the woman remarked as they manoeuvred the heavy carton into the back of the car. 'What a wonderful Christmas she's going to have—with her mother at home.'

'Wonderful,' Phoebe agreed levelly. 'I'm sure Tara will be in after Christmas to choose some more furniture.'

The other woman's eyes lit up. 'Oh, do you think Miss Vane will bring her? It would be so marvellous to meet her. We've seen such a lot of her since she came back— just in passing, of course.'

'Really?'

The other woman nodded vigorously. 'She calls in at the perfume shop several times a week. As a matter of fact she was there earlier this morning.'

Phoebe's brows lifted. As far as she knew, Serena Vane, who rarely got up before noon, was still in her room. Or Dominic's room, she amended with an inward sigh.

'Are you quite sure?'

'Of course.' The other woman bridled slightly. 'I'd know her anywhere, and so would Marjorie, who helps me. And the taxi waiting at the end of the precinct, same as always. It was definitely her.'

'What a pity I didn't know. I could have offered her a lift.' And been turned down with some unpleasant comment, no doubt.

'I hope I haven't given her away,' the woman said archly. 'Perhaps it was your present she was buying.'

Phoebe forced another smile. 'I don't think so,' she said, and got into the car.

When she arrived at the house, she drove round to the back. She'd have to leave the dolls' house in the car, she decided, and ask Dominic to help with it later, when Tara was in bed.

As she went indoors she heard total uproar coming from the small sitting room. Serena Vane was shouting, and Tara was crying loudly.

Phoebe walked into the room. Tara was sitting at the piano, her face wet with tears, and Serena was looming over her.

'God-awful row,' she yelled. 'Hellish din, over and over again. Don't you know any other bloody tunes?'

Tara saw Phoebe and ran to her, burying her face in her stomach.

'It was my surprise,' she wailed. 'I was practising my surprise again, so that I could play it for everyone tomorrow, and Mummy was angry.'

Phoebe looked at Serena over Tara's head. 'What the hell's the matter with you?' she asked raggedly, her dis-

gust with the older woman and her compassion for Tara outweighing her normal discretion. 'Did you have to ruin it for her?'

'Ruin?'
Serena screeched, her face mottled with rage. 'I'm the one who's had her morning ruined. I've had this terrible migraine ever since I woke this morning. I haven't been able to raise my head from the pillow, and all I could hear was that ghastly tune. It's been driving me mad.'

'Then it's a pity you didn't stay in Midburton,' Phoebe said icily.

'What are you talking about? I've not been out of my room until this moment. I've been too ill.'

She certainly didn't look well. Her face was haggard and her eyes were dull.

'Miss Vane, you were seen by some people in an adjoining shop.' Phoebe stroked Tara's hair, feeling the sobs die away to hiccups.

'You lying bitch,' Serena said thickly. 'I tell you I haven't left the house.'

'Which makes you the liar, Miss Vane, not me.' Phoebe faced her steadily. 'But you're not just a liar. You're a cruel, heartless woman. Jilly Mason was right when she called you the Snow Queen.'

'What did you say?' Serena's voice rose to a scream, and she lunged forward and slapped Phoebe hard across the face.

Tara screamed. 'No,' she protested frantically. 'Don't hurt Phoebe, Mummy, please.'

'And you shut your damned face as well,' Serena gritted as Phoebe put up a numb hand to her reddening cheek.

'What the hell's going on here?' Dominic appeared in the doorway, removing his Barbour jacket.

'Phoebe and Mummy had a fight, and Mummy hit her.' Tara sounded terrified.

Phoebe crouched down beside her. 'Darling,' she whispered, 'I'm not hurt—I'm fine, really.'

Dominic turned to Serena, his brows lifting. 'Is this true?'

'She was appallingly, viciously rude,' Serena returned. 'I think your past attentions have gone to her head. Anyway, she's not staying in this house a moment longer. Get rid of her.'

There was a silence, longer than eternity, then Dominic turned towards Phoebe. His face was like stone.

'Is there somewhere you can go?' he asked with remote formality.

'No, Daddy,' Tara burst out urgently. 'It wasn't Phoebe's fault.'

He touched Tara's cheek gently. 'Quiet, darling. Go and find Carrie, and I'll deal with this.' As the child left the room, crying again, he looked at Phoebe. 'Well?'

'I can phone Lynn,' she said, dry-mouthed. 'Her family offered to have me ages ago. The invitation may still be open.'

'Then will you do so, please? Then pack. I'll drive you to Westcombe.'

'Get her a taxi—or let her walk,' said Serena.

Dominic took Serena's arm. 'This must have been terrible for you,' he said quietly. 'Why don't you go upstairs and rest?'

'Yes,' she said, staring around her almost unseeingly. 'Darling Dominic, you always know what's best for me.'

He put an arm round her, steadying her. His voice was gentle. 'Perhaps, at last, I'm learning,' he said, and led her from the room.

Lynn, though naturally curious, said yes without hesitation, so there was nothing for Phoebe to do but pack her few possessions into carrier bags.

Dominic was waiting in the hall when she came downstairs.

