The Christmas Menagerie

by Minna Howard

  2

  Dom had been so pleased when she agreed to spend Christmas with his family and Mum had been fine about it, but Sophie felt guilty leaving her on her own. ‘Now you’re engaged you are going to be part of his family and he is in ours, so I think that’s a great idea, darling,’ Mum had enthused, going on to say she’d be fine, after all she’d see her for New Year. ‘Anyway, it’s a good time for you to get to know Dom’s parents… your in-laws to be,’ she’d finished.

  Some joke! They were mainly the trouble. She’d met them briefly a couple of times when they’d come to London from their home in Cornwall and it had been fine, but now stuck here in the cold, dark winter, with them and his sister, Jade, and Vince, her creepy boyfriend, Sophie longed to be home with Mum. With Christmas Day fast approaching she felt upset that Mum would be alone. If only Dad was still here.

  She put on her coat and woolly hat, and went out in the garden, through the gate and up on to the cliffs above the sea. The waves were crashing on the shore, the smell of salt in the air. It was a beautiful place, the dramatic sweep of the land, the pale, winter sun dancing on the water. If only she and Dom were here alone together, it would be heaven. She took out her mobile and rang home.

  ‘Hi, Mum, are you okay?’

  ‘Busy running round after all these animals, but otherwise yes. I’m a bit nervous about Cleo, Jamie and Wilfred’s parrot, she’s quite a diva.’ Her mum laughed. ‘So, how are you? It must be lovely down there, wild and romantic. You said they live by the sea.’

  ‘It’s beautiful… it’s just…’ She sighed. ‘They fight all the time, squabble over the slightest thing, and Dom’s sister, Jade, has this weird boyfriend, who keeps lurching my way. I’m certainly not encouraging him, but she thinks I am, so she keeps throwing me dirty looks. He’s a creep, positively the last person I’d want to be with.’

  There was silence for a moment, and she wondered if Mum could hear her. She wasn’t sure how good the signal was out here. She was about to ask, when she came back.

  ‘You know what families are like, love. I expect people might say that of us at times. And Christmas is quite a fraught time, Sophie, not to mention all being cooped up together in the winter, with people you hardly know.’ She paused and then went on, ‘Though as Dom’s family, they are sort of yours too, now you are engaged. Dad would remind you of that. It will all work out, you’ll see. And how is Dom? He’s surely looking after you,’ she finished bracingly.

  Sophie sighed. Trust Mum not to understand. Dad might not have either, but he was much older, though she couldn’t accuse him of thinking women had to succumb to men, or their husbands or anything bizarre like that. But it was true, now they were engaged to be married she would be part of Dom’s family as he was of hers. That hadn’t crossed her mind when he had proposed. He’d even gone down on one knee though having got a fit of the giggles, he’d fallen over and she’d fallen on top of him and the whole thing had ended up in a joyful muddle of limbs.

  ‘He is, ’course he is, but he’s off with his mates a lot of the time, men he’s grown up with. They go on pub crawls together, and I could go with them, though I hate doing that. I know he barely sees them now he lives in London and he’s hardly ever here. But I wish I was home with you and all those animals.’ She was hit suddenly by a swirl of homesickness.

  Mum put on her ‘sensible’ voice, as she suspected she would. ‘I’m sure things will work out, darling. You’ve just got to all get used to each other, and it’s winter, so more difficult being cooped up inside together, but you and Dom love each other and that’s the most important thing.’

  ‘I know… but we’re never alone. His mother doesn’t believe in people sleeping in the same room until they are married. He creeps into my bed sometimes. After all we are living together in London and…’ She heard a shout and there was Dom coming towards her, for once on his own.

  ‘Here he comes now. I’d better go. Love you, Mum, longing to be home again and see all those animals. Hope they’ll still be there when I get back.’

  As Dom reached her, she said, ‘Just talking to Mum. She sends her love.’

  ‘Good, how’s she getting on with her menagerie?’ He hardly waited for her answer. ‘I’m going into St Just. Do you want to come?’

