Sunshine and Spaniels

by Cressida McLaughlin

  The sketches were brilliant, and Cat could see that the idea had endless potential. From simple situations like pressing a large red button marked Don’t push, to recreating film scenes – the kitten pulling back a bed-sheet, a horse’s ear just visible. It was funny and adorable, it could be sad, or enchanting, or—

  ‘What are you doing?’ Joe asked close to her ear, and Cat jumped.

  ‘I-I was tidying up. You’ve got beer—’

  ‘Never mind.’ He scooped the papers up. He had washed the scratches and they glistened, deep red, along his arm. ‘I’ll sort these out.’

  ‘Joe, these are—’

  ‘They’re dumb,’ he said, not looking at her.

  ‘No! God, no, Joe, they’re—’

  ‘Going in the bin.’ He stormed out of the room, taking the sketches with him. Cat slumped against the table. Maybe he wasn’t as over Rosalin as Cat had believed. If he thought those cartoons were rubbish then he was either seriously deluded, or stuck so far in self-doubt it was unlikely he could ever be pulled out.

  ‘Joe…’ She hurried after him, determined not to let him sink into misery, and felt something crack under her shoe. She bent down and picked up a tiny silver Eiffel Tower. It was on a ring, as if meant to go on a bracelet or necklace, and it rang a familiar, tinkling bell in Cat’s mind. She thought of Captain’s small, terrified dog, and the little Eiffel Tower charm she had been wearing on her collar. How on earth had it got into their house?

  Chapter 5

  Cat lay in bed that night, twisting beneath the covers, too hot to be under them, not prepared to relinquish them entirely, and wondered how the papillon’s collar charm could have found its way into her house. She hadn’t seen Paris since the Pooches’ and Puppies’ Picnic, and Captain only briefly on her way back from the beach, and while she’d been to Elsie’s house, she hadn’t gone into the back garden. How could it have got there? Unless…she turned her pillow over and sank her forehead into it. She wouldn’t be able to say anything until she was sure – it would be bad enough telling Joe if she had proof, let alone if it was just a theory.

  In the morning, Polly appeared at the dining table with a huge stack of textbooks and gave Cat an apologetic smile.

  ‘Studying?’ Cat asked the obvious.

  ‘I have to, Cat, I’m sorry. I want to help, but I’ve got tons of revision.’

  ‘OK. Joe?’

  Joe was almost non-existent in his quietness, and Cat wondered if something had happened, beyond his cat attacking him and her discovering his sketches.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s Saturday. We made a good start on Frankie’s attic yesterday but there’s still an Everest of boxes left, and that’s only part of it. We have to sort through them, and chuck things out, and then we have to clean it and turn it into a new place. It needs to be the most desirable rental room in the whole of Fairview, and I thought, with your artistic eye, you might want to help?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not today, Cat.’

  ‘You’re not using your injury as an excuse, are you?’ She smiled, but Joe didn’t look up from his toast to see it. His arm had been expertly wrapped in a thin bandage by Polly, and Cat wondered if he’d wear it long enough to get a weird tan line on his arm.

  ‘No, just trying to finish this commission.’

  ‘Curiosity Kitten?’

  ‘No, Cat, I told you that’s rubbish, I—’

  ‘OK, OK.’ Cat held her hands up. ‘I get it. Sorry. Right, it’ll be me, Frankie and the girls then. See you later.’ She was going to visit Frankie, but there was somewhere else she needed to go first.

  Silver Street ran parallel to Primrose Terrace, but instead of counting the houses and trying to work out which one backed onto Elsie’s, she had asked her neighbour for Captain’s address. Silver Street was on a slightly smaller scale, and without the elegant curve the terrace had. But what they lacked in size, these houses made up for in postage-stamp front gardens. Captain’s was a small square of neatly mown grass, framed by a border of busy Lizzies in pinks, purples and whites.

  ‘Captain,’ she said, when the old man opened the door dressed in a navy T-shirt and shorts that showed off thin, brown legs. ‘How are you? Could I come in for a moment?’

