Christmas with her Boss

CHAPTER FOUR

HE WOKE to the sound of cows. Many cows. The window of his attic bedroom was open and the not-so-gentle lowing was filling the room. The old, comfortable bed, the faded furnishings and the unaccustomed sounds were so different from his normal environment that he struggled to take it in.

But he got it soon enough. He was trapped for Christmas. On Meg’s farm.

Meg…

In the pre-dawn light the name felt strange, almost dangerous. He linked his hands loosely behind his head and stared upward, trying to assimilate how he was feeling. The planked ceiling ran up to a peak. He’d be right underneath Santa’s sleigh, he thought, and that seemed so unnerving he unlinked his hands and swung himself straight out of bed.

He didn’t intend to lie in bed and think about Santa. About what he’d promised. About what he was missing in New York.

Nor did he intend to lie in bed and think about Meg.

Miss Jardine.

Meg, he thought. The name suited her.

So why was Letty’s order to use her name unsettling?

He knew why. As an adolescent blessed with enough insight to think about emotions, he’d struggled with reasons. He’d even wondered if one of the therapists his mother used might give him answers. But finally he’d worked it out himself. This had been a lesson taught early to a child by a jealous, vindictive mother, who believed employees and friends were to be strictly differentiated.

‘They’ll take advantage…’

It was a savage line, said with spite, and the memory of it still had the power to make him flinch.

Unsettled, he crossed to the attic window and peered below. It was barely daybreak; the sun wasn’t yet over the horizon and the farm looked grey-green, barely lit from the night before. He could see the roof of what must be the dairy, and cows clustering beyond. A couple of dogs were fussing around them, but the cows were uninterested. The cows looked as if they knew what they were about, and the dogs were simply demonstrating their role.

A role other than licking Meg.

Meg. There it was again. The word.

‘They’ll take advantage…’

He’d been seven. His parents had been away, for who knew how long? It never seemed to matter because the house was much more fun with them gone. It was summer. School was out and Ros, their cook, had been teaching him to make pancakes. But she’d turned her back and he’d tried to flip a pancake before it was ready. The hot batter had oozed from the spatula and onto his hand.

Hannah, his nanny, had come running. She’d held him tight, rocking him, while Ros rushed to apply salve.

‘There, baby, it’ll be fine, see, Ros has ice and ointment all ready. Let Hannah see.’

His parents had walked in as they’d hugged him.

Maybe he hadn’t reacted fast enough. He was shocked and his hand hurt, so instead of rushing to greet them with the pleasure he’d already begun to act instead of feel, he’d simply clung harder to his Hannah.

‘What is this?’ his mother had demanded with deep displeasure, and he’d sobbed then, with fright as well as pain. Already he knew that voice. ‘William, stop that appalling crying and get over here. You do not get close to servants.’

‘They’re not servants,’ he’d managed. ‘They’re Hannah and Ros.’

His mother’s eyes had narrowed at that, and he’d been sent to his room without even salve on his hand.

Who knew where Hannah and Ros were now? They’d been given notice on the spot. He needed to learn independence, his mother had decreed, and he still remembered the sneer.

His next nanny had been nice enough, but he’d learned. His new nanny was Miss Carmichael. He did not get close.

Soon after that he’d been sent to boarding school. His parents had split and from then on his holidays had been spent with his grandparents. The only care he had there was from more servants-though eventually his grandfather realised he had a head for figures. That had resulted in a tinge of interest. William was deemed the new head of the McMaster Empire.

So there he had it, he thought ruefully, his one family use. His grandfather knew he’d make a good businessman and that was the extent of his importance. It was no wonder he was emotionally screwed.

He should be able to get over it-his dysfunctional family-their fierce focus on social hierarchy and fortune-their petty squabbles and personal vindictiveness-their total lack of sense of family. But how to get over a lifetime of dysfunction? Even now, he didn’t really understand what family love or life was. He’d an inkling of it through friends and associates. At times he even envied it, but to try and achieve it…No.

He’d learned not to need it. He couldn’t need something he didn’t understand and the last thing he wanted was to hurt another human as his extended family had hurt each other. How could he undo so many years of family malice? He couldn’t.

He told no one any lies about himself. The women he dated used his social cachet as pay-off, and that was fine by him.

