Tinsel and Terriers
Tinsel and Terriers
Cressida McLaughlin
Hilarious and touching, Primrose Terrace will appeal to fans of Game of Scones, Wickham Hall and The Grand Reopening of Dandelion Cafe.'A gem…I loved it’ Alexandra Brown‘Warm and wonderful…bursting with characters you’ll adore’ Miranda DickinsonChristmas is coming to Primrose Terrace, Pooch Promenade is doing brilliantly and Cat has made lots of new friends in the street, both dogs and their owners. Life seems good. Things start to go badly when Cat learns something about Mark that she wishes she hadn’t. Then, when one of Ellen’s lovable schnauzers, Chalky, gets ill, it looks like this Christmas could be turning into a dog’s dinner. But Cat has never given up on anything in her life – and this is one Christmas that’s definitely worth saving…Tinsel and Terriers is the fourth and final part of a serialized novel told in four parts – all set in Primrose Terrace.
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First published in Great Britain by Harper 2015
Copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers 2015
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Cressida McLaughlin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © October 2015 ISBN: 9780008135232
Version 2015-09-24
Contents
Cover (#uf59bd42e-a5e5-588a-afc8-494d60435589)
Title Page (#uaff1c7f8-7098-5dbf-9603-6350d247f5bc)
Copyright (#u31e380cf-7feb-5070-9872-bbdccf2c4a53)
Chapter 1 (#u9ab065c0-1abc-5f86-bd23-f2234324b048)
Chapter 2 (#u813ab976-7c11-50a7-b50e-8b1cf4638920)
Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Christmas Day on Primrose Terrace (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Cressida McLaughlin (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u80ad3d0a-15b3-5736-b157-91fba5eb49a6)
Cat Palmer was cold, and confused, and had some explaining to do. As she walked back to Primrose Terrace from Fairview Cove, her coat pulled tightly around her, she wished she still had Chalky, Elsie’s wise old miniature Schnauzer, to reassure her.
The day had gone so well. The month-long protest she had organized to try and stop dogs being banned at the cove, Fairview’s quieter beach, had culminated in an event where dog-lovers, sea-lovers and other residents of Fairview had turned up and signed her petition, putting themselves firmly behind her cause. The council official had agreed to take the signatures to the committee, and it looked like the swell of support would be enough. They would be able to show Mr Jasper, Fairview’s resident dog hater, that he was in a minority.
Then she’d allowed herself to relax. She’d tried surfing with her new boyfriend Mark, housemates Polly and Joe, her neighbours Juliette and Will. She’d let her worries drift away, and so of course one had come back to plant itself firmly in front of her.
The trees lining the road shook in the wind and Cat shrunk further inside her coat. Her hair was still damp from the sea, and the cold made her head sting. Autumn was well and truly underway. She loved this time of year. She loved the excitement of Halloween and fireworks, and then the influx of lights and colours as people blotted out the winter greyness with sparkling festivity.
It would be her first Christmas living on Primrose Terrace, and although she’d be in Brighton with her parents on the day, she’d been looking forward to getting into the festive spirit, planning decorations and parties with Mark, Polly and Joe. She wanted to celebrate a year that had seen so much change for them all. Cat had started her own dog-walking business, Pooch Promenade, which was going from strength to strength; Polly had worked hard to qualify as a veterinary nurse, and was just embarking on her dream career at Fairview vet’s; Mark’s new film – despite a few hiccups, was on its way to being made, and illustrator Joe had been asked to trial a cartoon strip for the local newspaper.
As Cat turned into Primrose Terrace, she shuddered at the thought of Joe, standing so close to her, his blue eyes, bright from the exhilaration of surfing, latched firmly onto hers. She had been so upset when she discovered his cartoon, Curiosity Kitten, was based on her. She had been trying to ignore the feelings that had been bubbling inside her, that told her she was upset because she wanted Joe to care about her – really care about her.
And then Joe had said just that. He had confessed about the cartoon, and told her that she was his inspiration. He had stroked her cheek, and his expression had filled in all the blanks.
But Cat was with Mark now. She had finally taken the next step with the scriptwriter who lived a few doors away. He was charming and handsome, occasionally still mysterious, as if he was hovering just out of reach, but she was learning to accept that was part of who he was. But he had found her and Joe in the tiny changing room in the back of the surfer van, Cat in only a towel, Joe’s wetsuit pulled down to the waist. It was innocent, they were talking, but Cat knew how it looked. She had escaped as quickly as she could, taking Chalky to the far end of the cove. She had done more thinking in the last couple of hours than she could bear, and she still wasn’t sure about her decision.
It had taken a long time to get to where she was with Mark. Could she really throw it away on one hurried conversation, one tender look? She tried to forget about the stolen hugs, the moments she’d shared with Joe over the last few months, and the way her heart rate increased when she pictured the warm smile that crinkled his blue eyes.
She was relieved and terrified when she saw Mark’s Audi was parked outside his house. He’d driven to the cove to take banners and food for the barbecue, so she knew for certain that he’d returned home.
Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she climbed the steps up to number four and rang the bell. She heard it echo inside, and then fast feet running down the corridor. She bit her lip and waited for the door to open.
Mark’s border collie Chips ran straight into her, nudging her nose into her legs. She stroked the dog’s silky ears, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Mark. He was wearing the jeans and jumper he’d had on at the beach, his dark hair drying untidily around his face, but his expression was darker than she’d ever seen it. His lips were pressed together, and his brown eyes looked at her with a cold detachment that made her insides shrivel. She’d done nothing wrong, she told herself. She just had to make Mark believe it.
‘Can I come in?’ she asked, resting her hand on Chips’s soft head.
Mark was silent for a moment, then gestured for her to come inside.
Cat perched on the edge of his leather sofa, wrapping her arms around her. Mark stood in the doorway.
‘Are you cold?’ There was an edge to his voice, but Cat could also hear disappointment in it. She’d managed to disappoint so many people recently, in one way or another, but she hadn’t imagined it could happen with Mark.
‘No, I’m fine, thanks. Come and sit down.’ She patted the sofa next to her.
Mark hesitated, as if there was a delay between the words leaving her mouth and reaching him, but then he joined her. Cat was conscious of the gap between them: hands, knees not touching.
‘I wanted to explain what happened, in the van.’
Mark nodded. ‘Go on. I’m all ears.’
‘Right.’ She swallowed. Chips was lying on the floor under the window, and she wished she could bury her head in the collie’s warm fur. ‘What you saw – nothing happened. Nothing was happening, nothing was going to happen. Joe wanted to talk to me because…I’m not there any more. At number nine. I’m always here.’
‘So he has to pick the moment you’re naked to come and find you?’ Mark asked sharply.
‘No, of course not. That was a mistake. He just wanted to talk to me about something.’
