Tinsel and Terriers, A Novella Read online

‘I mean it, Cat. You’ve made your mark on Primrose Terrace, you’ve helped so many people. Your curiosity, your tenacity – this place wouldn’t be the same without you.’

  ‘Everyone would be left in peace, you mean?’ She gave him a rueful smile.

  ‘Yeah, maybe. But without you, they wouldn’t have seen their potential. Frankie, the Barkers, Polly and Owen. You spread good vibes, positive thinking. Kind of like a real-life Santa.’ He laughed. ‘I bet you love Christmas, don’t you?’

  Cat sighed. ‘I do love Christmas, but…’ She didn’t want to voice her sadness, the fact that this Christmas would see her parents leaving England to go to Canada, how much she would miss them. And here was Joe, doing the same thing. She’d almost got around to the idea of her parents being out of arm’s reach, but she tried to imagine the house without Joe’s presence, and found she had a mental block. How could she enjoy the run up to Christmas without him there?

  Her phone rang and, giving Joe an apologetic glance, she answered it.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Miss Palmer? It’s Mr Cawston, from the council.’

  ‘Oh.’ Cat crossed her fingers. ‘Yes? H-how did it go?’

  ‘I’m afraid today’s council meeting has been cancelled. We’ve had some apologies, and there aren’t enough people to make it quorate – to pass decisions.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said again. ‘Oh, right. So what happens now?’ She made a face at Joe.

  ‘Your item’s been moved to the next agenda.’

  ‘When’s that?’

  ‘The end of the month. I assure you I will let you know the outcome.’

  ‘OK,’ Cat said warily. ‘There’s been nothing else, has there? Since yesterday afternoon?’ She thought of how Mr Jasper would have reacted to their protest, and knew that, given the opportunity, he wouldn’t leave it alone. ‘No more evidence from the opposition?’

  ‘I can’t say at this point,’ Mr Cawston said. ‘I will let you know what happens, of course.’

  ‘But you have to give us a chance to—’ Cat dropped her head, frustrated, as the line went dead.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Joe asked.

  ‘No decision on dogs at the cove until the end of the month.’

  ‘Shit, I’m sorry. But it doesn’t make a win any less likely?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Cat admitted. ‘He wouldn’t say if they’d heard any more from Mr Jasper. Crap. What if he’s heard about our protest and gone back to the council? He’s now got another month to strengthen his argument. What if he’s done enough?’

  ‘He won’t have. Not after what you achieved yesterday.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Joe said. ‘An early Christmas present.’

  ‘I’ll want to celebrate – or commiserate – with everyone. You and Polly and Jessica and Elsie.’ She didn’t think bringing Mark’s name into the conversation would be helpful. ‘But you might not be here.’

  ‘I’m coming back. And we’ll have a great Christmas.’

  ‘You don’t strike me as the Christmas type,’ Cat said, smiling.

  Joe gave her a look of mock horror. ‘How can you say that? You have no idea!’

  ‘So, what do you love most about Christmas, then?’

  ‘Eating and drinking too much, silly hats and pointless presents, Christmas films. Not having to do anything except hole up in the warm with the people I care about.’ He held her gaze, and Cat’s stomach did a small, unhelpful somersault. It sounded perfect.

  ‘What time’s your flight?’ she asked.

  ‘First thing in the morning. I’m travelling down to Heathrow tonight.’

  ‘Right.’ Cat nodded. ‘Well, I have to—’ She pointed behind her.

  ‘Of course. Go, walk dogs, have fun. I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Sure,’ Cat said, a lump forming in her throat. ‘You too, Joe. I hope it’s wonderful.’

  They stood facing each other, unsure what to do next, and then Cat heard Joe whisper ‘fuck it’ and he closed the gap between them, pulling her into his arms. Cat closed her eyes, wrapped her arms round his waist and listened to his heart beating, letting herself indulge, for a few moments, in how good it felt to be so close to him. She was so relieved that she’d come home, that she hadn’t turned up the following day to discover he’d already gone, that they’d been able to have this goodbye.

  It was only temporary, Cat told herself as they broke apart, the lump still firmly in her throat. He’d be back in a few weeks, resuming his place on the sofa, ready to have a lazy, indulgent Christmas with them all.

