The Pet Shop at Pennycombe Bay

by Sheila Norton

  ‘I’ve been an idiot,’ I told Prudence quietly. ‘What the hell was I thinking? Why would he have been interested in me? I mean – look at her! And look at me!’ I glanced down at my serviceable lace-up boots, my green anorak and plain denim jeans. ‘Why didn’t I learn my lesson, after the nonsense with Nick? I should never get interested in a man. It’s a waste of time. It’s never worked out before, and it’s never going to work out. I’m best off on my own.’

  You’re not on your own. You’ve got me.

  ‘Yes, Pru. You’re so right. Come on.’ I turned, swallowing back my disappointment, my humiliation, and started to lead her in the opposite direction so that I didn’t have to watch Tom and his happy family disappearing into the distance. ‘Let’s go for our walk. Just us two. You and me together.’ I blew my nose – it must have been the cold wind making it run, making my eyes sting. ‘You’re all I need, Pru.’

  I’d make a positive decision to stay single, I decided firmly as we marched along the seafront in the biting wind. I’d devote myself to animals, and other people’s children, and perhaps become a member of the Pennycombe Bay events committee. It certainly seemed that they needed extra help, anyway, from what I’d seen of the panic about the Christmas market. It was good that I’d be busy during these last few days before the market. I wouldn’t have time to mope around, to look out for Tom at the school or worry about whether or not he came into the shop.

  So I threw myself into the final arrangements for the market, helping to hang banners in the pedestrian area of Market Square, where the event would be held that Sunday, and to erect the stalls the day before the event.

  ‘I don’t know how we’d have done it if it wasn’t for you,’ Dan said when everything was as ready as it could be. ‘Now, are you going to manage all right on your pet stall, all on your own tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ve asked Ruth to help,’ I said. The idea had struck me earlier in the week, and I’d been so thrilled when she agreed. Only a few months earlier, I wouldn’t have dreamed of even suggesting such a thing to her. She’d have scoffed at the idea and probably taken the opportunity to insult me, the pet shop and Pennycombe Bay itself into the bargain. I knew Ruth was still struggling to stay off the drink, still needed a lot of help and encouragement from her AA group, and sometimes had days when she felt really low; but on the whole she was so much stronger and happier these days, especially since she’d been seeing Ollie, her new man, who seemed to be a fantastic support to her. It was like having my cousin back again, the way she used to be.

  On the Sunday morning, I got up early and shivered as I looked out of the window. There was a thick frost outside, making everything look like a scene from a Christmas card. Very appropriate for the Christmas market, perhaps, but not so good for my task of taking Prudence for an extra-long walk before I had to leave her alone for most of the day.

  ‘We’ll soon warm up if we walk quickly,’ I told her as I shut the front door behind us.

  It’s all right for you, with your hat and scarf and gloves. My tail’s freezing!

  ‘You’ve got a nice thick fur coat, stop complaining! Come on, let’s have a bit of a run.’

  We jogged down the road, round the corner and onto the beach, where I let her off her lead and watched as she darted up and down the sand, chasing seagulls and swerving backwards and forwards to avoid the icy waves, her ears and tail flying out behind her in the sea breeze. After a while I took her up through Penny Woods and along the cliff path, stamping my feet as we walked, trying to keep the circulation going in my frozen toes.

  ‘I hope the weather doesn’t put people off coming out today,’ I said to Ruth when I finally returned home and sipped gratefully at the hot chocolate she’d made me.

  ‘I doubt it. At least it’s not raining. And the frost in the trees looks so pretty, doesn’t it. It’ll start people thinking about Christmas.’

  In reality, of course, most people had started thinking about Christmas weeks earlier, going into Exeter to do their shopping, or ordering their presents online. But I hadn’t even started. I only ever bought a few presents: for Dad, for Ruth and my aunt and uncle, and a little something for Jim. I’d be going home to Dad’s for Christmas as usual so there was no need for me to worry about catering for anyone. That was another benefit of being the eternal singleton, I reminded myself: no husband or kids, no in-laws, no long list of presents and stocking fillers to buy, no turkey to provide, no Christmas puddings and mince pies to make. Dad enjoyed organising it all – he said it kept him busy – and normally we’d get together with my aunt and uncle for Boxing Day. This year Ruth had invited Ollie to the family gathering, a sure sign it was getting serious, and I knew her parents would be pleased.

