The Millionaire's Christmas Wish

By: Lucy Gordon

‘Come in. I told you he’d be here.’

Mitzi came further into the room, eyeing Santa with a touch of suspicion, then coming close and poking him in the stomach.

‘Ow!’ he remembered to say.

‘You see, I’m not batty,’ Bobby told her.

‘Yes, you are,’ she said firmly.





‘That’s enough, the pair of you,’ Corinne said, coming in. ‘Go to bed, now. Santa still has a full night’s work to do.’

He leaned down to them. ‘That’s right. I’ll say goodbye now. I won’t be back tomorrow, like I was last time.’

‘And next year?’ Bobby asked.

‘We’ll see.’ Santa added thoughtfully, ‘Most boys of your age don’t believe in Santa Claus.’

Bobby regarded him with a faint quizzical smile. ‘I believe in you,’ he said.

Mitzi nodded. Then she put her arms around his huge girth as far as they would go, which wasn’t far. Santa leaned down and she vanished into his white hair.

‘Goodnight, both of you,’ he said huskily.

When the children were gone Corinne looked at Santa’s belly, then at her own, which was about the same size.

‘I wouldn’t have much luck cuddling you, either,’ she said, chuckling. ‘Cross fingers that we’ll make it through Christmas.’

‘Well, if not, that husband of yours is here.’ Beneath his beard Santa paled slightly. ‘He may not be much use, but he’s here.’

‘Don’t you say a word against my husband. The clinic said he was doing the breathing exercises very well. Better than me.’

He grinned, but then the grin faded. ‘Are you going to be all right?’ he asked seriously.

She smiled. ‘We’re going to be all right. All of us.’


‘I’m like Bobby. I believe in you. Happy Christmas, Santa. Now and always.’

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