The Magic of Christmas Page 18

  Jack stared at him, thrown by the note of disappointment in the guy’s voice. Yes, this was definitely the same man he’d run into last year. Jack’s gaze flew to the man’s ears.

  My God! He hadn’t been mistaken last year, the guy’s ears were definitely slightly pointy.

  Who was this guy who decorated Oxford Street with Christmas finery each year?

  ‘Well, sir,’ the guy said, ‘did the magic of Christmas find you last year?’

  ‘No. It didn’t,’ Jack said sternly. If anything, his experience of Christmas last year had merely increased his loathing of this supposedly festive season.

  The guy tilted his head then raised one hand and stroked the tip of his thumb and forefinger along his bearded chin. ‘Are you certain?’

  What the hell? ‘Yes. I’m certain,’ Jack grated.

  ‘Hmm. That’s interesting.’ The man simply stood and looked quizzically at him.

  Absurdly uncomfortable and starting to feel the prickle of irritation, Jack started bending over to pick up all the decorations. A few people stopped to help while other people kept walking by.

  ‘I’m sorry to have knocked you over—again.’

  ‘Could be you were meant to bump into me,’ the guy said cryptically.

  When all the decorations were back in the box, Jack looked again at the man. This time, the man’s eyes were sad and his expression forlorn.

  ‘You know,’ Jack was told, ‘Christmas magic is special. If it comes looking for you and you turn it away, it won’t come back again unless it’s invited. This year, you’ll have to go looking for it. You’ll have to help create your own Christmas magic.’

  Part of Jack wanted to scoff, but the man’s tone was so sage, his expression so intensely earnest, all Jack could do was send the man a quick nod.

  ‘May you find the magic of Christmas this year,’ the man told him with a quick nod of his own before he looked up at something beyond Jack. Then, he added, ‘It helps if you know what you’re looking for.’

  Jack looked over his shoulder to see what it was that’d captured the guy’s attention so strongly.

  Grace.

  He found himself looking up again at the poster of Grace and everything fell into place with a flash of blinding realisation. It’d been the afternoon he’d run into this man last year that he’d met Grace.

  ‘It was Grace,’ he said aloud. He looked back to the man only to find he was gone.

  Jack didn’t need to question the guy.

  It had to be Grace. Grace had been the magic of Christmas he’d been meant to find. Wasn’t everything about Grace Robertson magical? Hadn’t she brought the magic of music and laughter into his life and made Christmas not only bearable but enjoyable for the first time in his memory?

  And like a damned idiot he’d sent her away—sent her into the arms of all those other men. Even while he’d told himself he was doing the right thing for her—and at the point he’d been in in his life, he definitely hadn’t been the man she deserved—he’d been miserable ever since.

  Sharp, searing pain lanced through his heart once again as he considered his loss. Grace would’ve supported him and helped him through all the issues he’d needed to face, but he was so used to having to rely on himself, he’d reverted to type, telling himself she was better off being unburdened by him.

  But, she’d loved him.

  ‘Christmas magic is special. If it comes looking for you and you turn it away, it won’t come back again unless it’s invited. This year, you’ll have to go looking for it. You’ll have to help create your own Christmas magic.’

  Was the guy he’d bumped into right or was it too late for him?

  In this last year, he’d become a better man—a man more worthy of Grace. Not only had he followed Grace’s advice and read the book, but he’d finally told Amadeo everything about his past. His father’s wisdom had helped, but it’d been Amadeo’s encouragement for Jack to seek counselling that’d really provided enlightenment. Through counselling, Jack had been able to see his mother in a different light. The therapy process had also convinced him to pay Lizzie a visit and he’d finally reached a point where he realised he could be a good friend and that he was worthy of both friendship and love.

  Thanks to having had Grace in his life, he felt more whole. He was at a place where he was prepared to take a risk on love.

  One question pressed in on him now.

  Would Grace give him a second chance or was he too late?