‘What?’ Mark clasped his hands in front of him, his elbows on his knees. Cat was struck all over again by how handsome he was, with his dark, messy hair, his strong jawline. But without his usual charm, without the light of amusement in his eyes, he was a different person. An image of Joe, looking at her with real compassion, flashed in Cat’s mind and she pushed it aside.
This was the hard part. Cat didn’t want to lie and she knew she’d done nothing wrong, but the truth about Joe’s cartoon wasn’t going to reassure him.
She ran her finger along her jeans. ‘He’s had a job offer, a new project, for the local paper. It’s a cartoon strip, and he – he wanted to use an idea that sort of relates to me.’
‘Relates to you? What does that mean?’
Cat looked at the floor. ‘His idea is a character called Curiosity Kitten. It’s this kitten who gets into all kinds of scrapes because she’s curious.’ She thought back to the sketches she’d seen. ‘Like opening a box with something dangerous inside, trying to see into a window and falling off her makeshift ladder, that kind of thing.’
‘And that’s you because…?’
‘Because I’m curious, Mark. I do stupid things like that. Sometimes they work, like with Frankie and her attic room, and sometimes, like seeing what would happen if I took a puppy into a nursery, they backfire spectacularly.’
‘So what you’re saying,’ Mark said, shifting round to face her more directly, his knee brushing hers, ‘Is that Joe’s drawing a cartoon that takes the piss out of you? And hedidn’t think you’d have a problem with that?’ He laughed. ‘Is he for real?’
Cat shrugged, sensing that he was on the verge of thawing. Of course that was what she wanted, but she had never intended to make Joe out to be the bad guy. ‘He wanted to make sure I was OK with it,’ she said. ‘I was put out to begin with, but is it really so bad being the subject of someone’s work? Don’t you put people you know in your films?’
Mark shook his head, dismissing her change of subject. ‘That’s what he wanted to talk to you about? In the back of the van, both of you half naked?’ He caught her eye and Cat felt her cheeks colour, but annoyance flashed through her – why was he making this so difficult?
‘That was unintentional. I was getting changed, and he was – he’d just finished surfing.’
‘Oh yes,’ Mark said bitterly, ‘the star surfer.’
‘Mark, come on—’
‘Come on?’ he shot back. ‘I open that door to find you and your housemate Joe, who, by the way, is clearly besotted with you, standing inches apart, skin on show, and you expect me to believe it was a chat? Why did he need to talk to you right then? Was it just inspiration he wanted from you, or more? Or maybe you’d agreed to meet him there so you could debrief each other.’
‘Of course not,’ Cat said, her voice rising. ‘Joe wanted to talk to me, and it was just the wrong time. It was so the wrong time.’ She risked reaching out and taking his hand. He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t slide his fingers between hers either. ‘Nothing has ever happened between me and Joe. I want to be with you. Hasn’t the last month proved that?’
Mark looked out of the window, his dark brows knitting together. ‘It was humiliating, Cat, finding you like that. I know you’ve always been close to him—’
‘He’s my housemate.’
‘And it caught me off guard. Surely you can see why it would upset me?’ He turned back to her, squeezing her hand.
Cat felt a momentary resistance before squeezing back. She was relieved the confrontation was over, but it wasn’t the thunderbolt she’d been hoping for, a jolt of contentment that told her she was making the right decision, that this was where she was meant to be. ‘Of course I can,’ she said, ‘and I’m sorry. It was a misunderstanding – of course I can see how it looked – but Joe and I are just friends. I love spending time with you and Chips. We’ve only just started getting to know each other, and I don’t want it to end now.’ She risked moving closer to him, and she could see a flicker of the old Mark in his eyes.
‘I don’t either.’ He pulled her towards him, wrapping her in his arms. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Cat. I’ve lost – I just…don’t want to lose you. Stay here tonight.’ Mark pushed her back to arm’s length and gave her his warmest smile. ‘Don’t go home.’ He ran his hand down the side of her face, cupped her chin and kissed her.
Cat responded to his touch, telling herself she’d made the right decision and she was lucky that Mark had understood. He was sexy, charming, fun to be with and forgiving.
But her conversation with Joe was unfinished and she couldn’t stop it playing on her mind. Ignoring everything else that had happened, they were good friends, and she couldn’t leave things as they were. She should be mad at him – he had cornered her in the van, forced her into a position where she had to make this apology to Mark – but all she could think was that she didn’t want to give up on their friendship. She needed to clear the air. She’d do it first thing tomorrow.
Cat unlocked the front door and stood at the foot of the stairs, listening. It was the day after the protest, the first of October, and Cat had no idea how late the beach barbecue had gone on the night before. She knew Polly was working today, and she hoped she’d have the chance to speak to Joe alone.
‘Hello?’ she called.
She was met by silence. Not even Shed, Joe’s large ginger cat, came slinking out of the living room.
She climbed the stairs and went into her room, throwing her coat onto the bed. Her gaze fell on her dressing table and the ‘Bitchin’ Walks’ cartoon Joe had drawn for her when she was trying to come up with names for Pooch Promenade all those months ago.
Walking over to it, she traced the cartoon dog with her finger, thought again of him so close to her, the way her anger had dissolved, replaced by feelings she didn’t want to admit to. How she had hung onto his next words.
She closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, and was jolted back to reality by a loud bang outside her door, followed by footsteps. Peering out onto the landing, she saw a large black suitcase sitting at the bottom of the stairs that led to Joe’s attic bedroom. She lifted it. It was heavy.
She heard someone moving about downstairs, quiet swearing. She followed the sounds and stood in the living-room doorway, watching as Joe rifled through papers on the dining table, a red hoody flung over his shoulder, arms strong and tanned against his white T-shirt. She inhaled and Joe turned, his eyes widening as he saw her.
‘Cat.’ He cleared his throat.
‘Hi.’
‘I wasn’t expecting you back.’
‘I do still live here,’ she said softly.
‘I know,’ Joe said, ‘but I thought after yesterday you’d be staying with him. I’m sorry if I made things hard for you. I should have thought about how it might look.’
‘I did have a bit of explaining to do,’ Cat said. ‘It wasn’t my finest hour, or my happiest.’
Joe sighed. ‘I’m so sorry. But he’s OK? Mark, I mean?’
Cat nodded, her lips pressed together. She saw that Joe was holding his passport. ‘You’re going abroad? I saw the suitcase.’
‘There’s this course, in Portland. Illustration, graphic design, the whole shebang. I’ve wanted to do it for ages, but it’s always oversubscribed. I’ve been on a waiting list.’
‘And a space has miraculously become available right now?’ She said it quietly but was shocked by the cynicism in her own voice.
‘I found out a couple of weeks ago.’ He left space for her to complete the sentence. And you weren’t here to tell.