  He peered at her over his half-moon glasses, then nodded and stepped back, inviting her in. His house was full of light, with white walls and colourful paintings, as if it was a mini art gallery. Cat was drawn in by the numerous seascapes, calm waters with sunsets and moored yachts, tumultuous oceans, one that showed Fairview beach, with the lighthouse standing proudly on its cliff.

  ‘Fancy a drink? Not got much in, but I can offer you instant coffee, or a glass of wine?’

  It was half past ten. ‘No, thanks, Captain. I came to see how Paris was getting on. Is she still under the weather?’

  He stopped in the kitchen. His eyes were wide with sadness, and he shook his head slightly. ‘I’m not sure she’s got long left. She’s just gone into herself, like she can’t bear to be around anyone – not even me. When she’s not in the washing machine, she’s hiding under the cushions.’

  ‘Oh, no, oh, I’m so sorry. Are you sure?’

  ‘I don’t know what to do. The vet’s had another look at her – with your pretty friend, I think – and he’s assured me she’s not ill.’

  ‘Where is she? Can I see her?’ Cat didn’t want to say anything yet, not until she was sure.

  Captain nodded and led the way to the front room.

  At first Cat couldn’t see the little dog anywhere, but then she found her, curled into a tiny ball in one corner of the sofa, half buried under a cushion. Cat crouched, reached forward and gently stroked Paris’s head. She expected her to jump up in shock or run away, but she burrowed deeper into her corner, her whole body shaking.

  ‘Oh.’ Cat felt a lump form in her throat, but she lifted Paris up and held her small, warm body against her chest. ‘Come on, Paris,’ she said, ‘come on, little one.’ She kissed the silky fur. The dog snuggled into her, hiding her head against Cat’s collarbone. Cat couldn’t bear the thought of such a beautiful, gentle thing being so afraid. She ran her hand down Paris’s back. ‘Wasn’t she wearing a collar?’

  Captain nodded. ‘It’s broken. She’s only been going out in the garden to do her…business, then running straight back in. But yesterday she came in without her collar.’ He brought it over and Cat looked at the thin red fabric. It looked as though it had been torn in half, and the little loop where the tiny Eiffel Tower had hung was ripped. ‘I think she must have caught it on a bit of branch, but since then she won’t go out at all, not even to…I’ve had to set up a litter tray and –’ he took a deep breath – ‘I’m at my wits’ end.’

  ‘Captain,’ Cat said, standing and gently placing Paris back on the sofa, ‘I’ve got a theory, but I need to do a bit more work on it.’

  ‘You think you might know what’s wrong?’

  ‘I might. I have to be sure, but – I’ll hopefully know more in a few days. Can I come back?’

  ‘You’re welcome any time, lovely girl. You and your fella.’

  Cat thought she’d leave it until their next meeting to set Captain right about that. After all, Joe might not be speaking to her next time, let alone be treating her kindly enough to be mistaken for her fella.

  Over the next few days the mood at number nine Primrose Terrace continued to be too morose for Cat’s liking. It was a hot, beautiful summer and, while Cat knew Polly had exams to study for, and Joe was under pressure with work, neither of those things seemed to be good enough excuses to stay holed up inside. Studying could be done in the park or on the table in their courtyard, and surely illustrations were better created in real, beautiful sunlight? But for once Cat could sense that this was not the moment to push either of them, and so she spent her time at number twelve, working systematically through the boxes, sometimes just with Frankie and Olaf, sometimes with Emma and Lizzie’s upbeat, energizing help.

&nbs
p; In between these forays into the darkness, Cat was busy with Pooch Promenade, getting as much time out in the sunshine as she spent hidden away. And Elsie’s knee was almost fully healed, so while it meant losing her as a paying client, she often gained a walking friend.

  Today, she and Elsie were taking Disco and Chalky, and the Barkers’ two retrievers Alfie and Effie, on a long route up to the seafront. It was the first time Elsie had walked this far since her operation, and they were taking it slowly, enjoying the sea breeze whispering through the July afternoon’s heat. Cat was wearing a floaty, burnt-orange dress that flickered around her knees, and had found a pair of gold gladiator sandals comfy enough to wear when she was dog walking.

