A Mistletoe Proposal (10 page)

‘I'm moving around, but you can call this mobile number. I've sent you a copy of the letter so that you'll know exactly what I told the police. 'Bye.'

She hung up.

Pippa sat, deep in thought. Then she made a call.

‘Gus Donelly? Good, I need your help, fast. Listen carefully.' After a terse conversation she swept out, announcing, ‘I won't be back today.'

David, who'd been shamelessly eavesdropping, exclaimed, ‘Donelly? I seem to recall that he's a private detective, and a very shady one. I hope you're careful.'

Pippa was not only careful but successful. Returning, triumphant, she knew she had all she needed to achieve a victory—thanks, ironically, to Ginevra.

Charlie presented himself at her office with a shamefaced smile that was clearly meant to win her over. She dealt with him briskly.

‘So much for telling everything to the police! You offered a grand gesture that meant nothing. Now there's no need. I'll see you at the trial tomorrow. Now, go before I lose my temper.'

He fled.

The next day, they were all present in the courtroom— Angela clinging to Charlie's arm, Charlie trying to read Pippa's expression without success, Roscoe, aloof and isolated.

The court assembled, the magistrates seated themselves,
the accused were produced. Mr Fletcher entered the witness box and Pippa confronted him. There was nothing in her manner to suggest tension. On the contrary, she seemed at ease, cheerful and smiling. So that the sarcastic words that poured from her came as a greater shock.

‘Tell the truth, Mr Fletcher. You haven't the faintest idea what actually happened that night, have you?'

‘I certainly have,' he declared indignantly. ‘I gave a full statement to the police.'

‘Your statement is an invention. You should take up fiction writing, you do it so well.'

‘Here—'

‘You don't know what really happened because you'd spent the evening in the pub. I gather you put away quite an impressive amount, far too much for you to be a reliable witness. Isn't that so?'

‘No, it ain't so. Nobody said I was drunk. The police never said so.'

‘True, but then you're a past master at seeming more sober than you are, aren't you? As the police have found out to their cost before.'

‘I dunno what you mean.'

‘Then let me refresh your memory. About five years ago, there was a case that had to be dropped because you turned up in court the worse for wear.'

‘That's not true,' Fletcher squeaked.

‘Perjury is a crime, Mr Fletcher, and you've just committed that crime. I have the papers here.' She waved them. ‘The case had seemed to be watertight, but then you ruined everything, as the constable in question will tell us.'

After that, it was over quickly. The policeman from the previous case, still furious at having his hard work undone by an unreliable witness, gave evidence that totally undermined Fletcher. The magistrate declared Charlie not guilty, then
asserted that the case against the other three was also unsafe and should be dropped.

The court erupted.

Angela bounced around, throwing her arms about Charlie, then Roscoe, then Charlie again, squeaking and weeping with joy.

Pippa was surrounded by people congratulating her. She smiled but concentrated on gathering up her papers, the very picture of an efficient lawyer who cared only about her case. She resisted the temptation to look around for Roscoe. Secretly, she was afraid he wouldn't be there.

The lawyers for the other three defendants regarded her in astonished admiration.

‘How did you
do
that?' one of them demanded.

Another one merely touched her arm, saying, ‘I'll call you tomorrow.'

‘You can call all you like,' David said, appearing behind her. He'd taken the precaution of coming to watch. ‘Just remember she's signed up to my firm for the foreseeable future.'

‘I can offer a very good fee,' said yet another.

‘Forget it, she belongs to Farley & Son,' David declared firmly.

Angela embraced her wildly, declaring, ‘You're a magician. You just waved a magic wand.'

‘No, it was really Ginevra who waved the wand,' Pippa said. ‘She's still got a soft spot for you, Charlie, especially after you helped her escape. Fancy telling me you were going to shop her to the police! You didn't mean a word of it.'

He had the grace to blush. ‘I sort of meant it,' he said awkwardly. ‘But then it seemed such a terrible thing to do that I got her away fast.'

‘So I gathered. She wrote to the police telling them what had really happened, but that wouldn't have been enough
on its own. Anyone can take the blame for anything from a safe distance. That's probably why she gave me all the other information about Fletcher's past.'

‘But how did she know all that stuff?' Charlie asked.

‘She has friends in the police,' Pippa said cautiously.

‘Ah, yes, I see.' He grimaced.

‘She told me what I needed, I hired a very good private detective and he did the rest.'

She was talking mechanically. Something was missing. Where was Roscoe? What would he say?

