Not Just For Christmas

by Alex Brown

  ‘Hello.’ Kitty’s voice cracked momentarily, but she was able to cover it up with a well-timed cough.

  ‘Is that you, Kitty?’ a deep Geordie-accented voice asked. She closed her eyes. Nodded. And then spoke again more calmly.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How are you, pet?’

  ‘Really good, thanks,’ she said, truthfully, to her surprise – there was only a small trickle of trepidation rising in her stomach. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Can’t complain. I’m still here, breathing in and out.’ He laughed cynically before falling silent for a few seconds. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean, er … shit, sorry.’ Kitty heard him letting out a very long breath. ‘Blimey, this is awkward.’

  ‘It’s fine. Honestly,’ she said, smiling, and it was. She knew it was just soldier talk, bravado. Ed had been the same, seemingly flippant about life and death. It came from witnessing atrocities every day − that constant crossing of the fragile, wafer-thin line between the two states of being. But Kitty felt pleasantly surprised on realising that she really did feel absolutely OK. She glanced across the café to the wall where the photo hung of Ed in his uniform, crouched down with his arm around his faithful army service dog – a black Labrador called Monty – and her smile widened.

  ‘Well, thank Christ for that.’ Mack laughed. ‘I’ll cut to the chase if that’s OK ’cos I know you’re busy in your café and all that.’

  ‘Sure, what is it?’ Kitty asked, intrigued.

  ‘Can I come and see you?’

  ‘Um …’ She waivered momentarily, but then remembered her resolve and added, ‘Of course – when were you thinking?’ in a much brighter voice, reckoning it might be nice to catch up, talk about Ed – the good times – and maybe Mack would be up for telling Teddie a bit about her daddy. Yes, Kitty figured that would be very nice indeed.

  ‘Today?’

  ‘Oh, that soon?’ Kitty fiddled with the telephone cord.

  ‘If possible. Sorry if it’s a hassle, but I’m at the base in Market Briar so not far away and it is kind of important. ’

  ‘Of course,’ Kitty quickly offered. ‘I’m due to close the café in an hour or so. Why don’t you pop over then?’

  ‘Great. See you later. Thanks, love.’ And they ended the call. As Kitty hung up the phone she looked again at the picture of Ed and wondered what it was that was so important that Mack needed to visit her right away.

  Chapter Two

  Later, when the café was closed and Bella had been picked up by her dad, Matt – after he’d managed to get his van going again – Kitty had just settled Teddie down with a festively themed colouring book and a pack of felt-tips. The village school was only down the lane past the war memorial and Kitty was always able to nip over at 3.30 p.m. to pick her daughter up.

  When a car pulled up right outside and Kitty saw with a light lurch in her stomach that it was Mack, she instinctively jumped up to go and help him, though quickly remembered that Mack might not thank her for it. She had seen how he was at the funeral, insistent on doing it all himself, so she sat back down and waited for him to come to the door.

  A few minutes later, Mack was manoeuvring himself into place beside her at one of the tables, and in a new wheelchair by the looks of it, one of those sporty ones with special all-terrain tyres on. And he sure had bulked up – his upper body was solid muscle. Not that she was gawping or anything, but Kitty couldn’t help but notice his impressive physique underneath the close-fitting navy sweatshirt after he pulled off his padded ski jacket. She seemed to remember Ed’s mum mentioning that she’d heard that Mack had taken up rowing and was training for the Paralympics as part of his rehabilitation. She tried not to look at Mack’s legs, both of which had been blown off below the knee when the explosion had happened. Kitty remembered again the full impact of it and the terrible toll it had taken on the whole battalion, for Ed wasn’t the only one to have lost his life: another guy did too. And Mack and three others had endured life-changing injuries.

  ‘Shall I take that?’ Kitty said, gesturing to the ski jacket.

  ‘Cheers.’ Mack handed her the jacket and she looped it over one of the hooks by the door.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked, momentarily dipping down into a chair in front of him so as to be on the same level where he could see her. It didn’t feel right to hover over him out of sight.

  ‘A bottle of beer would go down a treat!’ He smiled broadly, making his conker-brown eyes brighten up.

