Christmas at Sandcastle Cottage

by Christina Jones

  Chapter Four

  Several hours later, Kitty stood on a dingy back street in one of the less salubrious areas of Reading. It was dark, cold, wet, and thoroughly miserable. The rain slanted relentlessly under the harsh street lights. The small parade of shops had grubby windows decked with cotton wool snow, half-hearted fairy-lights and some lop-sided tinsel. No-one bothered much with Christmas round here anyway.

  Kitty stared at the trio of hoodied and trackie-bottomed youths, all clutching cans of drink in one hand and kebabs in the other, who were huddled in the nearest doorway. They scowled back at her. Then grinned.

  ‘Sorry, Kit – didn’t know it was you. Didn’t recognise you all poshed-up.’

  ‘So I gathered. Budge over then and let me in.’

  The lads stood aside. ‘Night, Kit.’

  ‘Good night.’

  Kitty pushed open the door and stepped inside Apollo’s Kebab Takeaway. It was brightly lit, warm, and smelled of grilling meat and herbs and spices and fried onions.

  Home. For now.

  She’d been lucky to find this place – ok, it wasn’t the Ritz and it certainly wasn’t Sandcastle Cottage – because it had given her a job and a home when she’d desperately needed one, not to mention plenty of free meals at the end of the evening.

  ‘Hello, Kitty.’ Apollo, middle-aged, short and round, paused in the middle of deftly slicing an iceberg lettuce and chuckled. He always found using the phrase “hello kitty” amusing and never tired of it. ‘Glad you’re home safe. Go ok today?’

  ‘Fine, thanks.’ Kitty, who’d dreamed of Sandcastle Cottage all the way home on the long, slow train journey, now pushed it to the back of her mind and looked at the four waiting customers sitting on the plastic chairs underneath posters of exotically-coloured Mediterranean islands. ‘Do you need a hand?’

  ‘No. Not tonight. This is your day off, Kitty. The idea! And you in all your finery, too.’ Apollo laughed. ‘Mary’s just seeing to the date-checks on the food in the freezers out the back – she’ll give me a hand if we get very busy… but on a night like this, I can’t see it. Would you like a coffee?’

  ‘I’d love one,’ Kitty slipped behind the counter and headed for the kitchen. ‘It was a very long journey. No, you stay there. I’ll make it. And one for you and Mary – she’ll be freezing out there. And then I’ll have to make my apologies to the boy – I know he hates me being out all day.’

  ‘Zorro’s been as good as gold,’ Apollo swiftly prepared an order for one of the waiting customers. ‘I took him for a good run in the park earlier, and I looked in on him just now. He’s upstairs, on your bed - asleep with Honey. They’re good company for each other. I locked the door again.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m glad he’s been ok without me. And thanks for locking up.’ Kitty made three mugs of instant coffee and smiled through the hatch. She and Apollo held copies of each other’s door keys – just in case. ‘Let me just take this to Mary and then I’ll go and give him a cuddle.’

  ‘Give them this when you go up,’ Apollo waved a wrapped package. ‘Chicken. Oh, and here’s your supper, too… I’ll put it all up here to keep warm.’

  ‘Ta – and I love you,’ Kitty grinned. ‘I’m starving.’

  Kitty located Mary in the tiny unheated-and-strip-lit back room. Muffled up like someone on a polar expedition, Mary, a local lady who lived alone and helped out in the shop because she “got bored with the crap on the telly” and who admitted to being “somewhere in me eighties, duck”, emerged from one of the massive freezers armed with her industrial thermometer and digital clip board.

  ‘Thanks, duck,’ she took the mug from Kitty in one massive-thermal-glove-wrapped hand. ‘We’re all hunky dory in here. As per. Temperature is right and everything’s in date order. Apollo will fly through any health and safety checks they’re likely to throw at us.’

  Kitty smiled. Apollo was rightly proud of his constant 5 stars in the Scores on the Doors inspections. ‘Mary, you’re a star. Now, you get yourself back out into the shop and warmed up. I’m off to see my boy.’

  Two minutes later, having grabbed the food from Apollo and rushed up the stairs at the back of the shop, Kitty unlocked the door to one of the two bed-sits above the takeaway. Apollo lived in the other across the small landing. It was a tight squeeze, but it was home.

