Tinsel and Terriers, A Novella

by Cressida McLaughlin

  ‘Do you love him?’ Jessica asked softly.

  Polly gasped, and Owen looked at the floor, but Jessica stared at Cat without embarrassment, waiting.

  Cat swallowed, felt her whole body tingle with nerves, down to her fingers, her throbbing ankle, her toes.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice surprisingly clear. ‘Yes, I am in love with Joe Sinclair, and I had planned to serenade him, undoubtedly very badly, with a Mariah Carey song tonight, and see if he still had feelings for me, if he still felt the same. But it’s all gone wrong, and he’s not even here, and I—’

  The lights flickered back on, everyone blinking and murmuring, Cat’s friends coming into full, brilliant view in front of her. She saw that Polly was red-cheeked, Owen’s eyebrows were raised, and Jessica was looking not just happy, but positively triumphant.

  ‘What?’ Cat whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ said a voice behind her. A voice she knew so well, a voice that made her breath falter.

  Slowly she turned and found she was looking straight into a pair of blue eyes beneath damp, blond hair, snowflakes melting quickly onto a Jack Wolfskin jacket.

  ‘Joe,’ she managed, the tingling increasing, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. ‘Joe, I—’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I do feel the same.’

  Cat felt the space grow around her, sensed everyone else drift away, leaving her, and Joe, and the candles still flickering, even though the lights were back on.

  ‘I’ve got something for you,’ he said. ‘But first, I think you’ve got something for me?’ He raised an eyebrow, a smile on his lips, and pointed at the guitar, which Cat was still holding.

  She looked down at it, wondering how she could possibly do this now, when she could barely speak. Slowly, she lifted the guitar and put her fingers on the fret board, finding the right position. Checking again that they were alone, she tentatively played the first note, and then opened her mouth, her voice reedy and shaky and not at all up to the task.

  But she kept her eyes on Joe, and he held her gaze, showing no signs of embarrassment or shame, just the depth of feeling and compassion she’d seen so many times before. This time she knew that it was aimed solely at her, and it gave her the confidence to make it through the first verse and the chorus, before her fingers slipped, and her voice faltered on the last line and the words came out in a whisper.

  ‘All I want for Christmas is you, Joe.’ She leaned the guitar up against the wall and took a step towards him.

  ‘That,’ Joe said, ‘was pretty special. You’re the most incredible, bonkers, passionate person I have ever met, and I love you. Happy Christmas, Cat.’

  Cat smiled, still not quite able to believe what was happening. ‘It was hopeless. But it seems my Christmas wish might have come true, after all.’

  ‘Are you talking about me? Or this guy?’

  Joe reached inside his coat and pulled out a familiar turquoise handbag, one that Cat hadn’t used since the spring, but now had tinsel tied round the handles. He held it out to her, and as Cat took it, a little black nose, followed by scruffy caramel and white fur and two large dark eyes, peered out.

  Cat gasped and pulled the puppy out of the bag, clutching it to her. ‘A puppy,’ she whispered, her tears falling freely now, the tiny, warm body burrowing against her, whimpering softly.

  Joe gave her a lopsided smile. ‘I found the piece of paper on the coffee table when I got back from America. I phoned, and she still had one puppy left. I was meant to pick him up tomorrow, but when the weather got bad I arranged to go tonight. I thought, seeing as Shed’s done so well with Rummy…’ He shrugged his coat off and hung it on the banister. Underneath he was wearing a fitted dark-grey suit, his white shirt open at the collar. ‘He doesn’t have a name yet.’

  Cat stared at the puppy, at Joe, thinking her heart might burst with love for the man standing in front of her and the tiny creature clutched against her chest.

  ‘Mistletoe,’ she whispered.

  Joe looked up at the bunch above them dangling from the chandelier. He stepped forward and kissed her, taking her breath away. His skin was cold against hers, but his passion, the certainty of his feelings, warmed her, and every fibre of Cat’s body knew that this was it. This was right. Her and Joe, the puppy enclosed in the circle of their embracing bodies. Melted snowflakes dripped from Joe’s hair onto Cat’s face, mingling with her tears.

  ‘Joe,’ she said, breaking away. ‘Joe Sinclair.’

  ‘Yes, Cat Palmer?’