  So why did it feel like the bottom had fallen out of her world?

  ‘I want to do something for Christmas,’ Cat said later as she and Mark sat on the sofa in front of an old horror film.

  ‘Like what?’ He turned to her, pushed her hair back from her forehead. ‘I thought we could get a turkey and hibernate – take Chips for a long walk, have a quiet day just the three of us.’

  Cat shook her head. ‘My parents are going to Canada straight after Christmas, so I have to spend it with them. But I didn’t mean the actual day, I meant the build-up. Something that all of Primrose Terrace can get involved in.’

  Mark leaned back and folded his arms. ‘What do you mean? Not another protest?’

  ‘No, no no. Well, unless we get bad news from the committee. I mean something fun, something Christmassy.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why not? Don’t you think this is the best place you’ve ever lived? Everyone here, Jessica, Frankie and her kids, the Barkers, Boris and Charles, they’re all so friendly. Why can’t we do something, you and me, Polly and…and Elsie. I’ll have a think.’ She took a sip of wine and stroked Chips’s soft fur with her bare foot.

  ‘Christmas is hectic enough without having something else to organize on top of presents and food and family.’

  ‘Have you got family you want to see?’ Cat asked.

  Mark shook his head. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Your mum and dad?’ Cat realized she knew very little about Mark’s family.

  ‘We’re not close,’ he said. ‘They live in Spain now, they do their own thing.’

  ‘Oh, that’s sad. Why’s that?’

  ‘No real reason. They wanted to go to Spain, I was living my life here. It works fine.’

  ‘But don’t you want to see them? Spain’s not that far.’ Cat felt a flip of unease at the thought that that could happen with her own parents. What if they loved Canada, decided to make a permanent life for themselves out there? Or – she brushed the thought away, but it returned, stronger, and lodged itself firmly in her head. Oh yes, she heard herself say, I used to know Joe Sinclair, the famous illustrator. He lives in Portland now, does his own thing. Cat took another gulp of wine.

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Mark said. ‘I have enough to keep me busy here, and I saw them at the beginning of the year. I’d much rather spend this Christmas with you.’ He snuck his arm round her waist, pulled her into him. ‘But just you, not the whole street. I’m sure Jessica will organize some kind of party. I don’t think you need to worry about doing anything else.’

  ‘Well, I could speak to Jessica, see if we could organize something together. We could involve the dogs – almost everyone here has dogs, and they should be included.’

  Mark laughed softly. ‘You’re pretty determined when you want to be.’ He kissed her forehead.

  ‘Isn’t that why you like me?’ Cat grinned.

  ‘Partly,’ Mark admitted. ‘There are other reasons too.’ His kisses travelled further down, to her nose, her cheek and then her lips. ‘Lots of other reasons.’

  ‘Good,’ Cat said, kissing him back and then wriggling out of his reach. ‘Me too. But right now I need pen and paper. I’m definitely organizing something for Primrose Terrace. This is going to be their best Christmas yet.’ She jumped up and, before Mark had time to change her mind, went in search of a notepad.

  Chapter 2

  Two days be
fore Halloween, Cat was walking Jessica’s Westies when her phone rang. It was the day of the rearranged council meeting, and she’d taken Coco, Dior and Valentino on an extra-long walk to distract herself. Mr Cawston had said he would call her as soon as the decision had been made.

  Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she sat on a bench at the edge of Fairview Park, the cold immediately seeping through her tunic dress. The Westies stopped at her feet and Dior sat on them, warming her toes through her boots.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Miss Palmer? It’s Mr Cawston here, from the council.’

  ‘Hi, Mr Cawston,’ Cat chirped nervously. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m very well, thank you. I’m calling with the outcome of today’s committee meeting.’

  Cat closed her eyes. ‘It went ahead, then?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘That’s…good. Did Mr Jasper do anything else to make sure the ban was imposed, before…?’

  ‘Not after your sterling efforts. It really was an effective campaign which, I’m pleased to inform you, has been successful. With the weight of public opinion, our councillors have agreed to continue to allow dogs at the cove.’