‘Right, wow. Congratulations. How long’s the course?’
‘It’s three weeks, but I might take some time…I’ve always wanted to go to that part of America, so I’ll probably travel down the coast, visit San Francisco.’
‘So how long?’ Cat whispered.
Joe shrugged. ‘I’ll be back for Christmas. Your first at Primrose Terrace. I did – I was going to tell you yesterday.’
‘Ah.’
‘The paper are trialling my cartoon, running it up until Christmas. And then, if they’re happy, it’ll be a regular feature in the New Year. I wanted to get my skills fully up to date, and this course—’
‘You don’t have to explain to me.’
‘But I feel like I do.’ Joe put his hand on her arm, sending a spark through her. ‘After what I said yesterday, and then…this. It was planned, Cat, I have to go and do this. I’m not running away.’
‘I wouldn’t blame you if you were.’
‘Why? Because I made such a big fuck-up?’
‘No – that’s not what I meant,’ Cat said hurriedly. ‘I don’t want it to be awkward between us.’
Joe squeezed her arm. ‘I don’t either. Some space between us will be good.’
‘And it sounds like an amazing opportunity.’
‘It’ll put me at the top of my game.’
‘You’ve always been at the top of your game, Joe. You’re ridiculously good at what you do, your cartoons, your banner.’ She found she was grinning, and he returned the smile, the tension between them lifting. ‘And as well as all that, you’ve helped me so much this year, you’ve always been there. You’re just a really great person.’
‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ he said softly, his blue eyes locking onto hers. ‘And I’m sorry I won’t be here for the next few weeks. But I think now, maybe you don’t need – not that you ever needed someone, but…’ His words trailed off and they both looked away.
‘And the whole Curiosity Kitten thing?’ Cat rushed. ‘I don’t mind, really. I would never stop you realizing your dream, especially not for vanity’s sake, for some silly misunderstanding.’
‘Thank you, that means a lot. I hope you know, now, that I’m not making fun of you.’
Cat looked at the floor.
‘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 (#u80ad3d0a-15b3-5736-b157-91fba5eb49a6)
Two days before 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.
‘So,’ Elsie said, ‘Christmas at Primrose Terrace. What are the options?’
‘I’m having a party,’ Jessica said. ‘The spring “do” was so successful that I couldn’t imagine not holding another one.’
‘That was a great party,’ Polly sighed. ‘I had so much fun.’
‘So did I,’ Jessica said, smiling. ‘I hope your delicious brother’s going to hotfoot it back from America in time for this one. He sounds like he’s having far too much fun!’
‘Sounds like?’ Polly asked, frowning.
Cat stifled her gasp and stared at Jessica.
Jessica gave Polly a cat-like grin. ‘I’m redesigning my website, my whole brand. A fresh look for a new year, and you know me, I’d much rather support local businesses. I emailed Magic Mouse Designs and Joe told me he was in Portland. Some of the photos he’s been sending me – it looks gorgeous.’
‘He’s sent you photos?’ Polly asked. ‘I’ve only had two.’
Jessica preened. ‘We’re going to meet up when he’s back, but for now the email exchange is working well. I think he can see what page I’m on.’
Cat doodled a picture of a Christmas tree on her notepad and tried not to think about Jessica’s flirtatious emails to Joe.
‘Well, I —’ Polly shook her head. ‘It’s fantastic that you’ve asked him. He’ll be so busy he won’t know what to do with himself!’
‘I’d better get some mistletoe in,’ Jessica said. ‘An essential element of any Christmas party. And Joe will be a great person to manoeuvre underneath it.’
‘I’ll tell him you said that,’ Polly said, laughing. ‘I’m sure he’ll be flattered.’
‘I hope he’ll be more than just flattered,’ Jessica said, running her polished nails up the stem of her wine glass.
Cat felt her cheeks burning, her mouth drying out.
‘So,’ Owen said, rubbing his hands together. ‘What are your thoughts, Cat? You said you wanted something that could work with Jessica’s party.’
Cat swallowed, nodded and turned to her notes. ‘I was thinking of organizing some kind of game or competition that the whole of Primrose Terrace can take part in. Offices have Secret Santas and Christmas buffets, and there are always family games at Christmas – charades and quizzes. I thought about a quiz, but I’m not sure it would bring the street together in the way I want to.’
‘A treasure hunt?’ Owen suggested. ‘Taking people all over Fairview, with a Christmas theme and the prizes given out at Jessica’s party.’
They pondered this, Polly chewing her pen. ‘But if everyone knew it was ending at the party, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?’
‘And it’s only going to get colder between now and Christmas,’ Elsie added, ‘so I’m not sure it would play to everyone’s strengths.’
‘True,’ Owen said, his head on one side, his black curls bouncing. ‘Maybe that’s more a summer thing.’
‘A competitive element would be good, though,’ Polly said. ‘That way people would make an effort.’
‘So something that can be judged, with prizes awarded at the party?’ Jessica went to the cupboard and took out a box of dog biscuits. She shook it, and the three Westies, followed by Owen’s fox terrier Rummy, and then Disco and, finally, Chalky, pattered in from the dog den where they’d been playing. She crouched, her grey cashmere shawl brushing the floor, and gave out the treats.
‘I like prizes,’ Owen said. ‘Pets win prizes?’
Cat nodded. ‘I want to involve the dogs somehow. It’s such a doggy street. Except…’ She glanced at Polly. ‘We don’t have one.’
‘No,’ Polly said, ‘but that means we could judge it. Especially as you’re the resident dog walker.’
Cat thought of Joe’s insistence that she couldn’t have dogs in the house, the hints that he and Polly had given her since the spring that the reasons were complicated. She still hadn’t got to the bottom of it, but had begun to accept it. The details that the woman at the vet’s had given her were still in her coat pocket, but she had her clients’ dogs, and she got to spend time with them every day. Perhaps she wasn’t destined to have one of her own.
‘So, one thing for the dogs,’ Elsie said, ‘one for the humans.’
‘Something sparkly and fun and creative,’ Cat added. ‘There’s loads of creativity on this road – Boris and Charles are super stylish with their bed and breakfast, there’s Frankie and the girls who are always doing crafty things, and then us.’
‘Sure,’ Polly said. ‘Just think of the banner Joe designed for your event.’
‘Exactly.’ Cat could picture it perfectly when she closed her eyes. It was rolled up under her bed, within reach whenever she wanted to have another look at it. ‘Something Christmassy and crafty.’
‘Tree decorations?’ Elsie asked.
‘Good,’ Cat said, ‘but I think it needs to be bigger.’
‘Christmas trees?’ Owen suggested. ‘People go to town with their trees.’