  She closed the door quietly, switched on the light, placed her coffee and the food on a small table, and whispered, ‘Zorro…’

  With a clatter and a scrabble and an ear-to-ear Staffie smile, Kitty was almost knocked over by the huge, delighted brindle dog with the rotor-blade tail who hurled himself from her bed in the corner.

  Zorro. The love of her life.

  Squatting down, she hugged him, he snuffled excitedly, scampered on the spot, turned round and round, kissed her and capered some more. Then they looked at one another as there was a further rattling of claws on the uncarpeted floor and further snuffles as Honey, Apollo’s own jet black Staffie, waddled happily towards them.

  After sweetly repeating the cuddles and hugs and kisses, Kitty stood up, walked the few paces across the room to the kitchenette part of her bedsit, and reached for the dogs’ bowls and a plate for herself. She smiled ruefully, already daydreaming again about the lovely spacious old-fashioned kitchen in Sandcastle Cottage… But heck, this room had everything she needed for now – it was warm, dry, snug, and only a few seconds from her job in the kebab shop.

  Ok, it wasn’t the life she’d been used to, and certainly not the one she’d aspired to – but Apollo and Mary and most of the people round here were honest, down-to-earth and friendly, and there were so few places who’d even consider taking in an impoverished and unemployed Julia Roberts look-alike with a massive grinning Staffie in tow.

  When the Willowmead house went, James hadn’t wanted Zorro. James had said his sister didn’t like dogs. James had said they’d have to take him to an animal shelter to be rehomed. Kitty had said over her dead body, and wondered again why she’d spent so much of her life with James.

  Of course, Zorro hadn’t been named Zorro when Kitty had brought him home two years earlier. Zorro was another mistake, really… But a good one this time. She’d found him, near the railway station, curled on a blanket with a homeless man. She’d stopped and given the man some money and patted the dog’s huge head. He’d grinned at her. His owner hadn’t.

  ‘Take him if you want,’ he’d spoken quietly. ‘I can’t keep him. I don’t get enough to feed myself, let alone him. He deserves a home – he ain’t much more than a baby. This ain’t no life for him. I took him from someone else ‘ cause I think they was going to breed with him – or worse… But he needs a proper home. He’s a lovely dog.’

  ‘He is,’ Kitty had sniffed back an impromptu tear. ‘But… I don’t know anything about looking after dogs, and I’m at work all day, and…’

  ‘If I give him up to the authorities they’ll probably shut him a cage for the rest of his life – if he’s lucky.’

  Oh, God! Kitty had stared at the brindle dog with the rotor blade tail and the ear-to-ear grin. She’d bent down and stroked his head. He’d licked her cheek. They’d stared into one another’s eyes.

  ‘Oh…’ Kitty frowned at the hand-written label on his collar.

  ‘We had to write their names on… for the street vet.’

  Kitty had understood. ‘Yes – but seriously? Is that his name? Satan?’

  ‘Satan? Nah…’ The homeless man had looked askance. ‘Stan. His name’s Stan. Me hand shook.’

  Kitty had bitten her lip. ‘Actually, I think he should be called Zorro – look at those black lines round his eyes… Like a mask.’

  ‘Lady, you call him what you like, just take him and love him and feed him and give him a good home. OK?’

  ‘OK… I’ll learn how to look after him. I’ll train him. He’ll have the best home. I promise he’ll be loved and cared for. And you,’ she’d handed him a wodge of notes, ‘feed yourself, take care… be lucky
.’

  And before she could change her mind or be sensible, Kitty and Zorro had walked away. Together.

  James, Kitty remembered with a frown, had not been best pleased.

  Apollo, who serendipitously had the “staff wanted – live in or out” notice in his window when Kitty and Zorro had been trudging round the cheaper parts of Reading, had beamed at Zorro and introduced him to Honey, and had said Kitty’s references were impressive – he’d never had anyone working for him who had produced references before – and that she was more than welcome to the job and the flat. Kitty would only be serving because, despite the glowing references, she didn’t have the right hygiene qualifications for food prepping, and yes he was more than happy to let Zorro live in the upstairs bedsit, but he mustn’t ever be in the shop and must always use the back stairs. If Kitty was happy with all that, Apollo had said, then he’d be “over the moon” to have her and Zorro as tenants.

