by Anita Notaro
‘How’s that going?’
‘Stop working, you’re off duty.’ He slapped my wrist. ‘Actually, not too bad, we’re making progress, mainly because I’ve buttoned my lip. That’s all I’ll say until I’m paying you to listen.’
‘Hi.’ Clodagh joined us with a good-looking guy in tow, and Mike greeted her warmly. ‘This is Joe Quinn.’ She smiled at him. ‘His mother, Mabel, is a new client of yours, so he wanted to say hello,’ she told us both.
‘Ah, Clint the Cocker Spaniel.’ I only remembered my new clients’ names by their pets. I decided to ignore Mike, who almost choked.
‘Hello, and thank you, you’ve made such a difference,’ he said. ‘I can now get in the door of my mother’s house without losing blood.’ The music started, and Clodagh dragged him off.
‘Clint?’ Mike looked constipated. ‘Where do they get them? Owner a fan of Westerns, I presume?’
‘No. Mabel is a big country-music fan. Clint Black?’ I explained as he raised his eyebrows. ‘She met her latest husband line-dancing to one of his hits.’
‘Latest husband?’
‘Third,’ I told him.
‘You gotta be kidding me – that guy is no spring chicken, his mother must be ancient.’
‘No, swear.’ I made the sign of the cross on my throat the way we all did as kids when we were lying through our teeth.
He shook his head. ‘There’s a word for you, I just can’t think of it right now.’ At that moment, Mary killed the music and the present-giving commenced. I got a year’s subscription to DoggyScopes, a horoscope hotline for pets to tell what the future had in store for them. It had been bought by Louis. I should have guessed. I thanked him with a smacker on his hairy face, and he laughed delightedly. ‘Wait till you hear it, it’s insane – American, of course,’ he told me. ‘I just couldn’t resist it, and I’m so glad you got it, you’ll appreciate it.’
‘There’s actually no reply to that,’ Mike informed us. ‘You two should get together, you’re made for each other.’
Just as people were beginning to talk, reluctantly, about leaving, Doug Stewart appeared, and I was absolutely thrilled because I’d doubted he’d turn up but I’d left him a message anyway, trying to encourage him. I was even more delighted to see he still had Growler in tow.
‘He’s going next week,’ was the first thing he told me, dashing my hopes. ‘That ad of yours was a great idea. I had eight replies. A young couple want him as a Christmas present for their nine-year-old son, so I’ve agreed to keep him until Christmas Eve.’
I introduced him to Mabel, whose son was still keeping Clodagh company. I also noticed Ronan and Maddy laughing in a corner, so I decided the night had been a definite success.
When I went down to check on the mutts and other assorted creatures, it was bedlam but everyone there was having a great time. Animals had that effect on people. There seemed to be no aggro whatsoever, although the smell made me wrinkle my nose.
‘Dead mouse meets baby puke is what the minders have decided,’ Mike said as I almost collided with him. ‘Although that very attractive one over there assures me you don’t notice it at all after a while.’ He winked.
‘I’d say, snuggled up to Melissa, you wouldn’t all right.’ I laughed. She was about eighteen, blonde and very sexy. ‘Were you planning on getting up close and personal yourself?’
‘Nah, too much trouble explaining to them what life was like before mobile phones and decimalization,’ he told me. ‘And if I have to trawl through another Bebo page with a girl and laugh hilariously at three hundred photos of her mates drinking stuff with umbrellas, I’ll take one too many tablets.’
‘Serves you right for being in the music industry. Sure no one in a record company is over twenty-five.’
‘True. Sad but true, I’m afraid,’ he agreed, just as Louis joined us. ‘Which is why I’m such a novelty at thirty-five.’
Louis fanned himself. ‘I’ve just been kissed under the mistletoe by the most divine reindeer. If he’s male, I want him.’ Mike and I burst out laughing. The food helpers and waiters, once they’d finished serving, had all put on Christmas costumes, so we had two reindeers, a couple of snowmen and an angel.
‘Which one?’ I asked, and Louis pointed to his left.
‘Yes, definitely male, I recognize him,’ I told a delighted Louis, who threw the mistletoe at Mike and headed off.