Cat nodded. ‘That sounds great, but…’ She frowned, thinking. ‘Something even bigger. Something we could all enjoy without having to traipse through everyone else’s house. Maybe…’ She stared out of the window, seeing the glimmering fairy lights against the reflection of them sitting round the table. She turned back, mouth open, and Jessica caught her eye.
They spoke together.
‘Christmas lights.’
Jessica’s smile was triumphant.
‘Lights?’ Polly asked, ‘on the trees? Isn’t that the same as decorations?’
Cat shook her head, dropped to the floor and pulled Disco towards her, lifting the mini schnauzer up. Disco pawed at Cat’s dress and licked her cheek.
‘Not on the trees, on the houses. Primrose Terrace is one of the prettiest roads I’ve ever seen, let alone lived on. All the houses have their own character, so why not have a lights competition? See who can decorate theirs the best?’
Owen sat up. ‘Everyone would have to decide whether they wanted to go for classy, just a couple of colours, or all-out with reindeers and Santa climbing up the side of the house. You’d have to think tactically as well as creatively.’
‘You could judge it, Owen,’ Elsie said. ‘You don’t live on Primrose Terrace.’
‘Are you kidding? There’s no way I’m being left out. I’ll help with number nine, if – ’ he turned to Polly, taking her hand – ‘if you’ll have me?’
Polly grinned, her pale cheeks flushing. ‘Of course I will.’
Cat buried her smile in Disco’s fur. The young dog yelped, jumped down and went to be overfriendly to Chalky who, having had his treat, was lying on the floor next to Jessica’s glass-fronted wine cabinet.
‘We’ll have to get someone else to judge it,’ Jessica said. ‘Someone unconnected with Primrose Terrace. Maybe someone at the Fairhaven Press?’
‘To judge a Christmas lights competition?’ Owen asked, incredulous.
‘Why not?’ Jessica said. ‘I’ve done enough interviews with them. I’m sure if I got in touch they’d spare a reporter.’ She left the room and came back with the day’s paper. ‘I’ll see if I can find someone.’
Cat swallowed, her eyes drawn to the newspaper. ‘We could ask Phil,’ she said, ‘who I’ve been in touch with about doggy events, and the protest. He might be happy to do it.’
‘Oh, of course!’ Jessica said. ‘Of course he would, silly me.’
Jessica moved the paper aside. ‘Right. Let’s think about the details and the dog element.’
‘Dogs and lights aren’t a good mix,’ Elsie said. ‘There could be chewing issues.’
‘No, you’re right, we need something distinctly dog-related.’
Quiet settled on the room as they thought, the only sounds the soft crooning of Michael Bublé, the occasional crackle of the candle, and the snuffling of the dogs. Cat, inches away from the copy of the Fairhaven Press, had become distracted. Thursday was the day Curiosity Kitten was published. She didn’t know if Joe had sent in a whole batch of cartoons to run while he was away, or if he was sending them from America, but they had been appearing for the last three weeks. So far they had been final versions of sketches that Cat had already seen – the kitten about to lift a lid on a pan containing a piranha, scrabbling on a box outside a window – but she’d come to look forward to them, to feel the connection to Joe while he was hundreds of miles away.
With the excitement over the result of the protest and planning a Christmas event, she hadn’t yet looked at today’s cartoon. She was sure Polly had. She often mentioned to Cat how proud she was of her brother, how well he was doing in the States, which meant he was keeping in touch with her. Cat had no right to expect him to contact her too, especially not since the events of the protest, but she couldn’t deny that she missed him, and that Curiosity Kitten had become an important part of her week. She’d gone from feeling affronted by it to counting the days until it arrived.
‘Dog secret Santa?’ Polly asked. ‘We could buy them all something, have a Santa give them out at the party.’
‘Have a person dressed as a dog dressed as Santa?’ Elsie asked, sipping her wine.
Polly sighed. ‘OK, that sounds a bit weird. Maybe not.’
‘Some kind of dog show or parade,’ Owen said. ‘A dog fashion show. Is that cruel?’
‘Why would it be cruel?’ Jessica asked, appraising her Westies as they tussled good-naturedly on the kitchen floor.
‘Dressing them up. Making them wear outfits.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Elsie said, ‘not if it’s only for a few hours.’
‘Valentino loves his little tartan jacket,’ Jessica said.
‘Of course he would,’ Polly said, laughing. ‘He’s called Valentino.’
‘So let’s take it a step further.’ Owen leaned forward. ‘How about fancy dress? A Christmas lights competition for the houses, and a fancy-dress competition for the dogs. It could be judged at the party, if you’re happy to have dogs there, Jessica?’
Jessica sipped her wine, thinking. Cat remembered how beautiful and dressy everyone had been at her spring party.
‘We could have the fancy dress early afternoon,’ Cat said, ‘then come back later for the party and the lights judging. That way the dogs could all go home and de-robe, and the adults could have fun without worrying about their pets causing havoc.’
‘I like your style,’ Owen said, pointing at her. ‘You’ve got a pretty solid events head on your shoulders.’
‘Why, thank you,’ Cat grinned. ‘We’re all coming up with some good ideas.’
‘Excellent Christmas committee,’ Elsie said, raising her glass. They all clinked, and Jessica opened another bottle of wine as the music moved seamlessly from Michael Bublé to Christmas hits and the first bars of Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’. Polly hummed along, swaying in time to the music.
Jessica leaned over the table, her long blonde hair falling over her face. ‘It’s November in two days, so we need to let everyone know. They can’t be expected to put on a good show if they don’t have long enough to prepare.’
‘What do you think you and Mark will do?’ Elsie asked.
‘I still live at number nine,’ Cat said. ‘And I’m not sure Mark will be up for any of this. He’ll take some encouraging.’
‘So encourage him.’ Elsie squeezed her arm. ‘If anyone can, then it’s you. And if Owen’s helping Polly, and presumably Joe will be back too, that leaves you free to help Mr Charming.’
‘Mr Charming horror writer,’ Jessica added. ‘You might end up having the scariest display on the road.’
‘That could be fun,’ Cat laughed. ‘I’ll remind him that it’s Christmas and not Halloween.’
‘I think we should give people ideas,’ Jessica said, ‘encourage creativity, something grandiose. Let’s have a look at some displays on the plasma screen.’ She got up and, taking her wine, led the way out of the room. Cat hung back, waiting until Elsie, Polly and Owen had followed her, and turned to the copy of the Fairhaven Press.
