Claude's Christmas Adventure

Home > Other > Claude's Christmas Adventure > Page 12
Claude's Christmas Adventure Page 12

by Sophie Pembroke


  Jack let himself into his tiny two-up, two-down terrace house, on the corner of Maple Drive, and realised, not for the first time, how empty it was.

  Maybe it was just after spending time in Holly’s exceptionally festive house, or with Kathleen and all her souvenirs from her travels, but tonight it felt worse than ever. He didn’t let himself consider the fact that it might just be that he was missing Claude.

  Dropping his coat onto the back of the sofa, he headed for the kitchen and a rarely used cupboard, where he remembered stashing a bag of Christmas decorations he’d bought from the supermarket on a whim a few weeks ago, then never got around to putting up. Perhaps a bit of festive cheer might perk the place up a bit.

  Twenty minutes later, he had a miniature fake tree on his side table in the lounge, decorated with tiny bulbs of different colours, a garland of plastic greenery hanging over the bannister, and a wreath made of brightly coloured baubles to welcome him home every time he opened his front door. It might not be a patch on Holly’s homemade Christmas decorations, but it was enough for him.

  For now, anyway.

  One day, he wanted all that – the huge, real tree in the front room with a stack of presents under it for all the occupants of the house, the friends stopping by unannounced for mince pies and mulled wine, even the light-up Santa on the roof. But despite the day’s adventures, he still couldn’t see himself finding that in Maple Drive.

  He’d thought, just for a moment, that there might be a spark of a chance between him and Holly. She was beautiful, funny, incredibly talented and, more than any of that, he’d felt a connection to her. A flash that showed him there was something in their souls that matched. It wasn’t just that she was lost and alone, the same as him, although he supposed that was part of it. But more than that, he’d looked into her eyes and felt, for the first time since he’d left the army, that here was someone who could matter to him. Who he could matter to.

  And then she’d pulled away, and that moment had been over.

  Well, he supposed he couldn’t blame her. She was clearly still hung up on her ex, whatever she said. She might not want the guy himself any more – and she’d be crazy if she did, from what Jack had heard – but the idea of it. She was supposed to be getting married tomorrow, supposed to be starting a whole new life. It had to be hard to make the sudden adjustment to another possibility.

  Raiding the fridge for a beer, Jack settled down on his sofa and pulled out his laptop. He couldn’t spend all night obsessing about the pretty blonde at number 12 – he had an appointment to keep.

  The video call ringtone was annoying as hell, but fortunately Tom didn’t let it ring too long.

  ‘Jack, buddy! Merry Christmas Eve, Eve!’ Tom’s voice boomed out across the thousands of miles between them, and Jack felt something in his shoulders relax at the sound of it. Maybe the reason he hadn’t found a new home, new people, was that he knew he couldn’t beat the one he’d left behind.

  He didn’t regret leaving the army. But he did regret leaving his best friend, his family, behind when he resigned.

  ‘How’s it going over there?’ Jack asked, before Tom could start in with his usual questions about how Jack was adjusting to civilian life. He didn’t want to talk about himself today – especially since Tom’s questions were usually about whether or not Jack had a girlfriend yet. He wanted to pretend he was back there, in the middle of it all, with Tom and the others.

  ‘Oh, you know,’ Tom said, evasively. ‘Same old, same old.’

  ‘You mean you can’t talk about it,’ Jack guessed.

  ‘Definitely not over this connection, no.’ Jack knew it wasn’t the connection that was the problem. It was his non-military status.

  That stung. Once, Jack would have known everything Tom did, the minute he knew it. Once, that would have been his life, his adventure, too. But now he was on the outside, looking in, unable to be part of the life Tom led.

  ‘What about the boys, then? Any news?’ News, in this case, meant gossip. Tom was worse than Mrs Templeton for gossiping about the guys they served with.

  But Tom’s face turned sober. ‘We lost Graham,’ he said, eyes heavy. ‘I’m sorry, mate.’

  Graham. Young, excitable, ready to live life to the fullest Graham.