  Jack looked up at the poster again.

  McGovern Entertainment presents Grace Robertson at Royal Albert Hall.

  Jack would be at the performance. He’d been at every single public performance she’d given. Tomorrow night he’d take his shot and see if he could keep the magic of Christmas this year.

  Amid much audience applause, Grace walked on to the television set. Warmth radiated from her and she had a large smile on her face.

  Jack frowned. He knew her smiles but this was a new one.

  Good Lord! It was a fake one.

  This smile didn’t reach her eyes and he knew her well enough to realise it. Was she nervous?

  No.

  Jack’s heart took a dive. She wasn’t nervous, there was no sign of her teeth worrying her lip.

  She was unhappy. Desperately unhappy.

  ‘Welcome Amazing Grace Robertson.’ The television host stood and gave Grace a kiss on the cheek before gesturing for her to sit on a sofa seat which was at right angles to his.

  ‘Thank you, Andy.’

  ‘I love you, Grace!’ shouted some unseen guy from the audience. ‘Marry me!’

  Everyone laughed.

  ‘I think that gentleman sums it up, Grace,’ the host said. ‘London loves you. You’ve come from nowhere and taken London by storm. We simply can’t get enough of you and now you’re about to play at Royal Albert Hall. Take us back to the beginning.’

  Always humble, Grace spoke about her first secondary school music lesson and discovering she had a talent for playing the piano. Jack had heard it all before from Grace, and Andy wasn’t the first interviewer to rake over it. It was the angle each journalist or television presenter pursued—the young woman who’d risen to fame from a background of illiteracy, the tragic death of her parents and subsequent financial struggle. But the interviews had started to anger Jack because Grace was made to jump through the same hoops every time and he didn’t want that for her. He wanted her to move forward, not to be forever reminded about the pain in her past.

  ‘But formal lessons didn’t work, did they?’ Andy asked.

  ‘No,’ Grace agreed with a small smile. ‘I had significant learning difficulties and as I’ve discussed quite openly in interviews, I only learnt to read as an adult.’

  ‘Just this week you’ve been appointed as ambassador for the Adult Literacy Foundation.’

  The studio audience erupted into applause.

  When the clapping finally stopped, the host asked, ‘Were you surprised when you were approached to fill this role?’

  Jack’s heart swelled. He’d read about her ambassadorial role in the press and was so proud of her.

  ‘It came out of the blue,’ Grace said, ‘but I’m very honoured to have been asked. I’ve never pictured myself as a role model, but I guess what people can learn from me is that learning difficulties can be overcome. It’s not easy and I would never gloss over it and pretend it is. It takes a lot of commitment, but more importantly, it takes a lot of self-belief. A person’s self-belief can be quickly eroded if someone is bullied.’

  ‘As I understand you were at school?’ the host probed.

  ‘Yes, and I particularly want to give a message to school children.’

  She looked directly at the camera and Jack’s chest tightened as he regarded the beautiful moss-green eyes of the woman he loved.

  ‘For those of you who have learning difficulties, let me tell you I feel your pain, your confusion and your frustration. I was sickened at having to go to s
chool every day, scared stiff there’d be a relief teacher who wouldn’t know about my inability to read and who might ask me to stand up in class and read aloud.

  ‘I was bullied. There were kids around me who told me every day that I was dumb. The teachers believed it too and in the end I came to believe it. And, every time someone tried to help me, I was so busy telling myself I wouldn’t be able to do it, and feeling shame for not being able to do it, that I didn’t open up to the possibility that I could learn. Here I am now, and while I’m definitely not going to break any world records with speed reading, I can read. I read for enjoyment every single day. I—’

  The audience burst into applause yet again.

  The cameras panned to the audience as people got to their feet and gave Grace a standing ovation for her courage.

