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Not Just for Christmas Ch. 01-04

By: Alwaysraining



The title derives from a campaign in Britain some years ago to counter the practice of giving a puppy as a Christmas present and then the recipient getting rid of it soon after. The slogan was 'A dog is for life not just for Christmas'.

The title of this tale refers to a family, as in 'A family is for life not just for Christmas'.

 I should point out that while the tale begins at Christmas and ends two years later at Christmas, most of the story has nothing to do with Christmas! 

This story is in five parts, all of which are finished. They will be submitted on consecutive days. It is fiction. I should also say that the story is a slow burn, so patience might be needed. If you get bored there is no obligation to keep reading, I won't be upset! No sex in this part; there will be some later.

Grammar and spelling are British English. 

Mince pies are small spicy dried fruit pies (they taste much better than they sound).

Biscuit = Cookie 

Quid = Pound Sterling.

Hen = Scottish term of affection for a woman or a female child. 

'Mam' is not a misprint, it's what Scots call their mothers. In England it's 'Mum'. In America it's Mom, so that's three vowels used up. I know of nowhere where people call mothers Mim or Mem, but I am willing to be corrected! 

Oh, there is a joke about the upper echelons of Edinburgh society, that they think 'sex' are what coal comes in. On that basis perhaps "Mem" is what upper class Edinburgh children call their mothers. Though I doubt it somehow!

*****

Chapter One

It's no use dreaming of a white Christmas where Michael Stewart lives. The North West of England is mild and you're lucky to get snow at all during the winter, and certainly it's rare at the festive time. So this early Christmas Eve afternoon was grey, slightly damp and warm for the time of year. 

Michael owned a small company, 'Stewart Research and Development', researching, providing specialist electronic devices of various kinds, dedicated computers really, the sort that go into washing machines, cars, mobile phones and all sorts of industrial machines. Michael Stewart was his name but everyone except his mother called him Mike. 

He was leaving the office where he'd been checking on the progress of some long programmes they were going to leave running over the holiday period. 

The rest of the staff had gone to the pub at lunchtime and he had told them he did not expect them back. It was no hardship to stay in the office when everyone else was enjoying the afternoon. He would be going back to an empty house as he had every night since his wife left him over six months earlier after four years together. Somehow to be alone on Christmas Eve seemed worse than other days.

His older sister Catherine was not returning from the USA until the next day, Christmas Day, on the overnight flight arriving early morning at six thirty. They would have Christmas Day and Boxing Day together though he suspected she would want to sleep off her jet-lag before they had Christmas dinner together.

Christmas Day is a day for family celebrations and he had everything ready for Catherine. He had made mince pies the day before and a cake a month earlier. Catherine liked his mince pies. The wine cellar was full to bursting and he had bought some very expensive port, a drink she loved, as well as a variety of soft drinks. 

He had also stocked the freezer and the fridge so he would not need to shop until the New Year, when he would be journeying north to Troon on the West Coast of Lowland Scotland, for the Hogmanay celebrations. 

The whole family, Mike's brother and his wife with their two teenage boys, and his younger sister and her partner would be there, joining his mother and father who always hosted the celebrations. Mike's parents were retired and his father had sold up his business to leave him, shall we say, well placed for the rest of his life. The house was large, large enough for the whole family and with room to spare.

Mike had bought a Christmas tree and decorated it the day before Christmas Eve. His family had never put up decorations until the eve of the feast, but this time he had suspected he would not have time any nearer the day.

He had visited Duncan House earlier in the day and given out Christmas presents to the folk there. Since his ex-wife's departure, he had been visiting The Home twice a week giving a hand with the more disabled residents and having a laugh with the more aware. 

The place was a home for the severely disabled mentally or physically, where they helped each other, and though there were members of staff on the premises, the residents had as much a measure of independence as they could manage. 

He always thought going there was more a privilege than a duty; it put his own comfortable though lonely life into some sort of perspective. Indeed he would have gone there on Christmas Day if Catherine had not been coming.

He had to visit the supermarket that lunchtime for some last minute supplies he had forgotten. He took the car so he could leave the stuff in it, and left it in the supermarket car park while he walked back and closed up shop, set the alarm and locked up the office car park. 

Dusk was falling as he began the quarter mile walk back to the supermarket; it began to rain and the rain became heavier the further he progressed. He avoided the crowded main street, preferring to walk along the parallel back street which was deserted. 

He was quickening his walk to get out of the rain he saw a young girl walking towards him. She was dressed in jeans and a white tee shirt which were soaked by the rain. The girl was clearly distressed and was crying, and as Mike got nearer he stopped in horror. Her cheek showed a livid bruise and her lip was swollen on one side. 

She could only have been about fourteen years old.

She stopped in front of him. 

"Please?" was all she said.

"Good God," he gasped, "what's happened to you? An accident? Where are your parents?"

"Please?" she repeated. "My Mum... Sister... Brother..." She turned away.

"Wait!' he said. "What's your name?" 

The girl turned back to him. "Shania Sonter," came the reply. The girl stood waiting, sniffing and sobbing.

"Tell, me, Shania, What's happened and how can I help?"

The girl smiled a lop-sided smile with some hope dawning in her tired, wet eyes.

"It's my dad," she said. "He beat Mum up and I tried to stop him. We've run away."

She turned away and gestured to a spot about fifty yards behind her at the entrance to a yard behind one of the shops.

"Show me," he said, and she immediately took his hand and led him to a dark corner of a yard under a small wooden roofed area where the shop's waste bins were housed. There, huddled in a shivering group was a woman, a younger girl and a little boy.

The woman was sitting on a large suitcase and the girl on a smaller one. The boy was on his mother's knee, fast asleep.

As Mike came to a stop in front of the little tableau, he was struck by the silence of the group. The woman looked up and he couldn't help his angry intake of breath.

The woman's right eye was nearly closed and a nasty blue, black, yellow bruise was spreading round the socket. Her lip was swollen like her daughter's and had been bleeding, her nose also. She looked up into his eyes blankly, vacantly.

"He did it last night," Shania said matter-of-factly. "Came home drunk again. He was shouting at Mum and I heard the fight start, so I went downstairs. He was punching and kicking Mum, so I jumped on him, but elbowed me off and knocked me down. Then he hit me and I got a kicking as well.

"We got out when he fell asleep, before he woke up. Been walking ever since. We've nowhere to go." Her comments were delivered staccato with a hopeless shrug.

"You have now," he growled. "Wait here. Don't move."

The woman was suddenly animated. 

"Please not the police! They didn't help last time. They'll take my children away!"

"Not the police," he snapped. "I live alone. I've plenty of room. You'll stay with me."

It was true. He'd had the house built when a very lucrative contract was signed off. Cheryl, his ex-wife had badgered him for it.

The woman shook her head. "I couldn't. I don't know you."

"Listen," he said with rather more patience, after all he was not angry with her.

"One, from what I can see, things can't be worse than they are now; two, I have a spare mobile phone so you can call for help if I'm an axe murderer; three, your man will never find you where I live so you'll be safe. You can stay as long as you need to get back on your feet."

"We've no money; we can't pay you. You'd be better leaving us alone."

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Silence.

"That's settled then. Wait here. I'll get the car."

To his surprise, they were still there when he drove back to them. He put their cases in the boot and watched as the oldest girl helped her mother put the two young ones in the car before getting in themselves. The children were in the back, and woman in the front. 

They belted themselves into the seats, Shania doing it for the younger ones, and then he set off. The journey would take about thirty minutes along the busy roads.

"I'm Mike Stewart."

"Claire Sonter. My oldest is Shania, and then Ginny who's eight and the youngest is Ryan, five. I don't understand why you're doing this. You don't know us."

"Time for explanations later. I'm well off; I live alone; I have a big house. There's plenty of room. It will be good to have some company at this time of year. Reason enough, Christmas is not a comfortable time for us loners."

They arrived at the house and the passengers gasped as the drive lights came on and the gates opened as they approached. He had been telling them the truth; it was a very large house. The house was automated, as they left the car the hall lights came on and the front door opened.

"You said you lived alone?" The woman, Claire, began to look worried. Who had opened the door?

"It's automated. See?" he showed her the control on his key ring, and she relaxed.

He led them to the warm living room and they sat down on the first of two large sofas. They were still in their outdoor clothes.

"Take your coats off," he said. "I'll make some tea. Will the children have juice? I've not much in for children at the moment. I'll need to do a bit of shopping tomorrow." He'd forgotten there would be no shops open on Christmas Day. He'd also forgotten the array of soft drinks he had bought in case Catherine preferred them.

Claire nodded, and began to take the coats from the younger children. Shania who had no coat and was still wet through, followed him into the kitchen.

"Mr Stewart?" she whispered.

He looked at her. "Call me Mike," he said, "OK?"

She nodded, smiling at him.

"Thank you for taking us in. Can I help?"

He directed her to the appropriate cupboards and together they made a pot of tea and she filled two glasses with orange juice.

"Two?" he asked.

"May I have tea?" she asked shyly.

"Of course you may." 

He smiled at the polite use of the word 'may' instead of 'can' and reached down another mug into which she poured a splash of milk.

While they waited for the tea to brew, he pointed her to biscuits which she placed on a plate. They poured the tea and returned to the living room. The scene that greeted them was touching. Claire was fast asleep, lying on the sofa, her arm round Ginny who slept by her side, and Ryan lying on top of her.

Shania went to wake her mother, but he touched her arm and whispered, "Let them sleep a little. Let's sit and drink our tea. Have a biscuit or two Shania."

"I'm glad you found us," she said at length.

"I rather think you found me!" he grinned and she coloured up. "Don't be embarrassed. You were brave. You were trying to look after your mother and your sister and brother, and you've succeeded."

"I was feared to ask you but I didn't know what else to do."

"Yes, you looked frightened to death! All the braver for that. Now you can forget that part. Your family are here because of your courage. That's all you need to remember."

She looked up and smiled. She was shivering and it was then that he realised that both she and he were both still very damp from standing so long in the rain. He shivered in his turn though the house was warm.

"Finished your tea?" he asked and she nodded. 

