The Magic Of Christmas. Sarah Morgan

is the best day of my life. Will it be our turn soon? Will it? We’ve been waiting for ages. Do you think Father Christmas too busy to see us? Are we going to have to come back another time?’ Aggie was wearing a bright pink coat with matching gloves and her whole face was a smile as she chattered non-stop. The sound of a choir singing Christmas carols blared and crackled through loudspeakers and the dull ache in Christian’s head threatened to turn into a ghastly throb.

      The morning had been hideously busy, and prising himself away from the department for a few hours had proved even harder than he’d anticipated.

      ‘He’s not too busy to see you, but there are lots of children waiting.’ He reached out with his free hand and gently stroked her blonde curls while he glanced along the queue, looking to see if he could track down one of the ‘fairies’ employed to occupy the children with small toys and sweets while they were waiting. He glanced at his older daughter, who was gazing into space. ‘You’re quiet, Chloe. Are you all right?’

      She sent him a quick smile. ‘I’m fine, Daddy. Thanks.’

      He looked at her, trying to work out the immediate problem. And there was a problem, he knew there was. He gritted his teeth. Until he’d had daughters, he’d thought he’d known a lot about women. ‘Is twelve too old to be seeing Father Christmas?’

       Was he supposed to know these things?

      Colour seeped into her cheeks. ‘It’s fine, Daddy.’

      ‘She has to see Father Christmas,’ Aggie announced, hopping from one leg to the other, ‘otherwise how is he ever going to know what she wants more than anything in the world?’

      Chloe’s eyes slid to her sister. ‘Father Christmas can’t give you everything you want. He isn’t a miracle worker.’

      ‘Yes, he is. Try asking and see.’

       Had he ever been that innocent or that optimistic?

      Wondering whether it was age or life that had turned him into a cynic, Christian studied his eldest daughter’s tense profile. She stood quietly in the queue, a far-away look in her eyes. Her cheeks were pale and the skin beneath her eyes was shadowed, as if she wasn’t sleeping well. And she was far too quiet, as she so often was these days.

      Tension ripped through him.

       Could he have changed things? Could he have done things differently?

      ‘Have you made a list? I’ve made my list.’Aggie danced on the spot, her hand curled tightly around the piece of paper she’d been clutching since he’d collected her from school. ‘It’s a bit long but I’ve been good this year.’ She peeped cautiously up at her father. ‘Sort of…a lot of the time…’

      Christian lifted an eyebrow. ‘You mean, if I ignore the flooded bathroom, the fire in the kitchen and the ketchup stains on your bedroom carpet?’

      ‘They were accidents.’

      ‘I know they were accidents.’ And he’d been working. He shuddered when he thought how much worse the ‘accidents’ could have been. ‘It doesn’t matter, sweetheart.’

      ‘It wasn’t exactly my fault, was it?’ Aggie frowned. ‘She should have been keeping an eye on me. Nanny TV.’

      ‘Nanny asleep-on-the-sofa,’ Chloe murmured, and Christian felt the tension increase dramatically.

      Nanny TV. It was only after his daughters had started using that nickname that he’d realised just what the nanny had been doing all day. And it hadn’t been looking after his children.

      ‘She’s gone,’ he said grimly, a flash of anger exploding through his body. ‘The new nanny starts tomorrow.’

      ‘Another nanny?’ Aggie glanced at her sister. ‘What if she doesn’t like us?’

      ‘Of course she’ll like you.’ Christian frowned. ‘All nannies like children. That’s why they’re nannies.’

      ‘Nanny TV didn’t like children. She told me that I was more trouble than I was worth.’ Aggie smoothed her coat. ‘Do we have to have another nanny? We’re at school all day. Can’t we just come home with you in the evening?’

      Chloe shook her head. ‘You know we can’t do that. Daddy has to work. He has a very important job. He can’t always leave at the same time every day. And then there are the nights and the holidays and all the things to be done around the house, like picking up the clothes you drop everywhere.’

      Christian let out a long breath. ‘Chloe’s right, sweetheart. And, at the moment, my work is very busy.’ He didn’t even want to think about it. Even taking two hours off to take his daughters to see Father Christmas pricked at his conscience. His colleagues in the emergency department would be stretched to breaking point. But there was no way he was disappointing his children.

       They’d had the year from hell.

      He glanced at his watch again and then at the queue, which just didn’t seem to be moving.

      Aggie tilted her head to one side. ‘Are there lots of broken people at the moment?’

      Christian blinked at her description. ‘Yes—I suppose so. People have accidents—’

      ‘And you stick them back together again.’Aggie gave an understanding smile. ‘I know. I know you’re very clever. And you need to work, otherwise we wouldn’t have any money. Would we have to go to the workhouse?’

      ‘The workhouse?’

      ‘We’re learning about it in history. In Victorian times poor children sometimes went into the workhouse. I hope we don’t do that. I really like our new house and I love my bedroom. Will we be able to unpack soon?’

      Christian opened his mouth and closed it again. Keeping up with the speed of his daughter’s conversation required a decent night’s sleep and he hadn’t had one of those for months. ‘We’re not poor, Aggie, and you won’t go into the workhouse. Workhouses were abolished a long time ago.’

      ‘What’s abolished?’

      Chloe hushed her. ‘Stop asking questions, Aggie! All you do is ask questions and talk, talk, talk! It’s no wonder Nanny TV fell asleep on the sofa. She probably died of exhaustion, listening to your chatter!’

      ‘It’s fine to ask questions,’ Christian interjected swiftly, noticing Aggie’s lip wobble in response to her sister’s rebuke. ‘And abolish means to do away with something. And we’re not leaving our new house and we’ll finish unpacking the boxes as soon as I get a free minute—’ He broke off as the queue moved forward a little and then stopped again. His heart sank. ‘Aggie, how badly do you want to see Father Christmas?’

      Aggie beamed. ‘More than anything. I think this is the happiest, most exciting day of my life. Thank you, Daddy, for bringing me here. It’s my dream.’

      No chance of leaving, then, Christian thought wryly as he discreetly checked his watch. He cast a look at Chloe, worried about how quiet she was.

      She intercepted his concerned glance and gave a brave smile. ‘It’s OK, Dad,’ she said in a faltering voice. ‘Everything is going to be OK. Our new house is lovely. We’re all going to have a great Christmas. As soon as I’ve broken up from school, I can start on those boxes. If Aggie would just stop talking for five minutes and help me, we’ll get it done really quickly.’

      ‘You’re amazing, do you know that?’ Unfailingly impressed by his daughter’s resilience, Christian reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘What do you want from Father Christmas, sweetheart?’

      He would have given a lot to know, but Chloe didn’t reveal her feelings.

       Did she talk to her friends?

      He almost laughed. Who was he to criticise? He didn’t