'Am I allowed to say goodbye to Tara?' she asked, her voice shaking a little.

'It's better you don't, I think. She's been through enough emotional traumas for one day.'

'I see.' She swallowed. 'How much did you hear?'

'Almost all of it.'

And you still blame me, she thought bitterly. She must have you in thrall.

'Before I forget,' she said as they entered Westcombe after a silent journey. 'The dolls' house is in the car.'

'Thank you.'

She directed him to Lynn's and he pulled up outside.

'Well—goodbye,' she forced through frozen lips. 'I'm sorry it had to end like this.'

'So am I,' he said sombrely. 'You don't know how sorry. But there is no other way.'

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her once, so hard that her mouth felt bruised. Then he leaned across, releasing her seat-belt and the catch on the passenger door.

'I have to get back,' he said.

Phoebe stood on the pavement, watching the Range Rover turn the corner and vanish. The door behind her opened, and Lynn and her mother appeared, waving to her excitedly.

Phoebe smiled back, and, moving like an automaton, walked up the path to face the loneliest, most desolate Christmas of her life.

She couldn't let her feelings show, of course. She told them simply that she'd had a row with Serena and been fired, making a joke of it.

And apparently she wasn't the only one. Mrs Preston had come to the end of her tether with Debbie, too, and Phoebe's old job was available at the cafe. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing, she thought.

She helped Mrs Fletcher make mince pies, watched a film on television without seeing one frame of it, and accompanied them all to the midnight service.

It was only when the children's choir sang 'Away in a Manger' that she found the tears coursing uncontrollably down her face.

And, bowing her head, she prayed that little Tara would have a merry Christmas, and that Dominic would find happiness with the woman he loved.

'We're going to take the presents round to my grandparents,' Lynn said the following morning. 'You're welcome to come.'

'It's all right. I'll stay and keep an eye on the turkey,' Phoebe returned, smiling resolutely.

'We won't be long.' Lynn gave her a narrow look. 'Sure you're OK?'

'I'm fine.' Phoebe pushed her towards the door. 'Go and play Santa Claus.'

Say after me, Phoebe Grant, she told herself sternly once she was alone—I'm
not
going to ruin the Fletchers' Christmas. I am
not
going to be a spectre at the feast.

She switched on the television, but all the programmes seemed to be about loved ones being reunited with each other over vast distances, and she couldn't bear it.

Fitton Magna wasn't a great distance, but it might as well have been the North Pole.

She put on a tape of some Christmas music, and settled down to read the book Lynn had bought her.

The sound of the key in the front door made her jump.

'That was quick—' she began, and shopped. Because it wasn't Lynn, or her parents, who appeared in the sitting room doorway, but Dominic.

He looked pale, and strained, and there were deep shadows under his eyes, but his smile touched her like a caress. Wordlessly, he held his arms out, and she went to him, half-stumbling.

He lifted her off her feet, kissing her deeply, hungrily, » and for a delirious moment she responded with equal ardour. Then she remembered, and pushed him away.

'We mustn't.' Her voice trembled. 'This isn't right.'

He set her gently on her feet. 'It feels right to me, my love.'

'Please, don't say that,' she whispered. 'Aren't things bad enough already?'

'I'd say they were improving by the moment.'

'Is this why you sent me away?' she demanded with sudden fierceness. 'To hide me from Serena—so that I can be your bit on the side? Well, I won't. However much I love you, I won't live like that.'

'I certainly sent you away from Serena,' Dominic said mildly. 'But solely for your own protection. She was in a bloody dangerous mood. She'd already hit you, and I couldn't risk what she might do next, so I got you out of the house. It was clear she saw you as her rival, and I thought she might be easier to deal with if you weren't around.'

'Deal with?' Phoebe echoed in bewilderment. 'But you're remarrying.'

'No,' he said. 'Under no circumstances would I ever allow Serena past the margin of my life ever again.'

'But you were sleeping together.'

'Never,' he said. 'I admit she let me know she was available, but I wasn't. Do you really think I'd have laid a hand on her again after everything that's happened? After you?'

'Dominic—I saw her go into your room that first night.'

'Did she?' His brows lifted. 'How disappointing for her, my darling. Because I wasn't there. I went for a long drive, then sat on a hill and watched the dawn, and did a lot of thinking, and she certainly wasn't there when I got back.'

'But you must have some feelings for her still.' She found herself remembering Hazel Sinclair's bitter words.

'She's Tara's mother, and there's nothing I can do about that,' he said slowly. 'But my overriding feeling is pity, because she's screwed up her entire life. But that doesn't mean I'd let her screw up mine.'

'Then why did you let her come back?'

'To find out what she wanted. I knew she'd been sacked by the studio because I've had someone keeping an eye on her out there. I knew too that she'd broken with Bryn Stratton. He was the reason I was able to get custody of Tara. I knew he was a junkie, and I suspected Serena had acquired the habit too. I threatened to make it public in court, and she caved in.'

'But why?'

'Because she couldn't afford that.' His voice was grim. 'The head of the studio had a son who died through his cocaine addiction, and he's violently antidrugs. I hoped it might have brought her to her senses, but I soon realised I was wrong.'