A Puppy and a Christmas Proposal

by Louisa George

  ‘Tomorrow’s deadline kept me focused.’ Amazing what a good dose of anger could do. She’d attacked the last of their possessions in a frenzy, trying to do something to get rid of the ache in her chest. Decluttering had helped a bit but the reason for the decluttering had shifted the ache sideways, infusing it with sadness that her mum had become debilitated enough to need daily care. But she tried to be cheerful for her mum’s sake. ‘The truck will be here at eight, so we need to be up early.’

  ‘I’ll set an alarm.’

  ‘I won’t need one. I’m bound to be awake.’ Sleep had been pretty elusive ever since she’d kissed Alex. Of course, she couldn’t tell her mum that was the reason. ‘I’m probably going to be worrying about the golden retriever that Angus is looking after tonight. He was pretty sick.’

  ‘You overthink, you always have. Let Angus do the worrying. And thank him for letting you have the day off to help me move.’

  ‘Hey, I’m just the locum helping him out for a few weeks. He owes me for taking the pressure off at a busy time of year.’ Beth bent down and wrote on the box lids with a thick black Sharpie.

  Kitchen Glasgow

  Lounge Glasgow

  Photos Bay View

  Bedroom Glasgow

  Lounge Glasgow 2

  Okay, so she’d clearly agreed to keep more than she’d intended, but at least her mum was sorted. ‘I’m so happy you’re looking forward to moving into your new place.’

  ‘Change can be good. I’m going to make sure it is. Oh, I left the little Christmas tree out for you. I thought you could dress it. Something to make the place look festive until you leave.’

  ‘I thought you were going to take it with you for your room.’ Beth looked over at the three-feet-tall Christmas tree on the floor next to the boxes. ‘I’m not much in the mood for a tree.’

  Her mum wheeled over and, wincing with pain at even the slightest movement, picked it up and straightened out the branches. ‘You should make an effort, Beth. It will make you feel good to see the glitter and the trimmings. Christmas is a funny time of year... There’s always so much anticipation. But I’ve had good ones, bad ones, boring ones, funny ones, ones where the turkey was off and we ended up opening a tin of corned beef...’

  Rocking back on her heels Beth joined her mum in the trip down Memory Lane. They’d been doing that a lot recently. ‘I remember that one. It didn’t seem to matter what we ate in the end—we had fun anyway.’

  ‘Exactly. It was the company that made it special. That first Christmas with you. Oh, my. That was the very best. Always.’ Her mum’s eyes filled with tears and, unlike Beth, who tried hard never to be seen crying, she let them fall. ‘The first one without your dad. That was hard.’

  So shocked by her father’s sudden death, Beth could hardly remember a Christmas celebration even happening that year. ‘Did we go to Aunty Jackie’s in Leicester?’

  Her mum nodded and swiped at her cheek with her cardigan sleeve. ‘And she got drunk and ended up shouting at the Queen when she was doing her speech. Every Christmas is different, Beth, that’s what I’m saying. In the end it’s what you make it. I have no idea what it’s going to be like in Bay View, but I have no doubt we’ll all try to have fun.’

  ‘They seemed a lively bunch when we went to the viewing. Are you sure you’re okay about going? Really, really sure?’

  ‘Darling, I never wanted to move from here, and you know that. This has been my home for thirty-five years. It was a huge admission that I couldn’t cope any more, and it took me a long time to be okay with it, but sometimes you have to pull on your big girl’s panties and get on with it. Like you giving Alex a chance to be your friend or at least get some peace with what happened.’

  She hadn’t mentioned the kiss, but while doing the packing Beth had told her mum about what had happened to Alex and between them they’d tried to make sense of it.

  ‘There’s a lot of water under the bridge...many, many years. You don’t want to be carrying all that hurt around with you and letting it give you sleepless nights.’ She gave Beth the kind of knowing look only a mother could give. ‘You’re grown-ups now, you’re different people from who you were a decade ago.’

