Claude's Christmas Adventure

by Sophie Pembroke

  ‘I’m so sorry, Kathleen,’ Holly said, carrying me closer. I wriggled a little until she put me down, then curled up on her feet. I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew that Jack was definitely okay. Doctors, I knew, were like human vets. I wanted to hear him say Jack was all right. ‘We were trying to organise a Christmas surprise for you. And, well, for ourselves, too. We decorated the whole street with lights, but then the power blew, and Jack fell … and now everything’s ruined.’

  ‘A Christmas surprise?’ Kathleen said, sounding astonished. ‘For me?’

  ‘I’m so sorry we messed it up.’

  ‘Darling, just the idea that you thought of me, at such a busy time of year …’ She reached over and kissed Holly on the cheek. ‘Bless you, my dear. Bless you.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think there’s any permanent damage,’ Dr Roberts said, getting to his feet from where he’d been kneeled beside Jack. ‘But I’ll want to keep an eye on you for a day or so, and absolutely no ladders. Okay?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Jack sat up again and, this time, everyone let him. A man reached out a hand to help him to his feet. ‘Now, how about we get some lights back on around here, hey?’

  ‘Already on it,’ someone else called, from over by Holly’s house. ‘My brother works for the electric company. He’ll get someone out here as quick as can be and we’ll have power again in no time.’

  I shifted over to lean against Jack’s leg, just to check he was really fine. That I hadn’t hurt him too badly.

  And yes, okay, to remind him I was still there, and that he’d promised me gingerbread.

  ‘Come on then,’ Jack said. ‘We’ve still got a lot to do before tomorrow. And I did promise Claude some gingerbread.’

  I barked my approval at that, and Holly laughed. ‘Of course he’s learnt that word.’

  She turned, Jack at her side, me at their feet, to make her way through the crowd to her own house. She almost made it, too.

  But then, all conversation stopped, as the thundering voice of Mrs Templeton cut through the night.

  ‘What the devil is going on here?’

  It was nearly midnight before Daisy and Oliver returned to the hotel. Feeling fuzzy after several glasses of very lovely wine, Daisy clung to Oliver’s arm and buried her head against his shoulder to protect against the bitter French cold as they made their way back.

  Christmas, Daisy had decided, might not be a total disaster after all. They were all together, she’d had a lovely night out with her husband for the first time in over a year, and now she got to spend the night in a nice hotel before travelling home to Claude in the morning. The kind hotel owners had even let them put the perishables from their M&S hamper in the fridge, so there was an outside chance the smoked salmon might still be good tomorrow. The turkey they’d left in the fridge at the chateau. There were limits to how many food miles Daisy was willing to chalk up for her Christmas dinner.

  No, all in all, things could be a lot worse. Really, far, far—

  ‘Oh bollocks,’ she said, coming to a sudden stop in the middle of the road.

  ‘Oh hell,’ Oliver said, stopping with her. ‘What now?’

  ‘Bloody Santa Claus.’ How could she have forgotten the most important job she had on Christmas Eve? Santa needed his parent-elves after all. And Jay would never understand if Father Christmas didn’t arrive for them all tonight.

  Oliver groaned. ‘Maybe he couldn’t find us. Maybe he’s left all the presents ready for us back at Maple Drive.’

  ‘Yeah, because that’s going to work with Jay.’ Daisy sighed. ‘No, there’s nothing for it. We’re going to have to go fetch all the presents from the car and break into their room.’

  ‘Without waking Jay or Bella,’ Oliver said, sceptically. ‘Somehow that seems less likely than the Maple Drive thing.’

  ‘I know.’ Jay was a notoriously light sleeper. There was no way they’d manage it.

  ‘Maybe the stockings could be hung on the door handle? Outside the room?’ Oliver suggested.

  ‘That could work. I’d just put them in our room, but you remember what happened last year.’

  ‘All too well.’ Oliver shuddered. Apparently Jay bursting into their room at four-thirty in the morning, bouncing onto the bed and landing on a very sensitive part of Oliver’s anatomy had permanently traumatised her husband.