  ‘That … God. That sucks.’ There were stronger words, deeper words, and Jack knew he’d use all of them later, alone. But for now, all he could do was rely on the fact that Tom knew him well enough to know how badly that news hurt.

  ‘Yeah. It’s … quieter without him.’

  ‘It would be,’ Jack said, a half joke, an almost smile. Just like Graham would have wanted. ‘Can you give me details?’

  ‘Some,’ Tom said. Jack listened as Tom detailed Graham’s last days, last minutes, and took it in. Another loss, another story to retell among friends, when they came home.

  And he felt further away than ever.

  ‘But enough about us,’ Tom said, in the end, after a lengthy pause where they just stared at their respective screens and remembered. ‘Seriously, what’s been going on there? How’s Operation Find A Family going?’

  There were times when Jack really regretted getting drunk and telling Tom all about his hopes for civilian life. But at least, he supposed, it meant he had someone to keep him on track, or call him out when the steps he was taking weren’t getting him closer to his dreams.

  ‘I put in a request for that transfer we talked about,’ Jack said. ‘My boss told me to think it over some more.’

  ‘What’s there to think about? If the place you are doesn’t have what you’re looking for, it’s time to move on.’ Tom sounded so definite, so certain, that Jack couldn’t help but agree with him. ‘Life’s too short to waste time somewhere that isn’t where you’re meant to be. Isn’t that what you told me when you left?’

  ‘Yeah, I did.’

  ‘And you were right,’ Tom said. ‘Just look at Graham.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Jack’s doubt must have sounded in his voice, because Tom sighed.

  ‘Okay, what’s changed?’ he asked. ‘Because last time we talked, you were on your way out of there. What’s making you think twice? Your boss?’

  ‘Maybe a little. But mostly …’ What was it, exactly, that had him thinking about changing his mind? Was it Holly, with her sparkly cat lead, craft fixation and love of Christmas? Or was it Kathleen, so alone after all her moving around? Or was it everything that had happened that day, all rolled into one?

  When he thought about his day, Jack remembered not feeling so lonely, for the first time in months. Remembered feeling, even just for a moment, like he belonged. He closed his eyes for a second and pictured what it was that had given him that feeling, and to his surprise he saw a black nose on a white muzzle, covered in gingerbread crumbs, under oversized bat ears and black patched eyes.

  Claude. He was what had started it all. And that was why he had to find him, whatever else happened on Maple Drive this Christmas. He had to find Claude and make sure he was okay.

  Jack opened his eyes and grinned at his friend over the video call. ‘Okay, so this is going to sound weird. But it started with this dog doing a belly flop through a cat flap …’

  Daisy stepped out through the back door, leaving it to creak closed behind her, and let out a long sigh. Resting against the outside wall, she tipped her head against the cold stone and tried to calm her racing mind.

  Then she realised she wasn’t alone.

  ‘Hello?’ she called, her muscles tensing as she tried to make out the edges of the form in the shadows. ‘Um, bonjour? Or, bonne nuit, I suppose?’

  A familiar, world-weary sigh came from the shadows, and Bella held up her phone to illuminate her face. ‘It’s me, Mum.’

  ‘Of course it is.’ Daisy pressed a hand to her chest in the hope it might calm her racing heart. ‘I knew that. I was just … practising my French.’

  She couldn’t see Bella roll her eyes in the darkness, but she could feel it, all the same.


  ‘What are you doing out here?’ Daisy asked, stepping closer. Bella had found an old picnic table, and was sat on the bench, her knees against her chest, her back resting against a wall. ‘I thought you’d gone to bed.’

  ‘No signal in there.’ Bella tapped the screen of her smart-phone again. ‘I thought I’d try out here.’

  ‘Any better?’ Daisy tried not to dwell on the roaming charges. Out here, in the darkness, in a strange country … maybe this was one of those perfect bonding moments. A mother and daughter moment in time where they could confess all their secrets to each other.

  Or, at the least, maybe Bella would finally tell her why she was so bloody grumpy about spending Christmas in France.

  ‘A little,’ Bella said. ‘I managed to pick up a message from Jessica.’

  ‘Jessica?’ Daisy had to think for a moment. ‘Oh! At number 3! Did she have any news on Claude?’