  And Kitty, having taken a good look at the run-down street, and the scruffy parade of shops, and the drifting youths idly kicking cans outside, then at the kindly man waiting for her answer, had known that she’d found her new home.

  Now, shedding her boots and her parka, dishing up the food for herself and the dogs, switching off the overhead light and turning on lamps, she curled on the bed, and flicked on the television. Oooh – a Pirates of the Caribbean – proper escapism. And Johnny Depp. Bliss. The dogs snuggled down beside her, chomping happily.

  As Kitty ate her supper, with the rain sliding down the windows and the harsh street lights outside casting elongated shapes across the floor, she thought briefly of Sandcastle Cottage, then concentrated on the television. The handsome swashbuckling pirates on the screen were about as far removed from her reality as Sandcastle Cottage had been.

  ‘Dream on, Kitty,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Dream on.’

  Chapter Five

  It was three weeks before Christmas when disaster struck. Kitty’s Gran had always, rather annoyingly, said bad news came in threes – and on this occasion she hadn’t been wrong.

  The day had started normally. Apollo didn’t open the kebab shop until lunchtime, so Kitty had taken Zorro and Honey for a long morning walk. It was another bitterly cold, dark grey day, with a rattling north-easterly wind. Christmas was looming; the scruffy shops were now bursting with seasonal tat and Noddy Holder was screaming “It’s Christmaaaaaas” from every open store door. It was all pretty depressing.

  James hadn’t mentioned any plans for Christmas in his last brief visit ten days earlier, which was something of a relief, and Kitty had decided that she’d just hole up in the bedsit with Zorro, a ding-ding dinner, and some trashy telly for Christmas.

  Then Apollo had said, as he had no close family left in the UK, he’d probably open the shop and provide free food for anyone who needed it on the day. Kitty had said that was a lovely idea and she’d be more than happy to help out. Mary had looked horrified and said she was off to her youngest daughters’ for a “proper family get-together, you know – too much food and booze and a good old knees-up, duck”.

  So, that was Christmas sorted. One less thing to worry about.

  With the dogs trotting along on their leads beside her, Kitty headed back towards home. She looked down at Honey and Zorro and smiled. They’d walked for miles, had a good run in the park, and once they’d been fed they’d both probably snore the afternoon away while she worked behind the counter. She was just crossing the road when her phone rang. Stepping on to the pavement, she looked at the screen. Jemini… It was an odd time for Jem to ring for a gossip.

  ‘Hi,’ Kitty, tucked the phone under her hair. The wind was bone-chilling. It scythed straight through her jeans, thick jumper, boots and parka, and out the other side. She really didn’t want to be standing about having a girlie chat with an old school friend, however lovely. ‘Jemini, it’s fab to hear from you, but not the greatest time. I’m out with the dogs. Can I ring you back when I get home? Jem…? Are you crying?’

  ‘No… yes… I meant to tell you this when we were down at Miss B’s memorial thing – but you always seem so organised and in control and I just felt so embarrassed and ashamed and everything, but now I’ve got to talk to you because…’

  ‘Ok – oh, hang on… Stop it! No… not you, Jem… ’ Kitty tucked the phone under her chin and hauled Zorro and Honey back from their excited investigation of an abandoned MacDonald’s carton. ‘Sorry, Jem – look can I just get the dogs back home and then I’ll…’

  ‘Kit – can I come and stay with you? I’ve got nowhere else to go!’

  ‘What…?’

  ‘I’m being evicted from my flat. And I’ve lost my job – in the Big Sava cutbacks. And…’

  ‘Why are you being evicted? No! Don’t do that! Sorry, Jem – not you – the dogs… They can’t just evict you… and you’ve got Teddy… the council have to offer you something else… and put that down! Now! No, Jem – the dogs… sorry…’

  ‘Kitty! Listen! I got behind with my rent… my fault… I thought I could work overtime to make it up. I’ve had bailiffs’ letters, Kit! Then there was all this stuff about Big Sava’s profits going down the pan and how they were closing branches – and ours was one of them. We’re all going to be out of work by Christmas Eve which is really awful for everyone – and of course I haven’t been there long enough to get redundancy or anything.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Kitty said. ‘You poor thing. Why do they always do this to people just before Christmas? Have you asked anyone about the bailiffs’ letters?’

