A Little Christmas Magic. Alison Roberts
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You are.’
‘Time to go,’ Catherine decreed. ‘You’ve met Emma and she’s met you. Now it’s time for her to talk to Daddy.’
In the flurry of putting on coats and hats and gathering schoolbags, Catherine found time to squeeze Emma’s hand.
‘I do hope you’ll still be here when I get back,’ she said softly. ‘I’d like the chance to get to know you better.’
She managed to say something to Adam as well, just before she ushered the children out of the room. Emma couldn’t hear what she said but, as she sank into the chair as the door closed behind Catherine, he was still scowling at her.
Strength. That was what he needed.
This was his one shot at finding the help he needed so that his mother would not cancel her trip to Canada and this young woman was clearly … He closed his eyes for as long as it took to draw in a new breath. A complete flake?
She looked like a refugee from the sixties or something, carrying a guitar and a backpack. So pale he could almost count the freckles scattered over her nose and she was thin enough to have a waif-like air that probably made her look a lot younger than she was. And what was it with those oversized clothes? It reminded him of when Poppy clopped around the house with her feet in a pair of her grandmother’s high-heeled shoes and a dress that was trailing around her ankles.
She was so obviously unsuitable that it was deeply disappointing. He’d have to go through the motions of an interview, though—if only to have ammunition for the argument he’d have to have with his mother later. Her whispered impression had been very succinct.
She’s lovely. Give her the job, Adam.
How had this musically inclined waif managed to impress Catherine so much in such a short time?
‘So …’ He did his best to summon a smile. ‘You’re fond of animals, then?’
‘Mmm.’ She was smiling back at him. She had blue eyes, he noted. And brown curls that had a reddish glint where the light caught them. ‘I am.’
‘And children?’
She nodded enthusiastically. ‘I like children, too.’
‘Do you have any experience with them?’
‘I’ve taught music classes. And … and I had a job working with children over a Christmas period a while back. I loved it.’
Because she’d never quite grown up herself? How many adults would use a word like ‘icky’ with such relish?
‘But you’ve never been a nanny?’
‘No.’
‘Do you have any younger brothers or sisters? Friends who have small children?’
‘N-no.’ The smile was fading now.
‘Do you have a full driver’s licence?’
‘Yes. I’ve got a motorbike licence, too.’
The image of this child-woman astride a powerful two-wheeled machine was disconcerting.
‘I’ve even got a heavy-vehicle licence. I had a job driving a bus once.’
Maybe that image was even more of a worry. How had she had the strength to even turn such a large wheel? Or was it the overlarge sleeves on her pullover that made her arms look so frail?
‘Can you cook?’
‘Well … I did have a job in a restaurant once. I—’
But Adam was shaking his head. ‘How old are you, Emma?’
‘Twenty-eight.’
Really? Only a few years younger than he was? Hard to believe but the surprise wasn’t enough to disturb his train of thought. ‘Just how many jobs have you had?’
‘I don’t know,’ Emma admitted. ‘Quite a lot. I tend to like part-time or temporary work. That’s why this job appealed so much. It’s only for a few weeks, isn’t it?’
‘Aye.’ But just because he only needed help on a temporary basis it didn’t mean that he wanted to employ someone who was incapable of commitment or even reliability, did it?
Perhaps he should have tried to find something permanent instead of a stop-gap, but who went looking to move and start a new position in the weeks right before Christmas? How many people wanted to move to an isolated Scottish village anyway?
His mother was due to drive to Edinburgh tonight, ready for an early departure tomorrow. If he didn’t take a chance on Emma, she would cancel her trip and she’d miss the birth of her new grandchild. She’d be miserable and Adam would feel guilty and the children would pick up on the tension and it could quite likely spoil Christmas for all of them. Not that Adam had found much joy in the season in recent years but the children were his priority now, weren’t they?
And Emma had made Poppy giggle with that ridiculous word.
That delicious sound of his daughter’s merriment echoed somewhere in the back of his head and it was enough to soften the disappointment that Emma was so unsuitable.
‘It is only for a few weeks,’ he heard himself saying aloud. ‘But … ach …’ The sound encompassed both defeat and frustration. How bad could it be? He really only needed a babysitter for the hours he had to be at work. ‘Fine. The job’s yours if you want it, Emma.’
‘Oh …’ Her eyes widened with surprise. ‘Yes. Please. But … don’t you have other people to interview?’
‘You were the last.’ She didn’t need to know that she had also been the first, did she? ‘I’ll lock up here and then we’ll head off.’ He looked at the unusual luggage on the floor beside Emma’s chair. ‘Is that all you’ll need?’
She nodded.
‘And you don’t mind being here over the Christmas period? You don’t have family who will be missing you?’
‘No.’ She shook her head this time and dipped her chin so that her gaze was hidden, as if she didn’t want him to see how she felt about that.
Maybe it stirred too many memories that were too painful—like it did for him? An emotional cocktail of grief and anger that the season of goodwill and family togetherness only served to exacerbate? The thought gave him an odd moment of feeling potentially connected to this pale stranger in her oversized clothes. Or maybe it was the poignant tilt of her head as she looked down.
He shook off the unwelcome sensation. He had more than enough people to worry about, without adding someone else. Emma’s job was to make life easier for him for a little while, not to complicate it any further.
‘Right, then.’ His movements were brisk as he logged out of his computer and flicked off the desk lamp. ‘It’s getting late. I suppose I’d better take you home.’
THE DARKNESS OF a winter’s night engulfed the vehicle as it left the outskirts of Braeburn village behind.
Emma eyed the dashboard radio controls longingly. Driving anywhere without music was an alien experience for her but Dr McAllister clearly wasn’t going to allow distractions while he was driving. Fair enough. It was raining hard now and the lights were catching a mist of white speckles that suggested it was trying to turn into sleet.
Would conversation also be deemed a distraction? She risked a sideways glance and had to tilt her chin upwards. Even sitting down, Adam McAllister was tall. Well over six feet. Walking beside him into the clinic’s car park had made Emma feel very small. He hadn’t said anything then either, apart from an offer to carry her bag, which had sounded more like a command than