‘Just in time for Christmas,’ Polly said dreamily. Owen wrapped his arms round her and pulled her close. Cat thought it might have been her imagination, but did Joe tighten his grip on her arm just a little?
Jessica’s house was resplendent with Christmas cheer and barking, snuffling dogs. Inside, her decorations were simple and elegant: pure white lights, red tinsel, glitter and stars, a simple, real tree with silver and red baubles. Outside, the lights were hard to make out. There were no bold shapes, just strings of tiny fairy lights and, not yet turned on, it was impossible to know what they’d look like. Jessica had been threatening something impressive, and Cat was itching to see what it was.
Cat could see some more dog costumes that had taken inspiration from their namesakes. Boris and Charles’s Frenchies were dressed as Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen, leather jackets on both, sunglasses on Bossy, and a tiny, adorable flat cap on Dylan. They both had miniature guitars velcroed onto them.
There were a couple of Border terriers that Cat thought were called Huey and Harry, dressed to look like they were being eaten by dinosaurs: gaping jaws made to look like the dogs’ heads were sticking out, long costume tails dragging on the floor. Letting go of Joe’s arm, Cat slowly limped around the room, saying hello to everyone she knew, bending to stroke the dogs and congratulate them on their efforts.
Jessica appeared, wearing a black jumpsuit and killer heels, her three Westies skittering at her feet as if they knew it was time to perform. Cat had been imagining some fashion-show outfits, but the West Highland terriers had gone back to their roots and were dressed in full Scottish regalia with tiny kilts and berets, Coco, Dior and Valentino each in a different tartan.
‘Do they mean anything, the different tartans?’ Cat asked.
‘Just that they’re splendid, individual dogs,’ Jessica said, beaming. ‘What have you done to yourself?’
‘I had an accident with a step. I’m an idiot.’
‘Party outfit?’
‘Modified,’ Cat confirmed, realising that, in the glamour stakes, she wouldn’t be any kind of competition for Jessica that evening. Her fears were compounded when, giving Cat a quick air kiss to the cheek, Jessica spotted Joe chatting to Owen and went over to him, wrapping her arms around him in the most sultry hug Cat had ever seen. Cat turned away, determined not to prolong her misery, and decided that she wouldn’t be tuning her guitar after all.
Everyone mingled, waiting for Phil from the Fairhaven Press to arrive. He’d agreed to judge both competitions, as Cat knew most of the residents on Primrose Terrace and couldn’t consider herself entirely unbiased.
The front door opened and Cat turned towards the icy blast. Elsie and Captain walked in with their pets, and she felt the tears spring to her eyes.
‘Chalky,’ Cat squeaked, hobbling as fast as she could to greet the new arrivals. Because although Paris looked magnificent dressed as a tiny Santa Claus, and Disco was wearing an outfit made out of silver panels that made her look like a walking glitter ball, Cat was more overcome by the fact that Chalky was there too, well enough to leave the vet’s, firmly on the road to recovery. He wasn’t dressed up, other than the large fleecy blanket he was wrapped in, but had been carried up the stairs and over the threshold by Captain, who now lowered the old dog into a small cart that Elsie had hauled into Jessica’s house.
Cat dropped to her knees, ignoring the pain in her ankle, and embraced the old dog. He lifted his head, eyed her from beneath his fuzzy eyebrows, and put his paw out, touching her arm. Cat grinned up at Elsie through her tears, and the older woman smiled back, her own eyes bright with emotion.
‘We can’t stay long,’ she said. ‘It looks like it’s going to snow, and I can’t risk Chalky getting cold.’
‘It’s so lovely to see him,’ Cat said. ‘He’s back on Primrose Terrace, where he belongs. Hello, Chalky. Happy Christmas, my poppet.’ She kissed him on the nose.
She didn’t notice Phil arrive, and jumped when Jessica rang a bell that momentarily whisked all the dogs into a fervour, calling them all to attention.
‘Right then, ladies and gentlemen,’ Phil said. ‘This is the first part of the Primrose Terrace Christmas Spectacular, and I’m going to ask all the competing dogs – and their owners, of course – to do a circuit of this room, so I, and everyone else, can get a good look at all the costumes. After that I’ll be judging the winners. There are two prizes, one for effort and one for inventiveness. Are you happy to start us off?’ he asked a woman with a Chihuahua dressed as a Christmas pudding.