  ‘I had got over him, until...’ the kiss ‘...until he told me the truth. I just can’t get over the fact he lied to me.’

  The anger she’d worn as a badge and a barrier had been cracked open by that kiss. He’d thought letting her go was a gift. He’d broken things off because he’d thought that was best for her and not for him. It was cockeyed logic, but she could see how, in extremis, you might turn your thoughts inside out. If he really did believe he’d been doing the right thing she couldn’t hold that against him, could she? But she was bruised that his parents had been complicit in keeping it from her. She hadn’t just lost her boyfriend, but also the family she’d come to love and see as her own.

  ‘He might not have handled things the way you would have, but he did it with a good heart. He is a good man, Beth.’ Her mum straightened the tree branches out, fluffing up the green strands that hung sadly as if empathising with Beth’s mood. ‘Obviously I knew him as a young adult who loved you so much, and then when he came back to take over his father’s place at the practice a couple of years ago I saw how good he is with the patients and the staff. He’s always willing to listen and help. He even did a house call on Dennis Blakely, and, trust me, only a saint would do that. And he’s kind. Look at how he’s taking care of that dog. I just think you should listen to what he has to say.’

  Which wasn’t helping Beth at all, because she preferred being spectacularly cross...that way she didn’t have to acknowledge the other feelings swirling in her gut. The ones that took notice of the way he’d offered to help her with Alfie and the way he’d kept on talking about anything and everything just to break down the barriers she’d built. The way he’d kissed her.

  Oh, that kiss.

  ‘And I wanted to tell you one more thing, Elizabeth Grace Masters.’

  ‘Oh-oh. Full name.’ She smiled up at her mum while guilt wriggled through her. Parents could do that to you. It was the same kind of feeling Beth got when she was pulled over for a routine police check. ‘What have I done now?’

  But her mum was beaming. ‘Amazing things. Selfless and wonderful things. You were eight when I was diagnosed with this horrible disease and with every flare-up you slipped into being my carer with no complaint. Ever. You were always there for me.’

  ‘Not true. I went to university.’

  ‘Only because I made you go.’

  And if she hadn’t Beth wouldn’t have the qualifications and experience she had now. An ease to be able to do the job anywhere. The opportunity to make a difference to the lives of, not just animals, but their humans too. But she’d give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant her mum could be pain-free and reclaim some of her independence. ‘You know I’d do it all again.’

  ‘I know you would. But now I’m going to have help twenty-four-seven, so when you come down we can do nice things instead of you always having to do boring chores for me. And you need to put yourself first. Let your hair down. Take chances that are offered to you without thinking about me.’

  ‘Ha! Chances? In Oakdale?’

  ‘Anywhere you want to go, my girl. Glasgow. South America. Asia. Or yes, right here in Oakdale.’

  The way she was feeling about being around Alex, the moon wouldn’t be enough distance away.

  Her mum put the tree on the floor and reached out for a hug. Beth went into her arms the way she’d been doing since she was a little girl. ‘I love you, Mum.’

  ‘I love you too, Elizabeth Grace.’ There was a little wobble in her voice. ‘Right, grab the wine. Put some music on. Let’s get the tree decorated.’

  It was surely one of the scrappiest trees ever made and, as it had sat on Beth’s drawers in her bedroom every Christm
as for over two decades, it was a little battered and worn. It should probably have been put in the bin bags along with the other rubbish, but her mum wanted to do this and she had no real excuse as to why not. Plus, it wouldn’t take long to hang half a dozen baubles on it anyway.

  She rooted in the box marked Xmas Decs. The first bauble was one her grandmother had given her when she was a toddler, a wooden reindeer with red antlers. As she hung it up she remembered her grandma’s smile and the lovely hugs she used to give. With the next bauble she remembered her dad, and the way his Christmas hat always fell over his eyes just as he was about to carve the turkey, and she’d laugh so hard and tug it up so she could see his dancing eyes. And then, Aunty Jackie singing karaoke. Badly.

