‘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.
It was usually on page thirty, alongside the brainteasers and opposite the letters page. She wondered how many people had admired or laughed at the cartoon and felt a strange swell of pride. Not for her involvement, but on Joe’s behalf. She turned to the right page and smoothed the paper down.
There was Curiosity Kitten, large eyes, confident stance, with a surfboard under her arm, the lapping waves of the sea behind her. Cat let out an involuntary gasp, her cheeks colouring. She looked at the next frame. The kitten was walking towards a van, Surf Shack written on the side in Joe’s bold bubble writing.
Cat’s head started to pound.
The third frame showed Curiosity Kitten starting to pull back the sliding door of the van, her smile wide, and then in the fourth and final frame the door was fully open, and inside there was a huge shark, a shocked expression on its face, a wetsuit pulled halfway down its tail.
Cat laughed out loud. There was no question that this was related to Mark finding Cat and Joe inside the van, but Joe had twisted it on its head, turning it into a funny cartoon. People would enjoy the mutual shock of the kitten and the shark as they encountered each other without realizing its significance. Only she and Joe would get it, and of course Mark. She wondered what he would think if he saw the cartoon, whether she would have to defend what had happened again, or if her explanation had been enough.
Cat ran her finger over the paper, drinking in the details of Joe’s drawings, the character that he gave to his animals, the details on the van and the surfboard, the lapping waves. She didn’t hear Polly come in.
‘Are you coming, Cat?’ She asked, her eyes bright in the low light of the kitchen. She glanced down, saw what Cat was looking at, and gave her a gentle smile.
‘Remind you of something?’
Cat gave a start. She had never fully explained to Polly what had happened in the van that day, though a few people – Polly included – had seen her running away down the beach after Mark had opened the door on them. She wondered if Joe had confided in her. Polly must have noticed her confusion, because she clarified.
‘The day of the protest. That cramped changing space in the back of Harvey’s van.’
‘Yes,’ Cat said slowly. ‘It, um, it has a bit more significance, I think.’
‘It does?’
‘Joe came to see me, when I was changing that day. It was when he told me about Curiosity Kitten, and the…inspiration behind it.’
‘You mean his hapless housemate?’ Polly grinned.
‘Exactly.’ Cat eyed her best friend, wondering if she had any idea. It seemed that Joe hadn’t given any explanation to his sister, keeping the affairs of his heart to himself. ‘And he might have…’ she wondered what to say, wondered if she had any right to tell Polly how Joe felt.
‘What?’ Polly asked, drumming her fingers over the cartoon.
‘Well, Mark found us in there together and he—’
‘Jumped to conclusions?’
Cat winced.
Polly went very still, her fingers no longer drumming. ‘He was jumping, wasn’t he? There’s nothing…oh my God!’
‘What?’
‘Joe moved his flights. His course didn’t start until last week, but at the last minute he changed them to two days after the protest, said he wanted to do some exploring. I realise now - he always mentions you in his emails, always asks how you’re getting on. He asks after Shed too, and Owen, but he mentions you in every one.’ Polly rubbed her arm and looked out over Jessica’s darkened garden, the fairy lights still twinkling. ‘He misses you, Cat.’
Cat was gripped by a sudden fear that Polly would blame her for encouraging him, for forcing him away. She didn’t think she’d encouraged him, she certainly hadn’t meant to. She hadn’t allowed herself to accept that she had feelings for him too. Of course, now he was gone, those feelings had been let loose, and she couldn’t tell anyone how much she missed him. ‘If I’ve hurt him—’
‘No,’ Polly sa
id quickly. ‘I mean, not unless you . . ?’
Cat shook her head. ‘I’ve been with Mark.’ Not I am with Mark. She closed her eyes.
‘Oh Joey,’ Polly said to herself, and then to Cat: ‘He’s fallen for you. And I guess after Rosalin, after all that he went through with her, he must have thought that…that it would be best to get away. To give himself some space.’
‘I never meant for this to happen,’ Cat whispered.
Polly shook her head. ‘You’re with Mark now, and I’m so happy for you, Cat. I want you to be happy, and I want Joey to be happy, and sometimes things don’t slot together neatly the way you want them to. He’s done this, gone away, to protect himself. I just wish he’d told me. But look,’ she said, forcing levity into her voice, ‘he’s having a great time out there, and if what Jessica said is true then he’s at least got that distraction to take his mind off things.’ Polly hugged her and Cat breathed in her friend’s soft perfume, trying not to think about Jessica, her seductiveness, her glamour and her shimmering confidence.
She wished she could be honest with Polly about how she really felt, but she knew that, first, she had to be entirely honest with herself, and make some decisions. She had to be clear what she wanted.
Cat looked down at the cartoon again, at the shark looking shocked in his wetsuit. A smile tugged at her lips, and at first she didn’t hear the phone in her pocket.
‘Cat,’ Polly said, ‘you’re vibrating.’
Cat pulled her phone out, frowned at the screen, and answered it. ‘Mum? What is it, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong, darling,’ her mum trilled. ‘The opposite, in fact. Things are moving at a pace here, a few decisions being taken out of our hands and, well, it all culminates in the fact that we’re going to Canada in a fortnight now, not January.’
‘In two weeks?’ Cat screeched. ‘What? Why? What about Christmas?’
‘Come and see us next Saturday, Catherine, and we’ll have Christmas early.’
‘Right, but—’ Cat rubbed her forehead.
‘No buts. There’s really nothing to worry about.’
‘I don’t have your presents yet. I’m not prepared. There was so much I wanted to do!’ She heard the panic in her voice and swallowed.
Tinsel and Terriers, A Novella Page 3