‘You’ve just sent my flatmate off to grope that animal, and you haven’t a clue whether it’s even a human being – never mind a male – have you?’ Mike pretended to be shocked.
‘Not an iota.’ I grinned just as Dinny came upon us.
‘What’re you doing with that mistletoe in your hand and a gorgeous woman standing next to you?’ He gave Mike – who was just about to take a slug from his beer – such a slap that I heard his teeth smash against the glass. ‘Would ye give her a kiss, for God’s sake, and then pass it to me so that I can have a go. I’ve kissed a dozen women so far tonight, and I don’t intend to stop until I’m black and blue.’
‘I’d better do as I’m told, that man is dangerous.’ Mike held the mistletoe over my head and leaned in and, at that point, somebody pushed against me – there was a chain gang going around the place singing ‘Jingle Bells’, so I guessed it was one of them – so that instead of offering him my cheek, I ended up kissing him full on the lips. It was just the lightest brush really, but it made my lips tingle, so I jumped back as if I’d been given an electric shock.
‘Nice.’ He winked at me, but before I had a chance to process what had happened, Dinny was in front of my nose. ‘For God’s sake, what are you, man or mouse? That wasn’t a gooser at all,’ he told Mike, depositing a big wet smacker on my lips, then swinging me around. ‘That’s how to kiss a woman,’ he announced, but by the time he’d put me down I had my back to Mike, who’d been nabbed by Melissa and dragged into the conga train. ‘Now, where’s that fit-looking pensioner I saw earlier? I’d say she’d be game for a laugh.’ He disappeared into the crowd, and I was left, standing there licking my still-tingling lips, wondering what had happened with Mike and why I suddenly felt differently about him. I glanced over to where he was: kicking to the left then kicking to the right, and by now wearing a ridiculous set of antlers as he clutched Melissa’s waist. He looked completely chilled, as usual.
24
SUDDENLY, IT WAS CHRISTMAS EVE, AND THE USUAL MADNESS ensued. I was in the office, trying to catch up on last-minute bits. I’d bought some brilliant pet cards online, as well as a selection of trinkets, and I’d sent them in the post to all my regulars, but I had three new clients, so these last ones were being couriered. Mary, who’d loosened up even more since the party, had volunteered her services too, which was extremely nice of her, given that most people would rather be anywhere else in the world except the office on this day. Still, I was eating my way through a casket of Milk Tray – courtesy of a boxer called Charlie – and feeling no pressure at all. There were no clients crying and telling me how much they dreaded this time of year, and no suicidal ones for me to be seriously concerned about. Sending out yoyos to Yorkies was the height of my stress, and I was loving it.
‘I keep forgetting to ask where you’re spending tomorrow?’ Mary waltzed in with two steaming cups of hot chocolate, which came with a dash of rum and a truffle each, courtesy of our catering friends, who’d had three new clients since our party, one of whom was Louis.
‘In the van,’ I told her excitedly. ‘Maddy’s coming, and so is Clodagh, which is quite unbelievable given that her folks are entertaining every night for a week and normally insist on her presence. And what’s more, I ordered the turkey and ham from our local butcher, who’s promised to have everything ready to go in the oven, including homemade stuffing and giblets for gravy. He’s even given me the loan of a large pot for the ham. Can you believe it?’
‘No,’ she said dryly. ‘In our local supermarket they give you a number and you queue up, and when you get it it’s wrapped, so you don’t ev
en get a look. To order all you do is write down the weight and your details at the customer-service desk.’ I knew Mary was spending the day with her elderly parents and an aunt and uncle, so I guessed she wasn’t really in the mood to hear me banging on about how our local fruit and veg shop offered to peel and bag the sprouts, sold homemade cranberry sauce and even had all the ingredients for a winter fruit trifle – including the cream and custard – in a cute parcel with the recipe attached. Maura, the owner, told me that, last year, she and her daughter had been up until 4 a.m. getting them ready, but that Bray was full of younger couples who couldn’t cook and hadn’t the time or the interest anyway, so they loved all her ideas and were happy to pay a bit extra – even in these tough times – to impress their families and friends. I overheard one elderly customer the previous Saturday saying that she’d rather not pay her gas bill than deny herself Maura’s treats, a comment that made me realize how lucky I was not to have any worries in that department.