  Beth was surprised to notice her chest wasn’t quite as tight as she hung bauble after bauble on the tree. She even managed a smile as she found the sparkly angel Alex had bought her one year. She’d been so happy then and, yes, she could be again. Geez, she had been happy many times in the last few years without him.

  So, her mum was right, each Christmas was different and it was up to her to make them the best they could be. This year Beth would be sitting with her mum, sharing food with a bunch of lovely people. Who knew where she’d be next year and who she’d be spending it with? She could look at that as a challenge or as an exciting secret yet to be unwrapped. Anyone would choose the unwrapped secret, right?

  And if she was capable of thinking happy thoughts about next year, then she could think happy thoughts about now. Her mum was going to be cared for so that was one less worry. She had a job in Glasgow and a house she loved. She’d reacquainted with Alex and even managed conversations. He’d told her about his darkest times and she’d looked at it all from her point of view and not his. So, if she truly had loved him, she could at least wonder how it had been for him, if nothing else. She could be kind and compassionate—all the things she was in her job and to everyone else. She could listen to the man who had once been her whole world.

  Listen. That was all. Because she couldn’t trust herself, or him, to do the kissing thing again. That was a step further than she was ready to take.

  By the time they’d finished hanging the baubles she had a little warm glow. She stood up and stretched, glancing round at what else needed doing before bed. ‘I’ll just put these bags in the rubbish bin outside.’

  Her mum nodded. ‘Then we can watch the last of the tidying programmes on my tablet.’

  ‘I’m not sure we need to watch them any more. Our job here is done. We are the declutter queens.’ Although Beth still hadn’t found the right place to put her emotions.

  Her mum looked at the bags that numbered almost as many as the boxes. ‘Are you sure you want to throw so much out?’

  ‘Fresh start. For both of us, right?’ Beth hauled the bags up and shuffled out to the front door.

  The night sky was bright with diamond stars and the air was crisp and fresh. There wasn’t a sound, and with the icy white blanket over the roofs and paths and the little strings of lights crisscrossing the village square it looked quite magical, like a scene from a children’s Christmas book. She stopped to lean on the gate, half expecting Santa Claus and his sleigh to appear out of the sky, the way she’d wished he had and dreamt he would for so many years growing up.

  This house, this view, this garden had been her safety net. This home with her mum, that she’d come back and forth to over the years, had always been here for her. In a week or so she’d hand in the keys and go back to Glasgow. It was as if she was closing a door on her past. She breathed deeply. Yes, that was what she needed to do. Close the door and start looking forward again.

  She was just shutting the gate when she heard a man’s voice. She turned quickly to her left and there he was.

  Alex. Of course. Out walking Button, their backs to her as they meandered down the street. Their footprints were in the snow right in front of her...shoes and paws in a scudded mush of slush. And she wondered if they’d paused when they got here, or hurried past. Whether Button had caught her scent and sniffed and whether Alex had thought about her, about them. About where to next.

  She considered calling to them, but instead watched for a moment as they waded through the snow side by side, his long legs making easy strides and the quick hop-bounce of Button’s baby steps. Then the pup abruptly stopped. As dogs did. To sniff or wee or chew on something. She smiled to herself as Alex gently tugged on the lead and Button kept right on sniffing. He tugged again and Button took no notice. Eventually, Alex crouched, tickled the dog’s neck and said something she couldn’t hear.

  And as she watched she absent-mindedly scooped up some snow from the garden wall and ran it through her fingers. Damn, it was the kind of cold that burned. The kind of snow that made perfect snowballs.

  She ran her palm along the wall and scooped up more snow. Crushed it into a ball. And she watched Alex, crouched to the dog, and her heart did a little wobble. She tried to tell herself it was because she’d become too attached to the puppy and she was going to have to leave it behind when she left, but it was more than that.

  It was Alex. Why did everything have to be so confusing? She’d come here with a clear vision and things had got messy in her heart and her head. Even when she reaffirmed her purpose he was still there, muddying everything. Why did Alex make her feel so much?

