Tinsel and Terriers, A Novella

by Cressida McLaughlin

  ‘Miss Heybourne invited me, after I brought her Highland terriers back here. They’re very well behaved,’ he said uncertainly.

  Cat laughed. ‘Most dogs are. Maybe you’ve just had a couple of bad experiences – my first dog walk included.’

  Mr Jasper nodded seriously. ‘I’m not sure anyone could have foreseen the squirrel. But you – you seem to be doing so much, for the community. With this…competitions and things.’

  Cat bit her lip. ‘And the cove?’

  Mr Jasper’s mouth twisted as if he was working out what to say. ‘It’s a fair decision. People still have the main beach.’

  ‘People and dogs can survive together, you know,’ Cat said lightly. ‘They have done, for thousands of years. And lots of the time, it’s a perfect match.’

  Mr Jasper looked at the floor. ‘They’re not that bad.’

  ‘See?’ Cat rubbed his arm. ‘And you’re a hero among dog lovers now. You’ve completely reinvented yourself.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that. But my mother died.’

  ‘Oh, Mr Jasper, I’m so sorry.’

  He waved her sympathy away. ‘You see, she wasn’t that fond of dogs. No, that’s an understatement. She brought me up to believe they were evil, unwanted pests and I kept the pretence up while she was alive. And now I’ve got to know Chalky, and those little white terriers.’

  Cat nodded. ‘I’m glad they’ve helped change your mind about things,’ she said softly. ‘Maybe you can convince Alison.’

  ‘Oh, Alison won’t be convinced. Dogs are messy and dangerous, in her opinion. That’s not likely to change. And to be honest, I think her involvement was as much about attacking you as it was dog walking in general. She has a lot of vitriol for such a small person. Don’t take it to heart.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Cat said. If it hadn’t been for Alison’s vitriol, she would never have become a dog walker in the first place.

  Coco appeared at their feet, barked up at Mr Jasper and put his paws on the claret-coloured trousers.

  Cat laughed. ‘He remembers you. That is one happy dog – and look, mistletoe!’ She pointed up to where Jessica had hung a large branch of leaves and white berries from the hall’s central chandelier. She gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Merry Christmas, Mr Jasper.’

  ‘It’s Terry,’ he said, bending tentatively to pat Coco on the head. ‘Merry Christmas, Cat.’

  Cat left them to it and hobbled away, looking for an exotic canapé and perhaps a seat. Her ankle was starting to throb, and it wasn’t long until the judging started. Jessica’s elegant, spacious front room was crammed with people, no inch of sofa free. She turned, slowly, looking for somewhere to perch, and bumped straight into Mark.

  She stepped back and, putting all her weight on her bad ankle, almost fell. Mark grabbed her arm. ‘Steady.’

  Cat waited for the flash of attraction, but it didn’t come. He was in his customary outfit, sharp black suit and black shirt and, while he seemed relaxed, as confident as ever, there was no hint of a smile.

  ‘How are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine, thanks. You?’

  Mark nodded. ‘Not too bad.’

  ‘I didn’t realize you’d be here.’ It was a stupid thing to say, but Cat hadn’t even considered that she might see him that evening.

  ‘I wouldn’t miss one of Jessica’s parties. We’re good friends.’

  ‘Of course you are,’ Cat said, inwardly cursing herself.

  Mark broke eye contact, glancing round the room as if Cat was the least interesting person there. She bristled and planned her escape, aware that, unfortunately, it would have to be slow and laboured.

  ‘Listen, I should get—’

  ‘I hope there’s no bad feeling between us,’ Mark cut in, giving her his full attention. ‘We said a few things, there was some anger flying around, but you have to admit that we’re good together, Cat.’ His hand traced its way up her arm and Cat shrugged it away.

  ‘We had fun,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s not—’

  ‘You don’t have to apologize. We all make mistakes. If, after this,’ he leaned into her, his lips brushing against her neck before whispering into her ear, ‘you wanted to come back to mine, wish Chips a happy Christmas…’

  Cat flinched and stepped back. ‘No.’

  Mark gave her a bemused smile. ‘No?’

  Cat shook her head. ‘No, Mark. I made my decision, and I don’t regret it. Why did you think I did?’

