Not Just For Christmas

by Alex Brown

  ‘I’m not at the base, Kitty.’

  ‘Where are you, then?’ she asked without thinking, and then regretted it, unsure if she had overstepped the mark. It wasn’t really any of her business where Mack was and he certainly didn’t have to drop everything to come to them right away just because Monty wouldn’t get off a quilt made out of Ed’s old clothes. But Kitty knew that Mack’s steady, calm, rock-solid approach was just the sort of thing she needed right now.

  ‘I’m at a specialist clinic.’ He paused, and exhaled as if gearing up to share something quite personal.

  ‘Gosh, sorry, not that it’s any of my business, Mack. Forgive me for being nosey, I didn’t think …’ She let her voice fade away, conscious that she was babbling again.

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ He did a big, hearty laugh, but there was a tinge of vulnerability in his voice, too. ‘The thing is, I’m getting some new legs fitted!’

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ Kitty managed, feeling momentarily thrown by a confusing mix of emotions. This was clearly a big moment for him, getting new prosthetic limbs. She wondered how he was coping. ‘Um, what I really meant was, wow! This is amazing news, Mack.’ Kitty could hear Mack’s soft breathing down the line. ‘Are you OK?’ she then asked, breaking the slightly ominous silence.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll be fine. Once I can actually make the bloody things go where I want them to − you should see the bruises on my backside.’ He laughed if off, but Kitty knew it was bluster. ‘On second thoughts, probably not – my backside sure ain’t a pretty sight!’

  ‘Ah, I’m sure your backside looks perfectly fine.’ Kitty blushed as she wondered why on earth she had said that and was relieved that Mack wasn’t there to see the flush that was creeping up her face. Awkward. Luckily, Mack changed the subject, which saved her from further embarrassment.

  ‘So, do you reckon you could hang on for a bit? Just until I’m back on my feet as it were − hopefully, with a bit of luck and bloody determination! And then I can get down to see you.’

  ‘Sure, of course. It’ll be fine.’ Kitty knew it was important for Mack to focus on himself and his new legs. It was a monumental moment for him and the last thing she wanted was to intrude on that. ‘I’ll figure it out.’

  ‘Are you sure? I can keep in touch by phone to see how you’re getting on, but please don’t call the base. I’m sorry for jumping down your throat, but there’s a chance they might suggest putting Monty down if they get wind of a problem.’

  ‘Really?’ she asked, horrified. It was no wonder Mack reacted the way he had when she had suggested asking the army vet for advice.

  ‘Yeah. It’s unfortunate, but some dogs can’t be rehomed. They’ve seen a lot of action and they just aren’t cut out for normal family life; it’s sad, especially if the dog’s done its duty. ’

  ‘That’s terrible. Ed would never forgive me if I let that happen.’

  ‘Sometimes it has to be done, Kitty, if the dog is aggressive or too traumatised by his experience in the field.’

  ‘But Monty isn’t like that. He’s the easiest-going dog I’ve ever met, and he’s not aggressive, just heartbroken!’ She glanced over at the dog, still lying forlornly on the quilt. But Monty wasn’t whimpering any more. In fact, he was asleep. Snoring, too. Loudly. She couldn’t resist a giggle. ‘I panicked, that’s all − Teddie was shocked and upset. Maybe if I gently move the quilt while Monty’s asleep, and put it away, then he’ll be fine, just like he was before it came out.’

  ‘Good plan. Let me know how it goes.’

  ‘Sure. Will do.’

  ‘And I am really sorry I can’t come and help out.’

  ‘Please don’t mention it. Honestly, it’ll be fine. You just concentrate on those new legs and getting them to go where you want them to.’ They both laughed before hanging up. Kitty smiled as she placed the receiver in the cradle. If anyone was determined enough to get those new limbs working, it was definitely Mack.

  Kitty walked across the lounge and knelt down next to the snoring dog, his paws twitching and running in his sleep as he dreamed − of being in the field with Ed, perhaps? After carefully lifting the corner of the quilt, Kitty tried to roll it up, hoping to gently push Monty away so she could whip it free without waking him. But it was hopeless. The dog sat bolt upright the very minute he detected the slightest movement beneath him. Of course he did. He’s trained to do so. Kitty tried again, with Monty watching this time. His one good eye fixed on hers as if telepathically saying, Please don’t take Ed away from me again. She glanced away and saw that Teddie was asleep now, still clutching her fluffy rabbit. She decided to go for it, get it over and done with, and tried again to whisk the quilt from under the dog, praying that Monty would let it go this time.