  Cat opened her eyes, resisted squeaking at Mr Cawston and leant over to stroke the Westies. ‘That is incredible news,’ she said, ‘thank you so much.’

  ‘No need to thank me – it was all your hard work that won them over.’

  ‘Wow,’ Cat said, ‘will you be letting everyone know? I can help too, but—’

  ‘Yes, we’ll get notices out, make sure Fairview residents are aware of the decision. It’s been good working with you, Miss Palmer.’

  ‘You too, Mr Cawston.’

  She waited until he’d hung up, and then she knelt on the concrete and embraced Coco, Valentino and Dior, letting them lick her face and cover her bottle-green coat in their trademark white hairs. ‘You’ve got your beach,’ she said. ‘It’s yours. For ever. What do you think of that, eh?’ She sat on her haunches and, blinking tears out of her eyes, took in the beauty of Fairview Park, the trees, almost bare for the winter, the other dog walkers and their running, playing pets. She really did love living here.

  She took the dogs back to Jessica’s house, eager to tell her the good news.

  ‘It wouldn’t have happened without you,’ Cat said. ‘We wouldn’t have been able to spread the news nearly as far, or get as many signatures. The campaign might have sunk before it had even got going.’

  ‘I don’t believe that for a moment,’ Jessica said. ‘You’re the driving force behind everything dog-related in Fairview. You’ve come here and worked your magic. You’re incredible, Cat.’

  ‘Well, I—’ Cat ran her hands down the front of her coat. ‘I’m not sure about that, but I was wondering if I could talk to you about something. I’ve been thinking of doing something Christmassy that can involve everyone on Primrose Terrace, and you’re always so sociable. Mark said he thought you might be organizing a party.’

  ‘He did, did he?’ Jessica smiled and flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

  ‘If you are – and there’s no pressure, I promise – I was wondering if I could combine it with something? Can we have a proper chat some time?’ Dior was standing with his front paws on Cat’s legs, and she bent and ruffled his ears.

  ‘Tonight,’ Jessica said, clapping her hands together. ‘Come round here this evening. We can have wine, a few snacks, and a brainstorm – like a Christmas committee. Who else?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Who else can be on the committee? I’m not sure it’s Mark’s thing.’

  ‘I can ask,’ Cat said, but she thought Jessica was probably right. She couldn’t imagine him getting enthusiastic about tinsel and mince pies, perhaps not even on the day itself. ‘And I was going to speak to Polly.’

  ‘Bring her, and anyone else you can rope into it. Seven o’clock. I must dash now, but I’ll see you later.’ She kissed Cat on the cheek. ‘I think with you and me leading the way, whatever we come up with will be pretty unstoppable.’

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ Cat said.

  Cat turned in the direction of the vet’s surgery. There would be nobody at home, and Mark had spent the last few days immersed in paperwork. She didn’t feel like sitting quietly and waiting for him to notice her. Besides, Polly had been a huge supporter of Pooch Promenade from the beginning, and Cat wanted to share her good news.

  She pushed open the door into the clinical white reception area. They’d obviously decided that late October was too early for decorations.

  ‘Is Polly on her lunch yet?’ she asked the receptionist.

  ‘About ten minutes, I think. Take a seat and I’ll let her know you’re here.’

  She sat next to a woman with short, carroty hair, a Barbour jacket, and a small cream dog on a lead. A Cairn terrier, Cat thought.

  ‘He’s adorable, can I stroke him?’

  ‘Of course,’ the woman said.

  Cat bent and ran her hands along the dog’s shaggy back. He turned to her and sniffed her boots. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Bisto,’ she said. ‘One of my kids came up with it. I like it for him – he’s bold and stocky, so it suits him – but they’re far too keen on food-related names. They’re trying to name all our neighbour’s puppies things like Popcorn and Curry.’

  ‘Your neighbour’s just had puppies?’

  ‘Very unexpectedly, poor love. Her little mongrel has somehow managed to have her wicked way with another dog, and there’s five healthy pups, just born.’

  ‘What’s she going to do with them?’ Cat asked, her eyes wide.

