Claude's Christmas Adventure

by Sophie Pembroke

When had it grown so complicated?

  Perdita was right. Everything would be a lot easier with gingerbread.

  ‘Here you go.’ Perdita slunk through the door, a piece of gingerbread in the shape of a snowman in her mouth, and deposited it on the floor. I jumped down and devoured it a couple of quick bites, then looked up at Perdita hopefully. She rolled her eyes. ‘There’s more downstairs, and Jack and Holly are still out. You can fetch your own this time.’

  Suddenly, the room lit up with a flash of pink and yellow lights from outside the window.

  ‘What was that?’ Perdita prowled past me and jumped up onto the windowsill to look. I followed, clambering back up onto the bed then leaping across the inches to the desk, and stared out of the window in amazement.

  Two of the houses in Maple Drive were lit up like Holly’s Christmas tree in the hallway – all bright colours and flashing lights, making out patterns and pictures on the walls of the houses. In the street, I could just make out Holly and Jack crossing the road and knocking on another door. Were they doing this? Why?

  ‘Come on,’ Perdita said. ‘I want to find out what’s going on out there.’

  I hesitated. I was interested too. But Perdita had said there was more gingerbread downstairs …

  ‘We can grab the gingerbread on our way out,’ she added, and I jumped down from the desk to follow her.

  By the time that evening fell, Daisy, Oliver, the kids and the grandparents were all happily ensconced in the small, family run hotel that Bella had found for them, close to the station. And that meant it was time for another phase of Daisy’s constantly changing plans.

  Once, just once, she’d like something to go right the first time, so they could actually stick with Plan A. Or even B or C.

  The way they were going, she was running out of letters of the alphabet.

  ‘So, do you know where we’re going?’ Oliver asked, as he and Daisy left the hotel.

  ‘To the information desk at the Eurotunnel terminal,’ Daisy said, absently, checking the cheaply printed, free map in her hands. Was she even holding it the right way up? She should have brought Bella. Bella was much better at directions than either of them. ‘I figure, if we’re there in person, they’ll have to give us a space. Right?’

  ‘That’s the hope.’ Oliver took the map from her, turned it the other way up, squinted at it, then turned it back the way she’d had it in the first place. ‘Come on. I think it’s this way.’

  Daisy rolled her eyes, but followed.

  In the end, getting tickets for the following day proved a damn sight easier than trying to get home on Christmas Eve. Daisy had been holding out a small, faint hope that when they showed up in person, space on the Christmas Eve train would miraculously appear, and they’d dash back to fetch the family and cancel their hotel rooms, and be home with Claude before Santa made his rounds.

  No such luck with that, though. But …

  ‘At least we know we can get home tomorrow,’ Oliver said, wrapping a reassuring arm around her shoulder as they left the ticket office. ‘That’s something, right?’

  ‘I suppose.’ But it meant leaving Claude alone for another night. Not to mention spending their Christmas Day travelling home from Calais via Folkestone. Not exactly the perfect Christmas she’d been hoping for.

  Daisy sighed. At least they were all together, Claude notwithstanding. That had to be what mattered most.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, pulling the map from her pocket again. ‘We need to get back to the kids, and rescue my parents.’ And given the confusion with the map on the way there, they’d better get moving quickly, if they wanted to get back to the hotel before Jay needed putting to bed.

  ‘Actually …’ Oliver stopped walking, and reached out to take her hand.

  ‘What?’ Daisy asked, suspiciously. He had that look he got, whenever he’d had what he thought was a brilliant idea but turned out to be wildly inconvenient and annoying. Just what she didn’t need on Christmas Eve.

  ‘I spoke with your mum before we left. She and your dad are going to watch the kids for a couple of hours.’

  ‘While we do what, exactly?’ All she really wanted to do was fall face first in a bed and pass out until they were home again. But apparently that wasn’t an option.

  Oliver smiled. ‘Come with me.’

  Suppressing a frustrated sigh, Daisy let him lead her through the streets of Calais, too tired to take in the festive decorations, or even the holiday atmosphere.

