Tinsel and Terriers, A Novella

by Cressida McLaughlin

  She looked for the familiar title, and read the cartoon, focusing on one frame at a time.

  The first showed Curiosity Kitten asleep in bed, while above her, Santa and his sleigh were landing on the roof. The second frame showed Santa in the kitten’s bedroom, standing next to the stocking on the hearth, his sack turned upside down, his expression horrified as he realized it was empty. The third frame saw Santa’s leg retreating up the chimney, Curiosity Kitten with one eye open.

  Cat laughed. It was just the kind of thing she’d do. She had never been able to leave her stocking untouched until Christmas morning when she was little, and in this cartoon, Curiosity Kitten was going to look early and be disappointed with no gifts.

  She looked at the last frame.

  Santa was on the roof, heading back to the chimney with a full sack, while below, Curiosity Kitten’s eyes were wide and sad as she looked in her empty stocking. But Cat’s heart was thumping, because at the top of Santa’s now full sack was a tiny model house, a miniature doll’s house. That in itself wasn’t significant – she was sure lots of children would love to get doll’s houses in their stockings – but this one had an attic window and a number nine on the front door.

  Was that simply a nod to home, or did it mean he was coming back?

  Polly sat opposite her and blew on her coffee.

  Cat resisted asking her friend. In Polly’s mind, there was no reason for Cat to be overly interested in Joe’s movements, and Cat knew she couldn’t feign nonchalance any longer. Of course she wanted to tell her best friend, but she had no idea if Joe still felt the same, or if he was even returning to Primrose Terrace. She glanced at the cartoon again, looking for more signs that she knew wouldn’t be there. Was he coming home for Christmas or was there too much – complicated feelings, the beauty of Portland – to keep him away?

  ‘Right,’ she said, ‘I’d better go and walk some doggies.’

  ‘Do you know what Elsie’s dressing Disco and Chalky up as for the fancy dress?’ Polly asked.

  ‘No,’ Cat said, grateful for the distraction. ‘Or Jessica’s Westies. Or the Barkers’ retrievers. Everyone’s keeping schtum.’

  ‘I wonder if Shed would like to go as Lassie. That would be fun, a cat dressed up as a famous dog.’

  ‘What would be even more hilarious is putting Shed into a whole room full of real-life dogs. I don’t think they’d all be as accommodating as Rummy.’ Cat stood, grinning down at her friend.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Polly said. ‘Maybe not.’

  ‘Come on, Chalky,’ Cat said, ‘it’s not that cold, and look – sunshine!’ She pointed to the sky, which was the pale, watery blue of a winter’s day. Chalky sniffed and stopped walking, and Cat crouched, the leather of her boots cracking. ‘Come on poppet, we won’t be long, and we’re getting the Westies.’ She ruffled the fur under his chin and stood, slowing her steps as she made her way up to number one, waiting for Chalky to perk up.

  Jessica opened the door and kissed Cat on the cheek. She was wearing black trousers and a rose-coloured jumper that looked impossibly soft. Her blonde hair was tied back from her face, and she looked stunning even make-up free.

  ‘Please excuse the state,’ she said, ‘I’m in editing mode.’

  Cat glanced down at her dark-green wool coat and chunky purple scarf over jeans and jumper, and thought she’d never be as stylish as Jessica’s editing mode in a million years. ‘Is it going well?’

  ‘Yes!’ Jessica clapped her hands together. ‘I’ve thought of some fantastic new recipes. I’m going to trial some of them at the party, and I still have time for Christmas lights planning. I won’t let you down.’

  ‘I’m kind of hoping you will, so that we have more chance of winning.’

  They both laughed, and Jessica called to her dogs. ‘Coco, Valentino, Dior! Walkies! Look, Cat,’ she said, her expression suddenly serious. ‘I’ve been meaning to say something, about you and Mark.’

  ‘Oh?’ Cat felt her throat tightening. Jessica and Mark were close – she’d told him about Fairview in the first place – so she wasn’t surprised that Mark had confided in her. Only Polly, Owen and Elsie knew from Cat, and she suddenly felt like her friendship with Jessica was under threat. ‘What is it?’

  Jessica gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘He told me what happened. He was upset, understandably. You’re gorgeous, a total catch – I don’t think he realized quite how much until you’d ended it. And I think deep down he knows – but won’t admit – that he treated you unfairly, and can’t blame you for letting him go.’