And the kids? Pip and Ned? He was certainly fond of them, as fond as he ever allowed himself to be. But they called him Mr McMaster and he knew that soon he’d disappear from their lives as well. That was the way things had to be. Like now. He couldn’t even be there for them at Christmas. A broken promise, like so many he’d been given as a child…

A whistle split the air, so loud it hauled him out of his reverie. Maybe that was just as well. There was little to be gained by trying to change at this stage of his life, and maybe a lot to lose. He shrugged, mocking something that was part and parcel of how he faced the world-and then he tried to figure who was whistling.

Meg had said she’d be helping with the milking. Who else was down there?

There was only one way to find out.

He checked his watch. It was five-thirty.

Early, even by his standards.

Whoever was down there knew how to work.

W S McMaster could be forgotten here. She was perfectly, gloriously happy. She was home.

Meg stomped across the baked dirt and whooshed her next cow into the bail. Friesian 87 plodded forward with resigned equanimity.

‘That’s Topsy,’ Kerrie said. ‘Her milk production’s gone up twelve per cent this year. You’re ace, aren’t you, girl?’

‘I thought Letty decided we should stop naming them.’

‘That was only when she had to get rid of half the herd. It broke her heart. Now your income’s so good she’s decided we can name them again. She started with Millicent, and now she’s moving onto the whole herd.’

Uh-oh.

‘It’s not so stable as you might think,’ she said cautiously.

Kerrie released her cow and stretched and glanced across into the vat room, where her three little girls were playing in a makeshift playpen. ‘We take one day at a time,’ she said. ‘We all know that.’

Maybe everyone did, Meg thought as she washed teats and attached cups. Last year Kerrie’s husband had maxed out their credit cards and taken off with a girl half his age, leaving Kerrie with three babies under four. Milking here was now her sole income.

Kerrie’s income was thus dependent on Meg’s income. On Meg’s job.

William had said he wouldn’t fire her. She had to believe him. But first they had to get through Christmas.

We’ll put this behind us as an unfortunate aberration…

Christmas. An aberration.

That wasn’t what he’d meant, but it was how it seemed.

What was he intending to do with himself for the next three days?

‘Can I help?’

She didn’t have to show she was startled. The cows did it for her, backing away in alarm at this unfamiliar person in the yard. The cow Kerrie was ushering in backed right out again before Kerrie could stop her, and Kerrie swore and headed after her.

‘You need to move,’ Meg said swiftly. ‘You’re scaring the cows.’

He was in his gym gear. Black and white designer stuff with crisp white designer trainers. Very neat.

The cows weren’t appreciating it.

He backed into the vat room, where the playpen was set up. The oldest of the little girls cried out in alarm and he backed out of there too.

Meg found herself smiling. Her boss, in charge of his world. Or not.

‘Go back to bed,’ she advised. ‘It’s early.’

‘I don’t like my PA working before me. Is there something I can do?’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

Goodness. ‘How are you at washing udders?’ she asked, stunned.

‘I learned it at kindergarten,’ he said promptly and she found herself chuckling. He’d woken up on the right side of the bed, then. Maybe this could work.

‘If you’re serious…’

‘I’m serious.’

‘The cows don’t like gym gear.’

‘You think I should go back and put on one of my suits?’

‘Um…no.’ She chuckled and saw a flare of surprise in his eyes. Maybe she didn’t chuckle around him enough.

Maybe she didn’t chuckle at all.

‘Kerrie’s brother helps out here occasionally when the kids are sick,’ she said. ‘Ron’s around your size. His overalls and gumboots are in the vat room.’

‘Gumboots?’

‘Wellingtons,’ Kerrie said, entranced.

‘This is Kerrie,’ Meg said. ‘Kerrie, this is William.’

‘Your boss?’ Kerrie asked.

‘Not right this minute he’s not,’ she said firmly. ‘Now he’s offering to be a worker. You want to use Ron’s gear? The cows will settle once you look familiar.’ She pointed to the vat room.

‘There’s babies in there,’ William said nervously, and both women burst out laughing.

‘If you’re going to give me a hard time…’ William said but, to Meg’s amazement, he was smiling.