  ‘Oh, er, sorry I don’t have a licence …’ Kitty started, twiddling an earring, wondering where she could get a bottle from. She preferred pink wine so didn’t even have any beer in her cottage kitchen out the back. The village store would be closed by now for sure, but maybe Cher, the landlady in the Duck & Puddle, could help out?

  ‘Joking. I don’t touch that stuff nowadays. My coach would kill me if I let the old beer belly bounce back.’ He laughed, patting his perfectly taut abdomen.

  ‘Ah, well, you got me there.’ Kitty smiled. ‘So what would you like to drink? I can do tea, coffee, hot chocolate, milkshakes with squirty cream and sprinkles, pretty much anything you want – except alcohol.’

  ‘Water will do just fine, cheers, love.’

  ‘I want a milkshake,’ Teddie piped up, putting down her pen and darting over towards them. She came to a halt alongside Mack and eyed him curiously.

  ‘How do you ask nicely, then, Teddie?’ Kitty prompted, ruffling her daughter’s corn-coloured curls.

  ‘Pleeeeease can I, Mummy? Pleeeeease. A strawberry one with lots of cream and the rainbow sprinkles on top.’ Teddie grinned, nodding her head and pressing her palms together in gleeful anticipation before tentatively touching the wheel of Mack’s wheelchair with a tiny index finger.

  ‘Yes, you can. Seeing as you’ve asked so nicely now.’ Kitty shook her head in amusement, wondering if her darling daughter would ever remember her manners without being prompted.

  ‘Why has your chair got wheels on it?’ Teddie blurted out, running her little hand over the spokes.

  ‘Sorry,’ Kitty quickly intervened, flashing Mack a look.

  ‘It’s OK.’ Mack gestured, shaking his head and smiling. He then turned his attention back to Teddie. ‘The wheels are so I can get around.’

  ‘Oh.’ Teddie’s little forehead creased as she processed this piece of intriguing information. ‘But why don’t you just walk like me? See …’ And she did a funny march up and down the café as if to demonstrate her walking ability. Mack laughed, making his shoulders bob up and down, while Kitty wondered if she should intervene. Teddie could be very intrusive at times: she’d once asked Mrs Pocket, the indomitable village busybody and self-imposed custodian of Tindledale, why her face was always so angry. Kitty had wanted to shrivel on the spot and for the ground to swallow her up. But Mack seemed to be taking it all in his stride, which was a bit ironic, really, Kitty thought, given that he couldn’t actually walk.

  ‘Because the bottom part of my legs have gone.’ Mack pointed to his knees.

  ‘Gone where?’ And Teddie actually pressed her hands onto her own knees so she could bend down to scrutinise and get an even better look at where the missing parts of Mack’s legs should have been. Kitty held her breath, but Mack leaned forward and whispered,

  ‘Well, I don’t know for sure.’ Teddie stood back up, her eyes as big as dinner plates.

  ‘Did they fall off?’ she asked after a few seconds of contemplation, looking first at Kitty and then at Mack.

  ‘Sort of.’ Mack smiled and ran a hand through his cropped brown hair, as if pondering on a suitable answer for an inquisitive four-year-old.

  ‘Did they die and go to Heaven?’ she then added, in a matter-of-fact voice, tilting her head to one side.

  ‘Yes, yes, they did,’ Mack quickly confirmed on catching Kitty’s eye and subtle nod by way of confirmation.

  Silence followed.

  ‘Hmm, but that’s OK.’ Teddie shrugged, before gently patting the b
ack of Mack’s hand. ‘My Daddy will look after them for you.’

  Fifteen minutes later, the three of them had finished their drinks and Teddie was sitting on Mack’s lap listening to a funny story about how he and Ed had ended up falling into a big cowpat one time on a training day in the fields surrounding the army base at Market Briar.

  ‘Stinky poo!’ Teddie giggled, pinching her nose in disgust and delight at hearing a story about her daddy from someone who actually knew him.

  ‘Sure was,’ Mack said, tickling Teddie some more, before his voice turned a little more serious. ‘OK, now I have a very important job for you, sweetheart.’