Then he seemed to appear from nowhere, standing before her.

‘You were wonderful,' he said. ‘Past my wildest hopes. When you wouldn't look at me just now I was afraid you were going to snub me. I guess I deserve it.'

‘No, of course not. I'm just glad things worked out for you.'

‘For me?' he queried. He added quietly, ‘Or for us?'

‘I don't know,' she said huskily.

‘No, that's what we still have to find out, isn't it?'

He took her hand, holding it between both of his. She met his eyes and saw in them—what? Everything she wanted? No, because she didn't know what that was. But something that pointed the way.

‘Yes,' she whispered. ‘We still have to find out.'

‘Will you come to my home tonight? I don't want to come to your place in case Charlie turns up.'

‘I'll be there,' she promised.

Neither of them noticed Charlie standing a few feet away, his head on one side, a little smile of cheeky understanding on his lips.

Back at the office that afternoon, she had a long talk with David, who made it clear that her value had dramatically increased. The word ‘partnership' was mentioned.

‘Not right now, because it's a bit soon,' he said, ‘but we've got our eyes on you and will take drastic steps to stop you being poached by any other firm. In the meantime, you'll have to make do with a raise.'

Her career was heading for the heights. She wondered when Roscoe would call her.

The phone rang. She snatched it up. But it wasn't Roscoe. It was Lee Renton, the impresario she'd last seen in The Diamond.

‘You were right,' he boomed. ‘I do need a pre-nuptial agreement.'

‘I'll get to work—' Suddenly Pippa sat up straight in her chair as inspiration came to her. ‘Lee, could you do me a big favour?'

‘Name it.'

She explained what she wanted.

He listened with the occasional grunt, ending with, ‘Consider it done. I'll be in touch.' He hung up.

The next call was the one she longed for.

‘I'm going home now,' came Roscoe's voice.

‘I'm on my way.'

R
OSCOE'S
apartment was high up in a tall, plain block, which once she would have said was typical of the man. But that was before she'd discovered the hidden, complex depths that meant there was no such thing as ‘typical' of him.

Who would ever have thought that this man would be waiting at his open door, would pull her inside and crush her in his arms as though he'd waited all his life for this moment? Or hear him say in a shaking voice, ‘I was so afraid you wouldn't come.'

‘Never fear that. I'll always come if you want me.'

‘And I'll always want you.'

He had even started to cook a meal for her. He wasn't a great cook, but he could manage a microwave and between the two of them they managed to get something onto the table. There was much more to deal with this evening, but, as if by a silent signal, they were each taking it slowly.

‘So where do we go from here?' he asked, filling her wine glass. ‘I leave the decision to you because it's clear you're several steps ahead of me. All those rabbits you produced out of the hat at the trial. You don't need me or anyone. You're queen of all you survey.'

‘Hey, stop buttering me up.'

‘Just trying to find the way forward, or hoping you can find it for us. There are so many things yet to be decided.'

‘Like what?'

‘Charlie. His feelings for you. I contrived the situation and, now that he's fallen for you, how can I just tell him everything has changed and he must forget you?'

She stroked his face, taking care that he should feel her warmth and tenderness towards him because her words would be a shock.

‘You know something?' she said. ‘Anyone hearing you say that would think you came straight out of the nineteenth century. You're a real male chauvinist pig.'

‘Am I?' he asked, startled. ‘How?'

‘You talk about what
you
can do, but what about me? Don't I get a say?
You
fixed it so that Charlie should come under my influence, like I didn't have anything to do with it. But maybe
I
fixed it, oh, powerful one!'

‘I guess I deserved that,' he said gruffly.

‘Don't get me started on what you deserve. And there's one thing you have to understand. Charlie isn't in love with me. When we met, he took one look at me and thought
Wow!
, just as we both meant him to. But it was purely physical. He's up for new experiences and he pursued me when he thought he might get one. But there was no emotion in it. He's closer to Ginevra than he is to me. About an hour after the trial she texted me saying,
We did it!
'

‘How did she know?'

‘Exactly. Charlie must have called her.'

‘Oh, no,' Roscoe said at once. ‘I won't have this.'

‘But it's not up to you. You've got to let Charlie be himself, not some creature you've created.'

‘I only want to keep him out of danger. Is that wrong?'

She thought it might be impossible if, as she was beginning to suspect, danger was Charlie's natural medium. But this wasn't the time to say so. They had more urgent matters to attend to.