  Ruth and I, wrapped up in our biggest coats, set off in good time to park up behind Market Square and unload all the goods onto our pet stall. I’d got red paper to line the stall with, and it looked pretty and festive, showing off the novelty Christmas toys, the stockings full of treats, the snowflake-patterned pet bedding, jingly collars, humorous books about pet ownership, warm tartan coats for cats and dogs, special pet Christmas dinners – everything you could buy as presents for the pet or pet owner you loved.

  ‘Are you sure you’ve got enough here?’ Ruth asked sarcastically as she piled the last couple of items up at the edge of the stall.

  ‘I’m hoping to sell it all! There hasn’t been a pet stall at the market before, so it’ll be a new attraction.’ I made a little space at the front and added a pile of leaflets. ‘And these are to advertise PAT. Wouldn’t it be great if we got a couple of new volunteers too?’

  Ruth smiled at me. ‘It’s good to see you so enthusiastic. I thought … when you told me, the other day, that nothing had come of the situation with that guy you liked, you might be, well, a bit depressed.’

  ‘Nah,’ I said brusquely. ‘It’s better this way. I’m more suited to being single. I’m no good at having a boyfriend.’

  ‘But that’s only because you haven’t found the right person yet,’ she said, giving me a sad look. ‘One day you’ll find someone who suits you. Don’t give up.’

  I just laughed and shook my head. I didn’t want to continue the conversation. I was happier if I kept my mind on the things that couldn’t hurt me, couldn’t make me feel silly and hopeless.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘We’re ready, I think.’ I looked at my watch. ‘We’ll be open for business in ten minutes. Would you like to have a look around at the other stalls before all our customers turn up?’

  ‘OK. And I’ll bring us both back a hot drink from the tea shop.’

  ‘Nice idea.’ The shops and cafés in the old cobbled Market Square were going to be open throughout the Christmas market, giving them a good day’s trading, and the tea shop was, sensibly, advertising takeaway drinks, toasted sandwiches and hot soup.

  Ruth was soon back, having done a circuit of the other stalls and pronouncing ours the best, and telling me that Dan was running around like a headless chicken, barking orders at everyone and looking like he could burst into tears at any moment.

  ‘He shouldn’t take these things on if they make him so stressed,’ she said.

  ‘He wouldn’t be like this if Kevin was here. I just can’t understand why he hasn’t even called him. I’ve given up trying to talk to him about it; he refuses to discuss it.’

  ‘Well, sorry but it still sounds to me like he doesn’t want Kevin back. He should at least be up front with him about it. Poor Kevin. But, at the end of the day, it’s between the two of them.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ I sighed.

  On the dot of twelve o’clock, the barriers across the street were taken down and the first eager customers came flooding in. For the next few hours, we were almost too busy to talk to each other. Now and then I glanced across at the stalls opposite ours. The cake stall seemed to be selling out fast; those with craft items were a little slower. I was keeping an eye particularly on the small marquee that had been erected and deco
rated as Santa’s Grotto. There was a constant queue of parents with children outside, and I was worried that Jim might be finding his job as Father Christmas a little wearing. It was a shame he had nobody to take over from him and give him a break.

  A bit later in the afternoon, as things began to slow down a little, I was just thinking perhaps I should pop over and check that Jim was all right, when the tent flap opened and out came an apparition so bizarre that I almost dropped the glittery cat collar I was handing to a customer. A creature – whether it was male or female, it was impossible to tell – dressed in a green smock, with red and white striped legs and wearing an odd, pointed green hat with a red feather, was now hobbling across the cobbles towards our stall, leaning on a stick.