  Bella nodded. ‘She’s putting up Find Claude posters tomorrow. Oh, and apparently the postman has been going door to door searching everyone’s gardens for him. He said to tell us that that he was fine when he last spotted him, and that he will find him.’

  ‘The postman?’ Daisy frowned. Why on earth did the postman care?

  ‘Apparently,’ Bella said, with a shrug.

  ‘Is that all?’ Apart from the very nice bottle of French something or other she would have to buy the postman on the ferry. It was the least she could do.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘But you’re still out here because …?’ Daisy let it dangle there, waiting for Bella to fill in the blanks.

  ‘I wanted to send a text message.’

  ‘Oh?’ £1.50, Daisy’s mind calculated automatically, apparently channelling Oliver. ‘Who to?’

  Bella’s eyes slid away, back down to the black screen.

  ‘Bell? Who were you texting?’ Daisy pressed, feeling the first prickles of panic. Just when she was slightly reassured that Claude would be okay, now she was fretting about Bella. Obviously she was texting someone she didn’t want her to know about. Which meant a boy, surely. Or a man. Bella was fourteen now, and Daisy actively shuddered to remember all the things she’d got up to at that age and never told her parents about.

  God, what if it was some thirty-something she’d met on the internet? What if Bella was being groomed right under her nose and she never noticed because she was knee deep in dirty nappies and dog poo. And, really, why was her life all about poo these days anyway?

  Back to the more important issue.

  ‘You can tell me, you know,’ she said, as calmly as she could manage. ‘You can tell me anything. You know it will never make me love you any less.’

  Another eye roll. ‘I know that, Mum.’

  ‘Well, good. Then, who was it?’

  ‘It’s private.’

  Definitely something funky going on. Perhaps she should call Oliver out here too. Maybe they could get a private detective to seize her phone records. And her computer. And watch her after school.

  ‘Oh God, you’re freaking out, aren’t you?’ Bella dropped her feet to the floor either side of the bench and sat up.

  ‘No,’ Daisy lied. ‘I’m just considering rational next steps.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll tell you.’

  Daisy blinked. That was easier than she’d expected. Maybe this wasn’t such a disaster after all. ‘Great. So, who?’

  ‘Zach.’

  She’d been right! It was a boy. One point to motherly instinct. Except …

  ‘Wait. Who’s Zach?’

  ‘You know. Zach Templeton.’ She said it with the complete lack of patience she always had when Daisy couldn’t quite keep up with her rapidly changing friends list. But it didn’t matter; Daisy still couldn’t place him in the running class list she tried to keep in her head. There was Zachary Rubinstein, who’d moved away when Bella was five, but she doubted that was who Bella meant.

  ‘Zach … wait, Mrs Templeton’s grandson?’ Daisy tried to picture him, but all she got was an image of weirdly shaped hair peeking out from under a Santa hat. Mrs Templeton’s son and daughter-in-law only visited briefly at Christmas and Easter – for which Daisy couldn’t blame them at all. ‘When did you even get to know him?’

  Bella shrugged. ‘He was at that lame Easter egg hunt you made me take Jay to. He had to take his little sister. We talked.’

  ‘That was nine months ago!’

  ‘So? We connected. We chat online sometimes, that sort of thing. And I was going to be seeing him this week, until you decided to drag us all the way across Europe.’

  ‘We crossed the English Channel,’ Daisy pointed out. ‘It’s about three hundred miles. The north of Scotland is further. We’re hardly on the other side of the world.’

  ‘It’s not Maple Drive, though.’

  And there, Daisy had to admit, she had a point.

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’m still trying to get us home tomorrow.’ She shuffled closer, stretching an arm out around Bella’s rigid shoulders.

  ‘Because of Claude. Not me.’ Bella’s knees came back up, and she wrapped her arms around them, folding herself like an origami person. ‘You care more about what the dog wants than what I want.’

  ‘Be fair, Bella. I didn’t know about Zach.’ Although she should have. How could her daughter have been carrying on an online flirtation with the neighbour’s grandson for nine months, without her noticing? Maybe they should hire than private detective after all.