‘The point is that Charlie's not in love with me,' she repeated, ‘and his heart can't be broken by us. So we're free.'

‘Free,' he echoed slowly. ‘Free to—?'

‘Free to do anything we want. Be anything we want.'

‘Do you have any ideas about that?'

‘Plenty. Don't ask me to list them because that would take all night.'

He became hesitant, almost as though nervous of saying the words.

‘About…all night. Does it seem to you…?'

‘Yes,' she whispered. ‘It does.'

Like everything else in this new relationship, their love-making was tentative, cautious, watching and learning from each other. He was a patient lover, fervent, but with the control to take everything slowly. How softly his fingers caressed her breasts, and how mysterious was his smile as he did so.

She smiled back, feeling more and deeper mysteries unfold within her. The sweetness at being one with him was greater than anything she had ever known. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to
be
him. And she wanted it for ever.

Afterwards, he murmured, ‘Are you really mine?'

‘Can you doubt it?' she whispered.

‘Yes. Nobody has ever been mine before.'

Before she could reply, he enfolded her in his arms again and in the passion that followed she forgot all else. But after passion came safety and contentment, both as precious as desire.

‘Nobody was ever yours before?' she murmured. ‘Surely that can't be true?'

‘You'd think not, wouldn't you?' he agreed. ‘I don't usually go around telling people that I need them. It's too dangerous, for one thing.'

‘Oh, yes, I know. They have to discover it for themselves.'

‘Yes. And they don't. Except you. But before you…' His voice died away into silence.

‘What about your fiancée?' she asked. ‘You must have been in love with her.'

‘Yes, desperately. I thought I'd found the answer—a woman I could love and who'd love me—but it wasn't right between us. I couldn't be the man she wanted, giving her all my attention. She resented my other responsibilities.'

‘Did she force you to choose between her and them?'

‘In a way, yes. I can't blame her. I put them first, but how could I not? Charlie was still basically a kid and Mother was still stuck in a state of bewilderment. They needed me. In the end, Verity and I agreed to call it a day.'

But to outsiders it had looked like a cold-hearted parting, she thought. Perhaps Roscoe bore some of the blame for that, hiding his feelings and turning a blank face to the world, but it had left him in terrifying isolation. He'd said that nobody had ever been his before, and it was true. Pippa clasped him more closely, seeking to offer him a warmth and love that would make up for the aching loneliness in which he'd lived, a loneliness that left him always prepared for betrayal, ready to expect it as natural and inevitable.

Now she recalled the words with which he'd greeted her, a few hours and a lifetime ago.

‘Why did you think I wouldn't come? Surely we'd agreed?'

‘Yes, but I thought you'd remember that you were angry with me, and with reason. I behaved badly.'

‘When? I don't remember.'

‘When I discovered that you knew something I hadn't told you, about my father. You'll despise me, but I couldn't bear that. It made me feel spied on.'

‘You like to control how much people know about you,' she mused. ‘It's safer, isn't it?'

‘Much safer. No—' he checked himself instantly ‘—it
feels
safer but, if you give into it, it's actually the way to go mad. Once I knew what you'd discovered, I had to head in the other direction, even though leaving you was the last thing I really wanted. But it was like being driven by demons.'

‘Mmm, I know about those demons,' she murmured. ‘They scream,
This way lies safety.
So you take that path, but you find that it leads to a howling wilderness, then to a cage. And you know you must escape it soon or there'll never be a way out.'

‘You have to decide whether you want to live in that cage for ever, or venture out and take the risks of being human,' he agreed. ‘But if you don't take those risks—' his arms tightened about her ‘—then you stop being human. And perhaps you need to find the one person who can make you want to take them.'

‘Then maybe it's time I took a risk,' she said.

‘How do you mean?'

‘Asking you about your father. You've already told me to back off—'

‘I didn't mean—'

‘But I'm not going to do that. I'm going ahead, even if it makes you angry. Perhaps you
need
to be angry, so tell me what happened when he died. Were you very close to him?'

‘Close?' He seemed to consider the word. ‘I hero-wor-shipped him. I thought he was a great man, starting from nothing and building up a huge business. He had power and that was wonderful. Which just goes to show how naive I was. I was as immature in those days as Charlie is now.