  ‘Yes, I would.’ She linked arms with him as they turned back towards the house, leaving the sound of the sea behind them. She knew her mother was slightly worried about her becoming engaged so young, being barely twenty. Dom was the only proper boyfriend she’d had, and they’d known each other over four years now. He’d been such a support when Dad had got so ill and died.

  Some friends wondered if she shouldn’t ‘play the field’ a bit more while others, tired of being mucked about by errant boyfriends, envied her finding her soul mate so soon.

  She stretched up and kissed him, happy to be with him.

  ‘What’s that for?’ He squeezed her close, laughing down at her.

  ‘Just happy I’m with you,’ she said, meaning it, wishing they could walk on forever above the sea with the dramatic sound of the waves crashing on the shore beneath them, even though she was getting quite cold.

  They reached the gate to the garden and he opened it and they went across the lawn to the house.

  ‘There you are, Dom! We nearly went without you.’ Two of his friends, Mark and Steve, came towards them, and her heart dropped. She should have guessed it wouldn’t be just the two of them going into the town. He gave her one last kiss, took his arm from her and went forward to join them.

  ‘Sophie is coming with us, just went to find her,’ he said play-punching Mark. ‘We’re ready to go.’ He turned back and grabbed her hand.

  She wanted to say she’d changed her mind and she’d stay here, but Vince came out of the backdoor to empty the dustbin. He stood beside the bin, waiting for them to go past into the house, leering at her as she came closer. She turned away from him. There was quite a squeeze where they were just beside the back door, with a kennel and the dustbins beside the greenhouse.

  If only she was at home with Mum, and Dom had come to stay with them instead. Another week seemed like a lifetime. If only Dad were here, they’d always been so close and she could have talked to him about it, though she knew what he’d say – ‘You can’t choose your family, but you can your friends.’

  She loved Dom, but if only he came alone.

  3

  After a rather exhausting couple of days struggling to keep all her charges in order, Amelia went into the garage early morning to feed the tortoises and found one tight inside its shell. Try as she might she could not tempt him out even by offering him some kale, which she’d been told was his favourite food. She was not sure whether it was Bill or Ben. Whichever one it wasn’t seemed to be all right, lumbering about the small pen, though not much interested in her kale leaf either.

  She was shocked. Had she inadvertently killed him? Was the garage too cold for them, or had there, unbeknown to her, been some poison on the lettuce she’d given them? Though it had not been eaten, she noticed it lying limply on the floor of their home. How could she break the news of its demise to Micky? She’d always felt that he had quite a difficult life as his father had taken off and his mother had to work such long hours to make ends meet. They were out of the country now on a much-deserved holiday, with Micky’s grandparents. It would be a sad homecoming for them if one of the tortoises had died.

  What if it had been suffering from some fatal illness and the other one had caught it and died too?

  She remembered that Jamie had left her the number of a vet, in case Cleo needed one. Wherever had she put it? If only she wasn’t so disorganised.

  She went into the dining room to search for it among the instructions left for her. Cleo squawked at her as if she was perhaps blaming her for the tortoise’s demise and warning her not to mess with her.

  She found it under Cleo’s elaborately wrapped Christmas present. A printed card for Jules Roydon, veterinary surgeo
n.

  Feeling as if she was about to confess to a murder, she rang the number on the card. It was answered by a cool, female voice.

  ‘Hello, I need a vet urgently. My – well, not actually my – tortoise has died.’

  ‘Jules can’t perform miracles,’ the woman snapped impatiently. ‘I suggest you bury it in the garden, fairly deep to keep it from the foxes.’

  ‘I’d like him to come all the same, in case it had an illness and the other one catches it and it dies as well,’ she said firmly. ‘The fact is they are not mine. I am looking after them over Christmas and I would like the vet to come and check them out, please.’

  ‘We don’t normally do house visits. Can’t you bring it here to the surgery in a box or something?’ The woman was scathing.

  ‘Where are you and do I make an appointment first, or is there a time when one can just turn up?’ Amelia supposed it was like the doctors’ surgery. It could take weeks to get an appointment at hers, unless you were almost at death’s door, and it seemed the tortoise had gone through that and there’d be no way back.

