The Baby Who Saved Christmas

Julien closed his eyes and cradled his forehead in one hand, applying pressure to both temples.

Could this day get any more complicated?

After a long silence he forced his eyes open again and let his breath out in a defeated sigh.

‘Fine. Send her up to the house.’

* * *

Alice McMillan wasn’t used to being the centre of attention.

It was unnerving the way she could actually feel the intense interest of the crowd of people behind her as the massive gates were opened just far enough to let her squeeze through in the company of the security guard she had whispered her secret to. She could imagine the crowd pressing closer as they shouted questions at her.

She should feel safer shut away from the pack but, if anything, Alice felt like she was falling further into a rabbit hole, like the Alice she’d been named for. Tumbling into an alien world that she was not at all sure she wanted to visit. She lifted her chin. No...this was a fairy-tale, she reminded herself. She was Cinderella and she was being escorted to the palace where the ball was about to begin.

The guard escorting her to the house was completely silent and it was a long walk. Plenty of time to look around. At a perfectly manicured garden with enough palm trees to make it look like a tropical island and citrus trees with lemons bright jewels against a glossy green background. The blue of the infinity pool was an almost perfect match for the sea it blended into, and the house...

The house looked like the kind of mansion people paid good money for the privilege of being allowed to enter. Not quite a palace but an ancient, stately villa with pillared terraces and enormous windows that probably did have a ballroom tucked away, along with a whole wing for staff quarters. It loomed ever larger as Alice walked towards it and by the time they reached the stone paving leading to the biggest front door she had ever seen, she could feel the shadow of the house settling onto her like a dark cloud that was menacing enough to suggest an imminent storm. The heavy chopping beat of a hovering helicopter overhead added to the unreality and made her feel as if she’d stepped into a movie. A modern twist on an old fairy-tale. Some kind of psychological thriller perhaps.

The guard stopped and jerked his head towards the door.

‘Allez. Il vous attend.’

The message was crystal clear. Somebody was expecting her arrival.

Her father?

Oh, Lord...this was all far more dramatic than she’d ever imagined it could be. Maybe she should have paid more heed to the advice her gran had given her so many years ago.

‘Don’t ever go looking for your father. You’re better off not knowing...’

Too late now. She was here and...and the door was opening, possibly by the very man she had come here to meet. Despite the hammering of her heart, Alice took a deep, steadying breath and walked on. She even summoned a smile as if that would somehow make her more welcome.

Disappointment that the wrong person had opened the door was remarkably crushing and her smile died instantly. Who was this young man who’d been sent to greet her? An employee? Yes, that seemed most likely. A personal assistant maybe. Or a press secretary.

Someone who’d been given clear instructions to get rid of her as quickly as possible judging by the look on his face. The glare from those dark eyes, along with the fact that he was dressed from head to toe in black, made it all more sinister. A glance upwards and he then seemed to melt into the shadow of the house as he stepped back.

‘Come inside, please,’ he said. ‘There will be photographers in that helicopter and they have very sophisticated lenses.’

His English was perfect but his accent more than strong enough to reveal his nationality. He looked French, too. Following him across an ornate foyer and through a room with a parquet floor that was easily big enough to entertain a couple of hundred people in, Alice had plenty of time to notice those superbly tailored clothes and that smoothly combed hair that was long enough to have been drawn back into a small ponytail.

She could almost hear her grandmother clicking her tongue and muttering darkly about foreigners and their incomprehensible habits but a wayward thought sneaked in that if there was any casting going on for this real-life fairy-tale, this man might have blown any competition out of the water as far as the role of the handsome prince went.

A room like a conservatory could be seen leading from the end of this ridiculously large room. Behind glass doors was a forest of indoor plants and cane furniture and beyond that Alice could see the mirror-like surface of a swimming pool. She was led towards the other side of the house, however. Into a room that was overwhelming full of...stuff. Pictures and trophies and even a wide-screen television that had a movie playing silently.

And then she saw the enormous portrait in its elaborately gilded frame and her mouth went completely dry.

This was her father’s office. These were his trophies. He was probably the driver in that speeding car in the movie.

Wow... He was larger than life in every sense in here. Supremely successful, charismatic...incredibly wealthy. Would it matter to him that she wasn’t any of those things? Would he accept her for simply being his child? Love her even...?

The hope was so much stronger now. A happy ending was beckoning. She couldn’t wait to meet him. Okay, she was nervous and knew she might be shy to start with but this meant so much to her. Surely he would sense that and give them a chance to explore their connection?

Her guide shut the door behind them. He walked past Alice and then turned. For a long, long moment he simply stared at her. Then he gestured towards an overstuffed chair that was probably a priceless antique.

‘Take a seat.’

It was more like a command than an invitation and it ignited that rebellious streak that Alice thought she’d left behind with her schooldays. She stayed exactly where she was.

‘As you wish.’ The shrug was subtle. The way he shifted a large paperweight and perched one hip on the corner of the desk was less so. This was his space, the action suggested. Alice was the intruder.

Another piercing stare and then a blunt question. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name is Alice McMillan.’ It was the first time she had spoken in his presence and her voice came out more softly than she would have liked. A little hoarsely even. She cleared her throat. ‘And you are...?’

The faint quirk of an eyebrow revealed that his bad manners had only just occurred to him.

‘My name is Julien Dubois. Who I am doesn’t matter.’

Except it did, didn’t it? He was a gatekeeper of some kind and he might have the power to decide whether her quest had any chance of success.

‘Where are you from, Miss McMillan?’

‘Call me Alice, please. Nobody calls me Miss—even the children in my class.’

‘You are a teacher?’

‘Yes. Pre-school. A nursery.’

‘In England?’

‘Scotland. Edinburgh at the moment but I was brought up in a small village you won’t have heard of. Where it is doesn’t matter.’

Good grief...where was this urge to rebel coming from? The feeling that she’d done something wrong and had been summoned to the headmaster’s office perhaps? It was no excuse to be rude enough to fling his own dismissive words back at him in exactly the tone he’d used.

That eyebrow flickered again and he held her gaze as another silence fell. Despite feeling vaguely ashamed of herself, Alice didn’t want to admit defeat by looking away first. His eyes weren’t as dark as they’d appeared in the shadows of the entranceway, she realised. Much lighter than her own dark brown, they were more hazel. A sort of toffee colour. He had a striking face that would stand out in any crowd, with a strong nose and lips that looked capable of being as expressive as that eyebrow, but right now they were set in a grim line, surrounded by a jaw that looked like it could do with a shave.

‘And you claim that André Laurent is your father?’

The disparaging snap of his voice brought her drifting gaze sharply back to his eyes.

‘He is.’

‘And you have proof of this?’

‘Yes.’

‘Show me.’