  ‘Seeing each other again. It’s bound to stir up old feelings. I’m as irresistible as I ever was.’ He flashed her a grin.

  Cat folded her arms. ‘And still as married?’

  His grin vanished.

  ‘Don’t forget that I’m friends with Jessica too.’ Cat swallowed. ‘You’re pretty unbelievable, do you know that?’

  ‘That’s what everyone says about me.’

  ‘You were spending time with Sarah the whole time we were going out, trying to resurrect your marriage, keeping me dangling like some kind of poor injured fish on a rod – ’ she frowned, wishing she had managed a snappier insult – ‘and then, when we broke up, you accused me of doing the same.’

  Mark shrugged. ‘Takes one to know one. How is Joe, anyway? I haven’t seen him tonight, strutting around in his Top Man suit.’

  Cat rolled her eyes. ‘God, Mark, is that all you care about? I’m not denying that we had fun, but good looks and charm will only get you so far.’

  ‘They got me quite far with you.’

  ‘But they haven’t won Sarah round completely, have they? Not if you felt the need to amuse yourself with me at the same time.’

  Mark’s smile fell, and irritation flashed in his eyes.

  ‘Happy Christmas Mark,’ she said, turning on her good heel and limping back into the hall. Glancing behind her, she saw Mark was still standing there, his wit and charm muted, if only momentarily.

  Cat’s relief was overwhelming when the Christmas music paused and Jessica called for everyone to go outside. It was time for the pièce de résistance.

  If anything, the snow had got heavier. They all traipsed outside, pulling on coats and hats and scarves, and filled the pavement, turning to face the glittering, shimmering house fronts.

  Cat found Owen and Polly, and linked arms with her best friend, watching snowflakes land on the collar of her coat and on Owen’s tight curls.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Polly whispered. ‘You’re clenching your jaw.’

  Cat nodded. ‘I bumped into Mark.’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I am. It was actually a relief to tell him I knew about Sarah, that I knew what we had wasn’t real. It was cathartic.’

  ‘Laying the past to rest?’ Polly whispered.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Right,’ Phil called, standing on the top step of number one alongside Jessica. ‘I’ve made my way up and down the terrace several times, admiring all the hard work everyone’s put in. I’m sure there isn’t a more beautiful or Christmassy street on the whole south coast. Primrose Terrace residents, you have outdone yourselves, and I’m finding it hard to judge. But there’s one house left to reveal itself, so I want you all to join in with the countdown for Jessica’s switch-on. Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes!’ Their chorus rose up to meet the snow.

  Phil counted them down. ‘Five. Four. Three. Two…ONE!’

  Jessica pressed the button, and the front of number one Primrose Terrace lit up.

  The air filled with gasps and coos, a single scream.

  ‘Holy shit,’ someone murmured.

  ‘How did she do that?’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Owen said, mesmerized. ‘So much for our snowflakes.’

  Jessica’s entry was more like a laser show than Christmas lights. Starting out in red and green, the tiny lights that covered her house made small squares that looked like a chess board, then the colours chased each other from left to right, then the whole house flashed green, then red, then white. Little s
nowflakes appeared and seemed to fall to the ground, hypnotic against the real snow. Everyone stood in awe, numb toes and noses forgotten as they watched the lights turn from falling snowflakes into a colour show, from gold, to silver, then purple. The LED lights transformed the front of Jessica’s house into a screen, filled with pattern after pattern, colour after colour.

  ‘Wow,’ Polly murmured as the lights began flickering white against blue like stars in the night sky.

  Then a loud bang filled the air and the house went dark.

  Cat blinked and rubbed her eyes, pushing melted snowflakes off her cheeks.

  ‘What happened?’ Owen asked.

  Cat looked around, tried to pick out Jessica or Phil or even Polly. But she couldn’t, because all the lights had gone. Not just Jessica’s, but the other Christmas displays down the street, the warm glow of lit rooms, the orange reach of the streetlights. Primrose Terrace was in complete darkness.

  The crowd started murmuring, voices gradually getting louder.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Was that part of the show?’

  ‘Charles, are you there? I can’t see a thing!’