  ‘I meant the puppy.’

  ‘You want to kiss the puppy?’

  She couldn’t stop grinning. ‘I meant as a name for the puppy. Mistletoe.’

  ‘Oh.’ He smiled at her, then laughed. ‘You want to call him Mistletoe?’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s a great name? Don’t you always want to be reminded of this moment?’

  ‘Say it again.’ He stroked the mongrel’s fuzzy, puppy fur.

  ‘Mistletoe,’ Cat whispered, looking up at him, not quite believing that her perfect Christmas dream was coming true, despite all the obstacles.

  ‘Do you know what?’ Joe said. ‘I think that’s an excellent idea.’

  He kissed her again.

  Christmas Day on Primrose Terrace

  Cat couldn’t stay asleep any longer.

  She looked at her alarm clock and saw that it was only five seventeen. But it was Christmas morning, her first on Primrose Terrace, and she had more to look forward to than she ever had before. She flung the duvet back and padded to the window. It was dark outside, but the streetlights highlighted the fresh snowfall, everything topped with a dusty, icing-white coating. She grinned and hopped to the bathroom, her feet dancing on the cold tiles.

  Above her, Joe was asleep in his attic bedroom, and downstairs, in his puppy pen, was Mistletoe. She’d known him just over twenty-four hours, and already the tiny dog had as much personality as the other dogs she knew and loved. Joe had bought a pen when he’d picked Mistletoe up, and while Cat had been desperate for the puppy to sleep in her room, she knew they had to bring him up to be the happiest, healthiest dog on Primrose Terrace, teach him rules and boundaries.

  Washing her face and hurrying back to her bedroom to get a thick, woolly jumper, she tiptoed downstairs and into the living room. The sound of sleigh bells filled the air as she stepped over the threshold.

  She switched the light on and there were the stockings hanging up near the television. Each member of the household – including semi-permanent fixture Owen – had agreed to fill one for someone else. By default, that had meant her doing Joe’s, and him hers. But right now, it wasn’t stockings that she was interested in. She tiptoed over to the puppy pen and crouched down, next to Shed, who was snoozing gently with his nose close to the bars.

  ‘Have you been terrorizing our new addition?’ she whispered, stroking him. But she wasn’t worried; she thought the cat might even be protecting Mistletoe, as if saying, stick with me, kid, I’ll show you the ropes. Rummy had been a trial run, the fox terrier and ginger cat taking a while to get used to each other, but now Rummy was curled up on their sofa, and when they’d brought Mistletoe home, Shed had been intrigued and not at all aggressive. It had, Cat thought, as she sat in front of the pen, been one of the weirdest Christmas Eve’s ever. But the thought of it, and of the Christmas day to come, brought a smile to her face as she peered through the bars.

  Mistletoe was asleep, curled up on the blanket, half hidden from view inside the crate at the back of the pen. She knew that sleep would be fleeting for a while, that he would take a long time to settle down, as he had done the night of the party and last night, but Cat was prepared for all of it – she’d been waiting long enough. She left Mistletoe to snooze, put the coffee machine on, and gave Shed, who was now fully awake, some breakfast.

  ‘You’re a dark horse, aren’t you? Grumpier than a dog chewing a wasp when I first moved in, and now best pals with two of them.’

  Shed meowed, and
Cat nodded in agreement.

  Coffee in hand, she opened the living-room curtains, turned the main light off and the Christmas tree lights on. She sat cross-legged on the sofa, the sole of her foot against Rummy’s warm fur, listening to his gentle snores and staring out at the winter darkness. The stillness and beauty of it made her shiver.

  Christmas Eve had been frantic, with last-minute food shopping in a supermarket groaning under the weight of panicked people, everything extra complicated, and cold, and damp, because of the snow and her slowly healing ankle. Then they’d all disappeared to separate corners of the house to wrap presents, and Cat had shut herself in the kitchen to make a savoury mincemeat roll and some mince pies.

  It was her first day of being with Joe, and they’d hardly seen each other, exchanging brief moments – holding hands, kissing – as they passed in the corridor or supermarket aisle, both still slightly disbelieving that, after all this time, they had made it.