  ‘God almighty, I’ve had enough,’ said the creature, and I blinked twice, recognising the voice but hardly able to believe my ears. ‘I’m going for a cuppa and a sit down.’

  ‘Vera!’ I squawked. ‘What on earth …? What are you doing? What are you dressed as?’

  She stopped, giving me a disgusted look. ‘I’m the what-d’you-call-it – Christmas elf, what the hell do you think I am? Jim roped me in. I thought it’d be a laugh.’

  ‘A laugh?’ I was still too flabbergasted, too shocked at the sight of her, to speak properly. ‘But, Vera—’

  But what? What could I say? It would hardly be kind to say she didn’t exactly fit the job description of an elf. I just hoped she hadn’t frightened any children; she wouldn’t be afraid of giving out the occasional put-down, or of snapping the head off any child who was a bit too cheeky and overexcited.

  ‘It’s good of you to volunteer to help,’ I said, instead, somewhat dazed.

  ‘Huh. Didn’t exactly volunteer. But Jim needed the help – that was for sure. He’s been overrun with the little blighters in there. One started rummaging in his sack, looking for the best toy – can you believe it? And one kept pulling at his beard, and nearly tore it off. I had to have a quiet word with the little chap.’

  And scared the life out of him, no doubt, I thought grimly.

  ‘So how is Jim coping now?’ I asked anxiously. ‘Will he be all right on his own while you go for your break?’

  ‘He won’t be on his own any more. I thought I’d said that. The other Santa’s turned up.’

  ‘The other Santa?’ I said, thinking this conversation couldn’t get much more bizarre. ‘What other Santa? We can’t have two of them! The children will be traumatised!’

  ‘Don’t panic. He’s hiding.’

  ‘Hiding?’ I must have sounded like a parrot, echoing everything she said, each thing stranger than the last.

  ‘Yes, in the toilet. Waiting for me to get out of this damned elf costume. He’ll be the elf instead of me, thank the Lord. Then if it calms down later on, he’ll change back and be Santa again, and Jim can have a rest. Anyway, I’d better go and change, then I can get my cuppa and put my feet up.’

  It was all too much for me. I just nodded, and watched her hobble off towards the public conveniences, where – if I’d understood correctly – someone was hiding in a cubicle in a Santa costume, waiting for her to strip off.

  ‘Vera can be rather strange, can’t she,’ Ruth commented mildly as she served someone with a reindeer costume for their dog.

  ‘Yes. And she really doesn’t look safe on those cobbles. I wish she’d be a bit more careful. If she slips over, she’ll break that ankle again—’

  Afterwards, I always regretted saying that. It was as if I’d had second sight, or something. As we both watched, horrified, Vera’s stick went in one direction and she went in the other, landing heavily on her bottom just outside the toilet block – her red and white striped legs up in the air, her green pointed hat flying off as if its feather had given it wings. She let out a yell of pain, and everyone rushed towards her. Ruth and I, having had to negotiate our way around our stall, weren’t the first to reach her. Nor were any of the well-meaning customers or other stallholders who, mouths open in shock, were making their way across the cobbles to her. No, the first person to her side, helping her up, picking up her stick, holding her arms and leading her across the square to sit in the tea shop and recover … was Father Christmas.

  ’Oh no,’ I muttered to myself. Of course, I was glad someone was helping Vera. But whoever this ‘other Santa’ was, they hadn’t had time to change out of their outfit before rushing to her aid. We couldn’t have two Father Christmases – he’d confuse all the children who’d already seen a bigger, older, plumper Santa. This slim, neat person was wearing fashionable silver trainers instead of boots; he had clumps of brown curly hair escaping from under his white wig, and there was something familiar about the bright green eyes behind his … very identifiable, trademark crimson-rimmed glasses … which he was now pushing back up his nose in such a characteristic fashion that I gasped out loud with surprised recognition. He was the last person I’d expected to see here today.

  ‘Oh! This is a surprise,’ I muttered to Ruth.

  I just hoped everyone around here was going to agree that it was a good one.