  ‘Ooh, yes, please, I can help you.’ The little girl slipped herself off Mack’s lap and started bouncing up and down, eager to please. Kitty smiled at her daughter’s enthusiasm – she was clearly enamoured with Mack, which was no surprise. Kitty had forgotten how easygoing he was, open and honest, the same old Mack. He always was solid and dependable, and it was refreshing to see that he was still the same, even after his terrible injuries. And Kitty thought it was good of him to be so kind to Teddie, especially after she had denied him that connection since Ed’s death. Kitty glanced at the floor and bit down hard on her bottom lip, an uneasy swirl of guilt creeping within her, wishing she hadn’t shut him out. She felt Mack’s eyes on her, and looked back up. He winked and smiled ruefully before turning his attentions back to Teddie.

  ‘Do you think you can pull my iPad out from the big pocket in the back of my wheelchair?’ Teddie nodded and darted round the chair. Kitty jumped up to help her.

  ‘Carefully now. Hold it with two hands, please,’ she said, not wanting Teddie to drop the tablet onto the tiles and damage the screen. Teddie did as she was told and carefully handed the iPad to Mack.

  ‘Thanks, pet. Now, how about you finish off your colouring while I chat to Mummy for a bit?’ And Teddie happily did as she was told right away, practically skipping over to the booth in the corner of the café.

  ‘Wow! How did you do that?’ Kitty shook her head in amazement. ‘Usually, when I ask my daughter to do something, she has a moan for at least ten minutes before reluctantly getting on with it.’

  ‘Ah, must be me special Mack charm.’ Winking, he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and shrugged modestly, as if it were nothing. Then, after flipping open the iPad case, he swiped the screen into action. Kitty smiled, remembering how Ed told her one time during a Skype call that Mack often had a band of local Iraqi kids hanging around him whenever they were out on patrol. He’d tell them jokes and teach them English words, sometimes giving them sweets and pens and pads so they could write down what they had learned. Mack was a ‘good ’un’, that’s what Ed had always said. ‘I need to show you something, Kitty. It’s why I’m here − and to see you and Teddie, of course,’ Mack said, indicating for Kitty to sit down next to him.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked apprehensively, when a paused film clip appeared on the iPad screen showing a Chinook army helicopter – grey with two propellers, and just like the one Ed’s body had been flown home in. Kitty inhaled sharply.

  Sensing her anxiety, Mack placed a firm, reassuring hand on her arm.

  ‘It’s OK, I promise.’ He then said softly. ‘It’s Monty. He’s coming home.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Kitty couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. She leaned forward in her seat as Mack clicked on the arrow and the film started playing. The Chinook landed and she could see two soldiers lifting an enormous pet crate out of the helicopter and down on to the tarmac. The camera zoomed in close. Kitty held her breath. She pressed a palm to her chest. ‘Is that him?’

  ‘Yep.’ Mack turned to look at her.

  Kitty gasped on seeing the dog – the beautiful black Labrador, a highly trained and supremely intelligent army dog. Ed had been his handler. There was a big white bandage wrapped around his front left paw and there was something else too.

  ‘Oh, my God! What happened to poor Monty? His eye …’ Kitty could barely breathe now, her chest felt so tight. Monty had only one eye; the other was permanently closed, giving him a sad, forlorn look and in utter contrast to the proud, handsome boy that he had been. Kitty’s eyes flicked back across to the picture hanging on the wall of the café, of Ed with his arm around Monty, who was sitting up on his haunches with a noble but utterly devoted look on his face, clearly delighting in his master’s company.

  ‘He got hit by a flying piece of shrapnel,’ Mack stated, and then quickly added, ‘but he’s fine. He’s been back at the base under the care of the vet for a few weeks now, and … well, I’ll cut to the chase: he needs a home.’ Mack let the words hang for a few seconds. Kitty looked at him and then back at the screen. The film had stopped playing now and there was a picture of Monty sitting in a mound of lush green grass, just like the grass in the fields surrounding Tindledale. Kitty knew enough to know that these pictures weren’t taken in Iraq and somehow if felt strange to have Monty so close. In a way, it was as if a part of Ed had returned. They had been inseparable. ‘What do you reckon?’