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Cressida McLaughlin
Hilarious and touching, Primrose Terrace will appeal to fans of Game of Scones, Wickham Hall and The Grand Reopening of Dandelion Cafe.'A gem…I loved it’ Alexandra Brown‘Warm and wonderful…bursting with characters you’ll adore’ Miranda DickinsonChristmas is coming to Primrose Terrace, Pooch Promenade is doing brilliantly and Cat has made lots of new friends in the street, both dogs and their owners. Life seems good. Things start to go badly when Cat learns something about Mark that she wishes she hadn’t. Then, when one of Ellen’s lovable schnauzers, Chalky, gets ill, it looks like this Christmas could be turning into a dog’s dinner. But Cat has never given up on anything in her life – and this is one Christmas that’s definitely worth saving…Tinsel and Terriers is the fourth and final part of a serialized novel told in four parts – all set in Primrose Terrace.
Harper
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by Harper 2015
Copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers 2015
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Cressida McLaughlin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © October 2015 ISBN: 9780008135232
Version 2015-09-24
Contents
Cover (#uf59bd42e-a5e5-588a-afc8-494d60435589)
Title Page (#uaff1c7f8-7098-5dbf-9603-6350d247f5bc)
Copyright (#u31e380cf-7feb-5070-9872-bbdccf2c4a53)
Chapter 1 (#u9ab065c0-1abc-5f86-bd23-f2234324b048)
Chapter 2 (#u813ab976-7c11-50a7-b50e-8b1cf4638920)
Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Christmas Day on Primrose Terrace (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Cressida McLaughlin (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u80ad3d0a-15b3-5736-b157-91fba5eb49a6)
Cat Palmer was cold, and confused, and had some explaining to do. As she walked back to Primrose Terrace from Fairview Cove, her coat pulled tightly around her, she wished she still had Chalky, Elsie’s wise old miniature Schnauzer, to reassure her.
The day had gone so well. The month-long protest she had organized to try and stop dogs being banned at the cove, Fairview’s quieter beach, had culminated in an event where dog-lovers, sea-lovers and other residents of Fairview had turned up and signed her petition, putting themselves firmly behind her cause. The council official had agreed to take the signatures to the committee, and it looked like the swell of support would be enough. They would be able to show Mr Jasper, Fairview’s resident dog hater, that he was in a minority.
Then she’d allowed herself to relax. She’d tried surfing with her new boyfriend Mark, housemates Polly and Joe, her neighbours Juliette and Will. She’d let her worries drift away, and so of course one had come back to plant itself firmly in front of her.
The trees lining the road shook in the wind and Cat shrunk further inside her coat. Her hair was still damp from the sea, and the cold made her head sting. Autumn was well and truly underway. She loved this time of year. She loved the excitement of Halloween and fireworks, and then the influx of lights and colours as people blotted out the winter greyness with sparkling festivity.
It would be her first Christmas living on Primrose Terrace, and although she’d be in Brighton with her parents on the day, she’d been looking forward to getting into the festive spirit, planning decorations and parties with Mark, Polly and Joe. She wanted to celebrate a year that had seen so much change for them all. Cat had started her own dog-walking business, Pooch Promenade, which was going from strength to strength; Polly had worked hard to qualify as a veterinary nurse, and was just embarking on her dream career at Fairview vet’s; Mark’s new film – despite a few hiccups, was on its way to being made, and illustrator Joe had been asked to trial a cartoon strip for the local newspaper.
As Cat turned into Primrose Terrace, she shuddered at the thought of Joe, standing so close to her, his blue eyes, bright from the exhilaration of surfing, latched firmly onto hers. She had been so upset when she discovered his cartoon, Curiosity Kitten, was based on her. She had been trying to ignore the feelings that had been bubbling inside her, that told her she was upset because she wanted Joe to care about her – really care about her.
And then Joe had said just that. He had confessed about the cartoon, and told her that she was his inspiration. He had stroked her cheek, and his expression had filled in all the blanks.
But Cat was with Mark now. She had finally taken the next step with the scriptwriter who lived a few doors away. He was charming and handsome, occasionally still mysterious, as if he was hovering just out of reach, but she was learning to accept that was part of who he was. But he had found her and Joe in the tiny changing room in the back of the surfer van, Cat in only a towel, Joe’s wetsuit pulled down to the waist. It was innocent, they were talking, but Cat knew how it looked. She had escaped as quickly as she could, taking Chalky to the far end of the cove. She had done more thinking in the last couple of hours than she could bear, and she still wasn’t sure about her decision.
It had taken a long time to get to where she was with Mark. Could she really throw it away on one hurried conversation, one tender look? She tried to forget about the stolen hugs, the moments she’d shared with Joe over the last few months, and the way her heart rate increased when she pictured the warm smile that crinkled his blue eyes.
She was relieved and terrified when she saw Mark’s Audi was parked outside his house. He’d driven to the cove to take banners and food for the barbecue, so she knew for certain that he’d returned home.
Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she climbed the steps up to number four and rang the bell. She heard it echo inside, and then fast feet running down the corridor. She bit her lip and waited for the door to open.
Mark’s border collie Chips ran straight into her, nudging her nose into her legs. She stroked the dog’s silky ears, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Mark. He was wearing the jeans and jumper he’d had on at the beach, his dark hair drying untidily around his face, but his expression was darker than she’d ever seen it. His lips were pressed together, and his brown eyes looked at her with a cold detachment that made her insides shrivel. She’d done nothing wrong, she told herself. She just had to make Mark believe it.
‘Can I come in?’ she asked, resting her hand on Chips’s soft head.
Mark was silent for a moment, then gestured for her to come inside.
Cat perched on the edge of his leather sofa, wrapping her arms around her. Mark stood in the doorway.
‘Are you cold?’ There was an edge to his voice, but Cat could also hear disappointment in it. She’d managed to disappoint so many people recently, in one way or another, but she hadn’t imagined it could happen with Mark.
‘No, I’m fine, thanks. Come and sit down.’ She patted the sofa next to her.
Mark hesitated, as if there was a delay between the words leaving her mouth and reaching him, but then he joined her. Cat was conscious of the gap between them: hands, knees not touching.
‘I wanted to explain what happened, in the van.’
Mark nodded. ‘Go on. I’m all ears.’
‘Right.’ She swallowed. Chips was lying on the floor under the window, and she wished she could bury her head in the collie’s warm fur. ‘What you saw – nothing happened. Nothing was happening, nothing was going to happen. Joe wanted to talk to me because…I’m not there any more. At number nine. I’m always here.’
‘So he has to pick the moment you’re naked to come and find you?’ Mark asked sharply.
‘No, of course not. That was a mistake. He just wanted to talk to me about something.’
‘What?’ Mark clasped his hands in front of him, his elbows on his knees. Cat was struck all over again by how handsome he was, with his dark, messy hair, his strong jawline. But without his usual charm, without the light of amusement in his eyes, he was a different person. An image of Joe, looking at her with real compassion, flashed in Cat’s mind and she pushed it aside.
This was the hard part. Cat didn’t want to lie and she knew she’d done nothing wrong, but the truth about Joe’s cartoon wasn’t going to reassure him.
