Page 5 of Suddenly Mine

He waved at her, and she waved back, the little collection of leaflets exploding from her hand again. Even from here he heard her groan, and she almost took out another customer on the way down to collect them. He laughed gently, wondering if he should go back to help her. But he stopped himself. He wasn’t here to speak to the greeters, no matter how pretty they were or how much he wanted an excuse to hang around.

The reason he was walking through the doors of Carroll’s Department Store for the first time in five years was far more serious.

Christian sighed, looking around to get his bearings. The giant tree towered above him, reaching the balconies of the fourth floor and pouring out so much light that it almost hurt to look at it. There were hundreds of presents at its base, but Christian knew that all those perfectly wrapped boxes wereempty and just for show. Kind of like how he felt now, standing here, showing up, but feeling hollowed out inside.

Taking a deep breath, he set off around the tree. The store was bursting full of people, young couples in matching Christmas jumpers and delighted children running rings around their parents, all of them laughing and smiling and shouting with excitement. How many times had he run screaming around this shop when he was a boy? He wished he could be as happy as they were, but it was a long time since he’d been able to enjoy the festive season. And now that he was back here, the chances of him enjoying this year’s festivities were even slimmer. What he’d told Merry was true. Christmas was about family, and his family — the one person left in it, anyway — never made him feel very welcome.

He reached the elevator and rode it up with a group of high school kids who were hyped up on hot chocolate and marshmallows. They got off on the third floor, leaving him to ride to the top of the building alone as ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ drifted from the speakers. He stepped off into the children’s department on floor ten, making his way through the crowds gathered around Santa’s grotto to the staff door right at the back of the building. There was a keypad there, and he typed in the number to open it — his date of birth. To his surprise, the light blinked red and the keypad bleeped angrily. He tried again, and as he was going for a third attempt the door swung open and Christian found himself face to face with somebody he hadn’t seen in years.

“Christian Carroll,” said Margot Miller, looking him up and down as if he was a rat that had scurried in from the street. “I’d like to say it’s good to see you, but we’d both know that would be a lie.”

She was older now, but she looked almost exactly as he remembered her. Sharp navy suit, silver hair pulled into a tight twist and a gaze that could cut through steel.

“Margot.” Christian nodded curtly. “The code has changed.”

“A lot has changed,” she shot back. “You’d know that if you hadn’t abandoned ship.”

Christian did his best to push the anger down into his stomach. He had known there was a chance Margot would still be working in the store, but he’d hoped he could get through today without seeing her.

“Is Dad here?” he asked. “He wanted to see me. He said it was urgent.”

He’d received the message two days ago, at his base in the Philippine island of Rapu-Rapu. It had been the first contact from his dad in years, and something about the way it had been worded made it clear how serious it was. He’d packed up and flown home that night, and the thirty-six hours of travel were starting to take their toll. He rubbed his eyes, feeling like he could lie down right there and sleep for a week.

“He’s here,” said Margot. “I told him it was a bad idea to invite you, but you know how he is. There’s no saying no to that man.”

“Are you going to let me in, then?” Christian asked.

Margot smiled unkindly and didn’t move, blocking him like a doorman.

“I warned your dad about bringing you back, but he insisted,” she said, leaning close to deliver the ice-cold words directly into his ear. “Do not mess it up. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Christian replied. “Believe me, I want to be here about as much as you want me to be. Just let me through.”

Margot stood there for a moment more, then moved to the side.

“He’s in the office,” she said as he walked past. “And he’s pretty angry.”

That was nothing new. Lewis Carroll was as famous as his literary namesake, and as far as the world knew, he was the same gentle giant that appeared on the TV adverts every year dressed as Santa and ho-ho-hoing next to his giant Christmas tree. Only a few people had actually met the short-tempered, ruthless man behind the myth, and Christian knew the truth better than anybody. There was a good reason that his father was a billionaire, and it wasn’t because he was as generous as Santa Claus. If anything, he was more like Ebenezer Scrooge — before the ghosts.

Christian walked past the staff locker room, reaching the office door. He paused, composing himself. Then he knocked.

“Who is it?” growled a familiar voice from inside.

Christian felt a rush of anxiety at the thought of seeing his dad again after so long. “It’s me,” he said, turning the handle and opening the door. “It’s . . .”

He froze, thinking for a moment that he’d made a mistake. There was only one man in the bookshelf-lined room, sitting behind the same antique desk that had always been there, and framed by the huge window that looked out over the city. But it couldn’t be his father. For one, he looked about half the size he had last time Christian had seen him. He’d lost maybe fifty pounds, and it seemed like he had shrunk vertically as well. His hair had all but fallen out, and his famous white beard was thin and scraggly. Christian was so shocked that it took him a moment to notice the oxygen tank next his father’s chair.

“Dad?”

“So you do remember who I am,” said his father, sucking in breath with an alarming wheeze. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Of course,” Christian stuttered. “I just . . . I didn’t realise . . .”

“You would have realised,” said Margot, following him into the office and closing the door behind her, “if you’d bothered to keep in touch.”

“This is none of your business,” Christian said. “You don’t need to be here.”

“Actually, she does,” said his dad. “Margot is the general manager now. She has been for a year, ever since I got sick.”