"Come on then. You need to get dry."

Immediately she looked uncertain.

"I'm going to show you to your room," he reassured her. "I'll give you some towels and a bathrobe, and a nightdress and dressing gown that will probably be too big for you. I'll show you where the bathroom is. Then I'll leave you to shower or bathe. There's a lock on the bathroom and on your room door."

She exhaled and smiled, following him upstairs. 

The house had six bedrooms. The stairs came up in the centre of the house and there was a corridor to left and right at the top. The main bedrooms at each end of the corridor were in fact suites, with a small living area and a roomy bedroom with a walk-in wardrobe and an en-suite bathroom. 

Mike's room was the one at the left hand end. The room at the right end had a connecting door to a single bedroom which could also be accessed from the corridor and would have made a convenient nursery. Indeed it was that for which he had designed it. Between these three rooms were three more double bedrooms, each with a queen-sized bed. Opposite these bedrooms there was a spacious bathroom, separate toilet and a large airing cupboard.

He showed her to her bedroom which had a four-poster bed, a built in wardrobe, a dressing table with stool and an easy chair. Her eyes grew wide. She sat on the bed while Mike got things together for her. 

"Awesome!" was her only comment as he stood by while she swept into the bathroom, smiled at him and shut the door. He went to his room, stripped, towelled and dressed in dry clothes.

He went to the airing cupboard on the landing and laid out bedding and towels in the other rooms. Then he brought the suitcases up to the right hand suite. Next came the bedding. It took half an hour to make up the beds, and Mike was starting to feel tired.

He sat on the last bed, probably Ryan's he thought, and suddenly the enormity of what he had done came home to him. Over the six months since Cheryl had left him he'd settled into a comfortable bachelor routine. 

He spent more time working, he reclaimed friends that he had lost because Cheryl didn't like them. He visited his older brother George, wife Mary and family and his younger sister Ann, and he emailed his older sister weekly. She was married to a Yank and lived in the States. He visited his friends at the Home. 

He went drinking monthly with his staff on Fridays after work; they were a team and it was a team-building event - that was his story and he was sticking to it! Other Fridays he hit the city with his friend Tom. 

Tom was a university friend who had also fancied Cheryl but felt he had had a lucky escape when she married Mike. He was right, Mike thought. After the split, Tom took Mike out most weekends. Tom was a womaniser of complete enthusiasm and not a little skill. 

Mike wasn't so committed but thanks to Tom's efforts invariably found a pretty woman in his bed on many a Sunday morning. The women they picked up had no illusions about commitment: they wanted an luxury evening with a rich bloke. They paid for the flashy car, expensive dinner and clubbing, in the benefactor's bed where Mike was sure they feigned orgasms on at least some occasions.

Michael Stewart had never been an impulsive man. He was circumspect in all his business dealings. He got the best gas and electricity tariffs. He spent weeks and months over the purchase of a new car. 

Yet suddenly here he was with a woman of roughly his own age, early thirties, and her three children in his house and set to stay for a while. He knew he had acted out of anger at her husband's violence and bullying. That said, he had passed many an illegal immigrant begging at the side of the street, but had felt no inclination to invite one of them home.

He went downstairs where Claire and the youngsters were still sleeping. Looking at Claire's bruised and swollen face and the innocence of the two cherubs sleeping with her he knew he'd done the right thing. After all, wasn't the Christian message of Christmas about a homeless family forced to live in a shack? There was room in his inn; he could offer more to them than a stable and he started to feel warm and good about this change in his life. Life would not be the same after this, he thought. Little did he know how different it would be.

The tea was cold, so he made some more and brought it to the living room where Claire was. He called her name quietly but there was no response, so he touched her shoulder. Her reaction was dramatic. Her eyes flew open with a look of sheer terror and she flinched visibly. The she realised where she was and relaxed. She smiled.

"Perhaps you'd like see your rooms?" he suggested gently. "Shania is having a bath. I'll bring your tea up." 

She nodded and smiled a lop-sided smile with her swollen lip. He picked up little Ryan who woke and snuggled into his chest, and Claire got up and took the boy from him. Then Mike took the tea, and they ascended the stairs together, leaving Ginny sleeping on the sofa.

Claire gasped when she saw her room. "It's huge!" she said quietly. 

Mike showed her the second bedroom opening off it.

"For Ryan," he said. "Ginny can have the next-door room. Shania is in the one after that. I'm in a room like this one at the other end of the house. I'll leave you to unpack and sort Ryan out."

He put the car away and brought in his briefcase. Then he found some homemade pizza in the freezer and put the oven on to cook it. He chose a bottle of red wine and opened it to breathe. He knew that most modern wines do not need such treatment but old habits die hard. In the pantry he found some lemonade bottles from when George and his family last visited, and he wondered if Shania and Ginny liked the stuff.

By the time the pizza was about ready, Claire arrived downstairs with Ryan who looked freshly washed and was in a pair of pyjamas. Claire had cleaned her own face up and had changed into a pretty top; red with shiny embroidery, and a black velvet skirt which grazed her knees. Mike smiled.

"You look very good in that." He was careful with his praise. He needed to show her that he was keeping his distance, for none of this family needed to trust him yet. She smiled and murmured her thanks. 

"I'll let Ryan sleep with me tonight," she said. "He might be frightened if he wakes up alone in a strange bedroom." 

He nodded.

Ginny awoke as Shania arrived in one of Cheryl's nightdresses and dressing gowns which Mike had found for her. She looked red faced and healthy after her long bath. Claire bundled Ginny upstairs and was back with her in no time having changed her clothes and given her a wash.

"I found some pizza in the freezer, cheese and tomato, OK?" Everyone nodded vigorously and Ginny shouted "Yummy!" which Ryan echoed as young children do. Mike poured the wine.

"Wine for you Shania?" he allowed himself the joke and smiled wickedly. Before she could answer he got the response he expected from Claire.

"No way! Shania, you can have juice, and the same for Ryan and Ginny." 

Mike laughed out loud and nodded to Shania, "There's some lemonade?"

"Yes please," she said and he poured it for her. This girl was so polite, he thought. A teenager? Polite? Surreal!

The four visitors were ravenously hungry and the large pizza disappeared quickly. He unearthed some mince pies and warmed them. These disappeared as well.


Not Just for Christmas Ch. 01-04



"Who cooks for you Mike? These are delicious!" exclaimed Claire between mouthfuls.

"All my own work I'm afraid," he replied. "I fend for myself here."

When the four of them finished eating and sat back satisfied, Mike stood up.

"Time to move back to the living room and get to know each other a little better." So that is what they did.

Claire sat on her preferred sofa. Mike sat in 'his' chair. Shania asked to put the TV on for Ryan, and found a programme suitable for him. Mike gave her a set of wireless headphones so the little one could watch without disturbing them. Ginny cuddled against her mother and fell asleep again. Shania sat next to her mother on her other side. He smiled at her protectiveness of her mother and was sad she had to feel so responsible at her age.

"I don't know how to thank you enough for helping us like this. We'll be going tomorrow. Get out of your way." Claire was twisting her hands together, eyes cast down.

"Where will you go? Have you relatives to go to?"

There was silence.

"I thought not."

"I have two brothers," she ventured. "Both my parents are dead. One brother is in North Scotland. He lives in a crofter's bothy, one room. The other brother hates me and always has. Gary's family don't like me."

"What happened to you?"

"It's Dad," interrupted Shania. "He beats mum up when he comes home drunk. Sometimes he knocks her about when they have a bust up. Last night was the worst. He laid into Ginny as well when she tried to stop him. After Dad fell asleep, Mum packed for us and we left very early this morning. We couldn't take much stuff with us. If he finds us he'll kill us."

Claire said nothing. She looked as she had when Mike had first seen her, pale, apathetic and vacant. A tear started and ran down her cheek.

"Claire," he said.

No reaction.

"Claire!" A little louder.

She jumped and came back to them.

"Claire," he continued, "do you have any money? Any access to money?"

"No Mike." 

She paused as if she thought she was traducing her husband but it was the truth. "Gary keeps all the money. All the accounts are in his name."

Mike looked at the two of them and knew they expected nothing from him. He knew they had their pride but he knew also that they felt they were in a cul-de-sac.

"Has it been going on long? This abuse I mean?"

"Since I was little," interrupted Shania again. "Mum put up with it because of us."

"Shania!" Claire was embarrassed.

"Well, mother!" Shania exclaimed. "Mike doesn't know us. He doesn't know where we live. You can be honest. God, mother, he's taken us in hasn't he?"

Claire was about to speak and then stopped. Mike knew what she was thinking.

"OK Claire," he began. "Now you're wondering what my ulterior motives are for inviting you here." 

She began to protest, but he held up his hand. "No, listen. You have a right to know. Your children are here under my roof. 

"Last summer after four years of marriage, I came home one evening after work to find my wife had gone. All her clothes, all her perfumes and stuff from the bathroom. Not a trace of her, apart from what she'd left in the wash basket, most of which Shania is wearing. There was a note. Very brief. It went something like this:

Mike, you bore me silly. I've left you. I've found an interesting bloke. He's good in bed. Get over it. I'll be divorcing you. I don't want anything from you. I've got enough money and he's loaded.

"That was all. Nothing since. Cheryl hasn't looked back. She did divorce me. I didn't protest. She was as good as her word and didn't ask for anything."

"You poor thing!" With all her own troubles Claire was sorry for him and he was touched.

"Not so poor, Claire. She was immature, never satisfied. Always wanted more than I could give her or could do for her. Marrying her was a mistake but I was too besotted with her to realise it until she went.

"So I'm on my own in this huge house that I built because she wanted it. Even this wasn't good enough for her. 

"So now I'm very well off. I own my own company; I built this house and automated it to my own design. I've more money than I can ever use and I have simple tastes. Cheryl was probably right, I am boring. I must say I've often felt lonely over the past six months, but I've buried myself in my work and I have good friends and family.

"Just having you all here for this short time has convinced me I could do with some company at home, instead of coming home to an empty house every night. It would be good to have a family round the place, that's something neither the house nor I have had up to now. 