I decided that now was the right moment to make Mary feel needed. ‘Well, here’s a little something to use when you get an hour to yourself. It’s just to say thank you for being the best front-of-house person a dog could ever hope to bark at.’ I handed her a homemade Christmas box filled with luxuries for the bath and complete with a snipe of champagne. She was so happy, she hugged me with tears in her eyes, then produced a doggie Christmas stocking full of edible treats for Pete, who came out from under my desk to receive it and thumped his tail enthusiastically.
There was a knock on the door just then, and it was the courier, come to collect my packages, so there was a bit of a mad scramble for a minute or two and I didn’t notice a second delivery of flowers, a big red-and-white hand-tied bouquet with the most amazing red amaryllis and incredibly scented white hyacinths, which all turned out to be in little pots in a box so they’d last for ages – and even come back again next year, the delivery woman told me proudly. I replied that she was completely overestimating my skills as a gardener, but I was thrilled.
The card said, ‘Thank you for ensuring that no one gets murdered in our house this Christmas, love Pedro.’ There were paw marks all over it and it had all the style of a Louis gift, I decided, until I saw a further line in the bottom-left-hand corner. It said: ‘PS You’re a great kisser!’
I was still smiling a few minutes later when Doug Stewart appeared at the door clutching a bottle.
‘I wasn’t expecting to find you in; I just wanted to leave this for you to say thanks.’
‘Doug, come in.’ I was delighted to see him. Just then I noticed Growler and realized that today was their last day together. ‘And there’s no need to thank me at all. I’m just sorry you and Growler are parting ways.’
‘We’re not – the bottle’s from him.’ He grinned and patted the dog’s head. ‘After talking to you at the party and seeing all the dogs and their owners, I realized that he was all the family I’ve got, so I found the couple another rescue dog.’
I was so happy I hugged him for a full minute. ‘You have just made my Christmas,’ I told him, and insisted we open the wine to celebrate.
That night, Maddy teased me endlessly about the flowers, but she didn’t have a leg to stand on really, because Ronan O’Meara had asked her out at last and they’d arranged to meet early in the New Year for a walk and tea in that lovely coffee shop I’d visited with Myrtle. ‘So shut up unless you can take it right back,’ I warned, as she launched into some crappy Christmas love song for the tenth time and made kissing noises to the flowers.
We had Chinese takeaway and mulled wine – not a combination I’d be recommending any day soon, but Maddy had insisted – in front of the fire, while we watched The Sound of Music and looked forward to the big day. We were meeting Clodagh – who’d been forced at gunpoint to spend the evening with her folks – for ten o’clock mass in the town, so we headed to bed early ‘in case Santa is hovering overhead’, Maddy told Pete.
The dog slept at my feet, as he always did, although tonight he had a brand-new, ultra-luxurious fake-fur bed with paw prints on it, courtesy of Emily, and a musical hot-water bottle that played Christmas tunes, bought by Imelda, another new client. He was unusually excited tonight, maybe because Maddy kept leaping out of her bed and winding the music up again every time it stopped so that she could hear ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’ one more time through the wall. I was nearly asleep five times over, so I eventually locked her out and drifted off saying a prayer of thanks for the way my life had turned around and asking for a happy and healthy new year for all my loved ones.
The day dawned crisp and sunny. Maddy gave me tea and a Buck’s Fizz in bed. I knocked over the glass as I threw back the duvet – one of the perils of a small bedroom – which meant that Pete had his first taste of champagne. He loved it, if his furious licks were anything to go by, and when I got to the kitchen the fire was on, the television was blaring and Maddy was peeling spuds and quaffing bubbles.
‘Can we do presents now?’ I’d been feeling up the parcels the night before and was dying to ransack the pile.
‘No, we have to wait till Clodagh is here.’ She slapped me. ‘How old d’ya think you are, seven?’
‘I know, I know.’ I almost wanted to stamp my feet. ‘It’s just that everything seems magnified and much more exciting because we’re waking up on Christmas morning in a caravan. It feels like we’re on holiday.’