  But no. His heartbreaking whimpering started up once more and Monty was tugging at the quilt again. And Kitty couldn’t bear it. She really couldn’t. The rush of emotions, those feelings that she felt in the months – years – after Ed’s death, came flooding back. It was as if seeing Monty’s raw grief laid bare before her had triggered her own pain all over again. Those feelings that she had processed and packed away had been set free. Free to rampage through her body and soul once more. Kitty couldn’t do it all over again. She had to put the lid back on the Pandora’s box. But how?

  Kitty sat back on the carpet feeling utterly deflated as she silently watched the flames flickering and crackling around the logs in the burner. She had so badly wanted to do this for Ed but it was all too much – and right before Christmas, too. She put her head in her hands and cried. Moments later, Kitty became conscious of Teddie stirring on the sofa and a tap on the window overlooking their little cottage garden. She looked up. It was Taylor.

  ‘Hey, are you OK?’ Taylor yelled, cupping her gloved hands around her mouth and pressing her face closer to the window. Pulling herself together, Kitty quickly leaped up and went to the door to let Taylor in. Taylor’s cheerful face creased with concern as she took in Kitty’s troubled one. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to snoop or anything. I just came round to meet Monty and see how he’s settling in.’

  Kitty sighed. ‘You’d better come in.’

  ‘Oh you poor thing.’ After Kitty had quickly explained what had happened, Taylor looked across at Monty, who was still sitting on the quilt. ‘And poor boy, too. Look at him! He looks so sad. Do you mind if I try to coax him off it?’

  ‘Of course, please, if you can help him …’

  After unzipping her parka and laying it on the carpet next to Monty, Taylor crouched down beside the traumatised dog and made a gentle shushing sound before stroking the fur trim on the hood. Monty watched intently, his good eye flicking to the parka, to Kitty and back to Taylor, seemingly checking to see if the situation was OK. He was on hyper alert. Kitty inhaled sharply on seeing an alarming pile of his black fur that had materialised on Ed’s quilt. Taylor, sensing Kitty’s anxiety, explained.

  ‘It’s the stress. It can make dogs rapidly shed their coat.’ Kitty sat on the sofa next to Teddie and watched as Taylor slowly moved her hand until it had left the fur on the parka’s hood and transferred onto Monty’s leg. The dog inclined his head towards Taylor and let her stroke his ear. Ever so slowly, Taylor coaxed the dog towards her until he was sitting on the parka, away from the quilt, which she very discreetly pushed away with her leg as she wrapped her arms around Monty’s muscular shoulders and whispered into him, continuously stroking him gently. Taylor stood up and pulled a dog biscuit from her jeans pocket and showed it to Monty, who immediately stood up, wagging his tail. But Taylor didn’t give him the biscuit straightaway: instead, she backed away towards the door. Miraculously, Monty followed her, eager to get the treat and seemingly quite used to doing as requested for a reward.

  ‘Shall I take him with me for a bit?’ Taylor whispered. Kitty nodded and mouthed, ‘Thank you’ before breathing a massive sigh of relief as she quickly rolled the quilt up the very moment Monty had left the room.

  Chapter Five

&nbs
p; Taylor was back at Paws Pet Parlour and Amber, her mum, was at her wits’ end. She loved her nineteen-year-old daughter dearly, but, having just tripped over a squeaky dog toy and nearly landing face first on top of poor little Lexie, the timid cocker spaniel, it really was the last straw when Taylor appeared with Monty in tow.

  Taylor took one look at her mum with her frazzled face on and swiftly filled the kettle with water to make her a much-needed cup of tea. And there were some homemade mince pies in the cake tin, so she’d warm one up with a dollop of fresh cream on top in the hope that would appease her in preparation for finding out that they had another four-legged friend joining the expanding fold.

  ‘Please tell me you haven’t brought in another stray,’ Amber sighed as she eyed the liquorice-coloured Labrador before sinking down onto the last remaining inch of sofa that wasn’t covered in a furry creature of some kind.