Cat sat on the floor next to Chalky’s cart, one hand tenderly stroking his soft fur, and watched with glee as the dressed-up dogs took turns at centre stage. Polly and Owen were getting Rummy ready, fussing around him like proud parents, but she couldn’t see Joe anywhere. She forced herself not to check whether Jessica was absent too.
All the dogs were magnificent – everyone had made a fantastic effort. The lights competition was restricted to Primrose Terrace, but there were lots of people here she didn’t know, or recognized from elsewhere in Fairview. Jessica’s influence, and perhaps maybe that of Pooch Promenade’s protest, had spread interest in the competition far and wide.
In the end, Phil gave the ‘effort’ award to a cockapoo dressed as a mermaid, with a hand-crafted tail made up of shimmering, individual scales, its curly russet hair perfect for the flowing locks. Cat approved of the selection, and then had to resist the urge to hug Phil when he awarded the inventiveness prize to Disco.
‘Disco dressed as a Disco ball,’ he said, handing Elsie a hamper full of doggy goodies. ‘It’s epic. Only beaten, possibly, if she’d been dressed as a salt-and-vinegar crisp from the nineties.’
‘I did consider that,’ Elsie said, handing the hamper to Captain.
‘Oh, and – ’ Phil touched the older woman on the shoulder – ‘this award is for Christmas Spirit. Nobody else was in contention, but all the residents of Primrose Terrace wanted to recognize what a special and loved dog Chalky is, so this is from everyone.’ Phil reached behind him and lifted up a luxurious dog bed that they’d all clubbed together to get. It was shaped like a mini chesterfield chair, with a fur lining for comfort.
Elsie actually squealed, her hands clamped against her cheeks. ‘Really, everyone,’ she gasped, ‘you didn’t have to do that. But he will love it, I know it.’ She hugged Phil, and then did the rounds, thanking everyone.
‘Cat, you lame old thing.’ She embraced her. ‘I have a feeling you might be behind this.’
‘It was all of us,’ Cat said. ‘I know we couldn’t be sure, until now. But we all kept hoping, and I thought if we did this, if we were confident about his recovery and had a bit of faith, then that might help in some small way. We’re just so glad he’s back. Primrose Terrace wouldn’t be the same without him.’
‘I know,’ Elsie murmured. ‘I know it more than anything. Listen, I should get him back.’
‘I’ll bring this, if you like.’ Phil held up the mini chesterfield. ‘There’s a bit of a break before the party and the other competition.’
‘I’ll pop round on Christmas Day,’ Cat said. ‘Maybe tomorrow, too. I want to see how Chalky gets on with his new throne.’
‘Come on.’ Captain held out his arm for Elsie. ‘Let’s take old Chalky back.’
Cat watched as they left, the other competitors filtering out behind them. There was a commotion from the front door, squeals and cheers, and she felt Joe beside her,
smelt his subtle aftershave. She inhaled.
‘It’s snowing,’ he said softly.
‘A perfect winter wonderland.’ Cat peered out, watching the thick flakes as they fell gently to the ground.
‘You’re welcome to stay here,’ Jessica said, putting her hand on Joe’s arm, ‘if that’s easier than trying to get back again.’
‘Oh no,’ Owen said. ‘We’ve got lights to turn on.’
‘Outfits to change into,’ Polly added.
‘And I can always gi
ve her a piggyback if it’s too treacherous for swollen ankles out there.’ Joe grinned, and Cat’s insides did a little shimmy. ‘Let’s go, hopalong.’
They walked slowly back to number nine, lifting their faces up to the sky, tasting the snowflakes on their tongues, catching them on their eyelashes. The cold helped to numb Cat’s ankle, and by the time they’d reached home, she could hardly feel it. She went into the kitchen to make tea, ignoring the entreaties of the others to sit down. She wasn’t going to let a sprained ankle render her useless.
‘I’ve got to nip out,’ she heard Joe tell Polly.
‘What,’ Owen said, ‘in this?’
‘It’s not far. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’
‘Where are you going?’ Cat asked, wondering if, after all, he was returning to Jessica’s, making the most of the quiet time between the fancy-dress parade and the party. ‘The snow’s getting heavier.’
‘I promise I’ll be back soon. But don’t wait for me – go to the party and I’ll meet you there.’