  What she needed was something to get all this pent-up emotion out of her system. Sex? Not a good idea because the only man she could imagine having sex with was Alex and that was simply out of the question. Getting drunk? Perhaps. But she only had a half-bottle and she was going to share that with her mum. She compacted the snow in her hand. The perfect snowball.

  Oh. She smiled to herself. Here was just the thing.

  Target practice.

  * * *

  Alex took a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching his breath curl into the air and then fade away, and wondered what he’d done to deserve a puppy who took absolutely no notice of him and yet seemed to snap to attention whenever Beth was around.

  Beth. Yeah. That last conversation hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped, but his cards were on the table now.

  ‘I did the right thing, Spike. I’ve finally been completely honest and I feel just a bit more...freed up.’ He was talking to the dog as if it was his confidant. Go figure. But, judging by the way Spike was sniffing at the electricity pole, he had a feeling this man’s best friend wasn’t listening. Something had caught his attention. Probably something dead. But the dog wouldn’t budge so Alex had bent down to see what, if anything, was so interesting. Nothing. Just snow and stones. ‘She won’t want to love me now, so that’s good. There won’t be any more confusion or unnecessary emotion.’ Just a few more days until she left. He could deal with that. He could deal with being close to her if he knew she wasn’t going to be here for ever.

  If she was going to stay here for ever then he’d have to move somewhere far away; he had a feeling the moon wouldn’t be far enough. Spike gave him a big lick on his cheek then bounded away, the lead dragging behind him making a little trail in the snow.

  ‘Hey! Spike! Come ba—’ As he straightened and started to turn round to see where Spike had run off to something hard thudded against his shoulder. What the—? Clumps of snow fell from his coat. A snowball?

  He whipped round and saw Beth leaning on her gate, fist in the air. Gotcha!

  Spike at her feet.

  She looked victorious and animated and breathtaking and was already patting snow in her hands for another snowball shot. He walked directly into the line of fire, chancing that she wouldn’t throw if he was actually walking towards her. ‘Hey, crazy girl, you could have hit my puppy.’

  Crazy girl. She wasn’t the girl he’d fallen in love with back in his teens, she was a stunning, independent, staggeringly beautiful woman and, even if he hadn’t been mad about her a decade ago, nothin
g could have stopped him from being attracted to who she was now.

  She smiled, and it was the first time in days that he’d seen it. ‘Not a chance. I’m not that bad at throwing and do you honestly think I would have missed you? I’ve been sharpening my skills for long enough.’

  At least she was talking. ‘Truce?’

  ‘Tempting, but no.’ She stuffed more snow into his neck and the ice slithered down his spine. Cold, but not cold enough to douse the need building inside him. He’d closed himself off from wanting anyone for years, but she made him want. She made him hot. She made him need. She made him wish for things out of reach. And yet he kept on wanting them.

  ‘Right. You asked for it.’ He scooped snow into his palm and rubbed it on her neck, making her scream. She squirmed and turned into him, so close her scent was in the air, making him inhale sharply—he just couldn’t get enough—and wish he were buried deep inside her.

  ‘Okay, truce! Alex. Truce.’

  ‘Don’t like your own medicine, eh?’ He bent and clipped Spike’s lead onto his collar and lifted him up to see her. ‘Spike says hi and please don’t throw snowballs at my nice daddy.’

  ‘Hello, lovely boy. By which I mean the dog. Obviously.’ As she fussed over Spike her eyes were shining and she seemed brighter, happier, more relaxed than she’d been before. ‘And hello, Alex.’

  Still, he stuck to safe subjects. ‘How’s Alfie? Have you heard?’

  She wiped her hand over her forehead, missing a bit of snow that was stuck to her hair, but he let it be and let her talk. ‘I got a call from Angus an hour or so ago. He’s pretty sure Alfie has ingested something. It’s not a systemic illness, there’s no temperature, no obvious disease process. An acutely inflamed gut. An unhappy dog. Not as ill as Meg, but enough to be kept in overnight.’