  ‘People!’ a voice called, louder than the others. ‘People! It’s Phil.’ Cat turned towards the voice and saw he was trying to light his face with the torch on his phone. ‘It seems we’ve had a technical difficulty, so if everyone could just go back into Jessica’s house, get out of the cold while we try and sort it out, that would be fantastic.’

  ‘But it’s dark,’ Polly said.

  ‘Candles,’ Jessica shouted. ‘I’ve got lots of candles!’

  After an evening so full of bright, sparkling lights, the next twenty minutes were how Cat imagined it might feel like to live in a black hole. She followed her friends back inside as fast as her throbbing ankle and the slippery snow would allow her, and helped Jessica, Polly and Owen, Boris and Charles collect candles. They lit up the downstairs of the house, while other guests, less familiar with the property, hovered about uncertainly, anxious not to knock things over in the dark.

  ‘What did you do?’ Cat asked.

  Jessica shook her head. ‘I knew my lights were powerful,’ she said, ‘but I thought that the extension cord was good enough. Clearly not.’

  ‘Aren’t they LED? They’re meant to be low energy.’

  ‘Maybe it’s the whole street? Maybe all together we’ve used too much electricity and my lights were the final straw. Phil’s gone to investigate.’

  ‘It does look lovely, though, doesn’t it?’ Cat said, lighting her last candle and standing up, taking in the soft, romantic beauty of Jessica’s house filled with flickering light, picking out her elegant decorations, the sparkle of party dresses. Valentino and Dior rushed up to their owner, and Cat bent to stroke them, burying her chilled face in their warm fur. ‘Are you having fun?’ she asked. Valentino licked her chin, and Dior dropped a half-eaten bacon and Christmas pudding canapé at her feet. ‘Of course you are. It’s an adventure, isn’t it?’

  ‘But,’ Jessica said, hands on hips. ‘We have no music.’

  Cat thought again of her guitar, and how idiotic she’d been to believe that she could ever have gone through with it. She’d had such promising plans for the whole day, all of which culminated in showing Joe how she felt about him with the big, romantic gesture that Polly had suggested. But she’d injured herself and ruined her party outfit with an inelegant limp, and then Joe had disappeared and possibly got himself stranded somewhere in the snow, and now the whole street had been plunged into darkness.

  ‘Cat,’ Owen said, ‘what about your guitar? Didn’t you bring it with you?’

  Cat’s stomach swooped. ‘Oh no, that was a mistake.’

  ‘You put it in the cupboard in the hall. I’m sure we can find it in the dark.’

  ‘And we could all join in,’ Jessica added, clapping her hands together. ‘You wouldn’t be singing on your own, just starting us off. Which songs do you know?’

  ‘Oh, not many.’ She shot a terrified glance at Polly, and Polly shrugged helplessly, her eyes wide with an unspoken apology. ‘Look, really, I don’t think I can—’

  ‘Come on, Cat.’ Jessica gave her a warm smile. ‘We’ve got no lights, everything’s a bit flat. A sing-song would be perfect.’

  Owen nodded. ‘It’ll be like a festive campfire. Flickering flames, a guitar, singing.’

  ‘I’ve got lots of mulled wine,’ Jessica added. ‘I’m sure it’s still warm, even though the heat’s gone out under it. What do you say, Cat?’

  Cat tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. What could she say? That she only knew one song, and that she’d been practising it for just one person; that she’d imagined a perfect scenario where she serenaded him, showing him how she felt while everyone at the party looked on in awe.

  Except she couldn’t do it. There wasn’t enough light to check her finger positions – and she needed to do that, at least at the beginning – and she’d known all along, in her heart, that she didn’t have the confidence to sing in front of her friends, let alone a whole partyful of people. And all this was pointless anyway, because the song was for Joe, and Joe wasn’t here. He’d disappeared somewhere without telling anyone where he was going, for all Cat knew he could have been planning a romantic gesture of his own for Jessica, and had got stuck in the snow on the way to fulfilling it.

  Jessica took her panicked silence for assent and strode into the hallway. ‘I’ll get your guitar,’ she called.

