The Millionaire's Christmas Wife

forcing a smile through her tears. ‘That’s life. The positive thing was I discovered I had a brain, that I was really very bright. At uni I made up my mind I’d make a good life for myself, get a brilliant job and live on my terms. Use men to get what I wanted but no involvement. I mean, who needs it?’

They were both going to be late for work but Miriam knew she couldn’t stop Clara talking; her friend’s face had looked haunted when she’d first seen her. ‘And then Brian came along,’ she said softly.

Clara nodded. ‘And then Brian came along,’ she echoed flatly. ‘He told me last night he made up his mind a year ago he was going to be celibate until the right woman, the one, came along. He’d slept with other girlfriends since he was seventeen or eighteen but one day he woke up thinking he wanted something different from that.’ She shrugged. ‘He can be very determined when he makes up his mind about something; he’s terrifically good at his job. He—he said last night he knew I was the woman.’

‘How did you feel?’ Miriam didn’t really need to ask; she had seen the desperation on Clara’s face that morning.

‘Panicky, scared, aggressive.’ Clara’s heavy eye make-up had already streaked down her cheeks; now she made it worse by scrubbing at her eyes with her fists as she added, ‘I was evil, Miriam. I don’t think he’ll ever talk to me again, let alone want to go out with me.’

‘He doesn’t know about your mother and what happened with this man?’

Clara shook her head. ‘Apart from the teacher and a therapist I had to see when I was in care, I’ve never discussed this with anyone else but you.’

‘You need to tell him, Clara.’

‘I couldn’t.’ Clara started to cry again. ‘I know it’s daft but he might look at me differently; it would change things. He’d know too much, it’d give him too much power…Oh, I can’t explain how I feel.’

Miriam felt at a loss for a moment. Then she took Clara’s arm. ‘Come on. We’re going up to my place and we’ll both ring in to work and say we ate something that disagreed with us last night and will be late. You’re going to have a coffee and something to eat and we’re going to talk this through. OK?’

‘I can’t.’ Clara sniffed miserably. ‘I’ve got to pull some material together for a programme that’s already way behind schedule, and because it’s of a sensitive nature no one else can take over.’

‘Tough.’ Miriam was not going to be deflected. ‘You’re far more important than any TV programme and this is the rest of your life we’re talking about here.’

Now Clara smiled weakly. ‘True,’ she admitted. ‘Dramatic, but true.’

Two hours and plenty of tears later, Clara had agreed she’d tell Brian she had something important to discuss with him when she saw him at work, and could they meet later that day? ‘But what if he’s already decided he’s had enough?’ she said to Miriam as they repaired their make-up preparatory to leaving the bedsit. ‘I was absolutely foul to him last night, and I do mean foul. He might have made up his mind he’s sick of being the nice guy to such an out-and-out headcase as me.’

‘He won’t and you’re not,’ Miriam said firmly, praying silently her faith in the stalwart Brian wasn’t ill-founded. If ever anyone needed a hero, it was Clara.

‘I wouldn’t blame him.’ Clara stopped what she was doing and stared gloomily at her reflection. ‘The chances are our relationship won’t last anyway—we’re from different ends of the spectrum. He had the classically normal upbringing and when his father died five years ago he was devastated. His mother is an absolute love with a heart of gold. He couldn’t possibly understand where I’m coming from.’

‘You underestimate him.’ Miriam turned Clara round by her shoulders to face her. ‘And his mum sounds just what you need. I think this has every chance of going the course and you do too, deep down. That’s why you’ve got the jitters.’

Clara raised an eyebrow. ‘OK, wise woman. I concede defeat.’

‘I’m not wise—far from it. Believe me, Clara, I’m just as messed up as you are but without such good cause.’ As she said it her own words reverberated in her head. Fortunately Clara was too immersed in her own problems to dwell on what Miriam had said and the moment passed, but as the two of them made their way downstairs Miriam was telling herself she would think about all the issues Clara’s revelations had thrown up later. Much later. Once she was in bed. With a sickening jolt she realised there would be plenty to consider.

In spite of the awfulness of all Clara had confided, Miriam found she wasn’t thinking of her friend as she opened the front door of the house. It was Jay who was at the forefront of her mind. Probably because of this the young, bespectacled, shiny-shoed man standing on the pavement didn’t register with her until behind her she heard Clara breathe, ‘Brian? What are you doing here?’

‘You didn’t come in this morning and someone said you weren’t well.’

‘I’m—I’m all right.’

‘You’ve been crying.’

‘I know.’

Miriam decided it was a good moment to bow out. Turning to Clara, who had turned an interesting shade of pink, she said, ‘I’m sure you two have things to discuss and I must be getting off. See you later.’

She didn’t think either of them noticed her leave.

On the way to work she found she was depressed, and—shamefully, she admitted to herself—it wasn’t because of the tragic tale Clara had told her. She simply felt very small and very alone, and the only person who could make it better was the one person who couldn’t—if that made sense. Which it didn’t, of course.

Sighing heavily, she raised her head to see the woman opposite her on the tube staring at her from over the top of her newspaper. By the time Miriam had smiled at her the woman was already reading again, but that was the way it was on the underground. Momentary eye contact and then back to anonymity.

She hated the tube. Miriam glanced round the crowded confines of the train and sighed again, but silently this time. When she’d been with Jay one of the joys of married life had been a lift to work. Not that that was important in the overall scheme of things, she assured herself swiftly, shocked at the blatant materialism. But still, it had been nice…

Her thoughts meandered on with the jolting of the train. So had waking up beside Jay each morning, opening her eyes and seeing his dark head on the pillow; sharing the funny moments that had occurred at their respective work places over dinner; drowning in the scent and feel of the one person in the world who loved you more than life itself—except he hadn’t. Or…Her heart began to thud so hard it felt it was jumping out of her throat. Had she made a mistake? Had he been telling the truth all along?