‘Nah, you’re free labour,’ Meg said, smiling right back. ‘Kerrie, you’re responsible for keeping Mr McMaster free of all babies. Get changed and come out and we’ll introduce you to Cows One to a Hundred.

‘Only now they all have names,’ Kerrie reminded her. ‘I’ll teach you.’

‘Teach us both,’ Meg said. ‘It seems we both need to get used to names.’

By the time they finished, the sun was already spreading warmth, promising a hot day to come. Meg set William to sluicing the dairy while she did who knew what with the equipment in the vat room. Sluicing was, William found, a curiously satisfying job, controlling a hose with enough water power to drive the mess off the ramp and into the drains. It was a manly sort of hose, he decided, and he set about enjoying himself.

Kerrie collected her kids and made to leave. ‘I’ll see you tonight,’ she called to Meg and he thought suddenly, she looks tired.

Three kids, so small… What was she doing, milking twice a day?

‘Are you milking over Christmas?’ he asked, and Kerrie nodded.

‘Letty and I milk twice a day. When Meg’s here Letty gets time off. She needs it.’

‘When do you get a sleep-in?’ he asked and suddenly Meg was outside again, listening.

‘With three babies?’ Kerrie asked, as if sleep-ins were unheard of.

‘Their dad…’

‘He did a runner,’ Kerrie said, with feigned indifference. ‘Milking for Meg’s the only thing between me and bankruptcy.’

And William glanced over at Meg, caught her urgent, unspoken message and knew it was true.

‘So you’re milking morning and night all over Christmas.’

‘I like it,’ Kerrie said.

‘So if I said I’d do it for you…’

Both women drew in their breath. Meg’s face went still. She obviously hadn’t expected this.

‘If it’s okay with Meg, that is,’ he said and swooshed a mess of stuff from the ramp. Swooshing felt excellent.

Meg smiled. He liked it when she smiled. How come he hadn’t noticed that smile way before now?

‘It’s fine by me,’ Meg said, ‘but…’

‘But I can’t afford it,’ Kerrie said, suddenly breathless. ‘I mean…it’s a lovely offer but…’

‘But nothing,’ Meg said, suddenly rock solid, smiling at William as if he was Santa in person. ‘William’s offering to do it for free. I’m sure of it. I’ve budgeted for your pay so this is his gift to you. Let the man be magnanimous.’

‘Magnanimous?’ Kerrie ventured.

‘Manly,’ Meg said, grinning. ‘This is a very manly gesture.’

‘If you’re sure,’ Kerrie whispered, sounding awed.

‘Of course he’s sure,’ Meg said, smiling and smiling. ‘There’s so much women’s work to be done over Christmas, and what do the men do? They buy a bottle of perfume at the last minute, if we’re lucky. Even Scotty. He’s left his Christmas shopping to the last minute and I have to take him to Curalo this morning. I’ll stand outside the shop while he buys me the perfume I’ve told him I like and then I’ll drive him home and that’s his manly duty done. So here’s one offering to be truly useful…’

‘Wow,’ Kerrie said.

‘Yep, get and go before I change my mind,’ William said. ‘Or before I turn my hose on your boss. Happy Christmas, Kerrie.’ He moved his hose so the water arced in a wide semi-circle. How long since he’d done something this hands-on? There was a pile of dried dung beside the fence. He aimed his hose and the dung flew eighteen inches in the air before heading for the drain. Deeply satisfying.

‘Oh, wow,’ Kerrie breathed again, and she abandoned the kids and hugged Meg. Then she eyed William-with caution-anyone would regard him with caution right now-but finally emotion got the better of sense and she darted over the yard and hugged him as well. Then she flew back to her kids and bustled them into the car and away before anyone had a chance to change their mind.

‘Hey, that felt good,’ Meg said, heading back into the vat room and replacing the dipstick sort of thing she was holding into the slot at the side of the vat. ‘Did it feel good to you?’

He sent another cowpat into the air. ‘Absolutely.’

‘If you knew how much that means to Kerrie…’ Then she hesitated. ‘Um… Sir… What are you doing with that hose?’

Sir? She’d called him sir. Of course, that was what he was. Wasn’t it? But she was looking bemused so he turned his attention back to the hose. It had made a left turn and was now aimed straight into the drain behind the cow’s drinking trough, forcing the contents of the drain up and in.