  ‘Oh, Mum, but we have to take him in!’ Taylor pleaded, shooing away an overinterested mutt who was sniffing at Monty’s bottom, while Monty was politely ignoring it. She dropped a teabag into a mug and filled it with boiling water and a splash of milk, and handed the mug to Amber before sorting out the mince pies and cream.

  ‘Thanks, love.’ Amber took a sip of the tea. ‘But please don’t be trying to bribe me with tea and cake. We’re fit to bursting, Taylor.’ She shook her head. ‘Honestly, it just isn’t fair. Not on us or the animals. Look at little Lexie: she hasn’t even got her usual spot on the sofa because that gangly greyhound’s taking up all the space. And where did he even come from?’

  ‘He was left tied up to a bench in Market Briar when I was there last night. I spotted him early on and he was still there when I went to get the last bus home, and I asked all around if anyone knew who owned him. I couldn’t just leave him. It was perishing cold and he was trembling,’ Taylor explained, giving Gerald the Greyhound, as she had named him, a quick stroke before shifting him along and patting the sofa so Lexie could reclaim her spot. Meanwhile, Monty was sitting quietly by the door with his head bowed. Her heart went out to him.

  ‘Well that Labrador can’t stay!’ Amber said, looking at Monty. ‘I’m sorry, Taylor, but enough is enough. And look at the state of him: only one eye, and there’s something wrong with his paw; I spotted the limp. I hope he’s not one of those bait dogs. You know, one of those poor pets they use to start dog fights. He could have all kinds of health issues, and someone has to pay for all of that to be looked at?’ Amber stood up, placed the mug on the table and put her hands on her hips.

  ‘Mum, we have to keep him. He’s not a fighting dog, but he has been in the wars.’ She passed her mum a bowl full of mince pie and whipped cream.

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ Amber asked, dipping the tip of her index finger into the top of the cream and giving it a lick before tucking in. ‘Mmm, this is good. Thank you,’ she added, in between mouthfuls of the delicious pie.

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Taylor nodded, pleased that she seemed to be thawing. ‘He’s Ed’s dog.’

  ‘Ed?’ Amber tilted her head to one side as if racking her brains to place the name. And then she momentarily put a hand to her mouth and placed the bowl on the table as she remembered. ‘Do you mean Kitty’s Ed, the soldier? The one who died in Iraq?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Oh, dear Lord, then why on earth didn’t you say so right away?’ Amber immediately knelt down in front of Monty. She ran a hand gently over his back before drawing him in to her for a cuddle. Monty stood his ground, but Taylor spotted his tail doing a restrained swish from side to side. ‘You poor, brave boy.’ Amber stood again and turned to Taylor. ‘But why have you brought him here?’

  ‘Well, he was living with Kitty, but he got upset over a quilt made out of Ed’s clothes. So sad it was, Mum, and I just couldn’t leave him like that! Little Teddie was upset by it, too, Kitty said. She was devastated as well, and I didn’t know what else to do. And it might not be for long: I’m sure Kitty will want him back just as soon as the quilt’s stowed away safely and—’ Taylor had babbled on nervously before her mother cut in.

  ‘OK, he can stay.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum!’ Taylor beamed and went to give her mum a hug.

  ‘But only for a day or two. He deserves a proper home after all he’s been through, not our tiny cottage that’s going to burst at any moment now because it’s so crammed with creatures of one kind or another. No, this old war dog should have a bit of space − a bed, or spot on the sofa of his own at the very least.’

  ‘I agree. And I promise it’ll only be for a few days,’ Taylor said, mentally crossing her fingers that Kitty was able to take him back, because, if she couldn’t, then who knew what would happen to the lovely black Labrador with only one good eye and a paw with a limp?

  As Taylor was pondering on all the possible ways that she could persuade her mum to let Monty stay indefinitely, the door that led through into Paws Pet Parlour opened and April Wilson, from Orchard Cottage down in the valley, popped her head round.

  ‘So sorry to bother you, Amber. Any chance you’ve got some horse feed in? I’m running low and the place that usually delivers called earlier to say the driver’s been delayed – got stuck in snow on the other side of Market Briar – and I’d rather not take a chance on running out. Old Darby and Joan do like to munch though their feed.’ She laughed, pushing her long curly hair back over her shoulder.

