But Jacob’s plan involved Clara being there, and she suspected he wouldn’t give that up for anything. Even if it meant letting down a little girl at Christmas. ‘I’d rather not tell him,’ she said finally. ‘The dates are close, I’ll admit, and I don’t want him using Ivy as an excuse to hold up the divorce while we get paternity tests done and so on. Not when I’m finally on the verge of getting my freedom back.’ And not when the results wouldn’t be in her favour.
‘Only if you take on the project,’ Merry pointed out. ‘That was the deal, right? Organise Christmas, get divorce. Turn him down...’
‘And he’ll drag this out with the lawyers for another five years,’ Clara finished. ‘You’re right. Damn him.’
She tried to sound upset at the prospect, for Merry’s sake. But another five years of limbo meant another five years of not having to pluck up the courage to tell Jacob the truth. And part of her, the weakest part, couldn’t deny that the idea had its appeal.
But no. If his arriving unannounced had taught her anything it was that it was time for the truth to come out, or be buried forever. No more maybe one day. She needed to move on properly. If Jacob still felt the same way about kids as he had when they were married, then her decision was easy. Get the divorce, move on with her life and let him live his own without worrying about a daughter that he’d never wanted.
If he’d changed his mind, however...
Clara sighed. If she’d known she was pregnant before she’d left, she would have had to tell him. But finding out afterwards... She hadn’t even known how to try.
Jacob had always made it painfully clear that he didn’t want a family. At least he had once they were married. During their frantic whirlwind courtship and their impulsive elopement, the future had rarely come up in conversation. And, if it had, all Clara could imagine then was them, together, just the two of them.
It wasn’t until the next summer, when she’d realised she was late one month and Jacob had come home to a still-boxed pregnancy test on the kitchen table, that she’d discovered how strongly he felt about not having kids.
What the hell is that? Clara? Tell me this is a joke...
The horror on his face, the panic in his eyes... She could still see it when she closed her eyes. The way he’d suddenly decided that her oral contraceptive wasn’t reliable enough and had started investigating other options. The tension in the house, so taut she’d thought she might snap, and then the pure relief, three days later, when her period finally arrived. The way he’d held her, as if they’d avoided the Apocalypse.
And the growing emptiness she’d felt inside her as it had first dawned on her that she wanted to be a mother.
So she’d known, staring at a positive pregnancy test alone in a hotel bathroom six months later, that it was the end for them, even if he didn’t realise it. She could never go back.
He wouldn’t want her if she did and she wanted the baby growing inside her more than anything. She hadn’t changed her mind about that in the years since. Had he changed his?
‘There’s got to be a way,’ Merry said thoughtfully. ‘A way we can take the job, still give Ivy a wonderful Christmas—and pull off the New Year’s gala.’
Clara sat on the other end of the phone and waited. She knew that tone. It meant Merry was on the verge of something brilliant. Something that would solve all of Clara’s problems.
She’d sounded exactly like that the night they’d dreamt up Perfect London. Clara had been clutching a wine glass, staring helplessly at the baby monitor, wondering what on earth she would do next—and Merry had found the perfect solution.
Clara reached for another chocolate while she waited, and had just shoved it into her mouth whole when Merry cried out, ‘I’ve got it!’
Chewing and swallowing quickly, Clara said, ‘Tell me.’
‘We do Christmas together in Scotland too!’
For a second Clara imagined her, Ivy and Merry all joining the Fosters in their Highland castle and worried that she might be on the verge of a heart attack. That, whatever Merry might think, was possibly the worst idea that anyone had ever had. In the history of the world.
‘Not with them, of course,’ Merry clarified, and Clara let herself breathe again. ‘We find a really luscious hotel, somewhere nearby, and book in for the duration, right? You’ll be on hand to manage Project Perfect Christmas, I’ll be there if you need me and to watch Ivy, and then, once things are set up at the castle, we can have our own Christmas, just the three of us.’
Clara had to admit, that did sound pretty good. It would give her the chance to get to know this new Jacob—and see if he was ready to be Ivy’s father. Then, in January, once the crazily busy season was over, she could find the best moment to tell him.
It gave her palpitations just thinking about it, but in lots of ways it was the perfect plan.
‘Do you think Ivy will mind having Christmas at a hotel instead of at home?’
‘I don’t see why,’ Merry said. ‘I mean, we’ll have roaring log fires, mince pies by the dozen and probably even snow, that far up in the country. What more could a little girl want?’
‘She has been asking about building snowmen,’ Clara admitted. And about having a father. Maybe this could just work after all. ‘But what about you? Are you sure you don’t mind spending Christmas with us?’
‘Are you kidding? My parents are heading down to Devon to stay with my sister and her four kids for the holidays. I was looking at either a four-hour trek followed by three days minding the brats or a microwave turkey dinner for one.’
‘Why didn’t you say?’ Clara asked. ‘We could have done something here. You know you’re always welcome.’
‘Ah, that was my secret plan,’ Merry admitted. ‘I was going to let on at the last minute and gatecrash your day. Ivy’s much better company than any of my nephews and nieces anyway.’
‘So Scotland could work, then.’ Just saying it aloud felt weird. ‘I mean, I’ll need to talk to Ivy about it...’ She might only be four, but Ivy had very definite ‘opinions’ on things like Christmas.
‘But if Ivy says yes, I’m in.’ Merry sounded positively cheerful at the idea. In fact, the whole plan was starting to appeal to Clara too.
As long as she could keep Jacob away from Ivy until she was ready. If he didn’t want anything to do with his daughter then it was better if Ivy never knew he existed. She wouldn’t let Jacob Foster abandon them.
Clara reached for one last chocolate. ‘Then all I need to do is call Jacob and tell him yes.’ It was funny how that was the most terrifying part of all.
* * *
Jacob awoke the next morning to his desk phone ringing right next to his head. Rubbing his itching eyes, he sat up in his chair, cursed himself for falling asleep at work again and answered the phone.
‘Mr Foster, there’s a woman here to see you.’ The receptionist paused, sounding uncertain. ‘She says she’s your wife.’
Ah. That would explain the uncertainty.