‘I was so proud when he took me into the business, told me I had the brains for it. We were a team, working together to conquer the world, so I thought. It was only after he died that I discovered the mountain of debt, the rip-offs, the deceit.
He'd lied to everyone; my mother, who never knew he had a succession of mistresses bleeding him dry; virtually everyone he ever worked with, and me, who trusted him totally, was so proud at being close to him, and then discovered that we weren't close at all.

‘I'd been so smug, so self-satisfied, sure of my place inside the loop, and all the time I'd been kept on the outside, like the fool I was.'

Pippa pulled herself up, turning so that she could look down at his head on the pillow. ‘Don't put yourself down,' she said.

‘Why not? A fool is the kindest thing I can call myself. If you knew how ashamed and humiliated I felt at how easily he took me for a ride. He knew he could deceive me more than anyone else.'

‘Because you were his son and you loved him,' she urged. ‘He made use of that. Shame on him, not you.'

In the dim light she could just make out his wry smile.

‘That's the sensible point of view. Back in those days it didn't help a distraught boy who'd been conned by a father he damn near worshipped and only found out when it was too late to ask any questions. He was dead. I went to see him lying on a slab—cold, indifferent, safely gone beyond the world, beyond me. I wanted to scream at him—why hadn't he trusted me? We could have fought for the business together. But he'd chosen to walk away, leaving me behind.'

‘He rejected you,' she said softly, ‘left you stranded without warning. No wonder you're sensitive about what other people know about you.'

‘Stranded without warning,' he murmured. ‘Yes, that was it. Suddenly I was standing on the edge of a cliff that I hadn't even known was there. No way forward, no way back, nobody I could talk to.'

Nobody I could talk to.
The words were like an epitaph
for his entire life. His bond with his father had been an illusion, his mother took everything and gave little, Charlie took everything and gave nothing. He was like a castaway stranded on a desert island.

‘Was anyone with you when you went to see him on the slab? Your mother?'

‘No, she couldn't bear very much. There were so many things she mustn't be allowed to know.'

‘The other women?'

‘Yes. She'd heard rumours, I denied them, swore that I'd never heard of his being untrue to her. I was afraid she'd kill herself as well if she knew. It's ironic. I blame Charlie for telling stupid lies, but I've lost count of the really black lies I've told, the deceptions I've arranged, the people I've bribed to stay out of my mother's way in case they let something slip.'

‘That's different. Sometimes you have to lie to protect people you love. That's not the same as self-serving lies. I don't suppose you told her the state the firm was in either.'

‘Not completely. I hinted that we weren't as prosperous as we might be, but I spared her the worst. Sometimes I think stocks and shares are the only part of my life where I'm actually honest.'

‘Deception doesn't make you dishonest,' she said seriously. ‘It's the kind of deception that counts. You're the most honest man I've ever met. I
know
that Roscoe, because I know you.'

After what he'd told her about how he resisted anyone's eyes, it was a daring thing to say. Perhaps it was too soon for him to relax under a knowing gaze, even hers. But then she saw his face transfigured by joy and relief.

‘You know me,' he echoed softly. ‘That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Now I'll never let you go.'

Heaven must be like this, she thought, nestling against him. If only they could be undisturbed for ever.

Pippa was to remember that feeling because, looking back, she could see that it was the moment everything began to fall apart. She wondered if it was the Christmas carol that triggered the catastrophe or if it would have happened anyway, for she awoke next morning to find herself in a dark wilderness.

She tried to shake it off, wondering how she could feel this way after the wonderful events of the night before. But the darkness seemed to be rooted in those very events and her confusion grew.

Roscoe was still clasping her with loving possessiveness, which should have touched her heart but suddenly seemed like a threat. She began to ease away.

‘Don't go,' he said. ‘Stay here a little longer.'

‘I can't,' she said. ‘I've got work to go to. So have you.'

He grinned. ‘To hell with work. To hell with the markets.'

Another time she would have teased him fondly for such an attitude, but now she needed to get away from his warmth and gentleness, far, far away from everything that made him lovable. She must think, calm her howling demons, refuse to let them ruin her life.

She slipped out of bed and went to the window, pushing it open a little way. It was a bright, fresh morning with a little snow in the air and she stood taking deep breaths, trying to make the darkness lift.

She could do it—just a few minutes more.

But then Roscoe did the thing that made her efforts collapse. He turned on the radio and the sound of a Christmas carol floated out. As Pippa heard the words she stiffened.

All is well.
Once before she'd heard those words, just before the betrayal that had devastated her.

‘Don't catch cold,' he said, coming up behind her and putting his arms about her. ‘Hey, what's the matter?'