The Christmas Stocking and Other Stories

by Katie Fforde

  ‘I did introduce you. And they’re not particularly mad.’ They were fairly mad but Stella felt protective and defensive. Piers gave a short, derisive laugh.

  Stella couldn’t help noticing how helpful Fitz was in the process of making this second Christmas meal happen. Piers, on the other hand, who, Stella felt, might have shown some loyalty, spent his time chatting up Fiona. But as this made her laugh and generally cheer up, Stella decided he wasn’t a complete waste of space.

  But at last everything was on the table, everyone had turkey and all the peripheries and a great many thank yous and how marvellouses had been said.

  Mac was particularly appreciative, saying how interesting it was to meet everyone, but something about her made Stella worried that she might pull her ‘I’m old, I’ve lost my filter’ card at any time. Judging by the looks her son was giving her, Fitz felt the same.

  ‘So, Piers,’ Mac said when everyone was chewing away at their turkey. ‘What do you do with yourself in London?’

  Piers liked talking about himself and did it well. He was expert in the art of the ‘humble brag’ and spent five minutes telling everyone about his job, his smart connections and, subtly, his income bracket.

  Stella silently fumed away at him for gatecrashing her Christmas and being so boastful but Fiona seemed charmed. And Mac didn’t object either, although she might at any moment.

  ‘So, Stella,’ Piers went on. ‘Have you decided if you should give up your job and come and live down here yet?’

  Before she could answer, he went on, ‘Stella is a really great primary-school teacher. She works in a tough area but at the last inspection her school was rated excellent.’ He did seem genuinely proud of her.

  ‘Well—’ she began.

  ‘So basically, she’d be barking to want to leave all that to live in an area which may be very pretty, but is pretty much nowhere.’ He smiled at everyone to indicate he’d finished talking, oblivious to the fact he’d offended three inhabitants of ‘nowhere’ in one sentence.

  ‘You know?’ said Fiona. ‘You are so right? I love the countryside – long walks, cosy fires – but after a couple of days I need city life!’

  Stella could see Piers and Fiona considered they’d had the conversation about Stella’s career and future for her, and she didn’t need to add anything to it. ‘Did you get any bread sauce, Mac?’

  ‘I did, thank you,’ said Mac demurely, but with a dangerous twinkle.

  ‘So what do you do, Fiona?’ Stella said quickly.

  ‘Advertising. It’s just a fairly small agency in Bristol but we do great work and one day they might move to London.’ Fiona smiled. ‘And if they do, I’d deffo want to move with them.’

  ‘If you do,’ said Piers, producing a business card from out of the air with the skill of a professional gambler, ‘look me up. Or even if your firm doesn’t move, you may want to.’

  Fitz hadn’t said a lot and Stella felt obliged to bring him into the conversation. Somehow they hadn’t discussed their jobs the day before so it seemed a good topic. ‘So, Fitz? How do you earn a crust?’

  ‘Journalist by trade but I work for a magazine. I do a bit of freelance on the side,’ he said.

  ‘Fitz is amazing,’ said Fiona, ‘but he gets paid buttons. He’s worth so much more!’

  ‘Indeed he is,’ said Mac, looking at Fiona.

  ‘Who’d like second helpings of anything?’ said Stella anxiously.

  ‘I’d love some gravy,’ said Fitz. ‘It’s absolutely epic!’

  Fiona and Piers declared that they would do the clearing up. As Stella was on her knees with exhaustion from being a hostess, she decided to let them. She could sort it all out later. Mac was dozing by the fire, probably worn out by good behaviour.

  Fitz had been banished from the kitchen too and said, ‘I should take the dogs for a walk, or they’ll get restive.’

  ‘God! What I wouldn’t give to go for a walk just now!’ said Stella. ‘A bit of fresh air—’

  ‘And no conversation,’ said Fitz. ‘Let’s do it!’

  ‘I can’t! I should stay and be the hostess.’

  ‘Of course you can. Do you think I have to invite the others? I suppose I’d better ask. The way they feel about the countryside makes me think they’ll say no.’

  They didn’t say no. Maybe it was because clearing up a big meal in a galley kitchen with very little space to put anything was extremely difficult, but they both said they’d love to walk off their lunch.