She ran her finger along her jeans. ‘He’s had a job offer, a new project, for the local paper. It’s a cartoon strip, and he – he wanted to use an idea that sort of relates to me.’
‘Relates to you? What does that mean?’
Cat looked at the floor. ‘His idea is a character called Curiosity Kitten. It’s this kitten who gets into all kinds of scrapes because she’s curious.’ She thought back to the sketches she’d seen. ‘Like opening a box with something dangerous inside, trying to see into a window and falling off her makeshift ladder, that kind of thing.’
‘And that’s you because…?’
‘Because I’m curious, Mark. I do stupid things like that. Sometimes they work, like with Frankie and her attic room, and sometimes, like seeing what would happen if I took a puppy into a nursery, they backfire spectacularly.’
‘So what you’re saying,’ Mark said, shifting round to face her more directly, his knee brushing hers, ‘Is that Joe’s drawing a cartoon that takes the piss out of you? And hedidn’t think you’d have a problem with that?’ He laughed. ‘Is he for real?’
Cat shrugged, sensing that he was on the verge of thawing. Of course that was what she wanted, but she had never intended to make Joe out to be the bad guy. ‘He wanted to make sure I was OK with it,’ she said. ‘I was put out to begin with, but is it really so bad being the subject of someone’s work? Don’t you put people you know in your films?’
Mark shook his head, dismissing her change of subject. ‘That’s what he wanted to talk to you about? In the back of the van, both of you half naked?’ He caught her eye and Cat felt her cheeks colour, but annoyance flashed through her – why was he making this so difficult?
‘That was unintentional. I was getting changed, and he was – he’d just finished surfing.’
‘Oh yes,’ Mark said bitterly, ‘the star surfer.’
‘Mark, come on—’
‘Come on?’ he shot back. ‘I open that door to find you and your housemate Joe, who, by the way, is clearly besotted with you, standing inches apart, skin on show, and you expect me to believe it was a chat? Why did he need to talk to you right then? Was it just inspiration he wanted from you, or more? Or maybe you’d agreed to meet him there so you could debrief each other.’
‘Of course not,’ Cat said, her voice rising. ‘Joe wanted to talk to me, and it was just the wrong time. It was so the wrong time.’ She risked reaching out and taking his hand. He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t slide his fingers between hers either. ‘Nothing has ever happened between me and Joe. I want to be with you. Hasn’t the last month proved that?’
Mark looked out of the window, his dark brows knitting together. ‘It was humiliating, Cat, finding you like that. I know you’ve always been close to him—’
‘He’s my housemate.’
‘And it caught me off guard. Surely you can see why it would upset me?’ He turned back to her, squeezing her hand.
Cat felt a momentary resistance before squeezing back. She was relieved the confrontation was over, but it wasn’t the thunderbolt she’d been hoping for, a jolt of contentment that told her she was making the right decision, that this was where she was meant to be. ‘Of course I can,’ she said, ‘and I’m sorry. It was a misunderstanding – of course I can see how it looked – but Joe and I are just friends. I love spending time with you and Chips. We’ve only just started getting to know each other, and I don’t want it to end now.’ She risked moving closer to him, and she could see a flicker of the old Mark in his eyes.
‘I don’t either.’ He pulled her towards him, wrapping her in his arms. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Cat. I’ve lost – I just…don’t want to lose you. Stay here tonight.’ Mark pushed her back to arm’s length and gave her his warmest smile. ‘Don’t go home.’ He ran his hand down the side of her face, cupped her chin and kissed her.
Cat responded to his touch, telling herself she’d made the right decision and she was lucky that Mark had understood. He was sexy, charming, fun to be with and forgiving.
But her conversation with Joe was unfinished and she couldn’t stop it playing on her mind. Ignoring everything else that had happened, they were good friends, and she couldn’t leave things as they were. She should be mad at him – he had cornered her in the van, forced her into a position where she had to make this apology to Mark – but all she could think was that she didn’t want to give up on their friendship. She needed to clear the air. She’d do it first thing tomorrow.
Cat unlocked the front door and stood at the foot of the stairs, listening. It was the day after the protest, the first of October, and Cat had no idea how late the beach barbecue had gone on the night before. She knew Polly was working today, and she hoped she’d have the chance to speak to Joe alone.
‘Hello?’ she called.
She was met by silence. Not even Shed, Joe’s large ginger cat, came slinking out of the living room.
She climbed the stairs and went into her room, throwing her coat onto the bed. Her gaze fell on her dressing table and the ‘Bitchin’ Walks’ cartoon Joe had drawn for her when she was trying to come up with names for Pooch Promenade all those months ago.
Walking over to it, she traced the cartoon dog with her finger, thought again of him so close to her, the way her anger had dissolved, replaced by feelings she didn’t want to admit to. How she had hung onto his next words.
She closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, and was jolted back to reality by a loud bang outside her door, followed by footsteps. Peering out onto the landing, she saw a large black suitcase sitting at the bottom of the stairs that led to Joe’s attic bedroom. She lifted it. It was heavy.
She heard someone moving about downstairs, quiet swearing. She followed the sounds and stood in the living-room doorway, watching as Joe rifled through papers on the dining table, a red hoody flung over his shoulder, arms strong and tanned against his white T-shirt. She inhaled and Joe turned, his eyes widening as he saw her.
‘Cat.’ He cleared his throat.
‘Hi.’
‘I wasn’t expecting you back.’
‘I do still live here,’ she said softly.
‘I know,’ Joe said, ‘but I thought after yesterday you’d be staying with him. I’m sorry if I made things hard for you. I should have thought about how it might look.’
‘I did have a bit of explaining to do,’ Cat said. ‘It wasn’t my finest hour, or my happiest.’
Joe sighed. ‘I’m so sorry. But he’s OK? Mark, I mean?’
Cat nodded, her lips pressed together. She saw that Joe was holding his passport. ‘You’re going abroad? I saw the suitcase.’
‘There’s this course, in Portland. Illustration, graphic design, the whole shebang. I’ve wanted to do it for ages, but it’s always oversubscribed. I’ve been on a waiting list.’
‘And a space has miraculously become available right now?’ She said it quietly but was shocked by the cynicism in her own voice.
‘I found out a couple of weeks ago.’ He left space for her to complete the sentence. And you weren’t here to tell.
‘Right, wow. Congratulations. How long’s the course?’
‘It’s three weeks, but I might take some time…I’ve always wanted to go to that part of America, so I’ll probably travel down the coast, visit San Francisco.’
‘So how long?’ Cat whispered.
Joe shrugged. ‘I’ll be back for Christmas. Your first at Primrose Terrace. I did – I was going to tell you yesterday.’
‘Ah.’