  ‘Reckon?’ Kitty repeated, paused, and felt a shock of recognition as the proverbial penny dropped. ‘But I can’t take him!’ she immediately responded.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Um, well, I … er, there’s the café to think about for starters. I can’t have a dog in the kitchen. Health and Safety would have a field day.’

  ‘He’d be no bother. Honestly, he just needs somewhere to retire. He’s getting on now: nearly seven years – and that’s old for a working dog like Monty. He could potter around out the back in your cottage. He probably wouldn’t even mind being behind a gate or something over there.’ Mack gestured to the corridor that separated the café from the private part of Kitty’s home. ‘Really, he just needs a warm, comfortable place to lie. Dogs sleep for most of the day, left to their own devices,’ Mack explained.

  ‘But wouldn’t he get bored? He’s used to working.’

  ‘No, the vet doesn’t think so, and he’s been assessed as suitable for rehoming in Civvy Street. He’s tired, he’s done his bit for Queen and country − lost his eye on the last tour. He’s done twelve in total – Iraq, and a few in Afghanistan with a new handler after Ed – but that guy is still on active duty and his parents are elderly so they can’t take him in. Monty just needs to put his paws up as it were.’ Mack smiled wryly.

  ‘But he’s used to being active, out on patrol, sniffing out explosives …’ Kitty stopped talking as the real crux of her issue with Monty crept malignantly into her thoughts. How come he didn’t save Ed? She swallowed and swiftly pushed the unwelcome thought away, knowing how dangerous it was to go back to that dark, lonely place.

  Mack picked up on her hesitancy. ‘It’s OK,’ he said gently, seemingly knowing what she was thinking. ‘Monty had detected the explosive and was running back to warn Ed. It was just bad luck that it then went off when the disposal guys moved in. It was—’

  ‘Please, you don’t have to explain,’ Kitty said, seeing Mack’s shoulders tense on reliving the terrible moment that killed his best friend and left him disabled. ‘I’ll take him,’ she said decisively, staring at the Labrador’s glossy black coat and lovely, soulful face. How could she not? What happened to Ed and to Mack wasn’t poor Monty’s fault.

  ‘Thank you, Kitty. I’d look after him myself but I’m hardly up for taking him out for a walk, now am I?’ Mack grinned, looking at where the bottom half of his legs used to be. Instinctively, Kitty nudged Mack’s shoulder as if to console him.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What for?’ Mack nudged her back. A short silence followed.

  ‘I dunno.’ She paused to ponder for a few seconds, and then added, ‘For shutting you out, I guess.’

  ‘Ah, don’t be daft, pet. It was a tough time for us all.’

  ‘Yes, it was. But, still, thank you.’ She smiled, grateful to have cleared the air.

  ‘Right.’ Mack rubbed his hands together. ‘I’
ll let the lads back at the base know that Monty’s coming home for Christmas.’

  Chapter Three

  The next day arrived, and Kitty glanced at the wall clock. Almost time. Monty was due to arrive imminently and she still hadn’t got all of his kit ready – bed, blankets, bones and whatever else dogs needed. She hadn’t looked after a pooch before, so wasn’t entirely sure.

  She untied her pinny and looped it over the chair in the little staff room at the back of the now-closed café, and, seeing that Teddie was out on a play date, she decided to nip along the High Street to the Paws Pet Parlour to see if they could give her some tips on what Monty would need on arrival.

  ‘Kitty! Hello, what can we do for you?’ Amber, the owner smiled, yelling over from a metal table in the window where a magnificent honey-haired Afghan hound was being blow-dried with a giant hairdryer attached to the ceiling on a bendy hose.

  ‘I’ve come to buy all the essentials for a dog, but I can see that you’re busy.’ Kitty hesitated and glanced over to the big day-care pen towards the back of the pet parlour where several dogs were chasing each other around, sniffing bottoms, teasing each other with rubber toys and generally having the times of their lives. ‘Shall I pop back in a bit?’ She guessed that Monty wouldn’t need everything right away, as long as he had a bed and bowl for his food; the rest she could pick up later.