I had to find it.
I tracked the smell to the edge of the field, underneath a heavy, old tree, its bare branches swaying in the wind. And then I started to dig, deep down through the roots.
The ground was hard and cold, but the winter sun shining on the patch I was digging helped. As I fought my way through the frozen soil, the scent grew stronger. Warmer.
Tastier.
Then my paws hit something hard – something that didn’t look like it would be nice to bite at all. The smell had to be coming from inside it. If I could only find a way in …
‘Claude?’
I froze at the sound of my name, then jumped around to see Holly crossing the field towards me, her bright red coat wrapped tight around her.
I’d been found. And I knew what that meant.
It was time to run again.
‘Claude? Claude!’ Holly called again, as the little dog scampered through the trees towards the school’s back gate. She tried to give chase, but his little body – while not fast – was at least capable of squeezing through spots she couldn’t even see.
She stopped, under the tree where Claude had been digging, and wondered what to do next. Should she call Jack, tell him she’d had a Claude sighting? She’d only come by the school because she realised she’d left a bag full of books in the staff room, and had forgotten that the caretaker was away from Christmas Eve and the building wouldn’t be open.
Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. She’d come out for a walk because she hadn’t been getting into her wedding dress, and she’d already decorated the Christmas cake, and she was desperately afraid she might have actually reached the end of all her possible planned Christmas crafts.
Basically, it was Christmas Eve and she no idea what to do until Jack came by to organise Kathleen’s Christmas surprise, so she’d got herself out of the house she’d bought with Sebastian and into the fresh air for a change. And then she’d spotted Claude over the railings and, well, everyone in the area knew that the gates at Forest Green First and Middle School were easy enough to unlock, if you knew the trick. So she’d let herself in and followed.
What had he been doing here? Knowing what little she did of Claude, looking for food. But why had he thought he’d find it here? And what had he been digging for?
At least all the questions meant she wasn’t thinking about her non-wedding any more.
Holly crouched down on the frozen ground and studied the hole Claude had been digging. Was there something in it? Yes. Something tarnished and battered – but with a tiny bit of sparkle shining through. What on earth had attracted Claude to it, though?
Reaching in, Holly pulled out the object – a tin, she realised. An old fashioned, oversized biscuit tin, maybe, or something similar. Brushing the dirt off it, she shivered. It was too cold to stand about wondering what it was; she’d take it home and figure it out there. And if she was lucky, maybe Claude would come flopping through her cat flap again to find it.
Maple Drive was deserted as she walked back up towards her house – except for the courier delivery van parking at the end of the cul-de-sac.
‘My decorations!’ Holly gasped, and picked up her pace – but too late. As she reached the path to her house, she spotted the card sticking out of her letterbox. The van’s engine started behind her and she turned to wave at the driver, but he just pointed backwards. Towards number 13. Mrs Templeton’s house.
Holly grabbed the card from the letterbox. There it was, in scrawled black ink. Parcel left with neighbour at 13. Damn it. This never happened when Jack was delivering her orders.
Marshalling her courage, Holly marched straight over to number 13, praying that the decorations she’d ordered had been delivered in some discreet, brown packaging, like they did with orders from Ann Summers and expensive lingerie shops. Not that she’d know, except for her brief research into wedding lingerie.
But she could tell from Mrs Templeton’s face as she opened the door that this wasn’t going to be the case.
‘I suppose you’re looking for these.’ Mrs Templeton spat the last word as she pointed at the pile of parcels, all proudly emblazoned with the words ‘The UK’s Premier Outdoor Christmas Decoration Company!’
Not subtle.
Good grief, how many had she ordered? She’d sort of lost track after the first few pages of adding things to her online basket … but it looked like she’d bought enough decorations to cover all of Maple Drive, never mind her little house.
‘Thank you for taking them in for me, Mrs Templeton,’ Holly said, in her best sweet-schoolteacher voice. ‘I’ll take them off your hands right away.’
