Lucy Gordon - A Mistletoe Proposal

Dinner was a banquet, and then everyone crowded around the huge television screen on the wall. There was the opening music and the announcer came on.

‘Hello, folks! It’s time for Pick a Star, the programme where you, the viewer, vote the star in and the dunces off. And tonight’s contestants are-’

As soon as Charlie began his comedy act, everyone knew this was the winner. None of the other seven contestants could hold a candle to him. Even Pippa, who knew how rigorously Lee had had him trained as a favour to her, was impressed by his quality.

‘Now it’s voting time, folks-the moment when you choose the winner. Here are the phone numbers.’

When he got to Charlie’s number everyone scribbled frantically and hauled out their cellphones to ring and cast their votes. Angela dived for the house phone and put her call through.

‘How long do we wait?’ Angela asked.

‘Half an hour,’ Pippa told her, ‘but Lee said there wouldn’t be any question. He’s sure Charlie will win and go on into the next round but, even if he doesn’t, Lee’s got an agent already interested in him.’

The minutes crawled past and at last it was time to gather around the set to learn the winner. When Charlie’s name was announced, the room erupted.

There he was on screen, triumphantly repeating his act, his face full of delight, and more than delight: fulfilment. The applause grew, the credits rolled. It was over.

One by one, the guests departed. A beseeching look from Angela made Pippa stay behind the others and she understood that Angela didn’t want to be alone. Her house was going to be very empty now.

She led the way into the conservatory and poured Pippa a glass of champagne.

‘It’s so kind of you to stay a while, my dear. I know everything’s going to change now, and I’m ready for it as long as Charlie is doing what will make him happy.’ She added in a confiding tone, ‘I must admit that I hoped you and Charlie…but there, he says you’re like a friendly big sister.’

‘I hope I am.’

‘Oh, dear, how sad.’

‘Sad?’

‘I would have loved to welcome you into the family as Charlie’s wife.’ An idea seemed to strike her. ‘You don’t think you could make do with Roscoe, do you?’

‘What?’

‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but you never know, you might make him human.’

‘Angela, please don’t go thinking like that. There’s no way Roscoe and I could ever…please don’t.’

‘No, I suppose you’re right. I’m being selfish, I suppose. I’ve always wanted a daughter because you can’t talk to a man as you can to a woman, and I’ve had nobody to talk to since my husband died. Charlie was just a child and Roscoe…well, he’s only interested in making money. To be fair, he gives it too, but he seems to think that’s all that’s needed.’

‘Gives it?’ Pippa echoed cautiously.

‘He’s got charities he gives to, hospitals in the Third World, that sort of thing, but signing cheques is easy. It’s affection he finds difficult.’

‘But maybe it’s just a different way of showing affection,’ Pippa said urgently. ‘Putting your arms around a sick child is fine and beautiful, but if that child is dying for lack of the right medicine, then surely it’s the man who signs the cheque that buys the medicine who’s shown the real feeling? At any rate, I’ll bet that’s what the child’s mother would say.’

Angela stared at her. ‘You sound like Roscoe.’

‘And he’s right,’ Pippa said robustly. There was a curious kind of satisfaction in defending Roscoe when he wasn’t there. It was when he was there that the trouble started.

‘Have you ever tried to talk to him?’ she asked gently. ‘You might find more sympathy in Roscoe than you thought.’

‘Do you think so? Have those wonderful all-seeing eyes of yours bored into him and found something the rest of the world missed?’

This was so close to the truth that Pippa was momentarily lost for words. She recovered enough to say, ‘Who knows? He works so hard at not letting people see what he’s really like, almost as though part of him was afraid.’

‘Afraid? Him?’

‘Sometimes the man with the strongest armour is the one who needs it most for…whatever reason.’

‘You may be right,’ Angela sighed. ‘It’s just that I’ve always found it hard to forgive Roscoe for William’s death. If he’d taken on a bigger share of the work-’

‘But he was just a boy,’ Pippa protested. ‘About the same age Charlie is now. Would you blame Charlie in the same way?’

‘No, of course not, but-’ Angela checked herself as though the realisation had startled her. ‘Roscoe has always seemed different.’

‘Seemed is the word,’ Pippa said. ‘He was young, learning the business and probably completely confused. Then his father died. Maybe he blamed himself, then he discovered that you blamed him-’

‘I never said so,’ Angela hurried to say. ‘Oh, but I wouldn’t need to say so, would I?’

‘No. But he wouldn’t say anything either, and so you lost each other all these years ago.’

Angela was silent, looking sad, and after a moment Pippa ventured to ask, ‘Was your husband at all like that?’

‘Oh, no. William was talkative and open-hearted. He told me everything-absolutely everything. Our marriage was blissfully happy.’

She held up the hand with the glittering diamond ring. ‘At least I’ve always had this as a symbol of his love. I kiss it goodnight every evening when I go to bed, and for a moment I can imagine he’s still there. We loved each other so much until he…until he…’ She was suddenly shivering. ‘He died in a car crash. Taken from me suddenly, with no goodbye. Oh, if he’d had the chance to say goodbye he would have been so kind-’

With a feeling of sick dread, Pippa realised that Angela knew the truth, despite her frantic denials. Beneath her smiling facade, she was hiding another self, permanently tormented. It was a self that the outside world must never be allowed to see, and in that she was just like her elder son.

Now Pippa knew what she must do. Going to sit beside Angela, she put her arms gently about her and held her close.

‘You remember him as a kind man who loved you,’ she said. ‘And that’s what really matters-all the good years you shared-loving each other-’

‘Yes, yes-no!’ Angela’s voice suddenly rose to a shriek and sobs shook her. ‘No, he left me,’ she wept. ‘He took his own life, although he knew I loved him. He went away from me because he wanted to, and it destroyed me and he didn’t care. He didn’t care.’