"So I want you to stay here Claire. Stay at least until your bruises have healed and you have found some way of surviving financially. There need be no limit on how long you stay. You'll know when and if it's time to go. There are locks on all your doors so you can feel safe here."

Claire sat in silence, looking into space.

Shania shook her arm. "Mum, say something."

She looked up and into his eyes. "I still don't understand why you would want to do this."

Mike must have looked amazed, for she carried on, "I mean, there's nothing in it for you is there? We'll be messing up your life."

Mike continued to stare speechless at her. Then he found his voice.

"Claire," he said, "I spent four years with a woman who could only see self-interest in her own life. She couldn't credit anyone with enough commitment to just help other people out because it's a good thing to do; that it's better to give than receive. 

"She couldn't grasp that, but I rather think you can; in any case it doesn't matter. My offer stands: you can stay as long as you need to. I want to help because I can. I need nothing 'else' from you, you understand my meaning here?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, I'm not used to such kindness."

"Just learn to accept it. I've got a house, you need a house. I've got money, you need money. 

"Your children need their mother and you said yourself you're scared they'll might be taken away from you. You want to be there for them. Your children need your love and you want to give it. 

"It so happens that at present their needs can be met by allowing me to look after you. I mean caring for you and your family, nothing more. Let me do this because it's good and it's right and my reward is to get a family for a while. Believe me, you're safe here and you are doing me a favour."

She nodded. "I'm sorry, yes I understand. Thank you."

"Good," he replied. "Tomorrow we talk some more."

"Can we put the sound on the TV?" asked Shania. She saw the discussion was over and she had already moved on. Claire frowned and looked to Mike to see his reaction.

"Shania, treat this house as your home. If your mother doesn't mind, of course you can watch TV. I have a desktop computer but it's set up for my work. I'll organise some games for you if you like, tomorrow."

He left them to watch what Ryan had on and made his way upstairs. It was a sneaky thing to do and if he was caught they would really think he was a pervert but he had an idea. He went to Claire's room and looked at her clothes and underwear and made some notes. Then the same for Shania. What a name! He didn't think he could carry on using it much longer and he wondered about Sían as an alternative.

Next he got on the phone to Catherine, his sister. It would be before midday in New York. Her plane was not until six. They talked about his new family and she asked questions and made her promises, though she complained that Christmas Eve was not ideal for shopping at such short notice, with a plane to catch. In view of his new visitors she told him not to meet her but she would take a taxi. She was excited at the prospect of meeting them.

When he returned downstairs they were watching 'A Christmas Carol'. He went to the kitchen and filled bowls with nuts, crisps and spicy biscuits. Bringing them in he refilled Claire's glass with the remains of the wine and sent Shania to refill the children's glasses.

After the film finished he got out a games compendium and they played games until it was time for Ryan to go to bed. Claire told Ginny to go as well. The young girl protested but not too strongly: it was obvious she was worn out after the ordeals of the night before, and of the day. Claire took Ryan up and bathed him in her own suite. After about half an hour she brought Ryan downstairs.

"Ryan wants to say goodnight," said Claire, and the boy ran to him and climbed on his knee, giving him a tight hug.

"Night night Uncle Mike," he said.

"Goodnight Lad!" he replied though he found it hard to get the words out, he was so touched by the boy's trust and love. 

Claire was all smiles at his emotional state and winked at him with her good eye, which looked comical. The boy climbed down, hugged and kissed his big sister and taking Claire's hand led her away 'for a story'.

Shania kept her eyes firmly on the TV screen but Mike could see she was smiling.

When it was time for Shania to retire, Claire said she would go too. It had been a long day for them all. 

"Goodnight Mike," Shania said with a grin.

"Don't be cheeky Shania, it's Mr Stewart to you," scolded her mother.

"It's OK, Claire. It is my name," he said.

"Nevertheless it was cheeky." She scowled at Shania who had the grace to look guilty.

"I did tell her to call me Mike while you were asleep. Is that OK?"

"I suppose so," Claire said, allowing a smile to cross her face.

He stood and faced her. "Come on!" he laughed. "Goodnight hug!"

Claire stepped forward and they embraced briefly and said goodnight. She smiled shyly at Mike, coloured up, and once again there were tears welling up in her eyes.

"Come on, Shania," she said briskly, breaking the embrace to cover her feelings. "I've unpacked your stuff. You can change into something your own size!"

Mike toured the house locking up and setting the perimeter alarms for the house and garden, washing up and setting the table for breakfast. He went upstairs and knocked on Claire's door. When she opened it, he warned her not to open any outer doors or windows and he gave her his second mobile phone.

"To make you feel safer," he said. "My other mobile number is on there, or you can use the house phones. Your number is three, and mine is two." He turned and left to avoid giving her the discomfort of shutting the door in his face.

Since it was only ten o'clock he decided to read for an hour before turning in. Mike slept naked so he undressed and put on a dressing gown. Then he had second thoughts and donned a pair of loose boxer shorts, adding the dressing gown before settling in his armchair, lit only by the reading lamp by his side.

He heard the movements and talk cease, went to bed and slept the sleep of the just.

Chapter Two

Catherine arrived at the front door at seven thirty, her flight having arrived early thanks to the jet stream, and the baggage service being unusually efficient and speedy. Mike was up and ready having disabled the alarms. He did not want the doorbell waking anyone in the house. Brother and sister hugged each other in silence and he helped her in with her cases. They went to the kitchen where he made her a cup of tea. 

She took her tea into the living room and unpacked one large suitcase. It was full of presents for Claire and the children.

"You've no idea how difficult it is to shop on Christmas Eve, even in New York! So many crowds! You've also no idea how expensive all this lot was, even with the good exchange rate! Thank God they have wrapping services! I was late to the airport and nearly missed my flight. And the charge for extra baggage at the airport! Phew!"

He murmured his appreciation, promised she would not be out of pocket and they put the presents under the tree.

"Now I want a shower and a rest before the house erupts!" she said.

"You'd better use my bathroom. The sound won't carry. I'll wait down here."

They took her bags to her room and he returned downstairs. After a while he heard her go to her room and an hour later the house began to come to life. The family stayed upstairs but there was much to-ing and fro-ing and conversation. 

Mike began to prepare breakfast and then heard steps on the stairs. They entered the living room and then stopped. Then scurrying and cries; the younger children had found the presents.

He went to the door from the kitchen and enjoyed the sight before him. Ginny and Ryan, with the speed and alacrity children have when faced by presents on which were written their names, had already ripped the paper from some of them and were exclaiming over the games and toys revealed.

Shania had more decorum and was less speedy, but joined the two youngsters. She was entranced with the clothes and trainers she had unearthed. "Cool!" was her only comment though her face spoke more volubly.

Claire was standing in the doorway her mouth agape. She saw Mike and began to speak. There was not much sense in it. 

"Mike! What? How? So many! Sizes? How did you? Where did you?"

"Father Christmas!" shouted Ginny.

"Well, Ginny," Mike said, "Father Christmas works on Christmas Eve. Perhaps this was one of his helpers? In fact I think I hear her now."

Claire spun round and looked shocked as Catherine arrived. Was that disappointment on her face?

"Claire," he said. "I'd like you to meet my sister Catherine. She got in from the States this morning." 

The two women smiled at each other warmly. Catherine looked startled at Claire's face, while he was sure Claire looked relieved.

"These are from you?" asked Claire, gesturing toward the tree.

"From Mike really. I just found them, bought them and brought them for him."

"But the sizes? How-"

"I think I'm about to be in trouble!" Mike admitted. "I crept upstairs last night and got the sizes from the labels on your clothes. Phoned Catherine who bought them for me. Useful her being five hours behind us."

"But so late on Christmas Eve!" exclaimed Claire to Catherine. "How did you do it?"

"With great difficulty, but believe me it's worth it to see them." Catherine gestured toward the smaller children and the grinning Shania.

"I'm very sorry to have looked at your clothes," Mike said to Claire. "It was the only way I could make sure you would have a real surprise."

Claire smiled at him, "It's clear your intentions were good. I'm sorry about not trusting you more after you saved us yesterday; I should have known better." 

He shrugged, smiled and that was over.

Ryan brought Claire's parcels to her, and she sat down and opened them. 

She gasped at the quality of the clothes - a dress, a coat and some underwear. She blushed. "I must go and try these on!" she exclaimed and ran upstairs. 

"Me too!" said Shania excitedly, and followed her. There was a pause while the younger children were absorbed in their presents and were playing quietly.

"I see what you mean about the abuse Mike, but you've fallen on your feet here," said Catherine softly. "Under those bruises she's beautiful and so is her daughter, and you have a ready-made family - just what you've always wanted!"

Mike grimaced and she laughed, but she was right, he was happy with the family living there.

There was a flurry of movement and the mother and daughter both appeared at the door. Claire was wearing her coat which fitted quite well, but when she shrugged it off, the dress was perfect and she knew it. Not just the fit but the way it set off her rich auburn hair.

For the first time Mike was able to appraise her figure which the dress hugged comfortably and adhered to every one of her contours. She had a medium bust, a narrow waist and wonderfully rounded hips. She twirled and he saw that her bottom was tight and rounded, balancing her top in perfect proportion. Nice legs. She was a classy woman.

He smiled. "It fits very well; it's very pretty and suits you perfectly." He let the ambiguity about her personal beauty stand.

"The underwear is gorgeous but this is all you get to see!" she flirted with a twinkle in her eye. Her lop-sided smile was captivating and her face became beautiful instead of merely pretty in spite of the bruises and swelling.

Then it was Shania's turn. The clothes from the USA enthralled her. They too suited her well. Her smile was simple and unpretentious. She was once again a simple teenage girl without any responsibility or worries for her mother. 

Mike set the wood-burning stove, lit the gas poker and soon the logs were burning well, giving additional heat to the living room and the flames throwing a warm flickering glow over the room. Outside, the weak low sun cast long shadows of the house over the garden. Mike was glad he'd thought of ordering a truckload of logs in view of Catherine's arrival. Since Cheryl's departure he had not bothered with the stove. Indeed he rarely had used the living room, preferring his study and its plush reclining armchair.