‘The paper are trialling my cartoon, running it up until Christmas. And then, if they’re happy, it’ll be a regular feature in the New Year. I wanted to get my skills fully up to date, and this course—’
‘You don’t have to explain to me.’
‘But I feel like I do.’ Joe put his hand on her arm, sending a spark through her. ‘After what I said yesterday, and then…this. It was planned, Cat, I have to go and do this. I’m not running away.’
‘I wouldn’t blame you if you were.’
‘Why? Because I made such a big fuck-up?’
‘No – that’s not what I meant,’ Cat said hurriedly. ‘I don’t want it to be awkward between us.’
Joe squeezed her arm. ‘I don’t either. Some space between us will be good.’
‘And it sounds like an amazing opportunity.’
‘It’ll put me at the top of my game.’
‘You’ve always been at the top of your game, Joe. You’re ridiculously good at what you do, your cartoons, your banner.’ She found she was grinning, and he returned the smile, the tension between them lifting. ‘And as well as all that, you’ve helped me so much this year, you’ve always been there. You’re just a really great person.’
‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ he said softly, his blue eyes locking onto hers. ‘And I’m sorry I won’t be here for the next few weeks. But I think now, maybe you don’t need – not that you ever needed someone, but…’ His words trailed off and they both looked away.
‘And the whole Curiosity Kitten thing?’ Cat rushed. ‘I don’t mind, really. I would never stop you realizing your dream, especially not for vanity’s sake, for some silly misunderstanding.’
‘Thank you, that means a lot. I hope you know, now, that I’m not making fun of you.’
Cat looked at the floor.
‘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 (#u80ad3d0a-15b3-5736-b157-91fba5eb49a6)
Two days before 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.
‘So,’ Elsie said, ‘Christmas at Primrose Terrace. What are the options?’
‘I’m having a party,’ Jessica said. ‘The spring “do” was so successful that I couldn’t imagine not holding another one.’
‘That was a great party,’ Polly sighed. ‘I had so much fun.’
‘So did I,’ Jessica said, smiling. ‘I hope your delicious brother’s going to hotfoot it back from America in time for this one. He sounds like he’s having far too much fun!’
‘Sounds like?’ Polly asked, frowning.
Cat stifled her gasp and stared at Jessica.
Jessica gave Polly a cat-like grin. ‘I’m redesigning my website, my whole brand. A fresh look for a new year, and you know me, I’d much rather support local businesses. I emailed Magic Mouse Designs and Joe told me he was in Portland. Some of the photos he’s been sending me – it looks gorgeous.’
‘He’s sent you photos?’ Polly asked. ‘I’ve only had two.’
Jessica preened. ‘We’re going to meet up when he’s back, but for now the email exchange is working well. I think he can see what page I’m on.’
Cat doodled a picture of a Christmas tree on her notepad and tried not to think about Jessica’s flirtatious emails to Joe.
‘Well, I —’ Polly shook her head. ‘It’s fantastic that you’ve asked him. He’ll be so busy he won’t know what to do with himself!’
‘I’d better get some mistletoe in,’ Jessica said. ‘An essential element of any Christmas party. And Joe will be a great person to manoeuvre underneath it.’
‘I’ll tell him you said that,’ Polly said, laughing. ‘I’m sure he’ll be flattered.’
‘I hope he’ll be more than just flattered,’ Jessica said, running her polished nails up the stem of her wine glass.
Cat felt her cheeks burning, her mouth drying out.
‘So,’ Owen said, rubbing his hands together. ‘What are your thoughts, Cat? You said you wanted something that could work with Jessica’s party.’
Cat swallowed, nodded and turned to her notes. ‘I was thinking of organizing some kind of game or competition that the whole of Primrose Terrace can take part in. Offices have Secret Santas and Christmas buffets, and there are always family games at Christmas – charades and quizzes. I thought about a quiz, but I’m not sure it would bring the street together in the way I want to.’
‘A treasure hunt?’ Owen suggested. ‘Taking people all over Fairview, with a Christmas theme and the prizes given out at Jessica’s party.’
They pondered this, Polly chewing her pen. ‘But if everyone knew it was ending at the party, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?’
‘And it’s only going to get colder between now and Christmas,’ Elsie added, ‘so I’m not sure it would play to everyone’s strengths.’
‘True,’ Owen said, his head on one side, his black curls bouncing. ‘Maybe that’s more a summer thing.’
‘A competitive element would be good, though,’ Polly said. ‘That way people would make an effort.’
‘So something that can be judged, with prizes awarded at the party?’ Jessica went to the cupboard and took out a box of dog biscuits. She shook it, and the three Westies, followed by Owen’s fox terrier Rummy, and then Disco and, finally, Chalky, pattered in from the dog den where they’d been playing. She crouched, her grey cashmere shawl brushing the floor, and gave out the treats.
‘I like prizes,’ Owen said. ‘Pets win prizes?’
Cat nodded. ‘I want to involve the dogs somehow. It’s such a doggy street. Except…’ She glanced at Polly. ‘We don’t have one.’
‘No,’ Polly said, ‘but that means we could judge it. Especially as you’re the resident dog walker.’
Cat thought of Joe’s insistence that she couldn’t have dogs in the house, the hints that he and Polly had given her since the spring that the reasons were complicated. She still hadn’t got to the bottom of it, but had begun to accept it. The details that the woman at the vet’s had given her were still in her coat pocket, but she had her clients’ dogs, and she got to spend time with them every day. Perhaps she wasn’t destined to have one of her own.
‘So, one thing for the dogs,’ Elsie said, ‘one for the humans.’
‘Something sparkly and fun and creative,’ Cat added. ‘There’s loads of creativity on this road – Boris and Charles are super stylish with their bed and breakfast, there’s Frankie and the girls who are always doing crafty things, and then us.’
‘Sure,’ Polly said. ‘Just think of the banner Joe designed for your event.’
‘Exactly.’ Cat could picture it perfectly when she closed her eyes. It was rolled up under her bed, within reach whenever she wanted to have another look at it. ‘Something Christmassy and crafty.’
‘Tree decorations?’ Elsie asked.
‘Good,’ Cat said, ‘but I think it needs to be bigger.’
‘Christmas trees?’ Owen suggested. ‘People go to town with their trees.’
Cat nodded. ‘That sounds great, but…’ She frowned, thinking. ‘Something even bigger. Something we could all enjoy without having to traipse through everyone else’s house. Maybe…’ She stared out of the window, seeing the glimmering fairy lights against the reflection of them sitting round the table. She turned back, mouth open, and Jessica caught her eye.
They spoke together.
‘Christmas lights.’
Jessica’s smile was triumphant.
‘Lights?’ Polly asked, ‘on the trees? Isn’t that the same as decorations?’
Cat shook her head, dropped to the floor and pulled Disco towards her, lifting the mini schnauzer up. Disco pawed at Cat’s dress and licked her cheek.