  ‘Do you remember the last time we came here?’ he asked, and Daisy blinked as she remembered.

  ‘Um, ten years ago? More? It was when Bella was small.’

  ‘And before we’d even thought of Jay. Or the twins.’

  Daisy allowed herself a small smile. God, they’d thought one kid was hard. Thought they desperately needed a break. And her parents had sympathised, taking Bella for a weekend so she and Oliver could escape to France for a romantic weekend. They’d had a night in Calais, a night out at some hotel a half hour or so away – out in the French countryside – that Oliver’s colleague had been raving about, then caught the ferry home, the car loaded up with wine to repay her parents for the babysitting.

  ‘I remember it being a lot easier to get in and out of France in those days,’ Daisy said, drily, and Oliver laughed – a proper, head tipped back, belly laugh. Never mind Calais; when was the last time she’d heard that? She could hardly remember.

  What had happened to them? When had the man she loved become more of an annoyance than a friend?

  And how did she change that?

  ‘Come on,’ Oliver said, grabbing her hand again. ‘This way.’

  He led her down a small side street, and Daisy frowned a little as she looked around. It seemed familiar somehow. But really, it had been a decade, and she hadn’t paid all that much attention to Calais’s not-exactly-renowned attractions even then. She’d been far more interested in her husband.

  But then Oliver took a sharp left turn, and the awnings of a familiar restaurant came into view, making Daisy stop still in the middle of the street.

  ‘It’s still here?’ she whispered. To be honest, she’d seldom thought of the tiny restaurant where Oliver and she had whiled away a whole afternoon waiting for their hotel room to be ready, but now she saw it again, she couldn’t believe it hadn’t closed up or been passed on or at least changed in some way.

  But when Oliver held the door open for her, everything looked exactly as she remembered. Same rickety wooden tables. Same faded linens. Same chalkboard above the bar area, detailing their limited menu. She thought she might even recognise some of the waiting staff.

  Oliver hauled out his rusty French to ask for a table and, in no time, they were seated, bread basket between them and menus in hand.

  ‘How did you know this place was still here?’ Daisy asked, over the top of her menu, while a nearby waiter hovered obviously, waiting for their orders.

  Oliver shrugged, his menu still folded on the table in front of him. ‘I didn’t. Just took a chance.’

  ‘Do you remember what we talked about that afternoon we spent here?’ Daisy asked.

  ‘I think we talked about everything,’ Oliver joked. ‘Politics, religion, literature … Bella mostly, of course.’

  ‘We talked about the future,’ Daisy said, remembering. ‘We talked about all the things we wanted from our future together.’

  ‘You said four kids,’ Oliver said. ‘I totally blame you for the twins.’

  Daisy laughed, and the waiter lost patience, approaching their table with an expectant look.

  Oliver ordered the wine, because he cared more about it than she did, and Daisy ordered the special from the blackboard over the bar, while Oliver settled for a traditional moules frites.

  When the waiter had left to pass on their requests, Oliver sat back in his chair and watched her, making Daisy fidget as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  Oliver shook his
head. ‘Nothing, really. Just thinking about how beautiful you are. And how lucky I am to have you.’

  Daisy smiled back. Maybe one evening alone wouldn’t be enough to put right everything that had grown tired and ignored in their marriage. But it might be a really good start.

  ‘A little more to the left!’ Holly called up, shading her eyes against the brightness of the Christmas lights next door, as she directed Jack in the placement of Kathleen’s decorations. They’d left hers until last so that, if she noticed and came out to see what was going on, the whole street would already be ablaze with festivity. Well, almost the whole street, anyway.

  Holly was amazed at how many people in Maple Drive had been happy for them to hang lights on their houses, just for a couple of nights. She’d expected a lot of slammed doors in their faces. Instead, people had been surprisingly helpful.

  ‘Any sign of Claude yet?’ had been the number one thing people said upon answering the door to them.

  Holly wouldn’t have known how to go about answering, or asking for what they needed, but Jack had no qualms. With that easy smile that made her middle feel a little gooey, he’d said, ‘Not yet. So if you see him, give me a yell – I’d hate to think of Claude all alone on Christmas Eve. But actually, there was something else we wanted to ask you this evening. It’s about celebrating Christmas, here in Maple Drive. Tell me, do you know Holly, from number 12?’