The turkey was already in the oven and cooking, and Mike busied himself taking the chef's role, leaving Catherine to talk with Claire. They already seemed to have become natural friends.

The meal was a success, Mike had to admit to himself, and in the late afternoon the family played board games. Mike told them that the evening meal was a matter of 'serve yourselves'. He left the food out in the kitchen.

After the children had gone to bed, Ryan clutching his new teddy bear, and Ginny taking her book, Shania retired to the study to play on the computer and send emails to her friends, crowing about her new clothes.

Mike brought out the port and put on a CD of Christmas Carols. He put more logs in the stove. They all relaxed into the easy chairs and sofas and sat in silence, enjoying the warmth of each other's presence. 

Shania went off to bed at eleven, and the adults relaxed. 

After a while, Claire broke the silence, "Thank you both for a wonderful Christmas Day. Yesterday I was homeless and had nowhere to go. And today, well, I've never had a Christmas like it. How can I ever repay you?"

"Don't start that again," Mike snapped. "We're not in the business of payment here. Just for once just take."

Claire flinched. 

"Sorry," she whispered and looked shame-faced.

"Sorry Claire," he was instantly repentant. "I didn't mean to snap. It's been a busy day; I must be tired."

"I'd better go to bed," she said and hurried away.

There was a silence. Mike knew Catherine was going to teach him something. How do you know when your older sister is about to teach you something? Well, she's your sister.

"Mike."

Here it came.

"Yes."

"Go easy on Claire."

"I'm trying. She keeps on about repaying me, about not having any money to pay me."

"Mike, she's got pride in herself. She's got dignity. She feels uncomfortable because she's powerless. She's been kicked around. For God's sake, Mike!"

"Oh, Hell!" The epithet sort of summed up how he felt. It must have been the port.

"Well, go on!"

"Go on what?"

"Go and apologise properly."

"She's gone to bed."

"GO!"

He went.

For the second evening in a row, and there had only been two, he knocked on her door. When she opened it he saw she had been crying. He gathered myself and launched.

"Claire, it was very wrong of me to snap at you. I admire your self-respect and I understand how you feel about depending on me for the time being. Please accept my apology. After your recent experience you do not need any aggravation from me. Am I forgiven?"

She looked at him in shock. 

"Forgive you? What for? You've been so good to us and all I can do is moan. I just feel so uncomfortable accepting all this and being unable to repay you. I'm just a little over sensitive at the moment."

"So you forgive me?"

"If you need forgiving, yes, I forgive you. I'm not used to getting apologies."




Not Just for Christmas Ch. 01-04



"Good. Tomorrow perhaps the three of us can sit down and talk about things. It's been too busy yesterday and today. I have some ideas about how we might help you to feel better about staying here."

"I'd like that."

They both stood and looked at each other, each with a half smile on their lips.

"Well then," he stuttered. "Good night."

"Good night Mike. And thanks." 

The door shut as he turned away.

Catherine was at the head of the stairs. "Very good, Mike."

Though Mike felt good about it, he scowled at her and she laughed. He could never get the better of her.

- 

The next morning, Boxing Day, Mike overslept. This was usual during holidays when he was on his own. He was something of a workaholic and lived on adrenaline, but as soon as the pressure was off, he crashed. 

He awoke to the sound of someone knocking at his door and he remembered he had a full house. He checked he was decent and shouted, "Come in!"

Claire entered and brought him a mug of tea. 

"Good morning," she smiled. "Catherine said it was time you got up. The children, apart from Shania who's still fast asleep, have been up for hours. I've only just woken up myself; Catherine's been entertaining them. She's very good. I can't remember when I've been so well looked after."

"Enjoy it," he grinned. "You deserve it. It's Christmas and you should revel in the holiday spirit."

"Thank you so much for-"

"Claire!" he tried to look stern but failed, breaking into another grin. "Enough! Get used to it. This is going to be normal from now on; I'm determined to spoil you. Now do as you're told, enjoy it!"

Her crooked smile made her look so beautiful, even though her face was still badly bruised, and part of her lip still swollen: it was in her eyes. Suddenly she swooped on him and kissed his forehead. She stood upright, hands on hips, eyes sparkling. "I'll thank you as often as I feel like it. Get used to it, Mike."

"You can thank me like that as often as you like, but I prefer it on my lips!" he flirted. 

She coloured and he wondered if he'd gone too far, but then a look of devilment crossed her face and she once again leaned in and this time he got a gentle kiss on the lips, not passionate but warmly affectionate. 

"There," she said. "Is that better?"

"Much! Again?"

"Don't be greedy!" and she flounced out of the room. It was so good to see her so happy and confident after the previous two days. Her character, evidently long suppressed, was emerging again and he liked it.

Shania had been roused and arrived downstairs ready for breakfast.

The younger children had eaten with Catherine long since, so Claire, Shania and Mike ate together. Catherine had cooked bacon, eggs, tomatoes and mushrooms with toast to follow, and so they felt well fed when they rose from the table.

The day was a fine one, though cold, and there had been a hard frost overnight.

"I know we said we three would sit down and talk, but I think on consideration it would be better if I took the children for a walk to the park," suggested Catherine. "They could do with some exercise and it would leave you in peace."

Mike wondered if Shania would want to go with them but she seemed quite keen. 

"I think she wants to chat with me," said Catherine in an aside.

So it was that Claire and Mike were left alone to talk. Claire made some coffee and he noted she already knew her way round the kitchen. She brought a tray with coffee, milk, sugar and some chocolate biscuits, though he still felt full from breakfast. They sat in the living room with their coffee; Mike was in 'his' armchair and she on the sofa.

"You start," said Claire, a worried frown on her face.

"Don't look so worried Claire. I'm not going to try to make you do anything. Let's start by putting your mind at rest. This house is now your house; your home. You stay here for as long as you want. Do you have any problem with that?"

"Well..." she stopped, uncertain as to how to proceed.

"Well?" he echoed.

She made up her mind. 

"Catherine was telling me about your recent love life. You pick up women for one-night stands. I don't think that's a good atmosphere for my children to grow up in." She looked anxiously to see his reaction.

"Easily fixed," he replied. "I don't bring any women here while you live here. If I do meet a woman I'll take her to a hotel."

"Why do it at all?" she asked.

Mike thought for a while and she waited patiently for him to answer.

"The obvious thing is a need for sexual release. I know it's possible to masturbate but it's more fun with a partner, especially if she's pretty and athletic." He grinned, but she didn't. 

"Look," he said. "I'm a relatively young male and I want to have sex. My attempt at total commitment to one woman didn't exactly work out, and I was absolutely faithful while we dated and after we married. In fact I didn't go with anyone else until after the divorce was started.

"And another thing. Life here has been pretty lonely and a happy willing partner over a weekend relieved the loneliness, so it wasn't just sex, but now you and the children are here I won't be lonely any more. Who knows? I may be able to do without the women. 

"Claire, I promise you, while you are here no other woman will be invited to this house."

She did not look happy.

"Well?" he asked. "What's the problem?"

She seemed to shake herself. 

"No problem. You have your own life to lead I suppose."

"So let's get on." 

Mike felt rebuked but covered it by becoming business-like. "From what I've seen, you don't feel happy living here and relying on my 'charity'.

She nodded her head in agreement.

"So you need to find a job so you can pay your way, get the children things."

She nodded but looked uncertain.

"OK. What work are you qualified for?" he asked.

"Pardon?"

"What can you do? How did you earn your money before you married?"

She looked embarrassed and, he thought, ashamed. 

"I got pregnant when I was in final year sixth form and both families pressured Gary and me to get married. Gary was a personal assistant to a director of some company or other and even then he was making quite a bit. So I stayed at home and we brought up Shania together. I think we were happy then."

"You're only twenty nine now?" he asked. 

She nodded, "Thirty." 

"When Shania went to school," she continued, "I got careless with my pills and got pregnant again, and then a third time. I think I secretly wanted more children. 

"That was when Gary changed. I was so wrapped up in the children: three is a lot without help and he isn't the sort of man who helps. I think I neglected him. He stayed out with friends more and more, got drunk and then the hitting started. 

"I don't think he loves me any more; I think he resents me for tying him down. I'm pretty sure he's had other women; he's not made love to me for a long time. Oh don't get me wrong, he's had me often enough, but there's no love in it; it's usually when he's drunk. 

"He's very jealous. He's never let me have access to money. I have an account that he puts housekeeping money into, and it has a debit card to pay with. I think he thinks it'll keep me at home and away from other men. So I've never had a job, I'm fit for nothing."

A tear made its way down her face.

"OK." Mike said, noting she was getting upset. "Can you stand more questions?" 

She nodded. 

"Do you still love Gary?"

Silence.

"Do you know if you do or not?"

She made up her mind; he could see it in the set of her face. 

"No. I don't love him. I did even when he was hitting me but not for a while now. I lost all my feelings for him when he started hitting the children. Now Shania tells me he kicked and punched her the night we left. I fear him Mike; I don't like him one bit. I couldn't escape before, I had nowhere to go."

Mike's anger rose again but he suppressed it. There would be time for that. 

"Would you ever go back to him?" was his next question. "I mean if you could find some way of living with him?"

She shook her head violently. "No never! Not after that violence toward Shania. He could have killed her."

"OK," he said. "I know a job you are well qualified to do."

She looked up at him for the first time. She'd been staring at the floor or other parts of the room, never at him. "I don't think-" she began.

"You've been a housewife for fourteen years haven't you?"

"Well, yes."

"So this is what I suggest. You run this house for me. Can you drive?"

She shook her head.

"We get you a provisional licence. You get driving lessons. You also enrol at college and get the 'A' levels you were studying for, when you were at school. To pay for these you work for me. Work, Claire, you get my meaning? Just work." He had seen the unasked question arise.

"You'll get yourself a bank account of your own and I'll pay your salary into it monthly. I'll sort out your National Insurance contributions at work. I advise you to get a savings account as well. You'll also have a shared credit card account with me for housekeeping. Until you can afford to get things for yourself and the children out of your salary - clothes, shoes, feminine hygiene things - you should use the shared account. 

