Christmas Gift: A Family. Barbara Hannay
Читать онлайн книгу.
be able to help you.’
He turned and looked at her, his green eyes intense. Fuzzy heat flashed through her.
‘I have a mountain of toys that I’ve bought for my brothers and sisters,’ she said. ‘Probably more than I’ll need. If—if you’d like to take a look at them, you’re welcome. We should be able to find some little toy to add to the chocolates.’
His green eyes studied her and she tried to look calm and unaffected, but then he did the crooked smile thing and her insides went crazy.
‘That’s incredibly kind of you.’
‘I’ll just call one of my brothers to come and mind the shop,’ she said. ‘Wait here.’ And, before he could protest, she hurried away through a door at the back of the shop.
It led directly into their house.
Down the central hallway she rushed, heading straight for the backyard where she knew from the boys’ shouts that they were playing cricket. And with every hasty step she fought off doubts.
She knew it was impulsive, but somehow this was something she had to do. Poor little Ivy deserved a proper Christmas present. And of course spending more time with Ivy’s gorgeous father was simply a chore to be endured…
She managed to convince her brother Bill that he was needed and then she almost ran back through the house. She was a touch breathless as she re-entered the shop.
The Englishman was still there, looking strangely out of place beside a mountain of dried dog food. He seemed to be making polite conversation with old Hilda Bligh, the town gossip.
‘There you are, Jo,’ said Hilda. ‘I was just telling Mr Strickland that if the shop’s empty we usually holler until someone comes.’
Goodness, Hilda already knew the man’s name. No doubt the old girl had been treated to one of his dangerously attractive smiles.
‘Sorry, Mrs Bligh, you know what Christmas Eve can be like. Here’s Bill. He’ll look after you.’
Jo glanced towards the Englishman, feeling rather foolish because she was about to invite him into her home and she didn’t know the first thing about him. ‘Can you come this way?’ she asked him.
‘It was very nice to meet you, Mr Strickland,’ called Hilda Bligh, smiling after him coyly.
Jo led the man through the doorway and into the shabby central passage that ran the full length of their house.
‘So you’re Mr Strickland?’ she said once they were clear of the shop.
‘Yes, my name’s Hugh—Hugh Strickland. And I believe you’re Jo.’
Jo nodded.
‘Short for Josephine?’
‘Joanna.’ She held out her hand. ‘Joanna Berry.’ Somehow it seemed important to shake hands—to make this exchange businesslike. But it wasn’t exactly businesslike to have her hand clasped warmly by Hugh Strickland.
‘I take it Hilda Bligh filled you in?’ she asked.
‘Indeed and with astonishing attention to detail.’
She groaned. ‘I hate to think what she’s told you.’
Hugh smiled. ‘I don’t think she told me what you scored on your spelling test in the second grade, but I believe I know just about everything else.’
‘I’m sorry. Outback towns are so—’
‘Exposing?’
Jo nodded her head and sighed. This really was the weirdest situation.
‘Yes, well…’ She took a deep breath. ‘We’d better take a look at these toys. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you into my bedroom.’
‘Really?’
He didn’t look shocked—he was too smooth for that—but Jo knew he was surprised. She made a joke of it. ‘Of course I don’t usually invite strange men into my room within minutes of meeting them.’
Amusement sparkled in his eyes. ‘Mrs Bligh didn’t mention it.’
Thank heavens he had a sense of humour.
‘I’ve hidden the presents in there, you see, and I can’t bring them out or one of the children might find them.’ She turned and led him down the passage.
But, despite her matter-of-fact air, she was suddenly nervous. It didn’t seem possible that she was actually doing this. She, ordinary, average Jo Berry, was taking a man who was a mixture of every gorgeous British actor she’d ever swooned over into her dreadful bedroom.
It was more than dreadful. She’d taken all her favourite bits and pieces to decorate her flat in Brisbane, so her room was as bare and as ugly as a prison cell.
It held nothing more than a simple iron bed with a worn and faded cover, bare timber floorboards, a scratched, unvarnished nightstand and an ancient wardrobe, once polished silky oak, but painted creamy-orange by her father during one of Mum’s decorating drives. The old Holland blind that covered her window was faded with age and had a watermark stain where rain had got in during a storm several summers ago.
‘Perhaps this isn’t a good idea,’ Hugh said. ‘I can’t take gifts from your family.’
‘But isn’t it vitally important to have a present for little Ivy?’
‘Well…’
Without further hesitation, Jo dragged her suitcase out from under the bed. ‘Luckily I haven’t wrapped these yet,’ she said, looking up at him over her shoulder.
And he was smiling again—that dangerous smile—with his eyes fixed directly on the expanding gap between her T-shirt and her jeans.
Heaving the suitcase on to her bed, she began hauling gifts out to pile on her bedspread.
What she was looking for were the stocking fillers she’d bought to help her mother out—small fluffy toys, plastic spiders, dress-up jewellery, fishing lures, puzzles…
But she more or less had to get everything out because these things were mixed in with the main presents—the action figures and video games for Bill and Eric; the books and CDs for the older boys; the ‘magic’ magnetic drawing board and hair accessories for Grace and the baby doll for Tilly.
She glanced up at Hugh and felt a pang of dismay when she saw the look in his eyes as he stared at the doll.
As baby dolls went, it was perfect. She’d been thrilled when she’d found it. It came in a little cane carry basket with a pink quilted lining and there was also a feeding bottle and a change of clothes.
‘You have quite a treasure trove here,’ he said.
‘I need to negotiate a bank loan every year just to cope with Christmas,’ she joked.
‘Six brothers and sisters…’
‘Mrs Bligh told you that too?’
He nodded and smiled, then looked back at the bed. ‘I’d pay you anything for that doll.’
Jo thought of Ivy. She was such a sweet little thing and for a fleeting moment she almost weakened. But then she came to her senses. ‘Sorry. Not possible. That’s earmarked for Tilly.’ She reached for a fluffy lavender-hued unicorn. ‘What about this? Unicorns are all the rage with the pre-school set.’
One dark eyebrow lifted. ‘I would never have guessed. I’m completely out of my depth when it comes to little girls.’
‘Or there’s this—’ She reached for some multicoloured plastic bangles, but stopped when she heard the sound of giggling on the other side of the door. Her stomach plunged.
Tiptoeing to the door, she listened. Yes, there was another burst of giggles.
Carefully,