  That’s how it felt to Cat: she had made it to where she needed to be. She’d gone on a long, rocky journey, taken wrong turns, made mistakes, had to backtrack and apologize and rethink, but finally, she had got to him. She thought back to the night of the party, to the passion in his kiss, the desire and love and wholeness she’d felt in his arms. The memory wrapped itself around her like a delicious cloak, and she closed her eyes. She opened them again at the sound of sleigh bells.

  Joe was in the doorway, wearing a white T-shirt and boxer shorts, his blond hair scruffy, his eyes crinkled with sleep. To Cat, he looked more gorgeous than ever.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Joe,’ she said quietly.

  He padded over and knelt in front of her. ‘Happy Christmas, Cat.’ He put his hands on her knees and she leaned forward and kissed him, wrapping her hands round the back of his neck. They looked at each other, his smile infectious, everything about him filling her senses, firing her nerves.

  ‘There’s coffee in the pot,’ she said.

  He nodded and went to the kitchen, crouching down at the puppy pen on the way. ‘How’s our little evergreen?’

  ‘Sleeping.’

  ‘He clearly hasn’t realized it’s Christmas.’

  Cat left Rummy sleeping and moved to the other sofa so she could sit next to Joe. When he came back with coffee, she turned sideways, putting her legs over his and kissing him again.

  ‘We should wait for the others, shouldn’t we?’

  ‘I’m not sure this is a team sport,’ Joe said, pulling her closer.

  Cat laughed. ‘To open the stockings. We should wait.’

  ‘I’m happy to.’ He stood and pulled her to her feet. ‘But not here.’

  They had stood like this, facing each other in this room, so many times before. But now, everything had changed. Her hands in his, she kissed Joe, her lips lingering, letting the feel of him wash over her body, and then wordlessly followed him out into the hallway, and up the stairs to his bedroom. Outside, the first traces of Christmas sunrise began to appear on the horizon.

  Later, they sat on Joe’s bed and, sure that Owen and Polly wouldn’t mind, opened their stockings, watching the winter sun make the snow glitter like a carpet of diamonds. Cat’s stocking had chocolate, fruit, a cute dark purple puppy lead and collar, slipper socks with poodles on, a mini bottle of limoncello and a book of modern guitar tunes. Each gift was carefully chosen, and Cat hoped that the artists’ pens, new running headphones, iPad speakers and chocolate orange she’d got him were as thoughtful. From Joe’s expression, she thought she hadn’t done too badly.

  Cat realized there was something still lodged in the bottom of her stocking. Frowning, she dug her hand in and pulled out a tiny model of number nine Primrose Terrace.

  She stared at Joe, and he smiled back. ‘From the cartoon,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ Cat whispered. ‘I saw it and I thought, then, that it meant you were coming home. Well, hoped more than thought.’

  ‘I set it up to come out on the day I returned. I didn’t know if you’d get that, or if – well, things went a bit mad the day I got back.’

  ‘With Chalky,’ Cat confirmed. ‘I loved your cartoons. I waited for the paper every Thursday. And the one on the beach, with the shark.’

  Joe winced. ‘Was that a bit too close to home? I didn’t know then, about you and Mark. I didn’t think you’d end it with him. I hoped, but I…’ He shook his head, ‘It was kind of a silly apology. I didn’t really know how to say what I wanted to.’

  ‘I loved it,’ Cat said, moving closer to him, clutching the small model house. ‘It’s taken us a while but I’m so happy that we’re here.’

  ‘I don’t think it could have happened in a better way.’ Joe put his arm around her. ‘This, Christmas, it’s perfect. But I have more for you than just stocking fillers.’

  ‘Me too,’ Cat whispered.

  She felt more nervous about this than any other part of Christmas day. She’d bought presents before she could be sure that she and Joe would be together and was worried they might be over the top. She watched, her heart pounding, as he unwrapped the new hoody she’d bought him. It was bright blue, with EARTH written across the front. The E and H were white, the ART in the middle yellow, a paintbrush splashing colour onto the letters.

  ‘Too corny?’ Cat asked as Joe stared at it.

  He shook his head. ‘I love it. And this is yours, though it’s from all of us, not just me.’ He handed Cat a small red envelope.