  ‘You knew I didn’t want to come here, though,’ Bella said, accusingly.

  Daisy sighed. ‘Bell, none of us wanted to come here. We all think this is utterly crazy.’

  ‘Then why did we?’

  ‘Because we love your grandparents,’ Daisy said simply. ‘And because Christmas is a time to be with the people you love.’ Oh God, please don’t say you’re in love with Zach Templeton. She wasn’t sure her heart could take it.

  ‘I suppose,’ Bella said, not sounding entirely convinced. ‘So, what are we going to do when we go home, then? Take Granny and Grandad with us?’

  ‘That’s the plan,’ Daisy said.

  ‘That could be nice.’

  Bella twisted around on the bench, so her back was against Daisy, and rested her head on her shoulder. Daisy kissed the top of her head and wrapped her arms tighter around her daughter.

  One crisis averted.

  She glanced down at Bella’s phone on the table, flashing the time. Nearly midnight, French time. Nearly Christmas Eve.

  How many more crises could there be before Christmas Day?

  By the time the sun came up the next morning, I was freezing cold, lonelier than ever and, most importantly, starving. My poor tummy felt hollow, and I was starting to think that my tiny tail might never wag again.

  I shook the dirt and grass from my body and trotted out from my shelter under the tree, looking for a patch of sunlight that might warm me even a little. Then, I knew, it was time to find some food.

  Once upon a time, my ancestors might have been natural hunters, but I suspected it must have been a very long time ago. Why hunt, when you can adopt a human to provide food for you, after all? We dogs have always been the smartest of creatures, and my breed was smarter than most. Hunting was a thing of the past.

  Except all of a sudden, it was a very necessary part of my present. And I had no idea how to go about it.

  I decided to start by doing what I always did: follow my nose. My nose had led me to gingerbread yesterday, and my cunning had got me through Perdita’s cat flap and fed by Holly. It might not be hunting in the most classic of senses – and I was fairly sure that Perdita would turn up her tail at it and scoff – but it worked for me.

  Maple Drive was waking up, and there were all sorts of interesting smells starting to rise out of the houses. Curtains were open, and I could see Christmas trees behind the windows. I frowned as I plodded along the pavement. The problem was, few of the people inside the houses would welcome me in to share their
food, even if I could find a way inside. I needed something more accessible.

  I started with the bins, round the back of number 10, but they were too high up for me to climb into, and the cat from number 8 sat above me laughing at my every attempt, so I quickly moved on. There was another bird table at number 8, but I skipped that, remembering how awful the bird seed at Mrs Templeton’s had tasted. At number 6, I found a small wooden structure with a bowl of what smelled like Perdita’s cat food inside it, and tried to force my head through the tiny opening to get to it – until a man came out of the house waving his arms and shouting.

  ‘Oi! That’s for the hedgehogs!’

  As if hedgehogs needed it more than me, I grumbled, as I hurried back round to the front of the house, and carried on along the pavement, trotting as fast as my little legs would carry me.

  Eventually, I reached the end of Maple Drive, and found myself at the gates of Jay’s school. The gates were locked, (they’d broken up for holidays the week before, and Jay had been around all the time since. It had been brilliant) but the bars were widely spaced, and it didn’t take too much wiggling for me to squeeze through. At least if there was any food hiding here, it was unlikely that anyone would be there to chase me away from it.

  The playground where Daisy left Jay in the mornings, while I was tied up by the gate, was quiet and deserted, and felt like a different place altogether. I padded past the main school buildings, enjoying for a moment the experience of being somewhere I was never allowed before. It was interesting to see where Jay spent his days, when he couldn’t be with me. But really, the place seemed kind of boring. No wonder he always begged to stay home and play instead.

  Eventually, I found myself in a big field, open and perfect for running. Why on earth weren’t dogs allowed here? It was ideal for us.

  The grass was white and frosty under my paws, crunching with every step, and I leapt along to try to stay warm. And then I smelt it.

  It was faint, but then I do have a hunter’s nose, even if it hadn’t been used for a few generations. It smelt hidden, and deep, and just a little bit like gingerbread.

 

‹ Prev