  It took an age to get out of the house. Fiona didn’t want to ruin her boots so Stella had to find something to lend her. Fortunately her walking boots fitted Fiona and Stella could wear her wellies. Fitz borrowed her father’s boots. Piers was wearing boots already and Mac was staying behind to doze by the fire.

  The dogs dragged Fitz and Fiona up the hill, Fiona mentioning several times how well trained her father’s dogs were. ‘He just wouldn’t tolerate a badly behaved dog,’ she said. ‘Working dogs have to be obedient.’

  ‘I think these are playing dogs,’ said Fitz. ‘We’ll let them off the lead when we get well away from the road.’

  ‘They’ll be in the next county in seconds flat,’ said Fiona derisively.

  Stella wanted to defend Tris and Izzy; then she wondered why. They weren’t her dogs, after all.

  The four of them stood by the Dog Walkers’ Christmas Tree and Stella explained it to Fiona and Piers. She didn’t point out the battered little dog that had been her contribution but they were both suitably charmed.

  Izzy and Tris bounced around them, managing to get quite a lot of mud on Fiona’s Barbour.

  ‘It’s fine!’ Fiona snapped when Fitz apologised. ‘It’ll brush off, I’m sure.’

  Stella felt for her. She was obviously really fed up about it but couldn’t complain or she’d risk looking a bad sport. On the other hand, it was a country coat: it was designed to get mud on.

  ‘You’re being very good about it,’ said Fitz, ‘and I am really grateful. I do love these dogs.’

  ‘So they live with you in Bristol?’ asked Piers.

  ‘No,’ said Fiona. ‘We can’t have them in Bristol.’

  ‘So—’ Piers went on.

  ‘They’re going to have to be rehomed,’ said Fiona. ‘Fitz’s mother obviously can’t look after them.’

  ‘Actually, if you don’t mind,’ said Stella, ‘we made a pact not to talk about that over Christmas.’

  ‘Fine!’ said Fiona and brushed at her coat.

  ‘Actually, I don’t think I can ever talk about it,’ said Fitz as Tris came up to him and pressed his head against his master.

  ‘You’ll have to think about it soon,’ said Fiona, nearly sharp in her tone. ‘Before you go back to work.’

  ‘You can’t have dogs in a city, it’s not fair to them,’ said Piers.

  ‘The pact?’ said Stella. After a moment, she added, ‘Let’s go back now. I’m desperate for a cup of tea.’

  Stella was in the kitchen, in her socks, having put the kettle on, when there was a scream: a wail of agony that could have indicated someone had died it was so full of woe.

  Her first thought was that Mac had suffered some sort of dramatic collapse and she rushed through, trying to remember her father’s postcode for when they called an ambulance.

  But Mac was sitting by the fire, looking in good health.

  Fitz was holding the dogs by their collars and was on the way to the boot room with them.

  In the middle of the sitting room, having hysterics, was Fiona.

  ‘Those bloody dogs!’ said Fiona through tears of rage. ‘They’ve eaten my handbag and my boots!’

  Stella was shocked. They’d only arrived back in the house about five minutes ago, hardly time to have eaten a biscuit let alone illicit leather goods. At least she’d put the kettle on; maybe Fiona needed something for the shock.

  ‘Piers?’ Stella said. ‘Could you make tea? We could all do with a cup.’

  Almost making Ste
lla fall in love with him all over again, Piers went to the kitchen straight away. Almost.

  Fitz had restrained the culprits and returned to the room. ‘Oh come on!’ he said, trying to be placatory. ‘It’s only a little nibble!’

  Fiona held up her beautiful handbag and Stella could see the tooth marks. It may have been a nibble but the bag was still ruined.

  ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry!’ said Stella.

  ‘And my boot!’ Fiona held it up.

  This had also been chewed – a large hole just above the heel.

  ‘This is awful,’ said Stella, for want of something better.

  ‘It’s more than awful!’ shouted Fiona, turning her wrath on Stella. ‘It’s a disaster!’

  Stella thought. ‘I’m sure there’s house insurance. That would—’

  ‘It’s not your fault, Stella,’ said Fitz. ‘I’ll handle this.’