  Not everyone had been a fan of outdoor lights, but when they’d seen the selection Holly had to offer, almost everyone had managed to find something they liked. A few people had been concerned about Mrs Templeton – usually people who’d tried to put lights up in the past, only to have official complaints made to the council. But Jack had even managed to set their minds at ease.

  ‘We spent the afternoon with Mrs Templeton, actually, looking through an old time capsule, from when she was headmistress at Forest Green. I think the main problem she had with the lights was that she wanted all the houses in Maple Drive to look the same, like a real, connected community. Don’t you think, Holly?’

  Holly had nodded sagely at that. ‘Community is very important to Mrs Templeton.’

  ‘So if all the houses have lights, I’m sure there won’t be anything for her to object to.’

  Then he’d flashed that smile again, and the householder had given in. Every time.

  ‘Where did you learn to do that?’ she’d asked, somewhere between numbers 9 and 7.

  ‘Do what?’ Jack had replied, his forehead creased in confusion.

  And Holly had realised that it wasn’t a trick, wasn’t something he’d studied or learned. It was just who he was.

  She smiled up as she watched him balancing on the top of the ladder, affixing a twinkly snowman to Kathleen’s roof. Well, it would sparkle, once they had it plugged in. They were running it from Holly’s outside socket for now, until Kathleen agreed that she wanted the lights up.

  Holly glanced back across the road. The only houses that were still dark were numbers 11 and 13 – the McCawleys and Mrs Templeton. She wondered if the McCawleys would really mind if they just put up a few small lights … but she supposed Jack was right. They’d better wait until they came home.

  And as for Mrs Templeton … well. They’d just have to see what she made of the rest of the street, first.

  ‘Okay up there?’ she called, and Jack nodded, the gesture barely visible in the darkness, despite the lights.

  ‘Nearly there … Done.’ He manoeuvred his body straight against the ladder again, and Holly let out a small sigh of relief. ‘Want to plug us in before I come down? Just in case?’

  ‘Will do.’ Hopping across to her own garden, Holly flicked the switch and for a moment, the air brightened with the extra light.

  Then the whole street plunged into darkness.

  ‘Damn it,’ Jack said, from the top of the ladder. ‘We must have blown something.’

  Holly felt her heart sink into her stomach. So much for the perfect Christmas surprise.

  ‘Shall I check the fuse box?’ She might not be a qualified electrician, but she’d learned a lot since becoming a homeowner. It wasn’t like Sebastian had ever been any good at DIY or home maintenance, anyway.

  ‘Hang on,’ Jack said. ‘I think it’s going to take a bit more than that. Let me come down first. Hold the ladder?’

  ‘Sure.’ Holly stepped back over the low hedge into Kathleen’s garden, and grabbed the ladder firmly. ‘Okay, ready.’

  As Jack began his descent in the darkness, Holly realised that people were already coming out of their houses, carrying torches, trying to figure out what was going on. Her stomach swirled with rising panic. Oh God, this was all their fault. And any moment now, Kathleen would come out too, and the whole Christmas surprise would be ruined. All this work for nothing.

  Why was nothing going right this week? First they’d lost Claude, now they’d screwed up Christmas.

  Just then, as if he’d heard his name in her thoughts, a small, compact dog came bursting out from the hedge between the two houses, followed by – of all creatures Perdita, her tail bushier than ever. They must have been startled by the sudden darkness, she realised.

  ‘Claude!’ she cried, and the little dog stopped.

  ‘Claude’s here?’ Jack called, from halfway down the ladder.

  ‘He just ran in!’ Holly tried to bend down to Claude’s level, without letting go of the ladder. It was harder than it sounded. ‘Here, boy. Everything’s okay now, Claude. We just want to make sure that you’re somewhere safe for—’

  At her words, Claude launched himself away from her at far greater speed than she’d imagined he was capable of. ‘Claude!’ she cried again, letting go of the ladder to try and catch him, but the little dog slipped through her fingers, racing forwards – and smacking straight into the ladder.