  ‘No!’ Cat lurched forward but missed Jessica by a few inches. She hobbled after her, wincing as pain shot through her ankle, skidding on the melted snow brought inside on people’s shoes. In the flickering light, she picked Jessica out amongst the other guests chatting quietly in the sizeable hall, coming back towards her with the guitar. ‘Jessica, please stop!’

  She reached out and took her guitar.

  ‘I can’t do it.’ Polly and Owen had followed Cat out into the hallway, and others had latched onto Cat’s urgency and were now paying full attention.

  ‘But you brought it with you specially,’ Jessica said. ‘You just need to be a bit more confident, everyone will love it.’

  ‘I only know one song,’ Cat whispered, aware of their audience.

  Jessica frowned. ‘Well, that’s OK. We can do that one first, and then we probably won’t need the guitar, we can all just sing. Which song is it?’

  Cat looked at the floor. ‘“All I want for Christmas”,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Is my two front teeth?’ Owen asked, laughing.

  ‘No,’ Cat sighed, ‘not that one. The Mariah Carey one.’

  ‘“All I want for Christmas is you”?’ Jessica said. ‘That really schmaltzy one?’

  Cat felt her cheeks burning and was grateful for the gloom. She nodded.

  ‘Why?’ Owen asked. ‘I mean, each to their own, but if you were planning to sing here at the party, then—’

  ‘But I wasn’t,’ Cat rushed. ‘I mean, I was, but not – not as part of some big Christmas sing-song.’

  ‘Well, what then?’ Jessica asked.

  Cat looked at the shadowy faces around her, at Owen and Jessica frowning, and Polly, her best friend, aware that she was partly responsible for the mix-up.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Cat said to Polly, ‘I don’t know why I thought I could do it. There’s just no way.’

  ‘You are a wonderful person, Cat.’ Polly embraced her. ‘I know you’re not confident, but it would have been amazing. I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out.’

  ‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’ Owen asked.

  Jessica raised her hand. ‘Me too. I’d like to know too.’

  Cat glanced around the room at the figures she could half see, a few turned in their direction. Boris and Charles were watching, intrigued, and Juliette and Will were pretending to be deep in conversation, their eyes shooting furtive glances towards her.

  ‘Cat wanted to sing to someone,’ Polly started, looking at Cat while sh
e spoke. ‘She wanted to sing that song, “All I want for Christmas is you”, to one person in particular. But sadly, that person’s not here.’

  ‘Mark?’ Jessica asked, her frown deepening.

  ‘Ah!’ Owen slapped his hand to his forehead. ‘Of course!’

  ‘What “of course”?’ Jessica asked. ‘Who?’

  ‘Not Mark,’ Cat said, shaking her head. ‘Definitely not Mark. It’s…’

  ‘It’s someone who you think would be great to bump into under the mistletoe,’ Polly said.

  Cat didn’t think now was the best time for cryptic clues, but it took Jessica only moments to figure it out.

  ‘Joe?’ she screeched. ‘You want to sing Mariah Carey to Joe?’

  Cat resisted the urge to hide where the candles couldn’t find her. She heard one of the Westies barking in another room.

  ‘Yes.’ She whispered it loudly. ‘Yes, that was my stupid plan.’

  ‘You and Joe are…’ Jessica clasped her hands together in front of her.

  ’N-no. I mean, I had hoped…’

  ‘You care about Joe?’ Jessica asked again, her voice carrying over everyone else.

  Cat closed her eyes, shivering as a blast of icy air wrapped itself around her shoulders, the candle flames bending and flickering. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I do. I have done for ages. I’m sorry Jessica, I know that you like him, too. I never meant for things to work out like this, and if there’s something between you –’

  Jessica shook her head. ‘There’s nothing between us, the flirting’s all been mine. I applaud your good taste, but I certainly don’t fancy him enough to risk all my dignity by singing for him. You must really like him.’

  ‘A lot,’ Cat confirmed.

  ‘You, Cat Palmer, really care about Joe Sinclair? And you were going to serenade him here, tonight?’ Jessica’s eyes were wide, her smile gleeful.

  Cat frowned at Polly but she just grinned back. ‘Yes, Jessica. Yes to all of that, except I can’t. Why, what do you—’