  ‘Yes, you’re in luck. I’ll get some bags from the shed,’ Amber said, heading out into the garden. April smiled and turned to Taylor.

  ‘I hope you don’t think I’m being nosy, but as I was coming through the pet parlour I couldn’t help overhearing your mum saying how crowded it’s getting now with all your rescue pets.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. But I can’t abandon them, certainly not in this weather.’ They both glanced at the window and saw a fine sheet of sleet drifting down.

  ‘Oh dear, definitely not. But where have all the animals come from?’

  ‘Well, some of them just haven’t been collected. People bring them in for a shampoo and clip and then don’t come back.’ Taylor shook her head and then smiled as she spotted Monty standing in front of timid little Lexie with his chin resting protectively on the sofa beside her as if he were her bodyguard. ‘And some are just waifs and strays, left tied up on the side of the road. Maybe their owners just can’t look after them any more. Too expensive. And with Christmas just around the corner …’

  ‘Gosh, it’s such a shame.’ April frowned.

  Amber returned, humping two big sacks into the kitchen. ‘Here you go. How many bags would you like? I’ve brought in these two and I’ve got more if you need them.’ April quickly went to help her with the bags while Taylor closed the back door.

  ‘These will be fine for now. With a bit of luck the delivery guy will make it to Orchard Cottage in the next few days.’

  ‘Well, you know where we are if you need a top up.’ Amber smiled and then yelped when she accidentally stepped back onto the tail of a black-and-white kitten. ‘Oh, for crying out loud!’ She scooped the kitten up into her arms. ‘Don’t suppose you’d like this little fella, by any chance, April?’ Taylor looked horrified as her mum proffered the kitten at their customer.

  ‘Mum! That’s Puddles. You can’t just give him away.’ She reclaimed Puddles from Amber and gave him a kiss on the top of his soft head before letting him nestle into the crook of her elbow. Amber rolled her eyes and let out a long sigh of exasperation.

  ‘Well, something has to give, Taylor. There must be rules about overcrowding − what if the Tindledale Parish Council get wind of all this? And Health and Safety? We could be closed down, and then where would be? No, what we really need is a proper rescue centre. An animal sanctuary.’ She paused to sweep a hand around the tiny cottage, which was crammed to the rafters with animals, almost literally: the three of them glanced up to see another kitten clawing its way up Amber’s new curtains in an enthusiastic bid to catapult itself onto one of the big
black beams that crossed the whitewashed ceiling of their tiny cottage.

  ‘Perhaps I could help.’ Amber and Taylor both swivelled their heads towards April. ‘One of the old apple barns in the field behind Orchard Cottage could be yours if you want it.’

  ‘Really?’ Both women said in unison.

  ‘Yes, it’s a bit dilapidated, so would need work doing to it, but if you can muster up some cash to get it properly kitted out with a new floor and stuff then it’s yours. And it’s plenty big enough for lots of kennels or cosy little nooks for the cats.’

  ‘We’ll take it!’ Taylor said, plopping Puddles onto a nearby arm of the sofa so she could clap her hands together in glee and breath a massive inward sigh of relief. ‘Thank you.’ She enveloped April in a hug. This was the answer to her prayers. There was no way Mum could make her give up any of the animals now they were going to have a proper place to keep them all. And maybe over time they could look to open as a pet centre − a charity, even − somewhere people could come to give a dog or cat a forever home of its own in return for a modest donation that could then be used to invest, to pay for pet food, blankets, vet bills and all that stuff. Taylor had it mapped out already. She had been dreaming about this kind of venture for years.

  ‘Hang on,’ Amber interjected, bringing Taylor’s daydreams to a sudden halt. ‘It’s very generous of you, April, but are you sure about all this?’

  ‘Absolutely. My great-aunt Edie was an animal lover and she would much sooner you have it, rather than a property developer. In fact in her will she specifically said that if any part the orchard and outbuildings could be used for the greater good of the residents of Tindledale, the village she’d loved and lived in her whole life, then that would be her preference. These animals are residents of Tindledale, too, aren’t they?’ She lifted a quizzical eyebrow and Taylor nodded furiously.

  ‘Yep, that’s right. All of them. Apart from Monty − he’s just come back from Iraq and Afghanistan, but he used to belong to Ed, Kitty’s husband, so that sort of makes him one of the villagers, too.’