‘That’s not true,’ Pippa said, tightening her arms. ‘He didn’t stop loving you. He was just full of despair. His mind was so dark that he wasn’t his real self. It was another man who took his own life, not the one you knew. He didn’t reject you. That was someone else who only looked like him.’

She wondered if she had any right to say this when she didn’t really believe it. William Havering’s suicide had indeed been a betrayal of those who loved and needed him, and she’d said as much to Roscoe. But this desperate woman could not have endured it.

She knew she’d made the right decision when Angela raised her head, her eyes frantically searching Pippa’s face.

‘Do you mean that?’ she whispered.

‘Yes, I do. He must have been terribly ill, and it was the illness that made him act, not his own heart. He never rejected you, and I know that wherever he is now he wants you to understand that. He can’t have peace until you have it first. You still love him, don’t you?’

‘Oh, yes-yes-’

‘Then do this for him. Speak to him in your heart and tell him you forgive him because you know he didn’t mean it. Tell him-’

She stopped for the air was singing. Suddenly, Dee was there with her, pointing to the words in her diary-words she’d spoken to the man she loved, not knowing if he could hear them, if he would ever hear them.

‘Tell him…tell him…’

‘What is it?’ Angela asked in wonder. ‘You look as if you’d seen a ghost.’

‘No,’ Pippa whispered. ‘You don’t need to see a ghost to feel it.’

‘What should I tell him?’

‘That he’s still with you,’ Pippa said slowly, ‘and he always will be, just as you’ll always be with him in your heart, until one day you really will be together again.’

‘And he won’t reject me?’ Angela whispered longingly. ‘After so long?’

‘It isn’t long. Time doesn’t really exist. It’s just an illusion.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Angela said eagerly. ‘I didn’t understand before, but I do now. You’re so kind and understanding.’

She buried her face against Pippa, still trembling, but no longer in agony.

A sound from the door made Pippa look up, and what she saw made her stiffen with shock.

Roscoe stood there. He was staring, seemingly dazed by the sight that met his eyes-his mother, in transports of joy and relief, in Pippa’s arms.

This was what he was trying to do for her, but never managed it, she thought. Perhaps he’ll hate me.

She recalled his chilly hostility when he’d discovered she knew about his father’s suicide. To him, this would seem even more of an intrusion.

She patted Angela’s shoulder. ‘Roscoe’s here.’

Angela raised her head. To Pippa’s pleasure, she smiled at the sight of Roscoe and reached out a hand.

‘Mother, what is it?’

‘It’s all right. Dear, dear Pippa has made me understand so much-she said such wonderful things-’

‘I heard what she said,’ Roscoe told her quietly. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed Angela’s face. ‘Don’t cry, Mother. There’s nothing to be sad about.’

‘I know. It was wonderful. Charlie won and he’ll be in the next round and, before we know it, he’ll be rich and famous.’

The phone rang and she snatched it up. ‘Charlie, darling, we were just talking about you-’

Pippa took a step away from Roscoe. Everything-her mind, her heart, her flesh-all were in turmoil at his appearance and the uncertainty over what he’d heard. Only one thing was sure. She must get away from him.

But she felt her hand taken between his in a grip she couldn’t resist, and he drew her away, out of Angela’s sight.

‘How can I ever thank you?’ he asked in a low, passionate voice. ‘I never dreamed I could see her so at peace again, and you did it.’

He raised her hands to his lips, kissing them, while she felt a happiness she’d feared never to know again. She tried to fight it, but it wouldn’t be fought.

‘You don’t mind that it was me?’ she asked.

‘If you mean would I rather have been the one who brought my mother peace again, then yes, I would. But as long as somebody can make her such a priceless gift, that’s the only thing that matters.’

‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘It hurt so much when we quarrelled, but at least we can part friends.’

‘Part? Are we going to part?’

‘We’ve already parted, Roscoe. You know that.’

‘But I don’t. Just because we said some terrible things-you pretended to be a floozie and I pretended to believe you. We can get past that if we want to.’

The turmoil of feeling that went through her was part joy at his love, part misery at the parting that she knew was inevitable, although he could not see it, and part terror that her own nerve might fail. She must leave him, but the knowledge filled her with anguish.

‘Surely you’re ready to try again,’ he said in a pleading voice. ‘The fact that you’re here-’

‘Charlie told me you wouldn’t be here tonight.’

‘He said that? Surely not? He knew I was coming.’

‘Maybe I misunderstood,’ she said huskily. ‘But it’s too late for us.’

‘It’ll never be too late while we love each other.’

She didn’t answer that. She didn’t dare.

Hearing Angela hanging up, Pippa said quickly, ‘I’ve got to go.’

‘I didn’t see your car outside.’

‘It’s finally had it.’

‘Then I’ll drive you. Don’t argue.’

Angela kissed her goodbye and watched them depart with a smile that said she was crossing her fingers for her hopes to come true.

‘Wrap up warmly; it’s snowing again,’ Roscoe said as he helped her on with her coat, drawing the edges together. ‘Your trouble is that you haven’t got anyone to look after you. Never mind, you’ll have me in future.’

She didn’t protest. It wasn’t true but she didn’t have the strength to dispel the beautiful dream right now. There would be time enough for heartbreak later.

AS THEY headed for Roscoe’s car they realised that there was a ghostly figure standing beside it, half obscured by the driving snow. Pippa gasped with horror when she realised who it was.

‘That’s Franton,’ she said urgently. ‘The man you fired for insider trading. He’s probably damaged your car.’

But there was nothing threatening about Franton’s appearance as he stood waiting for them by the road.