"I'm offering you a job with good prospects and training. Will you take that job?"

"Yes, please," she said. There was no hesitation but a smile as wide as it could be with the bruising.

"I'm offering you a place in this house for as long as it takes. Will you stay here?"

"Yes, please," and she smiled for the second time since they'd started talking. Her face lit up, her eyes sparkling. Even with the dreadful bruising, he could see she was really very beautiful.

"If you're living here for what I believe and hope will be an extended period, do you have any plans for the children?"

"The children will need to change schools," she said. She seemed altogether more at ease. "This house is a long way from where we were living, and I don't want them where he can get at them."

"Shall we contact the police, or social services?"

"No!" 

"Claire!" he was trying to be patient. "You now have a settled job, you have a place to live, but you are a battered wife. They will not take your children. They will know what to do for the best. If necessary I will fund you to get a restraining order on your husband. You are safe!"

"I know. It's just taking some getting used to," she smiled again, "but are you sure you can stand having a family with three children about the place? It won't always be this peaceful you know; they can be a handful and you can't escape."

He had not thought that through. So there was a silence as he did some thinking. Claire began to look anxious.

"OK, Claire," he said. "First, let's get some principles set down. You and the family are not to pussy-foot around me. You live a normal family life. I will not interfere with how you bring them up; it is not my place. If things get noisy I've got my study and my suite upstairs and both are reasonably soundproof. You can tell the children that the study is out of bounds."

A thought occurred to him. 

"The children are playing on my computer at the moment. That can't continue. That machine is one I need for my work, so I'll get a laptop and you can decide where you put it and how you use it."

"Mike, you can't keep buying us things. It's not right. You've done enough."

"No Claire. Shania will need one for her school work. As I said, you decide how it's used. It remains mine until you can buy another or buy that one off me. Please try to understand, none of this expenditure makes any impact on my resources; it's chicken feed. I want you and the children set up in the best possible way. They deserve the best start that you can give them and as you get your qualifications you can pay me back if you think you need to."

She sighed and shrugged. 

"OK," she said. Then she jumped up and pushed him back into the chair. Taking his head in her hands she gave him a long and intensive kiss.

"That's to say thank you," she said as she regained her balance and stood upright. She looked flushed but satisfied. "It's only beginning to sink in how lucky we've been to have found you. I know I can trust you."

After that kiss and his genital reaction to it he wondered if she really could trust him, but he kept that to himself. After all she was still married and they hardly knew each other. It struck him that his one-night stands never knew him and neither did he know them, but this woman was different. She had been abused and she was special; he just knew it.

"I don't mean I won't be here for you if you need my help, but I won't interfere. Understand?"

She nodded, and their conversation was over because the children burst in.

However, that evening Mike arrived in the living room to hear Catherine and Claire talking. Catherine was trying to get Claire to go to the police. Claire was frightened and adamant.

"One thing we do need to do even if you don't go to the police," Mike interrupted. They looked inquiringly at him.

"We get photos of your bruises in case we need them. I have a digital and a film camera. Would you let Catherine take pictures of your injuries, all of them?"

Claire looked surprised, thought about it and saw the wisdom of the suggestion.

"OK," she said. "They're mostly to my face but there are a few others to my body."

They got up and he got the cameras for Catherine. Then they disappeared into Catherine's room, emerging later with smiles on their faces.

"All done," Catherine said, and showed him the photos. In addition to the facial photos, there were some of her ribs and hips. She had been thoroughly beaten. He resolved the man would not go unpunished.

When they returned Mike made another suggestion. "Same with Shania?" he asked.

Claire looked uncertain, but then nodded. "If she agrees," she said. Shania did.

- 

Originally England celebrated two days' holiday at Christmas: the day itself and the next day called Boxing Day. More recently some companies realised that because the two days were seldom far from a weekend, it was easier to give people the whole week off, and even return as late as the second of January. The exceptions were the shops and the banks.

So the next day, Friday, Catherine stayed an extra day and babysat while Claire and Mike sorted out accounts at the banks. The post-Christmas sales were on and he persuaded her to get some more basic clothes for herself and for the children. She was a little apprehensive about her appearance because she was still bruised. Three hours later, laden with bags they returned to the car and he drove back to the house.

There was mayhem when they arrived, the children helping their mother with the bags and parcels. Then the female contingent disappeared upstairs with them, while Ryan played with his toys in the living room. Mike also remained downstairs with Catherine, listening to the running footsteps and squeals of delight. It seems that even at a young age, the female of the species can take an inordinate delight in new clothes. Catherine smiled as Mike said as much.

"Women are programmed to be pretty," she said patiently. "Men are visual creatures and we have to attract our mates. Training for this cannot start too early."

Mike laughed and made some tea.

He managed to get on line while Shania was upstairs and found he could book a pantomime for the family for a matinee the next day, Saturday. 

Catherine took her leave on Saturday morning amid hugs and kisses from Claire and the children. She smiled at Mike and the two of them walked to his second car, which she would use until she returned to the States in January.

"Why not bring them to Dad's for Hogmanay?" she suggested. "It would be a break for them. Mam and Dad will love Claire."

"Good idea!" he said. "Can you prepare the folk for the invasion? Let me know if it's on?"

"OK." Then she probed: "What are your feelings for Claire? Come on, Mike, level with me."

His sister had to be obeyed; he'd always felt like a little boy with her.

"I'm very attracted to her but I can't see it going anywhere. I can't make a move on her in the state she's in."

"You could do a lot worse. The children love you and Claire is falling in love with you, though she'll be wary of committing herself after her husband's treatment of her. You did the right thing taking pity on them. Are you keeping them?"

"As long as they want or need to stay, yes, but Cath, she's been abused and I've rescued her. She feels an obligation to me and that's no basis for a relationship between equals. Added to that I've just become her employer. No. There's no future in it. She's been abused, she needs someone to do the right thing by her. I think I can do that."

"Good, brother," she said, hugging him. "You're doing so well. Soon I think you'll know how well. Bye!"

With that she left.

That afternoon, the children loved the pantomime, shouting 'He's behind you!' and 'Oh no it isn't!' at the right places and singing along with the songs.

"That was wonderful," mumbled Claire on the way home. "We've never all been to the theatre before. Fantastic!"

"Good." Mike said, and felt warm inside. Again. It was getting to be a habit.

As it happened, that was the last completely worry-free day for a long time.

Chapter Three

Mike had tried, and as it turned out so had Catherine, to get Claire to go to the police and social services while her bruises were still visible, but she adamantly refused. She was just too frightened that her children would be taken away from her. It worried Mike.

That night, after the pantomime and after the children had gone to bed. He started in on her again.

"At least let me take you to my solicitor and get you to swear an affidavit," he begged.

"What for?" she said suspiciously.

"In case your husband cuts up rough about you leaving him."

"No police?" she persisted.

"No police. No social services."

"Well..." she said and he hoped she was weakening.

"And Shania as well."

"No!" Once more she bridled.

"Won't you at least ask her?"

"Have you been talking to her?" Once again the suspicion. He was getting tired of it.

"Claire," he said rather sharply. "I keep my word. The children are yours. Your older daughter has, like you, been physically abused. I'm suggesting she swears an affidavit so that you have more ammunition if your husband tries to take the children or to have unsupervised visiting rights."

"Will he?" she looked surprised. 

"He might, so doesn't it pay to have some evidence in case the worst happens?"

She thought for a while.

"OK," she said.

"And Shania?" 

"If she wants to."

Shania did want to. So on the Monday Mike phoned Victor Rushworth, his lawyer. Victor was a friend and handled all Mike's legal work for the company so he was willing to fit them in that morning.

He saw Claire's and Shania's bruises and also saw the photos Catherine had taken, then he signed a statement and his secretary countersigned that they'd seen the injuries that day. Then they took the two through their stories and he notarised them. Claire got a copy of everything and the originals were kept in Victor's safe. Mike had put the digital photos on a CD, and so Victor kept a copy and the film. Victor's secretary did a fine job of entertaining the two younger children.

Mike needed to go to the office to check on the running of the programmes, so he dropped the family off at the house and drove back to town. He bought two child car seats and had them fitted by his garage which, like the shops, was open for business, while he worked at the office. Mike was one of their best customers. All was well with the programmes that were running, and he returned to the house to find uproar.




Not Just for Christmas Ch. 01-04



Claire ran out to the car before he had even brought it to a halt.

"It's been on the news," she rushed. "Gary's been to the police to report the children and me missing. The police are looking for me."

She was frightened and in fact she was shaking with fear. Mike held both her arms above the elbow and looked her in the eyes.

"Claire," he said. "Listen to me. This means we have tell the police where you are."

She trembled at that so he continued at a pace.

"Not right now. You stay in the house for the rest of the day while I contact Victor and see what has to be done. I know one of the high ups in the local force and he owes me a favour. We'll keep you safe."

She relaxed at that, and they went inside. It was clear that Shania knew about the broadcast for she looked scared but the two younger ones were oblivious and were playing happily.

He phoned Victor.

"Yes," Victor said, "I've seen the news. Gary Sonter sounded worried and unhappy, very much the abused and deceived husband. We'll need to be careful around him. Have you been in touch with Liam Truscot?" Liam was a Chief Inspector with the local police whom Mike had mentioned to Claire. 

"Not yet, he's next on the list."

"Keep your head down, I'll contact him and explain." 

Mike put the phone down. Claire was standing in the doorway, looking worried. He brought her to the kitchen and they sat down to a pot of tea. She was searching Mike's face.

"Claire," he began. "There's no way round it, you'll have to make yourself known to the police in person tomorrow."

She stiffened, "Are you trying to run my life for me again?"

"No," he said. "It's what Victor just said. You can phone them and they might come to you."

"Well, I don't want to involve the police."

"It's out of our hands, if we don't inform the police and they find you, Gary will be informed and your cover will be blown. Victor needs to contact the police for us. He'll tell them of your affidavits and the abuse. That way, they'll call off the search and your whereabouts will not be revealed."

There was a silence and he could tell Claire was processing the information. Then she spoke.