‘Wait a moment, young lady,’ Mrs Templeton said. ‘Don’t you play me for a fool. I know what you’re doing. There are more decorations in these boxes, aren’t there? After I specifically informed you that they were not allowed on Maple Drive!’
She could claim she’d ordered them before their conversation the day before, Holly realised. Promise that she was going to send them straight back where they came from, and go forth and decorate no more. She could appease Mrs Templeton the way she appeased everyone – the way she had Sebastian, going out of her way to make his life easier, to help him relax after a hard day at the office, or forgiving him instantly for all those late nights he had to work and forgot to tell her about. She could assume the blame, the guilt, and leave Mrs Templeton mollified.
Or she could take back Christmas.
Holly glanced down at the epic stack of boxes. They might not be to everyone’s taste, but she had ordered those decorations because she liked them. Because they made her feel festive, and happy, and she wanted the house she’d struggled to make a home for one after Sebastian left feel as if it really did belong to her after all. She’d paid for them with her own money, earned from her little online shop after her teacher’s salary had all gone on boring things, like the mortgage. She’d worked for those decorations.
She deserved those decorations, and the happiness they would bring her.
‘Actually, Mrs Templeton,’ she said, straightening her spine. ‘I checked the resident’s charter that you gave me when I moved in. Not only does it not appear to be in any way an official document, but there is no mention of Christmas decorations anywhere in it.’
‘An oversight,’ Mrs Templeton snapped. ‘Probably because before you moved to this street, it never needed to be spelt out! Nobody would dream—’
‘Well, I dreamed,’ Holly interrupted. She didn’t have to listen to this. ‘In fact, I did more than dream. I ordered. And now I am going to decorate.’ She slammed the tin Claude had discovered down on top of the boxes, and bent down to lift the whole stack. ‘Merry Christmas, Mrs Templeton.’ And with that, she nodded sharply, and prepared to make her grand exit.
‘Wait!’
Holly sighed. So much for a clean getaway. ‘Mrs Templeton, it’s my house! I can decorate it any way I want, and the Neighbourhood Watch has no right to tell me otherwise!’
‘Never mind the stupid decorations.’ Mrs Templeton reached out to run a finger over the top of the tin. ‘Where on earth did you find that?’
Holly blinked, and shifted her arms around the boxes to get a better grip. ‘The tin? Claude was digging it up on the school field.’
‘The school field …’ For a moment, Mrs Templeton looked misty-eyed and far away, something Holly had felt secure in saying would never happen, five minutes ago. Then she snapped back to the present. ‘Give it to me,’ she demanded.
‘No!’ Holly’s refusal was automatic, instinctive. ‘Why should I?’
‘Because it’s mine.’
‘If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to the school.’
‘My school. I was headmistress there for twenty years, long before you came along you realise, and I buried that tin there. It is mine.’
‘You buried it?’ Holly paused to give a moment’s thanks that Mrs Templeton had retired long before she began teaching at Forest Green School. It was hard to ima
gine they’d view the profession in quite the same way. ‘Then, what is it?’
‘A time capsule,’ Mrs Templeton said. ‘A Christmas time capsule, buried twenty-five years ago this Christmas.’
‘A Christmas time capsule?’ Holly stared at the tin with a new appreciation. ‘That’s a brilliant idea.’ She’d have to try it with her class next year.
‘Of course it is.’ Mrs Templeton’s voice didn’t contain a hint of modesty. ‘I love Christmas, and I wanted my students to love it too.’
Mrs Templeton loves Christmas. Who’d have thought it?
‘Well then.’ Holly adjusted her stack of boxes again. ‘Don’t you think it’s time we opened your time capsule?’
As the day wore on, I watched from the shadows as people moved around Maple Drive. The redheaded girl at number 3 walked up and down the street sticking some sort of paper sheets onto the lampposts, but she wasn’t my focus.
My focus was Holly. She’d spotted me, she’d found my shiny box, and I wanted to know what she was going to do next.