  ‘Well, she’s eighty-nine, and she doesn’t want any more dogs. I’ve spoken to lovely Polly here, and she’s going to put a sign up, see what else she can do. They’re cute pups, cream and brown, a little scruffy, but utterly loveable. I’m a firm believer that dogs aren’t just for Christmas, but they’ll be ready to leave Mum mid-December, and I’m sure they’ll be snapped up. Here.’ She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, scribbled something on it and handed it to Cat. ‘If you’re interested, just get in touch with me and I can introduce you.’

  ‘I will,’ Cat said. ‘Thank you.’ She read the details on the piece of paper. Five mongrel pups, three male, two female, ready 20 December. Followed by a name and phone number.

  Cat was still staring at it when Polly appeared, her long blonde hair tied back, nurse’s dark-green scrubs on under her duffle coat.

  ‘Cat,’ she grinned. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’ve come to take you for lunch. I have news.’

  Polly glanced behind her. ‘I can’t. I only have half an hour, then I need to be back here. I was going to grab a sandwich.’

  ‘OK, so how about this evening?’

  ‘I thought you’d be at Mark’s. Owen’s coming over.’

  ‘Ah.’ Cat grinned. ‘Well, how do you both fancy coming round to Jessica’s to help us work on the plan for Christmas at Primrose Terrace?’

  ‘Why do we need a plan?’ Polly sounded wary, but Cat could see the excitement in her eyes.

  ‘To make this the best Christmas ever. Are you in?’

  ‘I’ll have to make sure Owen doesn’t mind.’

  ‘Brilliant! Seven o’clock.’

  ‘But, Cat, I need to ask Owen first.’

  ‘When has Owen ever said no to anything?’

  Cat left Polly rolling her eyes and, with an extra spring in her step, returned to Primrose Terrace.

  ‘You know you’re welcome to come,’ Cat said, following Mark from the kitchen to the living room. ‘The more heads the better.’

  ‘I’m not sure my head’s tuned to Christmas yet. It’s not even November.’ He sat down and scribbled something on a printed letter, still doing the paperwork.

  ‘November’s two days away, and the shops are bursting with Christmas stuff already.’ Cat peered over his shoulder but could only make out part of the logo – something Lawyers.

 
; ‘That’s not necessarily a good thing.’ He gave her a quick smile and turned back to his work.

  ‘I can see I’m going to have to do some de-Scrooging here,’ Cat said, ‘Christmas is the best time of the year.’ She tried to ignore the voice in her head that was reminding her how much Joe loved Christmas, the picture he had painted of hibernating from the cold with the people he cared about. She sat on the sofa beside Mark and reached her hand up, running it through his hair, but her nail caught on his scalp and he moved his head away, turning to her with an irritated expression.

  ‘Look, Cat – ’ His face softened. ‘Sorry, I just – I’m a bit busy. But I can’t wait to hear what ideas you come up with. It’s you and Jessica and Polly?’

  Cat nodded. ‘Owen too, I think. And Elsie, because it would be impossible to do anything worthwhile without her input.’

  ‘It sounds like you’ve got everyone you need – I’m sure I’d just get in the way anyway.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Cat said weakly, shaking her head. ‘Of course you wouldn’t.’ But it wasn’t Mark’s absence she was concerned about. Cat thought of the ideas that had been jumbling in her head for the last few days, and knew that Joe would have been able to organise them and better them, and come up with a final, perfect plan. She didn’t know how they would cope without his creative input, and she didn’t want to think too hard about the fact that he wasn’t back yet, or how acutely aware she was of his absence at number nine Primrose Terrace. She was sure Shed was pining too.

  ‘I have to go, or I’ll be late.’ She kissed Mark on the cheek, raced to the door and turned, but he was already engrossed in the documents again, his script or lawyer contracts. Feeling a flush of relief that he found whatever it was more worthwhile than Christmas, she headed out into the cold night.

  Cat, Elsie, Polly and Owen sat around the huge table in Jessica’s luxurious kitchen. The bank of windows looked out over the back garden, which was in darkness save for white fairy lights woven through the branches of an ash tree. In soft lamplight, and with bottles of spiced red wine and a cinnamon-flavoured candle, Jessica had instantly got them in the festive spirit, and was putting the Michael Bublé Christmas album on to complete the effect.