"I'll have to go and see Gary."

"What?" Mike gasped.

"There are papers. Passport. Marriage certificate. Council Tax statement. I need them to get my mail forwarded. I left them behind. I've got to get them."

"It's too dangerous, Claire," he begged. "Look what he did last time."

"Mike," she said, and he could see how resolute she was. "He's my husband; we've been married a long time. Before Ryan was born we had lots of good years. He's only started drinking and beating me up over the past four or five years."

"But you've said you're going to divorce him!" Mike exclaimed totally puzzled.

"It's only fair I tell him to his face," she said doggedly. "He deserves that at least."

"But Claire," Mike pleaded, "he beat you up, it's dangerous."

"Mike!" she snapped at him. "You said you wouldn't interfere with my life and now you're trying to interfere. Don't. I'll lead my own life. I'm going to see him. If you want to cut up rough perhaps we need to leave."

Mike sat there amazed. He had found her and her children, and had played the big powerful protector. By implication she was the poor weak victim, didn't her bruises and her demeanour prove it? 

Now he realised he was wrong. She was strong, she was stubborn and she was right. Mike had told her he would not interfere and he had tried to do just that. However grateful she might feel, she was not going to relinquish her newfound independence. She would put him in his place if he needed it. He began to admire her spirit, and to entertain a little more respect for her, and perhaps something more.

His silence was beginning to unsettle her.

"It's OK," he reassured her. "I apologise. You are right; I have no business interfering in your life. It's just that..." he fumbled for the right words. "In the short time I've known you I've... Well, I worry about you; I care and I'm afraid he'll do you more damage."

"Mike," she smiled then, and her eyes took on that beautiful look. "The only time he's been violent is when he's been drunk. He's always sorry afterwards. He begs my forgiveness and always tells me it will never happen again but we both know it will. This time it's different. He punched and kicked his own daughter. That finishes everything between us." 

There was a look of steel there. Mike knew she spoke the truth.

He shrugged his shoulders. "But when you tell him that-"

"Don't worry Mike," she said gently. "I'll tell him I need a little time away after the last beating. He'll go along with me if he thinks there's a chance I'll go back eventually."

"But you won't?"

"No."

Mike must have looked relieved for she smiled lovingly at him. Yes, it was lovingly, he was sure of that.

"Thank you for worrying about me. I really do appreciate it. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

"Just make sure that you put me in my place when I get out of hand." Mike said, as sternly as he could muster.

"Don't worry about that either," she said with a happy touch of grimness. "I certainly will!"

"When do you want to go?"

"Now?" 

They loaded the children into the car, Claire exclaiming with pleasure at the child seats, and he drove her to town. She wanted to get the bus to her place. Mike suspected it was so he would not know where she lived, but he said nothing. He had learned not to interfere. He drove the children back to the house.

When they were safely indoors, Shania cornered him. 

"Mike, where's Mum gone?"

"She's gone to see your father."

"What?" she shouted. "Are you mad? After everything, you let her?"

"Shania," he said patiently, "I said I would not interfere with your lives. Your mother knows what she's doing. She convinced me it will be safe."

"He'll cry and beg and she'll go back to him," she spoke with resignation. "He's done it before."

"Not this time, you've seen to that."

Her dumfounded expression demanded further explanation.

"He punched and kicked you."

She realised then that there would be no going back to her violent father.

"Shania, don't get the idea I'm happy she's gone. I'm worried sick, but she would have gone anyway."

"I know. My Mum's stubborn as a mule!" They both laughed, and it bonded them further.

Claire arrived three hours later, having got the bus to their nearest bus stop and walked the twenty minutes to the house. The day was cold and bright and her face was ruddy when she came through the door. She had a triumphant smile as she put down her bag and shrugged off her coat, scarf and hat.

After welcoming hugs and kisses had been given and received from her children, she beckoned Mike into the kitchen and they sat down at the table. The children were in possession of the living room and Shania of the study.

"No problems," she said without preamble. "He did his usual weeping and begging. Asked where I was living and where the children were. I gave him a good talking to and said I was safe and so were the children. You know, he never noticed my new coat?"

Mike smiled and raised his eyes heavenward. "Men!" he muttered and she laughed.

"Did you get your papers?" he asked.

"Yes. No problems there. He didn't notice me take them. I told him I'd be collecting some more of the children's clothing and stuff in the next few days. He begged me to go back but I told him I needed time to think. He could see what he's done to me this time and he didn't try to persuade me any further."

She was fully relaxed at last and so was Mike.

That evening he received a phone call and Claire received a visit.

The phone call was from Mike's mother, saying how delighted she was he'd found a nice lassie, and telling him to bring her and her children the next day. No argument. He said he'd ask Claire and get back to her.

The visit was from Liam Truscott. He sat in the living room while the younger children played around him. Mike went to find Claire.

She was apprehensive as she entered the room. Liam stood and smilingly shook hands with her.

"I called to tell you not to worry, Mrs Sonter," he said, as they all sat down. "You don't have to go to the station, I've come to you. We know about the violence and your whereabouts won't be revealed to Mr Sonter. He may demand to see the children at a later date but getting that sorted out will take weeks."

Claire mumbled her thanks and Liam asked to look at the photos and examined her face. He looked grim.

"Get an injunction against him, Mrs Sonter. Mike here will help you. You need to protect the children and yourself of course."

After he had gone Mike sat her down again. She looked resentful and was obviously prepared for another onslaught about social services.

"I know what you're thinking, Claire," he said firmly. "It isn't that. How do you feel about a short holiday?"

"A what?

"Well, two days away. Give you a break."

"But the children. I can't leave-"

"Them as well."

He explained the situation. She looked doubtful. He pointed out that there would be lots of friendly people there. She would love his mother and father. The children would be loved to death and Shania would have two teenage boys to keep her happy. Shania heard the latter and joined her entreaties to Mike's.

He could tell Claire was far from certain about it but gave in gracefully after he pointed out that New Year celebrations in Scotland were something to experience, and packing got under way for an early start the next day.

Now Mike had driven all over Britain and Europe, and even in the States, but always with adults or alone. He was not prepared for the experience of travelling with a full car, half the occupants being children. It was by turns frenetic, ear-splittingly loud and argumentative. 

However there was also much laughter and many travelling games. Mike mentally put Claire on the highest pedestal for her ingenuity in thinking of all sorts of games for the family to play to pass the time on the boring motorway. The woman was a marvel; how her husband could treat her so badly was a mystery to Mike. 

One other thing. They had to stop at practically every motorway services for toilet breaks! It made a three and a half journey into a trek of over five hours. 

The two days passed in a whirl and very, very happily. Mike could later remember little of it, but some things were firmly printed on his memory with loving wistfulness.

There was Claire's welcome. Mike's mother was a large woman, generous of size, of spirit and of love. Claire did not have a chance; she was enveloped in two big arms and crushed to a pair of ample breasts. She emerged looking dazed and happy - content, Mike thought. 

Shania laughed when Mike got the same treatment until, that is, Mam saw her laughing and repeated the exercise. Shania was still smiling broadly when she emerged. Then the two young ones wanted their share and everyone was Mam's adopted child.

The adults, as Mike expected, doted on the children and there was always someone ready to listen and to play. Catherine of course was the children's favourite. 

Mike's most treasured memory was that of midnight New Year. Everyone hugged and kissed everyone else and sang Auld Lang Syne but afterwards he noticed he hadn't seen Claire in the succeeding melee. Then George nudged him.

"She's just slipped out. Go on laddy!"

So Mike followed and found her in the hallway.

"Are you all right?" he asked, worried.

She smiled. "I am now. Happy New Year Mike," and she came to him, put her arms round his neck and kissed him gently but quite sensuously and at some length. 

When they at last broke apart. She looked up at him with arched eyebrows. "All right?" she asked with a half smile.

"Och yes," he answered her. "Glad you came?"

"Mike it's been so wonderful!" A tear came to her eyes. "It's been many years since I've been so loved. I told you about my family. I'm so grateful to you and to all your family."

"OK," he said. "Another kiss?"

She did kiss him again, but it was rather shorter and less sensuous than the first. However this time, pressed against him as she was, she really did feel his rising enthusiasm down below. She smiled as they stood at arm's length holding both hands. Then she was serious.

"I don't know how to say this. I feel... Well, it's a hell of a lot more than gratitude to you, that's all I'll say."

"Yes, and I'm grateful you've come into my life, you and the children. You've been through too much. I think I can understand."

She smiled, and so did he. There was something new between them, and neither of them wanted to name it or to spoil it. She darted forward and kissed him again briefly and then was off back to the party.

As befits the aftermath of a good party, no one was abroad the next morning until eleven, except Ann, who heard Claire's younger children and played with them until the rest of the family emerged. 

The farewells were involved, each member of Clare's family needing to kiss and hug each of the hosts. As Mike embraced George, George said quietly, "Hold on to that one, she's just right for you laddy."

His mother and even his father said the same. Mike was not so sure, though the possibility was attractive. She was beautiful, and he was glad they had a growing friendship. Perhaps, he thought, she wanted no more than that.

Catherine was returning to Mike's house before getting the flight home to the States. Shania asked if she could go with her rather than the crowded family car. So they were off in convoy.

- 

Catherine got her flight amid much hugging and even tears. Mike could see how moved she was.

Friday dawned cloudy and damp. A light drizzle hung in the air and as a result there was a hint of mist or fog, but it was warmer than the day before. Claire needed to redirect her mail so the whole family had to go into town to the Post Office, and Mike took the opportunity to check on the programmes. Shania asked to go with him rather than go to the Post Office and Claire nodded her agreement. 

Shania took his arm and walked along with him. Mike began to think that he was becoming her father-figure and wondered if he could rise to that sort of responsibility. It was out of his hands so he enjoyed the loving companionship the girl was offering. 

The programmes had run their course and the bugs were listed. It would be a short job, seven or eight hours work, but for one for the team when they returned, not for Mike. Shania was interested and asked many searching questions; he realised that she was very intelligent.

