A Heavenly Christmas. Carole Mortimer

‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she added abruptly, before he could come out with some clever reply, ‘I have some case notes I need to go over this evening.’ She moved towards the door, anxious to escape now.

      ‘Of course,’ he agreed, standing up. ‘You’re a lawyer, aren’t you? Exactly what sort of lawyer?’ He followed her over to the door, standing in the doorway as she stood waiting for the lift to arrive.

      ‘A good one,’ Olivia came back derisively, glancing back at him in surprise as she heard him chuckle.

      ‘I’ll just bet you are too,’ he replied appreciatively. ‘Olivia—’ He broke off as the sound of the baby whimpering could be heard behind him.

      Olivia’s mouth thinned humourlessly. ‘I believe that is your cue to feed her,’ she told him as she stepped inside the lift. ‘Good luck!’

      Ethan grimaced. ‘I think Andrea is going to need that more than I am!’

      He was probably right, Olivia decided as the lift began its descent. Sorry as she felt for Shelley in her obvious desperation, she couldn’t help thinking that the other woman should have chosen someone with more competence at the task than Ethan Sherbourne obviously had. Even though, as Andrea’s father, a more appropriate minder couldn’t be found!

      As she let herself into her own silent apartment she could still hear the baby’s cries, whether real or imagined, so she moved to switch on the television and drown out the noise—instantly turning the volume down as she realised she was probably the one responsible for disturbing the neighbours now! Besides, no matter how loud the television, it didn’t stop Olivia from worrying about the baby.

      Would Ethan Sherbourne know how to feed Andrea properly? Did he know how to make up the formula? To use sterilised water and not some straight from the tap? To tell if the milk was the right temperature for Andrea to drink? That he had to wind the baby after every ounce or so to prevent her getting tummy ache?

      Olivia switched off the television impatiently, striding through to her bathroom to turn on the shower before going into the adjoining bedroom to undress. A shower might help to relax her. Anything to take her mind off what might be going wrong in the apartment above her.

      Except that it didn’t.

      She stood under the punishing jet of the power shower for over ten minutes, desperately trying to channel her thoughts into the case she was working on at the moment. And failing miserably. How could she possibly think of work after the disturbing sequence of events earlier this evening?

      Finally she came back through to her bedroom, wearing a peach-coloured silk robe, and looked around her appreciatively at the lovely things she had bought to surround and calm her. It was all the best that money could buy: a Mediterranean-style kitchen, antique furniture in every room, brocade drapes at the windows, luxuriously sumptuous carpets on the floors, several original paintings hanging on the cream-coloured walls.

      And yet as Olivia looked around her she knew that it wasn’t enough. That it never had been…

      She sat down on the side of the bed, knowing exactly what she was going to do now and powerless to stop herself.

      The photograph lay in the bottom drawer of her bedside cabinet—the only thing in that particular drawer. Her hand shook slightly as she picked it up, the tears streaming hotly down her cheeks even before she looked down at the picture.

      Oh, God, Olivia pleaded emotionally, please, please help me to get through this!

      CHAPTER THREE

      ‘WHAT…?’ Faith moved slightly in an effort to see the subject in the photograph Olivia held, only to be disappointed as Olivia suddenly clasped it against her chest, those tears still falling down the paleness of her cheeks.

      Mrs Heavenly straightened, moving a hand gently over the vision and instantly dispersing the images into a wispy cloud. ‘As you can see, Olivia’s prayer is for help to get through Christmas.’ She smiled at Faith. ‘Not too difficult an assignment, I would have thought.’

      Faith looked searchingly at her mentor. That wasn’t exactly what Olivia had prayed for…

      ‘So there you have it, my dear,’ Mrs Heavenly told her brightly, shuffling some papers on her desk. ‘The scene is already set for you to be able to do that quite easily. It’s just a question of continuing to bring Olivia and Ethan together—’

      ‘Ethan Sherbourne?’ Faith couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘But isn’t he—?’

      ‘Ethan isn’t exactly what he seems,’ Mrs Heavenly assured her kindly. ‘In fact, he could do with a little divine intervention himself! But I think on this occasion it might be better if… Don’t be too visible, my dear,’ she encouraged Faith. ‘Neither Olivia nor Ethan are…well, shall we say that neither of them is particularly… a believer?’

      Was it her imagination, Faith wondered, or did Mrs Heavenly’s gaze no longer quite meet her own…?

      Ridiculous, she instantly answered herself. Mrs Heavenly was the most open-hearted of all the—

      ‘Poor Ethan.’ Mrs Heavenly had opened the vision once again, was shaking her head regretfully as she looked down. ‘Although he does seem to be coping well, in the circumstances,’ she commented admiringly. ‘Perhaps now would be a good time, Faith…?’

      ‘Of course.’ Faith drew herself out of the speculative trance she had lapsed into. ‘Time I was going,’ she agreed.

      ‘But remember, Faith!’ Mrs Heavenly called out to her before she disappeared. ‘No matter what other distractions might occur, Olivia is the subject of your assignment.’

      ‘I’ll remember,’ Faith assured her softly as she floated down to Earth.

      And she would remember. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try and be of some help to Shelley and Andrea while she was about it. Possibly even to Ethan Sherbourne too…

      The photograph was back in its drawer and Olivia was wearing grey silk pyjamas. Her dinner of smoked salmon and salad was on the glass-topped dining table with a glass of white wine at exactly the right temperature for drinking, when a loud knocking on the door interrupted the calm enjoyment of her meal.

      Who on earth—?

      The wailing of a distressed baby penetrated the thickness of the door to her apartment, the tranquillity she had so determinedly made for herself instantly shattered.

      Ethan Sherbourne and his—and baby Andrea, Olivia instantly realised. What could possible have gone wrong now?

      Whatever it was, she knew she couldn’t just ignore that cry; Ethan Sherbourne could stew in his own juice, as far as she was concerned, but the baby was another matter entirely.

      ‘What have you done to her now?’ Olivia demanded as she wrenched the door open—only to find herself staring into an empty hallway!

      But how—? What—? She had been so sure…

      She had to have been mistaken; there was no way Ethan could have knocked at her apartment and then disappeared back into the lift before she opened the door. Besides, what would be the point of him doing such a thing?

      Olivia shook her head dazedly, closing the door to walk slowly back into her dining room.

      She barely had time to sit back down and take a sip of her wine before that knock sounded on the door a second time. The crying of the baby was slightly fainter this time, but still audible to Olivia’s acute hearing nonetheless.

      She stood, striding angrily over to the door this time. This evening had already been traumatic enough; she was decidedly not in the mood to play childish games with Ethan Sherbourne!

      ‘What on earth do you think you’re playing at…?’ Olivia’s angry tirade trailed off abruptly as she opened the door and found the corridor empty again, a glance up and down the hallway showing her that there really was no one there.