Tinsel and Terriers

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

Mark shook his head. ‘Not really.’

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

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

‘Oh, that’s sad. Why’s that?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 2

Two days 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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