The rest of the day was taken with cleaning the house, Claire and Mike sharing the work. Then they played some games with the younger children. After that Claire and the younger children went off exploring the neighbourhood. Shania was 'talking' to her friends on the computer.

So this was normal family life, Mike thought. He could live with that. He wondered for how long Claire would stay.

He nipped out to the Home to see his friends and to wish everyone a Happy New Year. He did not stay because Shania was on her own at home.

On Saturday, the family shopped for food and returned at lunchtime. The rest of the weekend was quiet.

Monday was the first day back to normal life. At least it should have been. Claire had to get Shania to school which was now miles away, get the younger children into a new school and tell the old school what had happened. Without transport this would have taken all day, so Mike took Shania to school and Claire warned the said establishment about Gary. Then Claire, Mike and the younger children went to Mike's office and he introduced Claire to Rosemary, his Personal Assistant.

Rosemary Blackett was Wonder Woman in disguise. She had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the business, and the necessary scientific understanding that comes from a doctorate in Physics. The only mystery Mike had never been able to solve about her was that with her talent she was content to be his personal assistant. 

He knew she had wanted be at home to bring up her children and had done so. When the youngest child was well into his school life she came to work for Mike, stressing that her family came first. Now she was fifty-five years old and the children were grown. She could have walked into a much better paid job, but told Mike she loved to work with him. Who was he to complain?

It was a relationship of equals, indeed she tended to mother him, and so it was with a motherly air that she was obviously assessing Claire. She seemed to like what she saw and the two children took to her immediately, though Ryan took a few minutes to follow his older sister's example.

Mike finished going over what needed doing, all of which Rosemary had got sorted before he arrived and so he was soon able to leave.

"Any time you want a babysitter," she called after Claire. "You only have to ask!"

Claire smiled and waved.

"She's nice," Claire said to him as they drove to the school that Mike reckoned was the best in the area. Mike lived in a good area in any case, but this Primary School was outstanding. It also had the advantage of being a short walk from the house.

As it happened, the school had vacancies in each of the classes into which the children would go, and Claire liked the head and the teachers concerned. They were very concerned about her bruising, and advised an injunction to prevent Gary from taking the children out of school. Mike was impressed. It was what he'd been telling Claire all along. He nearly said as much but caught that look in her eye and shut up.

The children would start the next day, so the next step was to go and buy uniforms for them, which was straightforward. Shania was coming home under her own steam, though Mike could see Claire was worried until she came through the door.

So from the Tuesday on, things settled down into some sort of routine. Mike went back to work full time and Claire took on the housekeeping duties with enthusiasm. They discussed with Shania about changing schools, but she wanted to stay with her friends and the school was a good one. Claire's only reservation was that the school was near to Gary's house and she worried he might try to see her. However, she still refused to get an injunction against him.

"I don't think he would try to abduct her or force her to stay with him," was Claire's opinion which Mike did not share and told her so, getting a look which told him to keep his nose out of her family's affairs. He told her he couldn't help wanting to help. She snapped that that was not the way.

He bought a laptop for Claire and Shania, and set up the wireless connection to his router. Claire got herself a provisional licence and began driving lessons, daily ones while the children were at school. She made rapid progress and her instructor put her in for an early test. She passed the written part with ease.

She enrolled at the local college for "A" levels in English Literature, Art and Design, and to Mike's surprise, Physics. He had not known that she had gained 'A*' grades in all ten subjects at GCSE level before going on to sixth form and that she was very good at science while loving art. He realised that had she not become pregnant, she would have gone to university. She had a lot of catching up to do since she was a term late starting. She buried herself in the work during the day and Mike helped in the evenings by occupying the children, supervising Shania's homework schedule and getting the younger ones to bed on time, though Claire always read them a story and sat with them for the time it took for them to fall asleep. 

Over the next four weeks Claire's facial and other injuries healed and Mike's initial thought that she was very attractive even when bruised, was vindicated. She was indeed a very beautiful woman facially with a long neck and a slender hour-glass figure atop shapely legs. Her hair, which when they met was straggly, she had cut and shaped which set off her delicate facial features perfectly.




Not Just for Christmas Ch. 01-04



Mike changed the evenings he visited the Home, so as not to clash with Claire's evening classes though he didn't tell Claire who he visited. He felt unaccountably shy about her knowing where he went.

However, those flirting moments at Christmas, the kisses and comments, those ceased. It was as if she now felt her position as housekeeper and employee more keenly and kept her distance. 

He was disappointed but since he was the employer and therefore in a position of power, he decided he could not make any moves on her, though the temptation was there. In any case, after her experience of married life she was not likely to want another sexual relationship so soon. Friendship was what he could offer and what she would accept.

The exception, and the only one was when she accessed her current account and found how much he was paying her monthly.

"Mike," she said coming into the study with a certain agitation. "There's a mistake. I've been paid too much."

"No mistake," he answered, keeping his face straight.

"Yes, there is," she insisted. "It's far too much for what I do."

"No it isn't," he replied. "You have three children to clothe and support. You have driving lessons to pay for, and at the moment they are daily lessons. You have college fees to pay, and then all the additional travel you and Shania have to do. When you get your licence, the pay might go down."

They were standing facing each other and she impulsively darted forward and kissed him on his lips.

"Thanks," was all she said, and her eyes filled with tears again. This was a very emotional woman, Mike thought. She turned away and disappeared upstairs.

The other incident or conversation was with Shania. She came and sat on the arm of his chair even though she knew he was worried about the damage to it.

"Mike," she said.

"Yes?"

"Do you like my name?"

Oh dear. This was one of those questions women ask, to which any answer could be wrong and probably would be.

"Honestly, Shania?" he asked.

"Mike," she continued, "I've seen your face when you use my name. You grimace."

"I grimace?"

"Yes, you grimace. Don't you like it?"

"Sorry, Shania-" he began.

"See, you did it again!"

"OK, Hen," he said with an air of resignation. "No I don't like it. You are a pretty girl and I think the name is ugly. Doesn't suit you." Then he waited for the angry retort. It didn't come.

"Neither do I," she said quietly, "and neither does Mum."

"Why use it?"

"I was Christened with it, so I can't change it."

"You can."

"I can?"

"Yes. You can call yourself anything you like. If you want to change your name legally you have to do it by Deed Poll, but you can call yourself anything you like."

"What would you call me?" she asked, with a grin. 

"You mean apart from Pesky Brat?" 

She tried to scowl but could not stop grinning. "Be serious!" she giggled.

"Well, the nearest name to Shania that I like is Irish," he said. "Siobhán [pronounced Shivaun]. Siobhán means kind or gracious. Or there's Siân, [Sharn] which is Welsh and means 'God has given.'"

"Siobhán," she mused. Then, "Yes, I like that. Mum's maiden name is Connors, so that's Irish. It was Dad who insisted on calling me Shania."

A little later, Claire arrived, eyes flashing. 

"I told you to keep out of my affairs. What right have you to change my daughter's name?" she shouted, hands on hips.

"None."

"So why have you done it?"

"I haven't."

"You have!" she growled in anger. "She's just told me you gave her that name, Siobhán is it? and she wanted to be called by it from now on."

"Claire," he said, gently and trying not to laugh. "She came to me and asked if I liked the name Shania. She said I winced every time I used it."

"You do."

"Yes," he answered patiently, "and under cross-examination I had to agree I didn't like it. She said she didn't either. Then she asked what children's names did I like? I said the nearest in sound to Shania were Siobhán and Siân. I told her the meanings of the names, and that Siobhán is Irish and Siân is Welsh. She said you have Irish extraction and she liked Siobhán. I didn't tell her or even ask her to change her name."

"Oh." There was a pause. "But you should know she adores you. If you like something she will too."

Mike couldn't resist the flirt, "Yes, I like you, and believe it or not so does she!"

"Oh you!" she laughed, her anger forgotten.

"Well, do you like Siobhán? Why not let her have the name?"

"Um. Yes. If you must know I hate Shania as a name."

"I know, she told me."

So from then on it was Siobhán. Later Siobhán came and hugged him for 'convincing' her mother it was all right.

"Mum," she asserted, "thinks you're wonderful and very wise."

He laughed uproariously. Siobhán hurrumphed and flounced off.

Chapter Four

The next weeks were so busy Mike and Claire hardly had time to think. Though Claire was supposed to be keeping house, in reality they were sharing the work. She had to pass her exams and her driving test. There were weeks when Mike found it difficult to fit in visits to his friends at the Home.

Claire went to see Gary again and told Mike she'd given him her mobile phone number. She also said that he was by turns angry and desolate, and that she was worried about his state of mind, but she did not go and see him after that.

However, Mike suspected that she was phoning him and he felt jealous, and worried that Gary would persuade her to go back to him. Mike did tentatively broach the subject but she was not talking. He did not pursue it; he knew better.

Apart from that, Mike and Claire were a team. He was the children's stepfather in all but name and they treated him as such. They tried to play Claire and him off against each other but in this they failed: Claire and Mike talked a lot, mostly after the children were in bed. They backed each other up.

Claire's characteristic pertinacity led to her passing her driving test in late February. There was an immediate easing of the frenetic life they had been leading. 

However, it revealed a rather unsettling aspect of her previous relationship with Gary. Her sessions at college were twice a week, Tuesday afternoons and Thursday evenings. When she attended the college on Thursdays, Mike would babysit the family. Now she had use of the second car she would leave about 6.30pm and be back shortly after 9pm.

It was the third Thursday night in March, and Mike had put the children to bed, chatted with Siobhán and sympathised with the amount of homework she had, and then settled into the study to catch up on some work. At 11.30pm he heard the car and heard her hurrying into the house. He could hear her running round the house and eventually she burst into the study.

"Mike I'm so sorry!" she cried, extremely agitated. "Please forgive me, I didn't mean to stay out late. It was an accident. I got talking, it was a woman friend on the course! There were no men. We just lost track of time. Honestly!" She actually looked frightened.

"What's the problem?" Mike asked. "You've a right to a bit of fun you know. You're an adult; you make your own choices. Did you go for a drink?"

"Well..."

"That's OK."

"I only had coke, no alcohol!" 

She was still very agitated.

