Twins For Christmas. Alison Roberts
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their mother is an angel who’s still looking after them. Maybe that was why you got sent to us.’
When his mother drove away from the house on the first leg of her journey to Canada, Adam was left standing on the front steps.
Stunned.
What had just happened here?
He’d been dreading this moment for months. Ever since he had learned of his sister’s due date and realised that—for the first time since Tania’s death—he might have to face this Christmas without the emotional support of the most important woman in his life. And worse, that the twins would be without their beloved grandmother, who was the one who insisted on making the day as special as possible for them.
He’d expected tears. Possibly tantrums, especially from Poppy, who simply adored her gran. Oliver was just as attached, of course, but he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Poppy. He was more like himself, in guarding his heart and not letting others see any private misery. His children were his life—both of them—but he did worry more about Ollie. Because he knew just how much misery it was possible to hide?
But the moment had come. They’d all been out there to say goodbye to Catherine. Even the unknown quantity that was the new arrival of the temporary nanny because his mother wouldn’t let her hang back from the family farewell. She’d been standing there beside the children—looking remarkably like a wayward, teenage sister—getting one of those warm hugs that Catherine was so good at. And then she’d whispered something in Ollie’s ear and his little boy had given a solemn nod and turned to lead the way back inside. Poppy had jumped up and down and tugged on Emma’s hand and she was bursting with excitement as she dragged Emma back up the steps.
‘We’re going to see the kit-ar,’ she informed Adam as they went past. ‘I love kit-ars.’
Benji had bounded in their wake, of course. It was Bob who was sitting by Adam’s feet and he saw the dog shiver. How long had he been standing here, wondering how on earth something he’d been dreading had turned out to be so easy?
Long enough for his dog to shiver noticeably.
‘Come on, then, old boy.’
Back in the warmth of the house, he pushed the heavy door closed and then he heard it.
The sound of music coming from the kitchen.
Expertly plucked guitar strings. A song being sung in a clear, sweet voice that filled the air and made it somehow more of a pleasure to breathe.
A childish song, he realised as he stepped closer to the bright glow of the kitchen door. A nonsense song with tongue-twister words about a copper coffee-pot.
And it wasn’t just Emma singing. Poppy was getting the words wrong and giggling but Oliver must have learned the song at school because he was joining in part of the chorus.
Not very loudly but he knew his son’s voice.
He stopped again. Puzzled.
What was it about this girl?
His mother had seen it instantly. Poppy was prepared to love everybody. But Ollie …?
How on earth had she put her hands on a key to that little heart so quickly?
Adam shook his head and Bob lay down and put his nose on his paws to wait.
He knew when something big was changing. And he knew that it took longer for his master to recognise any joyful possibilities that something new could offer. His job was simply to keep him company while he had a little think about it all.
‘SO MRS MCALLISTER’S likin’ Canada, then?’
‘Aye.’ Adam glanced over his shoulder, reaching for the file on the end of Eileen’s desk, as his next patient joined him for the short walk to his consulting room. The waiting area was still full, and while the women amongst the group seemed busy with their knitting or magazines, he knew perfectly well that they’d all been discussing his business while he’d been taking Shona Legg’s blood tests.
Or, to be more accurate, they’d been comparing notes on the new arrival in the village. Emma had been here for a few days now and there was nothing like a bit of new blood to stimulate opinions.
Eileen had overheard the comment by way of greeting from the elderly woman who was moving slowly beside him. She sniffed audibly.
‘Don’t hold wi’ havin’ Christmas in foreign parts,’ he heard her mutter. ‘It’s no’ natural to be away from your home.’
Adam suppressed a sigh as Miss McClintock’s progress slowed even more as she turned her head. ‘Canada’s no’ so foreign,’ she informed Eileen. ‘And Christmas is about people, no’ places. Dr McAllister’s sister’s there and she’s having a bairn. It’s where the first Mrs McAllister should be.’
‘Come in, Joan.’ Adam closed the door firmly behind them. ‘And tell me what’s brought you here today.’
‘I’m a bit peaky is all.’
‘Oh?’ Adam smiled encouragingly but his heart was sinking. It had been, ever since that reference to the first Mrs McAllister. The title had come from the need to distinguish Catherine from the new woman with the same name—Tania. This was really what that overfull waiting room was about, wasn’t it? It had happened all those years ago, too, when he’d brought his new wife home from the bright lights of Edinburgh. Who knew what interesting piece of information he might let slip when faced with the relentless curiosity of people who’d known him all his life?
They loved him. He knew that. They’d been prepared to accept and admire Tania, too, despite her being a foreigner from the bright lights of Edinburgh, and the excitement that her pregnancy and the birth of the twins had generated had kept the older biddies happy for months. So had the tragedy of her death. They’d closed ranks around him now and anyone who might pose even the smallest threat was going to be regarded with deep suspicion.
How on earth was Emma coping with that side of village life?
‘What sort of peaky?’
Joan McClintock removed her hat. Adam obediently took it and placed it on his desk as she began unwinding her hand-knitted scarf from around her neck.
‘I don’t feel quite right,’ his patient said vaguely. ‘A wee bit giddy in my head when I stand up sometimes.’
Adam’s nod was brisk. Blood pressure first, then. Possibly an ECG to check for an arrhythmia. At the very least a review of the medications Joan was taking. It was unlikely he’d be finished within the fifteen-minute slot that Eileen would have allocated in her appointment schedule but he would have to try.
‘I saw the bairns in the square yesterday,’ Joan told him as he helped her off with her thick coat. ‘Watching the decorations go up on the tree. It’s such a blessing they don’t remember, isn’t it?’
‘Aye.’ The agreement was as terse as Adam could make it without causing offence. A warning that discussing his private life was not an option. ‘No, you don’t need to take off your cardigan, Joan. We can just roll up your sleeve for me to do your blood pressure.’
It was a blessing that his children couldn’t remember the dreadful Christmas of three years ago. Had Emma been given the story in lurid detail, as she’d done her chores in the village over the last few days? December wasn’t just about a season of goodwill in Braeburn. It marked the season of remembrance for Tania McAllister.
His mother was lucky she was in Canada. She was getting a reprieve from being the unspoken centre of attention when family was being celebrated. Away from a village where Christmas had a distinct flavour of being a shrine to someone who had been elevated to the status of a saint.
Dear