  After more discussion and asking where she lived, the imperious woman said, ‘The vet is out anyway so I can’t give you a time. Though if it is dead, it’s too late. But if you really need him to check on the other, as you seem to know so little about animals, you’re in luck. He is in your area seeing to a horse. Give me your exact address and if he has time, I’ll tell him to call in.’ She supposedly wrote the address down while Amelia dictated it. ‘If he can’t, I’ll ring you back.’ She made it sound as if Amelia was being a great nuisance, adding coldly that the vet’s visit would not be free.

  ‘We are not the National Health Service, you know, able to be bothered day and night for nothing.’

  ‘I’m very glad you’re not. I’d rather die in peace than call on you,’ Amelia retorted but the woman had rung off before she could finish her sentence.

  Twenty minutes later the doorbell went, and Amelia opened the door to a tired-looking man who looked as if he had been pulled through a hedge backwards, which he might well have been, as he’d come from seeing an injured horse at a local farm. He was tall, though stooping slightly, and had untidy, russet-coloured hair and blue eyes. A small boy, with the same colour hair straggling almost to his shoulders, stood by his side and when Ziggy ran to greet them, he patted his head, laughing, as the dog licked him.

  ‘Mrs Meredith?’ The vet addressed her.

  ‘Amelia please, so good of you to come. I… I just didn’t know what to do.’ She felt suddenly shy.

  Osbert then disdainfully showed himself, coming silently down the stairs to see what was going on. He would not allow the boy to touch him and then Cleo squawked from the dining room.

  ‘I’m Jules and this is my son, Dickon,’ said the vet. Dickon was happily playing with Ziggy. Having found a ball, he was bouncing it for him to catch and Ziggy ran excitedly after it, his paws skittering on the polished floor, causing Cleo to complain from her cage in the dining room and Osbert to move silently away with his nose in the air.

  ‘You seem to have quite a menagerie here,’ Jules said glancing towards Cleo’s noise. ‘But let me see this tortoise.’

  ‘I’m looking after my neighbours’ animals while they are away for Christmas,’ Amelia explained. ‘I don’t know anything about tortoises, we never had them as children, but I’m afraid it’s dead.’ She lowered her voice in case she upset Dickon. ‘I hope you could give the other one something to stop it catching whatever it died from.’

  While she was talking, she led the way through the kitchen and outside across the drive to the garage, Dickon running beside her. She opened the door and pointed ahead as if she was showing them a murdered corpse and didn’t want to contaminate the scene.

  The vet went over to examine the tortoise lying in the corner of its pen under some straw. Dickon looked on eagerly. ‘I think it’s hibernating, don’t you, Dad?’

  ‘Hibernating? But it looks… dead,’ Amelia said awkwardly.

  ‘Didn’t you know they hibernate?’ Dickon’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

  ‘No, and anyway the other one seems to be trundling around so why is it still awake?’ She asked him.

  ‘Won’t be for long.’ The vet gave the sleeping tortoise the once over before saying, ‘Yes, I’d say Dickon is right.’

  Amelia felt rather foolish. ‘Are you sure? I mean he’s not moving. He’s pulled right into his shell and I couldn’t tempt him out even with his favourite food. I was so worried, and Micky would be so upset if… he wasn’t here when he gets back.’

  Jules Roydon smiled a sort of tired smile. ‘Yes, we’re right. The other one will do the same any day. The weather’s been quite warm recently otherwise they both would have gone sooner. Now is there anyone else you’d like me to look at while I’m here?’

  ‘No, thank you. Would you like a coffee or something? A chocolate biscuit? I’ve been given a lovely box of them from my class.’ She smiled at Dickon.

  ‘Oh, yes please,’ Dickon said. ‘I’m quite hungry, aren’t you, Dad?’

  ‘Well, a coffee would be nice, thank you. It was very cold being outside checking on my last patient’s leg. She tore it on some barbed wire.’

  ‘Oh, I hope not badly,’ Amelia said.