  Cat frowned. ‘Unfairly?’

  Jessica nodded. ‘Spending so much time with Sarah.’ She bent and clipped the leads onto her dogs’ crystal collars.

  ‘Sarah?’

  ‘Sarah. His wife.’

  Cat tried to swallow but found she couldn’t. ‘Mark has a wife?’

  Jessica stared at her. ‘Oh my God, he never told you?’

  ‘Mark is married?’ Her voice sounded loud in the cold, quiet air.

  Jessica rubbed Cat’s arm. ‘Well, they’re on and off, but – this is awful, Cat. You really didn’t know?’

  Cat shook her head, thinking of the guilt she’d been carrying over her feelings for Joe. ‘He still saw her?’

  Jessica nodded slowly. ‘From what he’s told me, their relationship has always been tumultuous, but the last few months, while you were together, I think he’s just been helping her with a dispute.’

  ‘You think?’

  Jessica dropped her gaze. ‘There’s been a long-running feud with their neighbours in London. She’s in the house on her own now, but he was there when it started, so he’s been supporting her, attending mediation, and when that didn’t work, organizing lawyers. I – Cat, I honestly thought you knew. I thought that you broke up with him because you realised he hadn’t properly let her go.’

  Cat stared at the floor, thinking of the letters she’d seen him looking at. ‘So all those trips to London, the phone calls? I thought he was working on his film.’

  ‘He was doing that too, although recently it’s been put on hold, so I think he’s writing something else now.’

  No producer meetings via Skype, no phone calls. They were all to Sarah, his wife. ‘But why—?’ she started, then crouched down to stroke Disco and Chalky, to hold their warm bodies against her. Chalky pressed the tip of his nose into her chin. Cat’s anger surged. ‘You think he could have been doing more than just helping her?’

  ‘Do you want to come in?’ Jessica asked. ‘Come and have a cup of tea, bring Chalky and Disco.’

  Cat shook her head. She stood up, a sense of indignation firing through her even though she and Mark were no longer together. ‘You think he was with her every time he went back? That they were still together? He was keeping me interested down here, and then going back to his wife every time he was in London?’

  Cat thought of the photo of the elegant woman she’d seen on Mark’s fridge, thought of the months they’d sidestepped around each other, the time it had taken Mark to take her out to dinner, his spur-of-the-moment trips back to London, dropping Fairview – and her – in a heartbeat.

  ‘He never gave her up, did he?’ she said slowly. ‘He never stopped loving her.’

  Jessica closed her eyes and let out an almost imperceptible sigh.

  Cat knew she was right.

  Despite the cold, it was a beautiful December day, exactly two weeks until Christmas, and the dogs were enjoying the park without sideways rain or a violent, spinning wind. Cat let them off their leads, grateful for the time to be alone with her thoughts.

  Chalky walked ten yards and sat down, looking out across the wide expanse of grass. Cat crouched beside him. ‘Hey,’ she whispered, ‘what is it, old boy? Don’t fancy a run today? Want to go home and crawl under the duvet?’ She wrapped her arms around him, listening to his breathing, fast and slightly uneven.

  ‘Are you all right, Chalky?’ She looked down at him, and the mini schnauzer dipped his
head, resting it on her knee. ‘Are you?’ She stroked his ears. ‘Are you cross with Mark, too? Do you think he’s a shithead like I do?’

  How could she have got it so wrong? Throughout their relationship, Mark had been spending time with his wife and hadn’t once mentioned it to her, though he’d told Jessica everything. He hadn’t even told her he had a wife, however ex she might be – he’d told her he’d been single for nearly a year – and surely that, in itself, proved that there was something about the relationship he wanted to hide from her.

  Cat wondered if she was overreacting; after all, she wasn’t with him any more. But it felt like a big deal. It tainted her memories, made her feel used. From what Jessica had said, it sounded like he hadn’t made the decision to leave Sarah, and had, ever since he’d known Cat, been hedging his bets, leading them both on, confident that those two parts of his life would never overlap.

  Cat had been Mark’s seaside girl, someone to keep him amused when he wasn’t in London. A consolation prize when things were difficult with Sarah. She thought back to their first, flirty meetings, her excitement when she saw him, Jessica’s party, their first nervous, delicious date. She was stunned, her thoughts dancing around her, unsure whether she was more upset or relieved.