  It was at least a minute before she was able to continue. ‘We’re all good at something. If learning isn’t something you’re good at right now, don’t give up on yourself—keep trying and be proud you’re trying. And, don’t tell yourself you’re stupid. Instead, keep trying different things until you find something you enjoy doing.’

  ‘They’re inspirational words, Grace,’ the host said. ‘You mention you were bullied at school. If you saw one of the kids who bullied you now, what would you say to them?’

  She hesitated then shrugged. ‘I really don’t know. Kids often don’t realise how hurtful their words can be. Sometimes, they do realise because they’ve been bullied themselves and they turn on others to try to make themselves feel less powerless, and perhaps to make themselves more popular. I guess we all need to try to be aware that each of us has strengths and weaknesses. Showing kindness and being helpful to those who don’t have the same strengths we have is really important.’

  Again the audience showed their appreciation of her words with more applause and the host had to gesture for the clapping to stop.

  ‘Is there a part of you, though, that feels like thumbing your nose at those bullies? Do you wish you could see them again and say, “Look where I am now, I’m doing way better than you.”?’

  Grace’s head drew back and it was obvious she was genuinely perplexed. ‘No. Why would I do that? What would it achieve?’

  The host shifted a little on his seat, realising how small the question had made him appear.

  ‘My happiness,’ Grace continued, ‘isn’t dependent upon whether I’ve done better than anyone else. Happiness isn’t a result of perceived success, it’s a result of the positive connections you make in your life and how you interact with others.’

  ‘Are you happy, Grace?’

  Her features pinched. ‘I regret my mum and dad and my grandmother aren’t here to see me perform. I know they would’ve been proud.’

  ‘I love you, Grace.’

  It wasn’t a man in the crowd who shouted it this time. This time it was Jack who said the words. Four small words uttered in his living room where nobody else could hear him. He’d told her once, then he’d tried to bury those feelings, but it was impossible to deny his love for this wonderful, warm, humble woman any longer.

  God, but he hoped he wasn’t too late.

  The host gave a little cough. ‘Well, you evidently have some great connections. You were discovered by Sadie McGovern and you’ve shot to stardom overnight.’

  ‘Maybe not quite overnight,’ she corrected, ‘but it’s certainly been a fast journey.’

  ‘How exactly did you meet Sadie?’

  ‘A friend introduced us.’

  ‘You’ve never named the friend, but the word is that it was Jack Mancini.’

  She smiled. ‘I haven’t named the friend who introduced me to Sadie. The only thing I will tell you is that he’s very special and I love him very much.’

  ‘Love as in you’re in love with him?’

  ‘Totally, irrevocably and eternally.’

  Jack’s heart soared. She still loves me. Despite all the other guys she’s dated, she still loves me.

  The host sat forward on the edge of his seat, excited by this new angle to the Grace Robertson story. ‘There have been quite a few men in your life since you came into the public spotlight. One of yesterday’s tabloids reported that you’re romantically involved with Raoul Fernandez, the Formula One racing champion. Are wedding plans in the air?’

  ‘Raoul has been a great friend to me, but we’re not romantically involved. I can tell you I’d marry my guy tomorrow,’ she said wistfully, ‘but the timing isn’t right yet.’

  ‘C’mon, Grace. Who’s your guy?’ Andy pushed.

  ‘My lips are sealed, but, if he’s tuned in or if any journalist wants to make headlines out of it so he’ll get the message, I want to tell him to keep reading the book.’

  Reading the book? Jack had almost memorised the bloody thing!

  But, Grace was right.

  The book was right.

  Amadeo had been right and so had the therapist he’d seen.

  It was time to overcome his fear of loss and make the most of what life offered him.

  ‘Now you’re teasing us, Grace,’ the TV host said. ‘Who is this lucky man?’

  ‘I really hope that one day before too long, you’ll find out. If he sees this interview, he knows I’ll never stop loving him.’

  ‘Jack Mancini hasn’t been seen about town with any women since you. That’s quite a change for a man who was known for his very short liaisons. Is he the mystery man?’