  Alfie and Effie were some of the strongest dogs Cat had met. They were gentle and friendly, but liked to make the most of being outside and use up their energy, and Cat was trying to slow them down, at least until they got into the park. Besides, she needed to look at something.

  There was a tiny vintage boutique in a row of shops facing the sea. Cat had always thought it was a strange location, next to the fish-and-chip shop and the seaside-staples store (selling castle-shaped buckets and jelly shoes) but it occasionally had nice pieces of weatherworn furniture and, as they had a tight budget to refurbish Frankie’s attic room, she was keeping her eye out.

  ‘What do you think of this?’ Cat asked, pointing to a cabinet in the boutique’s window. It was distressed wood, and painted a very pale yellow. Cat wouldn’t mind having it in her bedroom back in the House of Doom. No, doom was a bit strong. House of Woe? House of…Misery? That conjured up all kinds of horror-film thoughts, and things definitely weren’t that bad. Yet.

  ‘Cat?’ Elsie asked. ‘Are you even listening to me?’

  ‘Yes – of course.’ She hadn’t heard a word her friend had said.

  ‘It’s a lovely cabinet, but it’s a hundred pounds. I thought Frankie needed to get the best deals possible? Argos would have one for a third of the price.’

  ‘But Argos is so…unromantic.’

  ‘This is a room for a lodger, yes?’

  Cat nodded.

  ‘Then you need it to be simple and smart. Let them stamp their own personality on the place. But most of all, let Frankie decide.’

  ‘Are you coming, on Saturday?’

  ‘To your refurbishing party?’ Elsie leaned on the low wall at the edge of the beach, and Cat sat down, bringing the dogs to heel next to her. Disco stood on her hind legs, asking to be let up. She was almost as big as Chalky, and still bouncy, and not suited to flimsy dresses and bare knees, but Cat could never resist. She hauled her up and hugged her.

  ‘I think I’ll make an appearance,’ Elsie said, ‘though I might not be up for traipsing up and down those stairs all day. Who’s coming?’

  ‘Frankie and the girls, obviously, and Charles and Boris from the B and B want to cast their expert eye over it, which I hope means they’ll help make the room really appealing, and maybe Mark.’ Cat kept her voice light, but Elsie pounced on the name anyway.

  ‘And how is Smug Mark?’

  ‘He’s…fine. A bit absent if I’m honest, but he’s coming back from London at the weekend, according to his latest text, so I hope he can help for a bit.’

  ‘Absent?’ Elsie asked, frowning. She was wearing a long, navy dress with a turquoise flower pattern, and her dangly green earrings sounded like miniature wind chimes in the breeze.

  ‘He’s quite elusive. I mean, when he’s here and he’s with me, it’s –’ Cat gave a little shudder – ‘lovely. But that’s not very often. And if things kick off with his film, it’s likely to be even less.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ Elsie said. ‘But why not ask him?’ She put a hand on Cat’s arm. ‘Don’t buy into his elusiveness, don’t let him be vague. Ask him direct questions and make him tell you the answers. I haven’t been in a relationship for a long time, but I do know that mystery is only attractive for so long.’

  ‘I’m finding that out,’ Cat said grimly. ‘But you’re right, I should just talk to him. Why is everyone so difficult to talk to at the moment? Apart from you, Elsie.’ She covered the older woman’s hand with her own, and Disco licked her arm.

  ‘You mean Joe and Polly?’

  Cat fed each of the dogs a treat and looked out at the sea. The tide was turning, the dark sand drying quickly as the waves receded and the sun continued to beat down. ‘They’re both so busy, with studying and work. But I want them to come on Saturday. I’m treating this as a Primrose Terrace social event, and they’re part of that, so…’ She shrugged. ‘Jessica’s gone to sunnier climes for the next few weeks, though God knows why when we’ve got so much sun here, and the Westies are in luxury kennels somewhere outside Fairview, but other than that it should be a full house. If my housemates decide to crawl out from their respective holes.’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on them, Cat. Not everyone can get paid for strolling round in the sunshine.’

  ‘I know, I just…It’s summer. We should be lying on the grass staring up at the clouds, sunbathing on the beach, in beer gardens. Fairview is a holiday destination, and we’re lucky enough to live here.’