Uh-oh.

‘I guess the drinking trough now needs to be cleaned,’ Meg said. ‘We’ll need to empty it, scrub it, rinse it three times and then fill it up again. We don’t want contamination, do we?’

‘Um…no,’ he said and thought maybe there were a few skills he needed to concentrate on.

The milk tanker arrived just as he finished. The driver climbed from the cab and greeted Meg with delight.

‘Hey, Meggie.’

‘Meggie?’ William said softly.

‘Just try it…Willie,’ she said with a glower that made him grin, and went to meet the driver. William listened in while they caught up. Their talk was all about milk yields and fat content and bacterial levels. Meg sounded as he was accustomed to hearing her, smoothly competent, in charge of her world. But it was such a different world.

They gossiped on while he cleaned the trough and cleaned the yard surely cleaner than it had ever been cleaned before. Then the driver started emptying the vats and Meg strode over and turned his hose off. He felt bereft.

‘I was just getting good,’ he said sadly.

‘You can do it again tonight,’ she said and he started winding the hose around the reel by hand. She leaned over and grabbed the wheel and started turning. She was showing him up here.

But there was something else happening. The angel…

Her little Christmas angel was still hanging around her neck, and it was sliding down her breasts. He noticed.

She was wearing grungy old overalls, sort of mud-brown. She was wearing…what had she called them? Gumboots. Her hair was pulled back with an elastic band and she had mud smeared down the side of her face.

The top three buttons of her overalls were undone. Her angel was nestling on the soft swell of her breasts.

Lucky angel.

Why had it taken him until now to realise how beautiful she was?

‘Earth to William,’ she said and he blinked and grabbed the wheel and started turning it himself, so fast the hose slipped off and he had to stop and start again.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he had to get away.

A thought…

‘You need perfume?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she said, bemused.

He didn’t think so. Perfume would hardly fit with what she was doing right now. But…

‘But Scott wants to buy you perfume.’

‘He wants to go Christmas shopping. I promised I’d take him to Curalo. That’s our closest major shopping centre-twenty miles from here.’

‘But you have things to do here, right?’

‘Right,’ she said cautiously.

‘So could I take him?’

‘You,’ she said, stunned, and he thought about whether he should take personal affront at the thought that she obviously thought him-and the rest of the male species-useless, and then he caught another glimpse of that angel and thought maybe not.

‘Would he mind if I took him?’ he asked. ‘I could find an Internet place in town and do my contacting-kill two birds with one stone.’

‘That’d be fantastic,’ she breathed. ‘Craig here says we should have signed the contract for our milk quota before Christmas. The manager’s still at work, so Craig says I can get a lift back in with him. He can bring me back when he does the next farm. But then I promised Letty I’d help do the pudding. I need to check on Millicent. I need to see to the water troughs. I’m having trouble making everything fit.’

‘So it’s a good idea?’

‘It’s a fabulous idea,’ she said admiringly. Her eyes were twinkling… Maybe she was manipulating him and it was such an odd experience…

People didn’t manipulate him. Had she just manipulated him?

Who knew? This was one clever woman.

‘Would you be confident driving Letty’s car?’ she said. ‘I know you can drive on our side of the road.’ More admiration?

‘Yes, but…’

‘Scotty would love to go with you. Christmas shopping with his sister, or go Christmas shopping with a guy, someone who won’t make him wait outside lingerie shops? What a choice.’

‘You don’t!’

‘He’s always scared I might.’ She hesitated, and the laughter died. ‘I… he’s had a tough time. He’d enjoy going shopping with you rather than with me.’

‘His leg…’

She glanced across at Craig but Craig was bending down to pat Killer and was obviously not in too great a rush. She turned back to William and he realised he was being assessed. She held his gaze for a long moment and then gave a decisive little nod. Whatever test there’d been, it seemed he’d passed. Manipulation was past. It was time for honesty.