  ‘Andy,’ she said in an admonishing tone, ‘I’ve already told you it’s not Raoul. If you start listing every man I’ve been linked with we’ll run out of air time or you’ll eventually stumble across the truth in your trial and error attempts. For all the audience knows, it could be you!’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be a twist to the tale?’

  ‘Well you did take me out for dinner last week,’ Grace said with a wink. ‘Seriously, a lady has to keep some secrets.’

  The audience laughed when she fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly.

  The audience could keep guessing. The world could keep guessing. But, Jack knew the identity of the man she loved.

  If Grace had fallen in love with someone else, would Jack have been able to do the honourable thing and stay away from her now he’d decided to claim her as his own?

  The answer was a resounding no.

  Grace and Jack belonged together.

  She wasn’t just his magic of Christmas, she was the most important part of his life.

  Chapter 22

  Grace walked back onto the stage at Royal Albert Hall at the end of her performance program to receive a standing ovation.

  She’d come a long way since her first public performances at Central London’s Wigmore Hall back in March. Back then, on the first night, two hundred of the five hundred and forty-five seats were occupied. The following evening, after rave reviews from music critics, three-hundred and fifty seats had been sold and she’d landed her first recording contract. The third night, she was grateful the bright lights shining onto the stage prevented her from seeing very far back into the hall because Sadie had informed her that the audience would number just over five hundred.

  Life in the lead-up to the concerts had been a hectic round of practice sessions by herself and rehearsals with the orchestra, but following the Wigmore concerts, it’d been pandemonium. If it hadn’t been for Sadie, steering her through the never-ending round of newspaper, television and radio interviews, Grace would’ve been completely overwhelmed.

  The media had latched on to her more quickly because she’d been linked with Jack and also named in Imogene’s preliminary court hearing. Thankfully, Grace had never had to attend the court. The case had never proceeded to trial due to the psychiatric report.

  A huge spotlight swept over the stage as the applause swelled again.

  ‘Thank you,’ Grace mouthed to the audience as scores of single roses were thrown onto the stage from the appreciative concert-goers.

  Royal Albert Hall was packed to capacity—
five thousand, two hundred and seventy-two seats had sold out within a week of this one-night only concert being advertised.

  She took a bow, then gestured to the conductor and members of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and gave them a clap for their wonderful role in accompanying her tonight.

  The applause reached a crescendo, then there was an eerie silence before the audience burst into song.

  ‘Amazing Grace, how sweet thy sound …’

  The first time it’d happened was after her second night playing at Cadogan Hall with this same orchestra back in May. Although English football fans were renowned for their singing at football matches, it was unheard of that an audience would attribute a theme song to a concert pianist and burst into that song at the end of each performance. But, it was exactly what’d happened with the nine hundred strong audience at Cadogan Hall. From then on, the press had dubbed her “Amazing Grace” and, at the end of every concert, the audience would sing the first verse of the hymn in tribute to her.

  It never failed to make the goose bumps break over her body and bring her to tears.

  ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed again, completely overwhelmed by this incredible reception and the generosity of the London audiences.

  ‘People love you because you’re so lovable,’ Sadie had told her. ‘Your talent is simply unbelievable, but it’s more than your ability that puts you in a class of your own, Grace. It’s your grace! You’re so humble and the way you’ve opened up in interviews about your learning difficulties and your lack of formal training has endeared you to the entire country. And, although you prefer not to touch on it in interviews, every single one of us was saddened and angered by that senseless massacre that claimed your parents’ lives. Now, here you are, rising like a phoenix out of the ashes of such tragedy and taking the country by storm.’

  A few people she’d never met wrote her very badly spelt and punctuated letters telling her they, too, had learning difficulties and that she’d inspired them to go back to adult literacy classes and to make the most of the talents they had rather than feeling they were failures because they struggled to read and write.