  ‘Citizen’s Advice. They were kind and gave me as much information as possible, but honestly, I’ve ignored letters from the landlord for ages hoping it would all go away, so they couldn’t help much.’

  ‘Oh, Jem… But what about your keep-fit classes? Don’t they bring in enough to tide you over? And what about benefits in the short term?’

  Jemini sniffed. ‘Oh, the pole dancing lessons have come to an end because the council took the funding away, and I can’t get any benefits for ages because there are so many hoops to jump through – and even with Teddy, the council can only offer me a B&B miles and miles away and then only for a week at a time because I’ve made myself homeless by getting into arrears and…’

  Kitty closed her eyes. Zorro and Honey had now joyfully entwined their leads and were play-fighting.

  ‘Right, Jem – I’ll call you back once I’m indoors. OK? I can’t think straight out here with the dogs. Look, we’ll work something out. I’ll be about ten minutes, ok?’

  ‘Ok, thanks, Kit. I knew I could rely on you.’

  Oh god, oh, god, oh god… Kitty thought, as she shepherded Honey and Zorro towards Apollo’s shop. It was so cold that even the local youths had given up looking menacing in doorways and were huddled together in the bus shelter. They waved at her. She waved back.

  ‘Kitty!’

  She stopped in her tracks. Oh, no – just what she didn’t need right now. James was hurrying towards her. He’d had his hair cut, she noticed. And he’d got a new Crombie coat. He looked – prosperous. Zorro rushed towards him, his tail rotor-blading. James ignored him. Bastard.

  Zorro returned to Kitty who kissed him, and he and Honey sat side by side giving James a hard stare.

  ‘Kitty…’ James smiled. It looked smarmy. ‘I was just coming to see you. Look, can we go inside? I need to talk to you.’

  ‘We’re talking, and if it’s not going to be too long’ Kitty said, knowing Jemini was waiting for her to call back, not wanting to spend more time with James than was absolutely necessary, and hoping her teeth weren’t going to chatter or, even worse, her nose start to run, ‘I’d rather it was out here.’

  ‘If you insist,’ James gave a sort of hollow laugh. ‘Although I think we should be doing this indoors and maybe you should be sitting down… ok… Kitty…. Look, this isn’t going to be easy – but I’ve met someone else.’

  Kitty blinked at him. Someone else? As in – a woman? After
all this time?

  ‘Oh…?’

  ‘She’s older than me, we’ve been working together – she knows about… well, about what happened with Dad’s business and everything, and she still took me on… and well, we’ve got close.’

  Kitty frowned. James had clearly conveniently forgotten to mention in any of his previous visits that he’d actually got a job again.

  ‘Took you on? You mean, it’s her business? She’s your boss?’

  ‘Well… Yes.’

  ‘And you’ve got close, have you? And does she know about me?’

  James stared at the ground and scuffed his nice new conker brown shoes on the pavement.

  ‘I’ll take that as a no, shall I? And another thing, you don’t look cold or windblown. You haven’t travelled here by bus, have you, James? You’ve got a car. A new car. A company car? And you’ve parked it round the corner so I couldn’t see it?’

  He nodded.

  Kitty seethed. Because of James and his thieving scumbag father, she’d lost every single thing she’d worked hard for, paid for, cherished. It all went to bail them out. And now James had moved on – new clothes, new job, new home, new car, new woman.

  ‘Congratulations, James,’ Kitty said. ‘You’ve got yourself a Sugar Mummy. How very clichéd – I wish you both every happiness.’ And with Zorro and Honey at her heels, she turned and walked quickly towards the kebab shop.

  ‘Kitty!’ James yelled after her. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m not!’ she said over her shoulder. ‘ My only regret is that I didn’t finish with you months ago. Goodbye, James.’

  She slammed through the kebab shop’s back door and tore up the stairs. Both dogs thought it was a great game and tore up with her, panting happily. Once she’d fumbled with her key, stumbled into the bedsit, freed the dogs from their harnesses and given them bowls of water, Kitty plonked down on the bed.

  So – that was it - there was no more James. No more Kitty and James. They’d been together for a very long time. Was she heartbroken? No, definitely not… But hurt…? Yes. Because she’d stood by him even though he and his damn dad had wrecked her world.