  Cat sat on the cold gravel and Chalky climbed onto her lap.

  At least it proved to Cat that she’d made the right decision. It would have been so much worse if she’d stayed with Mark, and found out while they were together. But it hurt that he’d been stringing her along so completely. She’d ended their relationship once she knew her feelings for him weren’t enough, but – given the chance – would he have carried on spending time with her, sleeping with her, and returning to London whenever Sarah clicked her fingers and asked him back?

  ‘What an asshole,’ she murmured into Chalky’s fur. ‘Can you believe him?’ She hadn’t spoken to Mark for a month, and she’d been the one who ended it, but she still felt a sense of outrage. Cat waited for the tears to come, but there were none. Despite her anger she knew that he didn’t have her heart. The winter air wrapped itself around her and she shivered.

  The Westies and Disco ran across the grass towards them. Coco put his front paws on her shoulder, and Disco tried to climb on top of Chalky. Cat was bundled by dogs, and their warmth and loyalty brought a smile to her lips. She dished out treats and clipped them onto their leads. She held a treat out to Chalky but he turned his head away. Cat frowned, running her hand over his fur, touching his nose.

  ‘Maybe you’ve got Elsie’s cold,’ she murmured. ‘Shall we take you home?’

  Chalky looked up at her with solemn eyes.

  Gently, she lifted him off her, clipped his lead on and stood up. He was standing still, as if waiting for instructions. Cat’s chest contracted with worry. Polly wasn’t working today, but the vet’s wasn’t far. She started walking, keeping her pace slow, Coco, Valentino and Disco bounding on ahead, Dior walking alongside Chalky, keeping pace with him. Cat took the path around the side of the park, glancing down at the dogs every few seconds.

  And then there was resistance on the lead and Cat cried out as Chalky collapsed onto the concrete. She fell to her knees and Dior started barking, then the other dogs joined in, Disco whimpering and yelping in turn. Cat put her hand in front of Chalky’s mouth. His breathing was shallow and irregular.

  She fumbled for her phone, pulled it out of her pocket and dialled Polly’s number. It rang and rang and went to voicemail. She hung up, scrolling to see if she had the vet’s switchboard number, but it wasn’t in there.

  ‘Chalky,’ she whispered, ‘come on. Please don’t do this.’ She held in a sob and looked around the park. They were too far away to get the attention of George at the Pavilion café, and she didn’t want to leave Chalky for even a moment.

  She put her arms under the old dog and tried to lift him. He was heavy, his body trembling, and Cat swore under her breath, not wanting to hurt him with her clumsiness. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’

  ‘Hello, Miss Palmer. Bit cold for sitting around, isn’t it?’ She looked up to see Mr Jasper approaching, giving her his best, insincere smile.

  Cat pushed her pride aside, prepared to do anything he said if he helped her. ‘Mr Jasper, please help me. Chalky’s collapsed and I don’t know what to do.’

  His smile fell and he bustled across to her and knelt down, putting his hand on the stricken dog.

  ‘I need to get him to the vet’s. I don’t think I can do it on my own.’

  ‘OK, OK. Don’t worry. It’s not far.’ Mr Jasper took his coat off and laid it on the ground, then gently moved Chalky on top of it. He wrapped the dog up, lifted him in his arms, wobbling slightly as he found his balance, and started walking. Cat checked on the other dogs, bent to give each of them a quick stroke and followed Mr Jasper, who was striding towards the park’s exit, his face red with exertion.

  They were all distressed, the dogs whimpering and staying close to Cat’s heels as if they couldn’t be without her, Cat keeping up with Mr Jasper, her breaths short with panic, trying not to think of Chalky never opening his eyes again, of Disco playing alone in Elsie’s house, of Elsie without her beloved old guard.

  Eventually they reached the vet’s, and Mr Jasper walked up to the counter, Chalky still in his arms. A moment later a man with grey, receding hair and Polly’s friend Leyla rushed out of a room at the back of reception. Cat watched, dazed, as they took Chalky away, her gaze drawn to his paw flopping out from underneath Mr Jasper’s coat, and his limp, unwagging tail.

  Mr Jasper wiped the sweat off his forehead, his dark eyes wide.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Cat managed. ‘I don’t know what I would have done.’

  Tentatively, he rubbed her arm. ‘He’s in the best place now. They’ll do everything they can.’