They watched him zip up his black Jack Wolfskin jacket, pick up the Fiesta keys and leave the house, and then Polly, as if sensing Cat’s disquiet, said, ‘Sod tea, we’re opening a bottle of prosecco. It is a Christmas party, after all.’
Polly looked amazing. She had styled her long blonde hair into springy, bouncy curls, and was wearing a floor-length dress the colour of the midnight sky, with subtle silver sparkles sewn into the fabric. Owen, dressed in a black suit and white shirt, could barely take his eyes off her, and Cat could see why. Even Rummy, no longer in his Superman outfit, and not even invited to the second party, looked smart.
Cat, on the other hand, felt distinctly underdressed. Because of her bandage and her need for flat shoes, she had abandoned the short coppery dress she had planned on wearing and opted for black, wide-legged trousers and a dusky-pink halterneck top with sequin details. She’d squeezed her bandaged foot into her cream pumps, but they were mostly hidden beneath her trousers anyway.
‘You look gorgeous, Cat,’ Polly said.
Cat screwed her face up. ‘It’s not what I’d pictured when I got up this morning.’
‘I’m going to second Polly’s words,’ Owen said, topping up their glasses, ‘and take one step further, from gorgeous to stunning.’
Cat laughed. ‘Thank you. I know who’s going to be the best-looking couple at the party, though. You are the belles of the ball.’ She held up her glass and Polly and Owen grinned at each other, a look of pure happiness passing between them.
‘Should we get going,’ Cat said, ‘or wait for Joe? Do you know where he’s gone?’
Polly shook her head and chewed her lip. ‘I don’t,’ she said softly. ‘But he said he’d meet us at the party, so I don’t think we should worry.’
Owen peered out of the curtains. ‘The snow’s pretty relentless.’
‘Then I’m sure he’ll get in touch,’ Polly said. ‘Come on, we need to turn our lights on and get going.’
‘Now,’ Owen said, crouching down in front of the sofa where Shed and Rummy were sitting passively at either end, like bookends. ‘I hope this is really how you feel, and you’re not just pretending until we leave the house. I want no disruption, no fighting, from either of you, understood?’ He ruffled Rummy’s fur and then gave Shed a long, thorough stroke until he was purring loudly, eyes closed.
‘It’s magic,’ Polly whispered.
‘It means that maybe,’ Cat added, ‘we can have an addition to our family sometime next year.’ Cat had told Polly that she knew about Truffle, and had spent a long half an hour trying to stop Polly apologizing for keeping it from her. It was finally out in the open: number nine Primrose Terrace was a dog-loving household.
‘Maybe.’ Polly squeezed Cat’s arm. ‘But now we need to go.’
Cat hobbled into the hall and looked at her guitar, leaning against the wall, safe from the snow in its bag. She turned away from it.
Polly narrowed her eyes and gave her the Sinclair stare. ‘You’re not taking it?’
‘It’s not the right time,’ Cat said softly.
‘It’s Christmas. Of course it is.’ She picked it up and hefted it over her shoulder, teetering on her heels.
‘Give it to me,’ Cat said. ‘I’ve got flats on. But I’m not doing it, unless…’
‘Unless the timing’s right,’ Polly said, ‘got it.’ She grinned and gave Cat back the guitar.
‘You go outside, and I’ll press the button.’ Owen opened the front door.
Polly took Cat’s arm and they walked slowly down the snow-covered front stairs, turning to look up at the house. In moments, their hair and coats were covered in snowflakes: a thin layer had already covered the roofs and the cars and the pavement.
Along Primrose Terrace, lots of the lights were already on. Frankie’s animal-themed display, the songbirds dangling beautifully down the side of her house, Boris and Charles’s white and gold fairy lights shining with understated elegance, and Elsie’s house resplendent with a boat-shaped design covering the space between the lower and upper windows, blue lights below it for the sea, stars along the roof. That, Cat thought, had to be Captain’s influence.
Jessica’s house was still unlit, except for the windows, which were glowing invitingly.
‘We need a countdown,’ Polly called.
‘It’s a shame Joe’s not here to see this,’ Cat said.
‘He’ll see it when he gets back. There’s nothing we can do about my brother’s bad timing.’
‘Right!’ Owen shouted.
Cat held her breath.
‘Three. Two. One!’
He flicked the switch and their house lit up, the winter menagerie along the bottom, white icicles shimmering from the roof and windowsills, and the soft, pulsing snowflakes turning blue, then pink, then green, then yellow.