  ‘Yes!’ Fiona was less distraught now but more angry. ‘You will handle it! And you’ll find a home for those dogs! Or have them put down!’

  ‘Darling, you’re hysterical,’ said Fitz.

  This was true but astoundingly tactless. Stella was extremely relieved when Piers came in with a tray of tea. He took the first mug to Mac, who seemed faintly amused.

  ‘I may be hysterical, but I’m right!’ said Fiona. ‘Either you have those hell hounds put to sleep or sent to a home for delinquent animals or we’re through. You have to choose!’

  ‘No!’ said Stella, almost as loudly as Fiona. ‘You don’t have to choose! You can’t let the dogs come between you.’

  ‘They are already between us! They have destroyed my bag and my boots! I’m never going to forgive them, never!’

  ‘I’m going to have the dogs!’ said Stella, aware that she was shouting. ‘I mean’ – she lowered her voice – ‘I will keep them here, look after them, train them.’ She heard her voice crack and took the mug of tea that Piers offered her.

  ‘You have to think very carefully before making a decision like that,’ he said, looking a bit shocked. He gave Fitz his tea and then perched on the sofa with his own mug. ‘You can’t make it on impulse.’

  Having had a few sips of tea Stella felt calmer. She looked at Piers. ‘I’m not making it on impulse, I’ve been thinking about moving down here for a little while. And I’d like to have the dogs, if Mac and Fitz are happy about it.’

  ‘You’d give them a lovely home, to be sure,’ said Mac. ‘I’m just sorry that Fitz had to choose and made the wrong choice.’

  ‘He didn’t have to choose,’ said Stella, ‘because I’m having them!’

  ‘I can’t believe you want them,’ said Fiona, ‘even if it was your fault they ate my things, giving them those good-quality shoes to chew.’

  ‘Don’t take it out on Stella,’ said Fitz. ‘She’s got us out of a very difficult position.’

  ‘But how will you manage?’ said Piers. ‘You can’t just give up a well-paid job and a good life in London.’

  ‘I can. Without my massive rent to pay, I can just do supply teaching,’ said Stella, feeling completely calm and happy about her decision.

  ‘How will you work, if you’ve got dogs?’ asked Fiona.

  ‘Part-time will be fine. I’ll sort something out for days that I’m not in the house. I want time to study anyway. Living here, without having to pay rent, I can do that.’

  Fiona was relaxing now. She no longer had to hope her boyfriend would choose her over the dogs. ‘Well, you’d be getting us out of a hole if you would take them.’

  At that moment, Fitz caught Stella’s eye. She couldn’t interpret his expression. It was so complex. Gratitude, sadness, speculation were all there. ‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’

  ‘Never been surer in my life,’ she said.

  ‘Actually?’ said Fiona to Fitz. ‘Can we go? I don’t think I can stay in the same house as those dogs a minute longer.’

  ‘I have to take my mother back first,’ said Fitz.

  ‘I could go to your mother’s house and wait for you there,’ suggested Fiona.

  ‘No,’ said Stella, who could remember just how muddy it had been the last time she had seen it. She doubted if Fitz had had a chance to do much about it in the meantime. ‘It’s a bit doggy,’ she added.

  Fiona shuddered.

  ‘I’ve an idea,’ said Mac. ‘Why doesn’t Stella take me to the care home? We can have a bit of a chat.’

  ‘So we can go?’ said Fiona to Fitz.

  He shook his head. ‘We can’t leave the dogs on their own.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Piers, ‘why don’t Fiona and I find a nice pub? Then Fitz can stay here with the dogs while Stella takes Mac back?’

  ‘Sounds like a plan!’ said Stella. Once again she acknowledged that while she didn’t want to be with him any more, Piers did have his good points.

  ‘So, Mac,’ said Stella when they were in the car, ‘tell me. Why did you get Tristan and Isolde? I’m not buying the whole “poor old woman, didn’t know what she was doing when she took them on” thing.’

  Mac laughed. ‘Well, you’ve caught me there, although I did fall in love with them and I’m so grateful that you’ve agreed to take them.’

  ‘But why did you take them?’ Stella persisted, aware that Mac would avoid answering her if she wanted.