  ‘I mean, he’s unlikely to have an aim that perfect two years running,’ Daisy said. ‘But if he comes present hunting in our room and wakes the twins before they’re ready, nobody is going to be having a perfect Christmas.’ Not to mention the fact that it was probably bad form to start drinking before sunrise on Christmas Day. And if things went at all like last year, it was a very real possibility for both of them. And one of them had to drive them all home.

  ‘So, presents in the kids’ room,’ Oliver agreed, hurriedly.

  Daisy nodded. ‘At least that way there’s a stack of interesting stocking fillers that might keep Jay going until sunrise. We just need to haul them all in to the hotel.’

  ‘Better make a start, then,’ Oliver said, reaching into his pocket for his car keys as they reached the hotel car park.

  As she and Oliver struggled to carry the twins’ ridiculously large present between them, up the three flights of stairs to their hotel rooms, Daisy reflected that maybe Santa could have just delivered to the car. That would have been a hell of a lot easier, even if it had resulted in Oliver getting bashed in the boy parts again.

  ‘How were they?’ Daisy asked her mother, in hushed tones, as they stepped out into the hallway to discuss, hoping the extra door between them would stop the twins waking up. Oliver pointed towards the stairs and headed back for another load of presents.

  ‘Little angels,’ Mum said, which sounded utterly unlike her children to Daisy, but she decided to go with it.

  ‘Are Jay and Bella asleep?’ God, she hoped so. If she had to sit up and wait for Jay’s excitement levels to finally subside far enough for him to pass out, she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t be snoring long before Santa had been.

  ‘I think so. I stuck my head in an hour or so ago, and Jay was flat out. Bella still had her headphones on, but I took them off. They’re both fine,’ Mum reassured her.

  ‘Brilliant,’ Daisy said, with a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  Mum smiled. ‘Did you have a lovely time?’

  ‘We did, thanks. It was nice to, well, just be us for a change.’

  Mum’s smile turned a little sad. ‘And to think, that’s just what your father and I were trying to avoid.’

  ‘Do you think you’re going to keep the chateau?’ Daisy asked, wine making her blunt.

  ‘Maybe. It would make a very nice holiday rental, after all …’

  ‘For birdwatchers, maybe,’ Daisy said.

  Mum snorted a laugh, covering her mouth with a hand to try and keep the noise in, so as not to disturb the twins. Her eyes grew too wide, like keeping the laughter inside was straining her body. Daisy couldn’t help it. She collapsed into giggles, putting one hand out against the hideous rose covered wallpaper to keep herself upright as the laughter overtook her, heaving in huge breaths in between.

  ‘When … when your dad …’ Mum said, unable to get the words out between silent laughs. ‘When the bird pooed on his head!’

  ‘I know!’ Daisy fell apart all over again. ‘And when … when he tried to catch it in the saucepan!’

  Mum bent over in the middle, one arm wrapped around her stomach as if her laughter had grown physically painful. ‘I’d never heard him use some of those words before!’

  ‘His French swearing is actually pretty impressive,’ Daisy said, in between bursts of laughter.

  Oliver appeared at the top of the stairs behind them, another bag of presents in his hands, and surveyed the scene. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Dad,’ Daisy managed. ‘And the bird. We should … Oh God, we should buy him birdwatching binoculars for his birthday!’

  Mum howled wi
th laughter at that, but Oliver just rolled his eyes.

  ‘Let’s get through Christmas first, shall we?’ he suggested, good humouredly. ‘Come on, elves. Santa needs a little help.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Daisy straightened up, wiping her eyes to clear them of tears of laughter.

  ‘But your dad definitely needs a new saucepan,’ Mum said, and Daisy gave up the struggle and leant against the wall and laughed and laughed.

  Oliver sighed. ‘Father Christmas never had this sort of trouble,’ he said. But he didn’t look cross. In fact, Daisy thought, as she watched him through her giggles, he looked more like the man she’d married than ever.

  And for the first time since the twins were born, she was starting to feel like the woman he’d married, too.

  Somehow, despite all the torches shining on her, the night seemed dark again. Holly felt Jack’s hand in hers and hoped that it would give her the strength to stand up for what she wanted, and say what needed to be said to Mrs Templeton.