"For goodness' sake, Claire," he said. "What's the matter? I said it's all right. Why shouldn't you go for a drink after lectures, you work hard enough! Look, if you want to have a proper drink you can bus there and I'll bring you back. Julie next door would baby-sit while I collected you. You've not had any fun for ages."

She looked puzzled. "You don't mind?"

"Why should I mind? The children are safe; I'm here. I don't follow what you mean."

"Gary never let me out by myself, especially at night," she said thoughtfully. "If I was late he always thought I'd been seeing another man."

"Claire, you can see and talk to anyone you like. You're a free woman. Enjoy it!"

At last she relaxed. "Thanks."

"For what?" he asked and got back to work. She left the room, closing the door.

So Gary was possessive, jealous and violent, thought Mike. Claire had been a virtual prisoner. Mike recalled Gary's restrictions on her money and his prohibition of her from getting a job. The poor woman needed this freedom. He went to find her. She was making them some drinking chocolate in the kitchen.

"Claire," he said, and she jumped. "How about making Thursdays your night off? You get the bus to college as you used to before you got your test, and I'll get Julie in while I collect you when you phone me. Have some fun. I mean you can go out with men as well as women, you know. Go for it!"

She looked mystified. "You mean it? Anyone?"

"Of course."

"You trust me?"

"What's trust go to do with it? You keep telling me to keep out of your life. I keep telling you you're free to live your own life. I'll say it again: enjoy it."

"It's just that..." she stopped, looking a little discomfited.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," and that was the end of it.

On Saturday, Claire sat down opposite him in the kitchen after the children had gone to bed. He knew something was coming. Was she getting set to leave? The thought of the house without her and the children was unbearable. He must have looked very worried, because she smiled warmly at him.

"I've something to tell you," she began. "You've been so good over these past weeks; I don't mean taking on a lot of the jobs I should be doing as housekeeper either. I mean not asking me about my phone calls to Gary."

Mike looked surprised though he tried to hide it.

"Oh, come on Mike," she smiled, "I know you've suspected I've been phoning him and you've never asked me or warned me about him. You did know didn't you?"

"I suspected it. I could hear you talking after you went to bed."

"Don't worry. I'm not going back to him. Quite the reverse. Early this week I got Victor to petition for divorce. I told Gary last Wednesday."

Oh, the relief! It showed in Mike's face.

She howled with laughter. "Surely you didn't think I was going back to him? Oh you did! Oh, Mike, you fool!"

He reddened, for he was so embarrassed at her perceptiveness. 

"I'm glad," he finally said. "I just had this vision that you had all left and the house was empty again. Ugh!" he shivered at the thought. 

She got up, went round the table, and hugged him from behind as he sat on his chair, her sharp breasts pressing into his back. 

"I'll never leave you, as long as you want me to be here," she whispered, then after a minimal pause she qualified it, "to work for you." Then she kissed the top of his head.

That was as far as the conversation went, but Mike's mind was working. At that moment he knew he'd fallen for the woman. He wanted her. He wanted her family, and even though he thought her words were ambiguous, he wondered if she might be open to some development in their relationship. However, he would wait a little longer for he was afraid of ruining everything, because as he continually told himself, their relationship was not that of equals. 

It struck him that while he'd been out for drinks with friends he'd refused invitations to pair off with women. He no longer felt the need. Mind you, he was sexually frustrated, but when he was masturbating, most nights and some mornings, it was Claire about whom he fantasised. 

Physically with her, he kept his distance; he kept maintaining the mantra that he was her employer and would not use that position and her obvious gratitude to seduce her. In any case she was still married. He was her friend and that seemed to be as far as she wanted to go.

On Wednesday 2nd April the phone calls she had been getting from Gary changed. Gary had got the petition. From that Wednesday the calls became frequent and at early hours in the evening. It caused problems for her, as she was putting the children to bed or helping them in various ways.

That night she blew into Mike's study in a temper.

"Him again!" she stormed. "How could I do that to him after all the years he'd given me! How much he loved me. He asked how could I do this to the children, and after what he did to Siobhán! He got the divorce petition today. Crying over the phone. I told him to grow up."

The next day in she came again.

"He's said he won't answer the petition, and he'll contest the divorce. Said I couldn't afford to fight him. Said I must be living in a hostel and he'd see to it that he took the children off me."

"He won't you know, and you can afford to fight him."

"I know."

Friday Mike was waiting in the study. He'd given up starting work until she'd been.

"Mike."

"Gary again?"

"Yes," She was holding back tears. "It was horrible! He sounded defeated, depressed. Talking suicide. Said he couldn't go on living without me."

"What did you say?"

"I told him to find someone else, he was still young enough, and he's very good looking. At school all the girls would have lain down for him, he had that magnetism and a great body. I know he's still able to pick up any woman who's looking for fun. He was good in bed you know."

"You told him that?"

"Yes. He said he loves only me. Didn't stop him fucking anyone who'd put out for the last four years. I told him that as well. He didn't like it, denied it of course."

She told Mike that Victor had called her to say that there had been no response to the petition, which Gary should have answered within seven days. So the petition would have to be served again, this time by a bailiff. He would organise it.

That weekend and the following week, the calls came on a daily basis, by turns upset and suicidal, then resentful or belligerent. It was on the Friday that the problem went up a notch. Claire came into the study ashen faced.

"What is it?" Mike asked.

"He... he... " she stammered, "threatened us."

"He what?"

"We were talking about the divorce. He said he had been served another petition, this time by a bailiff. I told him if he didn't respond the divorce would go ahead in his absence. He said that couldn't happen. I knew it could because Victor told me so. 

"So he said he would answer it but he would dispute the divorce. I told him it would be so expensive it would bankrupt him. So he went back on the tack that I hadn't enough cash to fight him, and I got tired of it and told him I now had a well-paid job and I could afford to take him to the cleaners. He blew up. He said he'd find me and the children and kill us all. If he couldn't have us no one would. Then he'd kill himself. I'm frightened Mike; I think he really means it."

She sank into the armchair, shaking.

"You've got to start recording these phone calls," Mike told her. "You need evidence of his state of mind and of his threats. I think he's bluffing and I also think you're safe here; no one knows where you live. If necessary you could get an injunction to stop him coming near you or the children, and stopping anyone knowing your whereabouts. You know tomorrow he'll be on a different tack again."

"I suppose you're right," she said, but Mike could tell she was not convinced.

He gave her a recorder with a microphone to hook onto the earpiece of her mobile, and she promised to use it. 

Saturday lunchtime there came another call. Mike could hear Claire's voice, by turns patient, angry and resigned. Then she came to see him.

"I recorded what he said," she said. "I got him to repeat what he said yesterday. He was much less agitated but he said quite calmly that he was going to kill us if I went ahead with the divorce."

This woman is quite cunning, Mike thought. Fancy getting him to repeat the threat. That would be very useful.

"OK," he said. "We go to Victor on Monday and get an injunction." She nodded. So they did.

"I need to apply for an injunction 'without notice' to keep him away from you Claire and the children. Claire, you'll have to come to court tomorrow," Victor said as they sat in his office on Monday morning, 

He sat for a moment. Then he spoke again and this time he looked solemn.

"Look Claire," he said. "Most men make these threats without any intention of carrying them out, but some carry them out and your man has a history of violence. Is there someone in your family whom you can name as next-of-kin? Someone to take care of the children?"

Claire looked scared. "No," she said. Then she looked at Mike, pleading with her eyes.

"Could I act as next-of-kin?" he asked.

"Yes," Victor replied. "Especially since Gary has threatened harm to the children and to Claire. I have a card you can carry, Claire. You can name Mike as next-of-kin."

"I'd like that," she said, smiling gratefully at Mike.

Next Victor dropped another bombshell.

"Since you have no relatives, at least none you want to trust with the children, have you thought what would happen if you were to die, say, in an accident? Who would take care of the children?"

Claire looked hopeless. "I don't know."

"I would," Mike said. He didn't have to think about it, it just came out.

"How do you feel about that, Claire?" asked Victor.

"He's the only person I could trust. They love him." She said, her face showing her relief.

Victor got to work, and then they went to court.

The affidavits and the injuries Claire had suffered were enough to merit the temporary injunction, though the court couldn't understand why it had taken her so long to bring them to their attention. 

She explained that she had petitioned for divorce and he had made threats to kill her and the children. The tape was played. 

The court granted the temporary injunction which prevented him from coming near her or the children, and that included phone calls. Further a general injunction against anyone revealing her whereabouts was granted. Claire would have to attend a full hearing in a few weeks, but the injunction would stay in operation until that hearing. 

Claire told Mike she was impressed with the relaxed attitude of everyone in the court. She had been expecting something like a high court, or a magistrates' court that she had seen on the TV, but as she explained, they all sat round tables and 'chatted' as she put it. 

Social services visited the house that evening, which impressed Mike. They seemed satisfied when they saw the children and their behaviour, and assured Claire and Mike that the children would be left with him if anything happened to Claire, but Mike would be subject to supervision. They would do a police check to see if he had had any convictions.

Claire and Mike sat in the living room later that night. She looked exhausted.

"It won't happen Claire," he said gently. "These things need to be done in case."

"I know," she said, "but it's sobering to think of not being there for the children."

"You will be," he asserted. "Trust me. Nothing can happen while you're here. How could he find you?"

After the panic of the court action, life returned to normal. Routines ruled. Two weeks later, on the Easter Weekend Mike took the family to his parents' for the four-day holiday. Claire took her books and the laptop and worked for most of the time. Siobhán also spent a lot of time working for school; the autumn term had been a washout as far as her work was concerned because of her family problems, and she wanted to make up for lost time, but the younger children were kept busy with time on the coast and games with Mike's parents. Everyone took a long Easter Sunday walk. 

Mike's parents, true to form, took every opportunity to hint about his relationship with Claire, and he had to tell them in the end that they were friends, and no more. They were disappointed.

As far as Claire's divorce was concerned, Gary contested the provision for the children, that he would only be allowed to see them under supervision, and there were some acrimonious discussions. At length he agreed, once he was told he could always challenge the provisions later.