Holly carried my shiny box across to Mrs Templeton’s house, then back to her own – along with many other boxes – Mrs Templeton following. I’d never thought them to be friends before, but apparently they had something they were working on together right now.
I just really hoped it wasn’t finding me and sending me to the pound.
But really, what else could it be? What else could those two women have in common?
Perhaps it was time to leave Maple Drive, before the worst happened. I’d believed that Jack and Holly were my friends, that they would take care of me until Daisy, Oliver and the children came home. But now I knew they were just as likely to turn me in as Mrs Templeton was. And probably the guy whose hedgehog food I’d eaten.
I could hide out in another neighbourhood, I supposed. One where no one knew me, or who I belonged to – or that I wasn’t being looked after right now. But then how would I know when my people came home?
The other alternative was waiting in the back garden at number 11, so I’d be right there the moment Jay and the others arrived home. But there was nothing to eat there – I’d spent all of last night looking, and turned up nothing. Even the most seasoned hunter wouldn’t have found a gingerbread man to catch in that garden.
So, stay and wait for my family but starve, or go and hope to find food but risk being alone forever?
This was not a good choice for a dog to have.
I stared across the road at Holly’s house again. Obviously I couldn’t risk sneaking in there again now, especially not while Mrs Templeton was also in residence. But maybe tonight, once Holly was in bed, I might be able to pop through the cat flap for some food? As long as Perdita didn’t give me away.
Oh, who was I kidding? Perdita would be first in the line to send me to the pound.
My gaze travelled to the house next door. Kathleen. The house where I had first tasted gingerbread. Was that really only yesterday? It felt like an age already. And even longer since I’d last eaten.
Kathleen had been kind. Maybe she would let me in again.
It might be my last chance. If I couldn’t get into Kathleen’s house and eat a piece of gingerbread by the time the sun went down, then I’d leave Maple Drive and seek my fortune elsewhere.
I bobbed my head and, decision made, trotted across the road to number 10, where I sat and stared up at the door.
The problem with paws, of course, is that they’re not made for knocking. I could bark, or whine, I supposed, but that might draw undue attention from Holly next door. I didn’t even know if Kathleen was inside, or if she’d gone out.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me, and jumped round to check. Jack! He was still on the pavement, and hadn’t spotted me yet, so I dived into the bush under the windowsill at the front of Kathleen’s house. There, nestled in the relative warmth of the leaves and soil, I hid and watched Jack as he approached Holly’s front door.
One more traitor in my midst. I couldn’t risk running and being seen – plus there was no chance of getting gingerbread from Kathleen if I left now.
I huffed a sign, and hunkered down, resting my snout on my paws.
Seemed there was nothing to do but wait until Kathleen opened her door.
My eyes started to close, itching with tiredness after my restless night in the back garden. Maybe I could risk just a little snooze, before I made a final decision about my destiny.
The buzzing sound that had drawn her out of sleep wouldn’t go away. Daisy blinked in the dark of the bedroom, hemmed in by the heavy curtains around the bed, and finally realised what the noise was.
Her phone.
The ferry!
Fumbling to find the buzzing device on her bedside table, Daisy whacked Oliver on the shoulder until he woke up too. If they were calling to say they had space on the last ferry home, they’d need to get a move on – and quick! The bedside clock told her it was already 6.30. So, 5.30 UK time. And it felt it. Thank God the twins had decided to sleep in, for once.
‘Hello?’ she said, her voice scratchy. ‘I mean, bonjour?’
‘Mrs McCawley.’ Daisy’s spirits sank. She knew that voice. She recognised it from the information desk at the ferry. Henri. ‘This is just a courtesy call to let you know that unfortunately no spaces have become available for you on this morning’s ferry. We do hope that you will travel with us another time, and if we can be of any assistance—’
‘You called me, at six thirty in the morning, to tell me I can’t travel home today?’ she ground out. Surely the man had a personal vendetta.