  She’d been so sure they’d had a breakthrough with the woman that afternoon. After all their talk about community, after asking her to be involved in the Christmas surprise, she’d really hoped that Mrs Templeton would be on their side now. That they were bringing Maple Drive together, not causing more division in place of the indifference that had been fostered there before.

  But from the look on Mrs Templeton’s face, she was wrong.

  Arms folded across her chest, holding her red brocade dressing gown closed over her nightdress, Mrs Templeton tapped her slipper on the grass and scowled under her iron grey hair.

  ‘I’ll ask again,’ she said, when no one answered. ‘What, exactly, is going on here? And why, as Neighbourhood Watch Warden, did nobody wake me when the lights went out? I’d never have known at all if it wasn’t for all the noise out here.’

  ‘We’re sorry, Mrs Templeton,’ Jack said, rubbing the back of his head as he spoke. It had to hurt, Holly was sure. She shivered a little at the thought of how close he’d come to being seriously injured. ‘We were hoping to make this a surprise.’

  Mrs Templeton took a moment to look around, surveying the lights failing to illuminate the street. In the torchlight, the dark outlines of the shapes looked sad and lonely. Holly looked with her, wincing a little as she wondered how the woman who’d hated her elegant icicle lights was going to feel about the Rudolph on the roof of number 3, once they got it lit again.

  ‘It most certainly is that,’ Mrs Templeton said, faintly. ‘I notice you haven’t thought to affix any lights to my house.’

  Holly and Jack exchanged a look. Was she hoping they would? Or was she warning them off? It was kind of hard to tell.

  ‘Your house was next on our list,’ Holly said, taking a chance. ‘Although, obviously we’d have asked your permission first.’

  ‘Of course.’ Mrs Templeton gave a regal nod. ‘I suppose I could bear to live with some of those snowflake lights. Just to make sure the whole street is in harmony.’

  ‘I’ll get them up for you now,’ Jack said, beaming.

  ‘Oh no you won’t.’ Dr Roberts bustled through the crowd to object. ‘You’re not going anywhere near a ladder, remember? You’re sitting down and recovering. I’m sure there are plenty of people here willing to help out.’

  A murmur went through the neighbours, and Jessica from number 3 put herself forward for the job.

  ‘Right then,’ said Mrs Templeton, rubbing her hands together. ‘Now that’s sorted – or will be once the power’s back on – what’s next? I can’t believe that the lights were your only plan for a surprise Christmas for the street?’

  For the street? When this had started, it had just been for Kathleen, and maybe for themselves. Then that had grown to include Mrs Templeton, and now … everyone on Maple Drive. How had this happened?

  And why couldn’t she stop smiling at the idea?

  The crowd was silent, waiting to hear her reply. ‘Um, well, the plan was really still a work in progress,’ Holly admitted, still grinning.

  Mrs Templeton rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly. Amateurs. Lucky for you I’ve organised a fête or two in my time. I know just what we need to do. Starting by getting inside where we can discuss the plan and allocate jobs.’

  Never mind that it was nearly midnight. Never mind that her house wasn’t big enough to fit everyone in, and she’d have to light candles everywhere just to be able to see anyone. Never mind that Claude was still curled up by her feet and would clearly need a place to stay for the night. And never mind that she’d never even spoken to half the people currently congregating on the street outside her house.

  ‘Come on in, everyone,’ Holly said, happily. ‘I hope you all like mince pies!’

  Jack, his head still banging, trailed into Holly’s house behind the crowd, Claude at his feet. Perhaps this was all some sort of concussion-induced dream. It made a hell of a lot more sense than Holly suddenly accommodating the entire neighbourhood, for mulled wine and mince pies by candlelight at midnight on Christmas Eve.

  ‘I’ve updated the Find Claude page,’ Jessica, from number 3, told Jack as they squeezed through the front door. ‘The McCawleys probably won’t see it until morning, but I’ve told them that Claude is safe with you again now. I’ll try and send a photo too, so they can see that he’s okay.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jack said. Just remembering that Claude was home made his head hurt less – even if the little dog was at least partially responsible for his accident. Jack didn’t care.

  Mrs Templeton quickly took charge of the gathering, while Holly hunted out glasses and mugs for the mulled wine.