  PART 4

  FUREVER HOME

  CHAPTER 27

  For a moment I just stood there, staring at the duplicate Father Christmas who was now helping a groaning Vera hobble towards the tea shop.

  ‘Kevin!’ I followed him across the square and stood behind him, watching as he lowered her gently into a chair.

  ‘Are you all right, duck?’ he was saying gently to Vera. His Father Christmas hat had slipped down over one eye and he’d already taken his beard off. ‘No bones broken, I hope?’

  ‘Oooh, it’s me flippin’ backside, that’s what hurts,’ Vera groaned. ‘Bloody hard, those cobbles.’

  ‘Let me get you a nice strong cup of tea,’ he said, turning to head for the counter. But I was blocking his way.

  ‘Kevin!’ I said again. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘What am I doing?’ he retorted in a squeak. ‘What do you think I’m doing? I came back to perform my duty as Father Christmas, like I promised I would. You didn’t think I’d let everyone down, did you? Unfortunately I was somewhat delayed, due to a lorry shedding its load on the M4 near Reading, and it seems in my absence your boss has nobly stepped in as a replacement Father Christmas. And as he says he’s enjoying it so much, I don’t like to spoil his fun. So I’m going to be the Christmas elf instead of Vera. The poor love was completely done in. She can’t be on her feet all day, elf-ing, at her age.’

  ‘I quite agree. I didn’t even know she was being an elf.’ I shook my head. ‘But that’s not what I’m talking about, Kevin. I mean, what are you doing back in Pennycombe Bay? Is everything back to normal, with you and Dan? Have you forgiven him?’

  ‘Not really,’ he said with a lift of his chin. ‘I suppose I’ll go back to London again tonight.’

  ‘You suppose?’

  ‘Well, it’s up to him, really, wouldn’t you say? I don’t think he even knows I’m here yet. Hang on, sweetie, I must get poor Vera a cup of tea, she looks like she’s on her last legs, poor love.’

  ‘Of course. Are you sure you’re OK, Vera?’ I added, turning to her. ‘You haven’t broken anything?’

  ‘Just my backside,’ she said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. ‘It’s fair giving me gyp.’

  ‘Oh dear, you’re probably bruised.’ I looked down at her feet. ‘But it’s no wonder you slipped over. What on earth are you wearing?’

  ‘Elf’s shoes, obviously!’ They were, of course, bright green felt slippers with pointed toes that curled up at the ends. ‘I could hardly wear my good brown boots, with an elf costume, could I? Where’s that boy with my tea?’ she added irritably.

  I looked up to see if Kevin had been served yet, and my heart gave a lurch. Watching him from a table just beyond the counter was a little boy, wide-eyed and open-mouthed with surprise. A little boy with black hair and big dark eyes.

  ‘Daddy,’ he was saying, his curious tones carry
ing across the tea shop towards me, ‘that isn’t the same Father Christmas. The other one was bigger, and this one’s got no beard. Are there two Father Christmases?’

  ‘No, Jacob. I expect this one is just here to help, so he’s dressed up the same,’ came the reply, in a voice so familiar to me. ‘The real Father Christmas is the one you saw in the grotto. The one who gave you your present.’

  Kevin looked round, giving them an apologetic smile, and I tapped his arm. ‘Go and get changed. You’re causing problems with double-Santa-vision. I’ll get Vera’s tea. And don’t worry about being an elf. Things are quietening down now; Jim can probably close the grotto soon anyway.’

  He nodded and slipped out of the tea shop, checking surreptitiously around him for other children he might be inadvertently traumatising.

  I turned to face Tom and Jacob, determined to act normally, to give them a smile, say hello, and leave it at that. But of course – what else did I expect? – she was with them. The blonde in the sheepskin jacket, smiling at me as Jacob began to chat to me eagerly, asking me why Prudence wasn’t with me, whether I’d seen Father Christmas and had I seen that there was another man here who was dressed like Father Christmas but wasn’t him?

  ‘I know,’ I said, doing my best to keep my voice level. ‘Isn’t that funny? He’s just a helper.’