  ‘Have you said all that to them?’

  ‘If I say more than three words in a row, they make angry shushing noises.’

  ‘Well, then, make them come on Saturday.’

  Cat laughed. ‘As if it’s that simple.’

  ‘Come on, Cat, if anyone can find a way, then it’s you.’

  Disco scrabbled to get down, and Cat took Elsie’s hand and pulled her to her feet. They made their way slowly back towards Fairview Park, Alfie and Effie eager to get to the large expanse of grass where they could run and play.

  When she reached home, exhausted and hot, Cat sat on the front step and took out her mobile. Ignoring the slight shake of her hands, she scrolled through to Mark’s number and hit the call button. She waited for his voicemail to kick in, and was caught off guard when he answered on the fifth ring.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, Mark, it’s me. Cat.’

  ‘I know.’ She could hear the amusement in his voice. ‘Your name came up on the screen. Remind me to take a photo of you so I can see you next time. Better still, ring off and FaceTime me.’

  ‘What? No, I – I was wondering if you wanted to come to a kind of clear-out, refurbishment party that I’m organizing at number twelve on Saturday? I mean, you don’t have to, and you’ll only just have got back, so—’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘You would?’ Cat leaned her head against the door frame.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure I’d love to spend the day clearing out someone else’s house, but there’s nobody else I’d rather get sweaty with.’

  How did he do it? How did he come up with these lines so quickly? Cat glanced behind her to check that nobody could have overheard. ‘Right. OK, that’s great. We’re starting at eleven but come whenever you can.’

  ‘It’s in the diary.’ He rang off and Cat stared at her phone, wondering once again how he could make her feel so wanted and so irrelevant all at the same time.

  Cat gathered together a boxful of wood and floor cleaners, window spray and dusters, cleaning cloths and a dustpan. She was sure Frankie would have all this, but too much was better than too little. She tied her hair back from her face with a blue spotty scarf, and tripped over Shed on her way to the front door.

  ‘Move, Shed.’ The cat wound himself around her legs. She wasn’t sure she could prove her theory, but she was convinced Shed had something to do with Paris’s unhappiness. Was he bullying her? She was such a tiny dog and Shed was so large. She knew he stalked through the back gardens, so was he waging a war of terror, like a pets’ protection racket? How else would the charm have found its way into their house?

  ‘Need some help with that?’ Joe hurried down the stairs and took the box from her. He was wearing grey cargo shorts and a black T-shirt, and a look Cat hadn’t seen for a while: he looked relaxed.
>
  ‘I thought you weren’t coming today.’

  ‘I changed my mind. You’ve spent weeks helping Frankie, and I decided it was time I pitched in. If you’ll still have me?’

  Cat smiled. ‘As long as you’re sure you can cope with pure daylight? I don’t want to have to clean up your vampire ash with my dustpan.’

  ‘Ha ha. Need anything else?’

  ‘Just my box of chemicals. Polly’s doing a shift at the vet’s this morning and said she’d try to come later on.’

  Joe led the way down Primrose Terrace, and they found Emma standing at the doorway like a tiny soldier on sentry duty.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m Joe. I met you a while back, in the park.’

  ‘Are you coming to help with the money-spinner?’

  Joe and Cat both laughed. ‘Is that what Frankie’s calling it?’

  Emma nodded. ‘She says it’s going to solve all our problems, and that we’ll have a new friend too, to play with us and with Olaf.’

  ‘OK.’ Cat felt her stomach constrict. What if, after all this work, nobody wanted to rent the room out? Or they did, but they didn’t get along with the family, brought strange people back or turned out to be a domestic nightmare? She’d told Frankie she’d help her, but what if this caused more problems instead? She hadn’t realized quite how high their expectations were.

  ‘Hey,’ Joe said quietly. ‘What’s up?’ He put the box down and turned Cat round by the shoulders so she was facing him.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. I know your worried face.’

  Cat met his gaze, and saw genuine concern in his eyes. She felt a sudden, unexpected urge to fold herself against him, to let him wrap his arms tightly around her. It came from nowhere, and she brushed it quickly away. ‘Nothing. I just – I hope this works. For Frankie and the girls.’