SARAH REGINA FORRESTER’S christening party was held that Christmas. Martha was honoured to have been asked to be her godmother.
‘Who else could we have but you?’ smiled Gina.
The baby, a tiny little thing, had had a rocky start but, after concerns for her first two months, had gradually picked up and was as bright and alert as any baby. Bob’s other children had flown in to join them and were staying for the holiday period. Gina was thrilled to have the house for once filled with family.
A huge Christmas tree stood in the drawing room of Rockhall and Gina had arranged for a group of carol singers to come along and entertain her guests for an hour.
Martha smiled, renewing her acquaintance with Ted and Megan Harris, relieved that at least Mike hadn’t been invited. Patrick had let slip to her that Mike had recently started dating one of the PAs in his office and Martha was still trying to get used to the idea.
She mingled and moved around the room, not knowing many of the guests, feeling a little out of place as she sipped her champagne and kept an eye on her new god-daughter. She could see one or two people getting ready to approach her with their problems when she spotted Dan Kendrick in the doorway, his coat covered in snow. It was nice to see him, she thought, and smiled in his direction. Dan waved to her before he disappeared in another direction with Bob and a few of the men.
The buffet meal was delicious and Martha realized as she ate that the champagne was going to her head: godmothers were not supposed to get tipsy and disgrace themselves! Gina, with the baby in her arms, came over to join her.
‘She’s so beautiful, Gina, and you and Bob are such good parents.’
‘Why, thank you, Martha! That’s a sweet thing to say.’
As Gina went and got some food for herself, Martha held little Sarah, glad of the opportunity to play with the baby. Dan Kendrick suddenly appeared and squeezed in beside her.
‘Did she like her fairy music?’ he joked.
‘I’m sure she did. I think she might be a bit of a dancer, see how those little toes and feet keep moving.’
Ten minutes later Gina came over to reclaim her daughter and show her around.
‘Have you had any more midnight walks?’ Dan asked slowly.
Martha shook her head. ‘And have you had any more cheap fish suppers?’
‘Most definitely not!’
She flushed, feeling his eyes on her, suddenly awkward and shy in his company. As the party began to break up Dan offered to drive her home. Martha was relieved that she didn’t have to try to order a cab as it was snowing heavily.
They drove home in silence, Martha watching the windscreen wipers of his Mercedes swish the falling snow backwards and forwards, Dan concentrating on the road.
‘This is it!’ she said as they pulled up in Mill Street. Dan turned as if he was about to say something to her.
‘Would you like to come inside for a coffee or something?’ She cringed, wondering how she had come out with such an inane sentence.
‘Well actually, Martha, I might. This snowfall looks set for a while and there’s no point in freezing my butt off out here in the car waiting for it to ease off.’
He locked the car and followed her up to the front door, Martha putting on the lights and thanking heaven she’d left the place reasonably tidy on her way out. She led the way into the kitchen and plugged in the kettle.
‘Where are your kids?’ he asked matter-of-factly.
‘Mike’s got them this weekend,’ she said. ‘Or maybe you’d like something to drink?’ she offered, too late realizing there was probably nothing in the house.
‘A scotch or a brandy would be nice.’
She opened a small cupboard. A half-bottle of crème de menthe, a liquorice-based liqueur and about two teaspoons of whiskey in the bottom of the bottle of Irish she normally kept for her mother. She’d lashed a full glass of it into the Christmas cake. ‘I’m sorry, Dan. Since Mike left I just haven’t got around to restocking it and I haven’t got my Christmas wine or anything bought . . .’
‘Sssh, it’s OK!’ he said, touching her lip.
‘Though there’s champagne!’ she remembered, trying to think where in heaven’s name she’d put the crate he’d sent her all that time ago.
They eventually found it alongside her dryer in the laundry room.
‘Well, at least I don’t have to worry about you being a raving alcoholic!’ Dan teased. ‘Why didn’t you open it?’
‘I guess I felt I had nothing to celebrate.’
He pulled a bottle out of the wooden packing case and began to open the wire. As the cork top popped and flew out across the kitchen, Martha rushed to get two glasses. Champagne and coffee and hot chocolate, that’s what they drank, Dan throwing a match onto the fire she’d left set.
‘Tonight you’ve got to celebrate Christmas, your god-daughter’s christening day and meeting me,’ he declared.
‘OK, I suppose some of those reasons are valid, but we’ve already met,’ she reasoned.
‘Yes, but meeting again this time is different!’
She looked at him, already seeing the twinkle in his eye.
‘Because this time I’m going to do what I should have done in San Francisco,’ he said, pulling her into his arms. Martha closed her eyes as he began to kiss her. His kiss was warm and strong and lovely, Martha thought as she responded.
Two glasses of champagne were her limit, Dan refusing to pour her more as she was excited and tipsy and curled up into his lap so he could just keep on kissing her. ‘I think you should go to bed,’ he suggested at about 3 a.m.
‘Yes, please!’ she said as she followed him upstairs.
She woke with a dry mouth and a pounding head, the comforter pulled over her. She was still wearing the knitted mauve suit she’d chosen for the christening party. Remembering the night before, she wondered if she’d disgraced herself. She found Dan’s note perched on her dressing table: ‘Sleep well, princess, will collect you for dinner tonight at 7.30.’ Martha thanked heaven that the kids were out of the house and hadn’t witnessed Dan putting her to bed.