  ‘What the—’ Jack yelled. And then he wasn’t saying anything at all.

  Because then he was sprawled on the grass beside her as the ladder crashed down and hit the ground.

  The sound of the ladder crashing down beside me sent me scurrying backwards in the darkness, and it took me a moment to realise that the groaning figure on the ground was Jack.

  ‘Jack!’ Holly rushed to his side, forgetting all about me.

  I should run. This was my chance to get away, while no one could see anything. It might be the only way to avoid the pound – because there wasn’t a chance they weren’t going to send me there now.

  I’d made Jack fall.

  I’d hurt Jack.

  ‘What are you still doing here?’ Perdita scampered up to my side, her fur bushier than ever. ‘Run now, you idiot! Or else you’re in big trouble!’

  She was right – they didn’t give you a pat and some gingerbread and say ‘Good dog’ when you’d done something like this. And they weren’t even my humans. They had no reason to forgive me.

  But I couldn’t make my paws leave the ground. Not with Holly’s scream still echoing in my ears. Not when Jack was hurt and it was my fault.

  ‘I’m okay,’ I heard Jack say, but he groaned again as he tried to sit up. ‘What happened?’

  People were filling the garden now from all the houses on Maple Drive, shining torches ahead of them, coming to see what had happened, if Jack was okay. The rest of the lights were still out, and in the darkness it was hard to make out anybody’s faces, to tell who was a friend and who wasn’t.

  But I was still Jack’s friend, even if he didn’t know it.

  ‘I’m so sorry!’ Holly sobbed, on her knees beside Jack. ‘I let go of the ladder to try and catch Claude, but he escaped and crashed into it.’

  Holly was blaming herself? I couldn’t have that. Not when it was so clearly all my fault.

  No wonder Daisy and Oliver had left me behind. Who knew what trouble I could have caused them with France, ferry and chateau.

  But Jack and Holly were still here. And I had to make this up to them, somehow – or at least show them how sorry I was.

>   Nudging my way past the people gathering around, and skipping over the rungs of the ladder, I made my way to Jack’s side, nuzzling at his hand until he rubbed between my ears.

  ‘Hey Claude, buddy,’ he said, struggling to sit up. ‘You came home.’

  Claude’s back. The whisper went up through the crowd, the news passing backwards until my name seemed to fill Maple Drive. Everyone knew who I was – and now they knew what I’d done.

  I whimpered, hoping against hope that Jack would be okay. That he’d really forgive me, once he realised what had happened.

  ‘You shouldn’t sit,’ Holly admonished, pushing on his shoulders until he lay down again. ‘You need a doctor.’

  ‘Where’s Dr Roberts?’ someone in the crowd asked. ‘From number 2?’

  ‘He’s just putting his shoes on,’ someone else answered. ‘Here he comes.’

  ‘I’m fine, really,’ Jack said. ‘Had far worse bangs to the head than this in my time.’

  I whined, sad at the thought of Jack being hurt, and he wrapped a hand around my middle, pulling me closer. ‘No more running off, you,’ he murmured to me. ‘You stay with Holly and I’ll find you some gingerbread once they let me up again, okay? We’re going to get you home soon, I promise.’

  Jack’s promise sent a warm feeling through me – the kind of ‘home’ feeling that I hadn’t felt since Daisy and Oliver drove away.

  Could things really be okay?

  Then the doctor was there, examining the bump on Jack’s head. Holly scooped me up into my arms and held me close. ‘We were so worried about you, Claude. Why didn’t you trust us? We’re your friends.’

  I wanted to explain – wanted to tell her I knew about the pound, that I’d been scared. But now … if they weren’t sending me away now, when I’d hurt Jack, maybe I really could trust them. Maybe I was home, after all.

  Kathleen’s front door opened at last. It seemed like days since I’d tried to get her attention through the window, and longer since I’d sat in her kitchen and had my first taste of gingerbread. So much had happened since then.

  ‘What on earth is happening out here?’ she asked, from her front step.