  ‘There’ll be jobs for everyone in the morning,’ Mrs Templeton said, her voice crisp as she surveyed the mass of people crammed into the house. She shook her head. ‘But for now, we just need to plan, so most of you might as well go home and get some sleep.’ There were a few objections to that, so Holly added, ‘After you’ve had some mulled wine, and maybe some of my mince pies, of course.’

  ‘But it’s Christmas Day tomorrow,’ Mrs Hodgkins from number 1 said, frowning. ‘We can’t just give up all our own plans and traditions for yours.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Holly said, soothingly. ‘And we’d never ask anybody to. But if anyone is alone this Christmas, or looking for a little more company, we’d love to have you as part of our community Christmas, that’s all. I mean, we’ll just be right here in Maple Drive, so you can just pop out for half an hour, if you like. And nobody has to do anything. Right, Mrs Templeton?’

  Mrs Templeton looked considerably less certain of that fact, but Jack suspected that came from decades of ordering people around as a headmistress.

  ‘Holly’s right,’ he said, sensing she might need a little back-up. ‘A community is only a community if everyone wants to be there, and wants to take part. We’d love to see all of you tomorrow, and celebrate Christmas with you. But we understand completely if you have other commitments, or choose not to join in.’

  That calmed the crowd a little – or possibly that was just the effect of Holly’s mulled wine.

  Jack glanced around the kitchen, taking in the scene. People were spilling out through the back door, and into the hallway, and there were a few sitting down in the lounge, having the conversation relayed to them in a weirdly festive version of Chinese whispers. Claude, he noticed, was making the rounds of the kitchen, gobbling down all the scraps of gingerbread and pastry that people could feed him. Someone had put a pair of reindeer antlers on his head, but Claude didn’t seem to mind. He’d probably never had his ears scratched by so many people before, Jack thought. And every one of them seemed honestly pleased to see him back where he belonged and safe. The antlers were probably a small price to pay.

  Imagine, just a day ago, he’d believed that there was no community in Maple Drive, no Christmas spirit. And now the entire street was planning a Christmas … not a surprise for Kathleen. How could it be, when they were all in on it? A celebration of Christmas, and their commun
ity, perhaps.

  Or maybe it didn’t matter what it was called. Just that, against all the odds, it was happening.

  Eventually, Mr Yates’ brother showed up from the electric company, made some calls that Jack suspected wouldn’t have been made for anyone else, and informed them all that the power would be back within an hour or two.

  Once the mulled wine ran out, most people left, but by that time Mrs Templeton had a pretty good list going on the notepad she’d pulled from her dressing gown pocket when she sat down. People had volunteered food and services and help, and Mrs Templeton seemed to know what they’d all lead to, even if Jack wasn’t sure at all.

  Eventually, there was just Jack, Holly, Kathleen, Mrs Templeton and Claude left.

  Jack took a seat at the table with the women, and didn’t object when Claude climbed into his lap, his muzzle covered in crumbs. He felt warm and content and sleepy under Jack’s hands as he removed the antlers he was wearing. He wondered if they’d ever know exactly what sort of adventures Claude had been having while he’d been away.

  Whatever they were, he seemed grateful to be back amongst friends and gingerbread again. And Jack was very grateful to have him there.

  ‘So, I think that’s everything sorted.’ Mrs Templeton underlined something on her list, then showed it to Kathleen and Holly, who both nodded.

  ‘We’d better get some sleep,’ Kathleen said, pushing her hands against the table to help her to her feet. ‘Lots to do tomorrow.’

  ‘Agreed.’ Holly looked tired, Jack realised, but her eyes were still feverishly bright in the candlelight, from the excitement of the evening. He wondered if she’d sleep at all tonight.

  ‘You look like I remember feeling as a child on Christmas Eve, waiting for the magic to happen,’ he told her, as he pulled on his coat.

  ‘Except we’re not waiting for the magic,’ Holly replied. ‘We’re making it.’

  Jack grinned. He supposed she was right.

  Leaving Claude snoozing in Perdita’s cat basket, Jack walked the two older women back to their own homes. It was cold and dark and slippery out, and with them both in slippers and dressing gowns, he wasn’t taking any chances of them falling and hurting themselves. There’d been enough of that for one night already.