‘Scott’s been through hell and back,’ she said bluntly. ‘His leg was so badly smashed they had to put in a rod instead of bone. It healed but then they had to insert another rod because he grew. That got infected.’ She swallowed. ‘He almost died. Again. The leg still hasn’t completely healed but it will and he’s okay to get around. He’s really good on crutches. If you could…just do what he wants. And if you can think of anything he’d like, I’d appreciate that too. I’ve bought him so many computer games he surely must be over them but I’m hopeless at thinking of what a teenage boy wants. He’s so restricted-but he needs a manly present.’

Her frankness was working as manipulation never could. But he could do this. He even puffed his chest a little. ‘So you’d like me to take your kid brother Christmas shopping for manly presents? I can do that.’

‘Ooh, you’re not my boss, you’re my hero,’ she said and before, he could begin to guess what she intended, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. It was a feather kiss, almost a mockery, but not quite. It was a kiss of laughter and of sudden friendship, and why it had the capacity to make him feel…

How did it make him feel?

He didn’t know and it was too late to find out. Craig was replacing his hoses and yelling, ‘Are you coming or not?’

‘I’m coming,’ she called. ‘I’ll just go lose my overalls and check with Scott. But this is a great idea. My milking’s sorted, my brother will be happy and I have a superhero in the dairy. What more could a girl want?’

It took Meg an hour to get to the factory and back, by which time William and Scott had been gone for an hour as well. Which left Meg back at home, with no way of knowing when they’d get back.

She was worrying about her brother. She was also worrying about why she’d kissed her boss. It had been an impulsive gesture, the sort she’d make to anyone who’d done her a big favour, but somehow…it seemed more.

She couldn’t think of kissing her boss. That made her feel weird. She went back to worrying about Scott.

‘You’re worrying he’s taken him back to New York?’ Letty demanded as she caught Meg looking out of the window for maybe the twentieth time.

‘He can’t. There are no planes.’

‘You’ve worked for the man for three years. Don’t you trust him?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘Then why worry? Two hours is hardly time to Christmas shop.’ But then she hesitated. ‘Oh, but wait. These are guys. Half an hour there, half an hour back, five minutes at the perfume counter-yep, they should be back by now.’ She grinned. ‘But maybe they’re doing some bonding. He misses his father, does Scotty. Pass the raisins.’

‘You want me to mix the ingredients?’

‘I handed you the bowl five minutes ago-so you could look at it?’

Whoops. ‘Sorry.’ She applied herself to her creaming. ‘Why didn’t you do this before?’ she asked. ‘Aren’t puddings supposed to have been made a month ago?’

‘You didn’t get any time off and I was milking. I’m not getting any younger. But, back to your young man…’

‘My boss.’

‘He doesn’t seem to mind hard work.’

‘You say that like it’s a compliment. He’s addicted to work.’

‘Plus he’s really cute,’ Letty said and eyed Meg sideways.

‘He’s my boss. I hadn’t noticed.’

‘Right,’ Letty said dryly.

Right?

So, okay she had noticed. What normal warm-blooded woman wouldn’t notice W S McMaster?

But what use was there in noticing? For the three years she’d worked for him their relationship had been totally businesslike. Her boss worked far too hard for it to be anything else. He never noticed her, she thought. She was just one of his four PAs.

But sometimes… Sometimes when they’d been on a trip together, when they’d been working late, when she’d suddenly been a little too close, maybe even a little too familiar as tiredness crept in at the edges, she’d thought he made a conscious decision not to notice her, as if there were some barrier he couldn’t cross.

As, of course, there was. He was her employer.

He was a billionaire.

She mixed the ingredients with her hands, letting the warmth of her hands meld the mixture. She was still staring out of the kitchen window, but she was no longer looking for the absent Scott and William. She was thinking of William as he’d been this morning. Mucking round with his hose. Enjoying himself.

She’d kissed him.

It had been nothing but a silly gesture, she told herself. It meant nothing.

Only that wasn’t quite true. Meg Jardine had kissed William McMaster. The lines between boss and secretary had blurred.

Leading where?

‘You think that might be creamed enough?’ Letty demanded and she looked down into the bowl and thought yep, it was getting so warm it was starting to melt.

There was an analogy somewhere here. Melting…

‘You want me to chop some nuts?’ she managed and Letty grinned some more and handed them over.

‘Go right ahead. A girl’s gotta vent her spleen on something. You’re wondering how much perfume those boys are intending to buy, or are you wondering something else entirely?’