‘Company policy is to call all passengers on our waiting lists. Successful or not.’ The man’s smarmy voice made Daisy’s skin crawl. ‘Now, would you like me to assist you in booking passage on another occasion? I could put you through to our bookings line …’
‘No,’ Daisy snapped. ‘You can’t. Because it’s six thirty in the morning on Christmas Eve and I don’t believe for a moment that they’re open. You’re just trying to make my life miserable.’
Suddenly, the bedroom door flew open. ‘Mum! Claude’s gone viral!’
‘What?!’ Viral sounded bad. Daisy’s brain immediately leapt to Mrs Templeton’s comments about rabies, until she noticed that Bella was grinning. Her exhausted brain finally caught up. Viral was good. Viral meant more people searching for Claude. She covered the end of her phone with her hand. ‘What’s happening?’
‘I assure you, madam, I am just doing my job,’ Henri said, smugly. Daisy ignored him.
‘The Find Claude campaign is all over social media,’ Bella said, bouncing onto the bottom of the four poster bed with excitement. ‘I mean everywhere! There’s even a piece about him on the BBC website! And people are putting up posters, organising search parties …’
‘That’s incredible!’ Bella’s excitement was infectious, and Daisy found herself grinning back at her daughter and forgetting all about the phone in her hand. At least, until Henri started talking again.
‘Now, about your future travel home—’
‘I don’t know,’ Daisy said, cutting him off with a sudden confidence she hadn’t felt in years. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to get home. But I can tell you one thing – we will. We are going to get home, find Claude and spend our Christmas together as a family.’
‘And will you be doing this via our company?’ Henri asked, apparently unaffected by the warrior spirit that had filled Daisy, as she sat bolt upright in bed.
‘No, Henri. It will not be with your poxy ferry company. There are other ferries. Other ports. Hell, we could even take the Channel Tunnel if we wanted—’ She broke off, staring at Bella, and then at Oliver, who had just about managed to struggle into a seated position.
‘We can take the tunnel,’ she repeated, in a whisper. Bella’s eyes widened, and she nodded furiously.
‘Mrs McCawley?’ Henri said. ‘If I could just take a moment to—’ Daisy hung up on him. She wasn’t wasting another moment on an i
mbecile who didn’t understand that dogs were family too.
She was going home.
‘The Channel Tunnel?’ Oliver asked, his voice heavy with sleep. ‘Is it open today? The car shuttle service, I mean?’
Sometimes, you didn’t need to plan ahead. Sometimes, you didn’t need to be super mum, with checklists and calendars and brilliant time-keeping skills.
Sometimes, you just had to follow your intuition, wherever it led you.
Daisy grinned. ‘Let’s drive to Calais and find out.’
The icicles were still missing, Jack realised, as he approached Holly’s front door. It made the house feel bare, like every other house on the street. As if all of Holly’s personality had been stripped from the place.
He missed the icicles. Hadn’t she said she was going to put them back up? He wondered what had changed.
Glancing back over his shoulder as he waited for Holly to answer his knock, Jack spotted a piece of paper fluttering against the lamppost. With a frown, he moved closer to check it out.
FIND CLAUDE! The headline shouted. Underneath was a photo of a very familiar black and white dog, wearing a Santa between his bat-like ears. Apparently they weren’t the only ones searching for him. Jack clocked the social media page link at the bottom of the poster. He’d have to check that out.
But then the door opened behind him, and he turned back to find Holly in the open doorway.
‘You’re here!’ Holly cried, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. Was she baking again? Or drinking mulled wine without him? ‘You won’t believe what we’ve found!’
She dashed back through the hallway, leaving Jack on the doorstep.
‘We?’ he wondered, aloud, as he followed her inside, pulling the door shut behind him. ‘Who is we?’
He got his answer as he stepped into the kitchen. Mrs Templeton sat at the head of the table, and Jack blinked at the strange sight. Was this another Christmas light intervention? Except Holly had seemed excited, not upset.
Claude's Christmas Adventure Page 13