  ‘To be honest, I’m not sure Fiona is the right girl for my boy.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I thought the dogs would break them up. He’s always loved dogs and those two had a very bad start in life. They deserve a bit of fun, a proper home. I thought if Fitz fell in love with them, he’d fall out of love with her.’

  ‘That was very wrong,’ said Stella. She wouldn’t usually have said this to a much-older woman who was nothing to do with her really.

  ‘It was, but I do want to see him settled before I die.’

  ‘You’re not going to die anytime soon,’ said Stella.

  ‘I know. There’s still time for the right girl to come along.’ She winked.

  Stella kept her eyes on the road and didn’t comment.

  One year later, on Christmas Day in the morning, Stella walked up to the common. It was just getting light. In her pocket she had a battered tin model of a dog and at her heels she had a pair of perfectly trained dogs. A lot had happened in the year since the first time she came up here.

  She had studied and trained and become a dog behaviourist. She had turned her father’s cottage into her home and she loved it. She managed well on a few days’ supply teaching, and a friend she’d met through her behaviourist training looked after Tris and Izzy while she was out all day. Even Annabel had come to accept she had made the right decision. There was very little wrong with her life, she was aware, and she was grateful.

  She let the dogs off the lead when they reached the common and carried on walking up the hill.

  Suddenly they started barking. As she’d more or less trained them not to bark she was surprised and a little concerned. Maybe there was something wrong?

  ‘God! I’ve been here for hours waiting for you!’ said Fitz, just making himself heard over the joyful shouts of the dogs.

  She began to smile. She would have been lying to herself if a part of her hadn’t hoped she’d meet Fitz again but she hadn’t let herself think it might happen.

  ‘Why are you so late?’ said Fitz, coming up to her, rubbing his hands together against the cold.

  ‘No need to come early like last time,’ she said. ‘I had no ashes to scatter and the dogs are very good now – well, usually.’

  ‘I’ve been waiting, hoping to see you. I drove up first thing.’

  Stella was trying very hard to stay controlled. ‘Why?’

  ‘You know why! I want to – I’d love to – take you out sometime? What a ridiculous situation.’

  Inside, Stella was bursting with happiness but she was determined to keep it under control for as long as she could. ‘How’s your mother?’

  ‘You know perfectly well
how she is. You see her far more often than I do.’

  This was true. She saw Mac every week and they were very firm friends by now.

  ‘I’ve been finished with Fiona for a couple of months now,’ said Fitz. ‘But I expect you knew that too.’

  She had known.

  ‘I wanted to leave a decent interval before I started courting again,’ he said.

  Now she started to laugh, unable to restrain herself any longer. ‘How are you going to go about that then?’

  ‘Like this.’

  He took her into his arms while the dogs jumped around them. They hugged for a long time, like lovers who had been parted. And then they kissed until the dogs sat down, bored.

  ‘That’ll do,’ said Stella. ‘And happy Christmas.’

  To the lovely A. J. Pearce who told me about the organisation described in the book.

  Cooking Christmas dinner for a group of strangers was an odd way to be spending the morning, but at least it was warm.

  Jo looked around the huge, glittery kitchen (sparkly marble, high-gloss cupboards, lots of glass) and smiled. It was so different from her mother’s house and on a completely different planet from where she sometimes spent Christmas Day. The difference made her giggle. ‘If my friends could see me now!’ she hummed.

  Because, for the past two years, Jo had spent either Christmas Day or Boxing Day helping out at the animal charity where she was a volunteer. The charity cared for brood bitches and puppies rescued from puppy farms, and one of the things the volunteers did was take over the charity at Christmas so that the paid employees could have some precious time off. She had learnt to manipulate a hose and a shovel with flair and, when she wasn’t cleaning out kennels, she sat quietly with frightened dogs, reading her book, just being there, so the animals could get used to human company.

  This Christmas would be very different indeed.

  Andi had invited Jo out for a drink, to make her request – plea, rather.

  ‘I wouldn’t usually ask you this, but what are you doing for Christmas?’ said Andi, pouring wine into Jo’s glass with a generous hand.

  ‘I agree that isn’t what you’d usually ask me, so why do you want to know?’