‘Wow,’ Polly murmured.
‘That,’ Cat said, ‘is stunning.’
Owen locked the door and made his way carefully down the stairs. ‘It was worth all the effort.’
‘Look at Primrose Terrace,’ Cat said. ‘I mean, look at ours, but look at the whole street.’ They took a moment, standing in the snow, huddled into each other, the glitter and colour of the lights magical in the winter darkness. The air around them was quiet, the snow blanketing any sounds, adding to the effect. Cat found herself breathless at the beauty of their little road. The only thing that was missing was Joe.
‘What time’s Phil judging it?’ Polly asked.
‘In a couple of hours,’ Cat said, blinking herself out of her reverie. ‘And it might take us that long to get to Jessica’s with our various impairments.’ Polly had completed her outfit with beautiful navy heels, which Cat knew were treacherous to walk on at the best of times, let alone in an inch of snow. ‘We’d better get going. Put your hood up, Polly, or your curls will die.’
They arrived at Jessica’s house, stepping out of the winter scene into the glow and merriment of a Christmas party, and the warmth and laughter hit them like a wave. Cat resisted the urge to throw her guitar out into the snow, dashing it into a hundred pieces. Of all of the things she’d conjured up since she’d moved to Primrose Terrace, this was the most deluded idea. There was no way on earth she could serenade Joe at this party, not even if she was sure he still had feelings for her. Silently cursing Polly’s faith in her, she snuck the guitar into the hall cupboard, where Jessica kept the spare dog leads, and returned to her friends.
Chapter 7
Jessica greeted them wearing a white dress that Cat was sure was actually Valentino. She had straightened her blonde curls, and looked sleek and glamorous, like a snow leopard.
‘Well done on the outfit,’ Jessica said, hugging her. ‘You look positively glowing, and nobody would guess you were flat-shoed and limping.’
‘They will the moment I move from this spot.’ Cat smiled.
‘But no piggyback from Joe this time? I have to say, I was almost tempted to twist my ankle.’ Jessica looked at the d
oor, her groomed brows lowering slightly.
Cat gave a hollow laugh. ‘He’ll be here soon. He didn’t…come back for anything, after the fancy dress parade?’
‘No,’ Jessica said, turning back to Cat. ‘Did he say he was going to?’
Cat shook her head. ‘Why isn’t your house lit up? Have you seen the rest of the road?’
Jessica gave her a sly grin. ‘The other houses are impressive. Is yours on now too?’
Cat nodded.
‘I thought,’ Jessica said slowly, ‘as we’d all have to go outside for the judging, I could wait until everyone was there and then turn my lights on.’
‘A-ha,’ Cat said, ‘hoping to make an impact?’
‘Oh, I guarantee it.’ Jessica tapped the side of her nose. ‘Now, come and get a drink, all of you. My new canapés are circling, and I’d love to know what you think. Bacon and Christmas pudding is my personal favourite, but you’ll have to decide for yourselves.’
Polly looked horrified, but Owen rubbed his hands together. ‘Sounds delicious.’
‘Yes,’ Polly said, ‘but you like horseradish ice cream.’
‘I promise, once you try it, you’ll be sold.’
‘So you’ll have to take me to that hotel then,’ Polly said, leaning in to him.
‘I will. I’ll take you for the weekend. It’ll be incredibly romantic, and you won’t even notice when I sneak off to talk to the chef so I can start making my own.’ He kissed her on the nose.
‘I’m not sure Fairview’s ready for it.’
‘I think Fairview’s ready for anything,’ Owen said seriously.
‘Nearly anything,’ Cat added, thinking of her guitar.
‘Ah, Miss Palmer?’ Cat turned towards the voice. She tried not to gasp at Mr Jasper, resplendent in a claret-coloured suit, white shirt and Christmas bow tie.
‘Mr Jasper! How are you?’
‘I’m good thank you, very good. How is – uh – Chalky? Is he OK?’
Cat grinned, feeling a glow of happiness. ‘He’s much better now, on the road to recovery. But it was touch and go for a while, and I really don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there that day. I tried to find a way of getting in touch to let you know, but I drew a blank. Thank you.’ She gave him a hug, and Mr Jasper, stiff and resisting at first, patted her on the shoulder. ‘It’s lovely to see you here.’
Tinsel and Terriers, A Novella Page 9