  Cat frowned and took it. She opened the envelope and pulled out the card. It was a beautiful drawing – this time in colour – of Curiosity Kitten. She was tiptoeing forward towards a button marked ‘Push’ next to a house covered in Christmas lights. On the other side of the card, a handsome-looking cat was standing under a bunch of Mistletoe, a tiny puppy in his arms.

  ‘I didn’t cause the power outage,’ she said, laughing. ‘And you’ve drawn yourself as an incredibly buff cat.’

  ‘Artistic license,’ Joe said, ‘in both cases.’

  ‘It’s perfect. And when you’re famous, it’s going to be worth a lot of money. I’d better hold onto it.’

  ‘Open it,’ he said softly.

  She did. Inside was another envelope, and inside that was a voucher. Cat read the words, unable to take them in.

  ‘Is this a joke?’ she asked.

  ‘Nope,’ Joe shook his head. ‘And you can take whoever you want. Polly or Elsie or Jessica. Maybe not Mistletoe.’

  ‘But it’s ridiculous,’ Cat said. ‘It’s so over the top that I can’t even get my head around it.’

  Joe shrugged. ‘I had a great time in America. Just being in a different place, getting a new perspective. You’ve had a busy year, and I thought that maybe you could do with a break. And this one seemed like it would suit you down to the ground. You like Christmas – you seem to like snow – and you like dogs.’

  ‘It’s crazy,’ Cat murmured. ‘Dog sledding and Northern Lights tour in Norway. You did this, for me?’

  ‘Happy Christmas, Cat.’

  ‘Will you go with me? If – I mean, I’m sure Polly won’t mind.’

  Cat leaned back against the pillows, staring at the tickets. She and Joe were going to Norway, to be driven across the snow by a pack of beautiful, strong huskies, and to stare up at one of the most spectacular sights the world had to offer. She had no idea what to say.

  ‘You really don’t have to take me, you know,’ Joe said. ‘I didn’t get it so I could come too.’

  ‘But you will come with me?’

  ‘Of course, I’d be honoured to.’

  ‘Do we have to stay in an igloo? Keep each other from freezing to death with our body heat?’ She squeezed his thigh.

  ‘I think they’re luxury igloos,’ Joe said, moving closer to her, kissing her neck. ‘Heating’s included. But we could always pretend.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Cat murmured. ‘Hang on, I’m not done. This doesn’t come close to a trip to Norway, but…’ She reached down the side of the bed and handed him
another present, complete with gold wrapping and glittery red string.

  Joe put it on his lap and unwrapped it slowly, his brows narrowed in concentration. When he saw what it was, he whispered something under his breath that Cat didn’t quite catch.

  It was an A3 leather journal, the pages crisp and white, a tiny Curiosity Kitten, wobbling on her stack of crates to try and see into a window, embossed in the bottom corner along with the initials JS. She’d got the idea from her parents’ present, and had found someone in Fairhaven town centre who could do the embossing.

  Joe stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. ‘Cat, this is—’

  She shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. ‘It’s a cheat, really. My parents got one for me, so that’s where the idea came from. I thought it would be perfect for you. Look at the first page.’

  Joe opened the front cover, and read the words that Cat had written there.

  To Joe, who can see beyond my curiosity and who, despite everything, loves dogs. I hope you always find inspiration, and that you fill this book with your wonderful creations. Thank you for being my inspiration. Happy Christmas, I love you. Cat. xx

  ‘You’re incredible,’ he whispered, taking her hand.

  ‘Maybe that could be your next cartoon – Incredible Iguana or something.’

  ‘Don’t tempt me.’ He said pulling her close. ‘You’re far too tempting, Cat Palmer. I’m just lucky that now I get to give in.’ And then he did exactly that.

  Now don’t miss the complete Primrose Terrace collection in A CHRISTMAS TAIL, the full-length novel with extra bonus content! From Westies and Spaniels, to Retrievers and Terriers, every dog will have its day!

  A Christmas Tail was first published as a four-part serial, set in Primrose Terrace.

  Catherine ‘Cat’ Palmer realizes that bringing an adorable puppy into work is a bad idea, especially when it gets her the sack. Deciding it’s the perfect opportunity to launch her dog-walking business, Cat enlists the help of flatmates Polly and Joe. After all Primrose Terrace, the street where they live, is full of home-alone hounds.