‘We are! But you’re right, it does feel like the best fun, like we’re camping out or having a Famous Five-type adventure or something. Anyway’ – she handed me a knife – ‘help me with these, that’ll cure you.’ We sang and whistled and got everything ready, even down to laying the table and putting hats and crackers on plates, and I made a little doggie table for Pete, complete with his new Christmas bowl, courtesy of Dinny.
Maddy drove to mass so that we could leave Pete in the car then head straight for the prom. I’d dressed in a red coat – I was still living off Bronwyn – and I’d bought a matching hat, gloves, and a scarf with pom-poms, which Maddy declared ‘ridiculous’, but I noticed she was wearing a black felt coat with a giant reindeer embroidered on the back. Combined with stretchy jeans, a gorgeous T-shirt and high black patent boots, she looked young and happy and carefree, and I wondered if Ronan O’Meara had anything to do with it.
Clodagh was waiting for us outside the church. She’d been for a run and looked positively radiant, her hair in a ponytail and wearing a stunning purple jacket and blue jeans. ‘I changed in the car.’ She laughed. ‘Thought you’d disown me if I turned up in trainers.’
We sang all the hymns loudly and I was surprised that I knew quite a few people outside. Maddy declared me a true Dulchie, a Dublin person who’d become a culchie – which is how country people were known in the capital.
We had a long walk, which Pete adored, principally because there was so little traffic. We let him off the lead most of the time, and he bounded about the place sniffing every hole in sight, hoping to come upon a Christmas bunny, I suspected. Maddy and I were knackered after forty minutes, whereas Clodagh hadn’t even gotten into her stride, but eventually we won, after I screamed ‘Enough,’ and so we headed for one of the amusement places, which was definitely open and populated mainly by young adults – on their way home, Maddy decided, because they were all way too raucous for morning time and the smell of alcohol nearly knocked us out. Anyway, we had a great time eating candyfloss Barbie would have been proud of and crunching through toffee apples with concrete coats. Pete watched patiently from the sidelines and made no attempt to join in, ducking and cowering deeper in his corner as the chairoplanes swooped or the bumper cars crashed while the three of us waved madly and called out ‘Good boy’ a hundred times, just to make him feel part of it.
Clodagh thought the van looked amazing. Maddy had bought two hundred white icicle lights for the deck, and they twinkled madly as we approached, made even more magical because the earlier sunshine had faded and the light was dropping fast. Sh
e’d even draped a nearby conifer tree and, given that it was the only source of light around the neighbourhood, Clodagh decided it was ‘the dog’s bollocks’, and Pete agreed, it seemed, as he meandered up and down the laneway and urged us on.
Once inside we uncorked the champagne and checked on the turkey, which we’d decided to cook really slowly while we were out.
Clodagh added her presents to the pile under the tree as Maddy shouted, ‘OK, let’s have a toast. What shall we drink to?’
‘Romance,’ Clodagh said immediately, and we all knew that had to do with Joe Quinn, whom she’d introduced us to at the party and who had asked her if she’d go out for dinner once he returned from a ski trip to Italy.
‘I might have a bit of that myself, you never know.’ Maddy gave a dirty laugh.
‘I’d say you might whether you want to or not if Myrtle has her way.’ We’d discussed it the previous evening.
‘Anyway, the thing is, I might not have time for luuuuvvvv, darlings, because I have news.’ She made a fanfare sound. ‘You are looking at Sara Jane Heath, junior doctor at St Anthony’s and about to take the TV world by storm.’ She waited while we took it in.
‘Sorry?’ Both Clodagh and I said together, then I got there first. ‘What? You got it? When? How? Jesus Christ, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘They only finally nailed it the day before yesterday as the team broke for the holidays.’ She laughed at our faces. ‘I was dying to tell you but I decided to wait. I mean, what could be more perfect? The three of us together, sharing Christmas, each one of us with a life heading in a new direction. I mean, look at us: new jobs, a new home for you, Lou, and maybe even for me – wait till you hear what they’re offering to buy me out for the next three years – and new men in all our lives.’ She nudged me. ‘And don’t bother denying it. I saw you looking at him in a funny way the night of the party.’
I blushed, because I knew they’d drag the kiss story out of me eventually. As it was, I couldn’t believe neither of them had copped it on the card.