‘Not on the trees, on the houses. Primrose Terrace is one of the prettiest roads I’ve ever seen, let alone lived on. All the houses have their own character, so why not have a lights competition? See who can decorate theirs the best?’
Owen sat up. ‘Everyone would have to decide whether they wanted to go for classy, just a couple of colours, or all-out with reindeers and Santa climbing up the side of the house. You’d have to think tactically as well as creatively.’
‘You could judge it, Owen,’ Elsie said. ‘You don’t live on Primrose Terrace.’
‘Are you kidding? There’s no way I’m being left out. I’ll help with number nine, if – ’ he turned to Polly, taking her hand – ‘if you’ll have me?’
Polly grinned, her pale cheeks flushing. ‘Of course I will.’
Cat buried her smile in Disco’s fur. The young dog yelped, jumped down and went to be overfriendly to Chalky who, having had his treat, was lying on the floor next to Jessica’s glass-fronted wine cabinet.
‘We’ll have to get someone else to judge it,’ Jessica said. ‘Someone unconnected with Primrose Terrace. Maybe someone at the Fairhaven Press?’
‘To judge a Christmas lights competition?’ Owen asked, incredulous.
‘Why not?’ Jessica said. ‘I’ve done enough interviews with them. I’m sure if I got in touch they’d spare a reporter.’ She left the room and came back with the day’s paper. ‘I’ll see if I can find someone.’
Cat swallowed, her eyes drawn to the newspaper. ‘We could ask Phil,’ she said, ‘who I’ve been in touch with about doggy events, and the protest. He might be happy to do it.’
‘Oh, of course!’ Jessica said. ‘Of course he would, silly me.’
Jessica moved the paper aside. ‘Right. Let’s think about the details and the dog element.’
‘Dogs and lights aren’t a good mix,’ Elsie said. ‘There could be chewing issues.’
‘No, you’re right, we need something distinctly dog-related.’
Quiet settled on the room as they thought, the only sounds the soft crooning of Michael Bublé, the occasional crackle of the candle, and the snuffling of the dogs. Cat, inches away from the copy of the Fairhaven Press, had become distracted. Thursday was the day Curiosity Kitten was published. She didn’t know if Joe had sent in a whole batch of cartoons to run while he was away, or if he was sending them from America, but they had been appearing for the last three weeks. So far they had been final versions of sketches that Cat had already seen – the kitten about to lift a lid on a pan containing a piranha, scrabbling on a box outside a window – but she’d come to look forward to them, to feel the connection to Joe while he was hundreds of miles away.
With the excitement over the result of the protest and planning a Christmas event, she hadn’t yet looked at today’s cartoon. She was sure Polly had. She often mentioned to Cat how proud she was of her brother, how well he was doing in the States, which meant he was keeping in touch with her. Cat had no right to expect him to contact her too, especially not since the events of the protest, but she couldn’t deny that she missed him, and that Curiosity Kitten had become an important part of her week. She’d gone from feeling affronted by it to counting the days until it arrived.
‘Dog secret Santa?’ Polly asked. ‘We could buy them all something, have a Santa give them out at the party.’
‘Have a person dressed as a dog dressed as Santa?’ Elsie asked, sipping her wine.
Polly sighed. ‘OK, that sounds a bit weird. Maybe not.’
‘Some kind of dog show or parade,’ Owen said. ‘A dog fashion show. Is that cruel?’
‘Why would it be cruel?’ Jessica asked, appraising her Westies as they tussled good-naturedly on the kitchen floor.
‘Dressing them up. Making them wear outfits.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Elsie said, ‘not if it’s only for a few hours.’
‘Valentino loves his little tartan jacket,’ Jessica said.
‘Of course he would,’ Polly said, laughing. ‘He’s called Valentino.’
‘So let’s take it a step further.’ Owen leaned forward. ‘How about fancy dress? A Christmas lights competition for the houses, and a fancy-dress competition for the dogs. It could be judged at the party, if you’re happy to have dogs there, Jessica?’
Jessica sipped her wine, thinking. Cat remembered how beautiful and dressy everyone had been at her spring party.
‘We could have the fancy dress early afternoon,’ Cat said, ‘then come back later for the party and the lights judging. That way the dogs could all go home and de-robe, and the adults could have fun without worrying about their pets causing havoc.’
‘I like your style,’ Owen said, pointing at her. ‘You’ve got a pretty solid events head on your shoulders.’
‘Why, thank you,’ Cat grinned. ‘We’re all coming up with some good ideas.’
‘Excellent Christmas committee,’ Elsie said, raising her glass. They all clinked, and Jessica opened another bottle of wine as the music moved seamlessly from Michael Bublé to Christmas hits and the first bars of Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’. Polly hummed along, swaying in time to the music.
Jessica leaned over the table, her long blonde hair falling over her face. ‘It’s November in two days, so we need to let everyone know. They can’t be expected to put on a good show if they don’t have long enough to prepare.’
‘What do you think you and Mark will do?’ Elsie asked.
‘I still live at number nine,’ Cat said. ‘And I’m not sure Mark will be up for any of this. He’ll take some encouraging.’
‘So encourage him.’ Elsie squeezed her arm. ‘If anyone can, then it’s you. And if Owen’s helping Polly, and presumably Joe will be back too, that leaves you free to help Mr Charming.’
‘Mr Charming horror writer,’ Jessica added. ‘You might end up having the scariest display on the road.’
‘That could be fun,’ Cat laughed. ‘I’ll remind him that it’s Christmas and not Halloween.’
‘I think we should give people ideas,’ Jessica said, ‘encourage creativity, something grandiose. Let’s have a look at some displays on the plasma screen.’ She got up and, taking her wine, led the way out of the room. Cat hung back, waiting until Elsie, Polly and Owen had followed her, and turned to the copy of the Fairhaven Press.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
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Cressida McLaughlin
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 28.04.2024
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О книге: Hilarious and touching, Primrose Terrace will appeal to fans of Game of Scones, Wickham Hall and The Grand Reopening of Dandelion Cafe.′A gem…I loved it’ Alexandra Brown‘Warm and wonderful…bursting with characters you’ll adore’ Miranda DickinsonChristmas is coming to Primrose Terrace, Pooch Promenade is doing brilliantly and Cat has made lots of new friends in the street, both dogs and their owners. Life seems good. Things start to go badly when Cat learns something about Mark that she wishes she hadn’t. Then, when one of Ellen’s lovable schnauzers, Chalky, gets ill, it looks like this Christmas could be turning into a dog’s dinner. But Cat has never given up on anything in her life – and this is one Christmas that’s definitely worth saving…Tinsel and Terriers is the fourth and final part of a serialized novel told in four parts – all set in Primrose Terrace.