  Cat turned her head away, the emotion welling up inside her.

  ‘What do you need?’ Mr Jasper asked. ‘Who do these dogs belong to?’

  Coco, Dior, Valentino and Disco had settled uncertainly at her feet. ‘The Westies are Jessica Heybourne’s, but Disco is Chalky’s—’

  ‘I’ll take them back to her. You stay with Disco, call who you need to call. Don’t be here on your own.’

  Cat nodded, stunned, as Mr Jasper gathered up the Westies’ leads. He caught her looking at him and gave a quick, embarrassed smile. ‘Don’t worry, I promise I’ll return them safely. We have our differences, Miss Palmer, but I’m not a monster.’

  ‘Thank you,’ was all Cat could manage.

  Mr Jasper walked up to the reception desk as Cat sank onto one of the hard waiting-room seats and pulled Disco onto her lap. The younger dog was whimpering, aware that everything was wrong, that Chalky wasn’t with them.

  ‘Could you get that young lady a cup of tea,’ she heard Mr Jasper say, and then, to her, on the way out, he said, ‘Call someone.’ Before she had a chance to reply he’d gone, taking Coco, Dior and Valentino with him.

  A moment later, a cup of tea was placed in her hand, and then, only seconds later, it seemed, it was cold when she took a sip. Disco had settled uneasily on her lap, whimpering softly into Cat’s coat, and Cat slowly became aware of the weight of the dog, of the chill of the nearly empty waiting room, now adorned with Christmas decorations, of an old couple with a cat basket giving her pitying looks.

  She had to call someone. She should call Elsie, but she didn’t want to tell her over the phone, and she didn’t want to leave the vet’s in case they had news. Placing her mug on the floor, she dialled Polly’s number.

  ‘Hi, Cat.’ She sounded chirpy, happy.

  ‘P-Polly,’ Cat stammered, ‘it’s Chalky. I’m – I’m at the vet’s. Can you get Elsie? Can you bring her here?’

  ‘What?’ Polly whispered. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I don’t know. We were in the park and he collapsed. He looked so – ’ The words caught in her throat.

  ‘I’m coming. I’ll bring Elsie. Are you OK, Cat?’

  But
Cat could only manage a mumbled ‘mhmm,’ before she hung up.

  Chapter 5

  People came and went around her, cold blasting in every time the front door opened, making the foil paper chains rustle. Cat kept her eye trained on the door they’d taken Chalky through, wishing with every fibre of her body that a smiling vet would emerge and tell her it was just a scare, or, even better, that Chalky would trot out, his dark eyes looking up at Cat from under his bushy eyebrows. She was taking deep breaths, trying not to give into her emotions, holding onto Disco for comfort and warmth.

  But then the front door burst open and Polly ran in, green scrubs on, followed by Elsie, her face pale above a dark-grey coat, and then Joe.

  Joe. Back in Fairview.

  Cat stared at him. At his blond hair, slightly longer and scruffier than when she’d last seen it, his skin, browner than it should be in December, his jawline fuzzy with stubble, his eyes creased at the edges. He was wearing a pale-grey hoody, the colour of day-old snow. Her heart contracted and tears stung her eyes. She inhaled and tried to keep her composure.

  ‘Cat.’ Polly crouched in front of her. ‘How is he?’

  Elsie sat next to Cat, putting her hand on her shoulder. Disco moved from Cat’s lap to Elsie’s, and Cat shuddered at the loss of warmth. She shook her head. ‘Nobody’s come out, I don’t know anything.’

  ‘You’ve done the right thing,’ Elsie said firmly. ‘You’ve got him here.’

  Cat turned to her friend, hearing the stoicism in her voice, the pain underneath it. ‘It was Mr Jasper,’ she whispered. ‘He helped me, he brought Chalky here. I’m so sorry, Elsie. I should never have taken him out, I—’

  ‘Tush, girl,’ Elsie said, squeezing her shoulder. ‘You’ve been a marvel.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can find out.’ Polly stood and hurried into the treatment room.

  ‘He was fine.’ Cat glanced at Joe, then turned back to Elsie. ‘Quiet, but fine. And then he didn’t want a treat, he seemed a bit off, so I thought I’d bring him here. He was walking OK, and I was going slowly, but then he just crumpled.’ She covered her face with her hands, bent forward and pressed her elbows into her knees.