  ‘It wasn’t good, will have to keep an eye on it.’ He sighed. ‘So, how did you get my number? I’m filling in for the previous vet, but few people know how to reach me yet. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Cleo’s owners gave it to me. They seem to take very special care of their parrot,’ Amelia said, wondering if it was a sort of surrogate child for them.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ He smiled. ‘I didn’t see it was Cleo. Jamie and Wilfred are very particular about her. They must think a lot about you to entrust her to you while they are away.’

  They were now back in the kitchen and she put on the kettle for coffee and poured Dickon a glass of orange juice.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ she said. ‘I don’t think they had a choice. They’d made their Christmas plans, booked Cleo in the local kennels and it suddenly closed. Oh, do have a biscuit, Dickon, please open the tin and help yourself.’ She pushed the Christmassy tin towards him.

  ‘There are so many and some in glittery paper, how can I choose?’ Dickon addressed his father.

  ‘You can take some home for later. I’ll never eat them all, or if I do, I’ll get very fat.’ Amelia smiled at him, taking out mugs for the coffee from the cupboard.

  ‘Are they all for you?’ Dickon asked, staring in wonder at the layers of plain and milk chocolate biscuits, some glinting in silver or gold paper.

  ‘Don’t ask so many questions, Dickon.’ Jules dropped down thankfully on the sofa in the corner of the room. ‘I’ve been up most of the night with a sick dog, the only companion of an old man,’ he said. ‘Managed to save it this time.’

  ‘You must be exhausted.’ Amelia felt calmer now she knew that the tortoise was alive after all. She felt rather foolish that she hadn’t known that they crept tight into their shells and hibernated during the winter. She wondered, with a slight lurch in her stomach, what his call-out fee would be.

  ‘How long have you lived here?’ Jules asked, glancing round the large kitchen with this cosy corner with a sofa and television which was angled so it could be watched while people were cooking. He cradled his coffee mug in his hands.

  ‘Just over a year. I moved from London with my two daughters, after my husband died, a couple of years before. We all felt we needed a fresh start and decided to go somewhere new,’ she explained. ‘Vero, an old friend of mine who lives here, suggested we find somewhere in Suffolk, near her. After all,’ she smiled, ‘wherever you go, you carry the memory of the people you love always in your heart.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘I suppose you do. So,’ his voice was more positive, ‘where are your daughters now?’

  ‘One of them is staying in Cornwall with her fiancé’s f
amily for Christmas and the other is wandering round India. Sophie will be here for New Year and Grania gets back around Easter, I think,’ Amelia told him. Grania’s plans were rather vague.

  ‘So where are you for Christmas?’ Jules asked as if he were making polite conversation. Dickon was still engrossed in the biscuit tin.

  ‘I’m here with all the animals,’ she said. ‘It seems there’s been a grand exit in the village this year, so many people have gone away.’

  ‘And dumped their pets on you?’ Jules asked with a frown. ’Or do you take people’s pets in as a sort of job, perhaps. Do it professionally?’

  ‘Goodness, no,’ she laughed. ‘It started by me offering to take in Ziggy so his owner could go and spend Christmas with her new grandson, then it snowballed. It’s only for a week or so, while everyone’s away.’

  ‘I see.’ Jules regarded her gravely, making Amelia feel that she was doing something wrong. Probably that bug bear, health and safety had something to do with it.

  ‘So, it’s not going to be a regular thing, it’s just for Christmas? How many pets are there?’ he asked as Osbert wandered in disdainfully to inspect them.

  ‘Oh, um…’ She couldn’t think what to say. Was there now some rule as to how many animals a person could have at the same time?

  ‘Well, there’s Ziggy as you know, Cleo, Osbert, the tortoises and some mice.’

  He frowned. ‘That quite a lot to look after on your own.’

  ‘I’m just doing it as a favour for my neighbours.’

  ‘I see.’ Jules looked thoughtful.

  ‘I’m a teacher, so I’m on holiday. I couldn’t do it full-time, and I understand the local kennels couldn’t take them at the last minute – they had to close down or something,’ Amelia went on cheerfully. ‘Not having a pet myself, I don’t know much about it.’

  Jules’s expression darkened further. ‘Dreadful place, the couple who ran it are too old and ill to cope with it. When I saw it, I closed it down at once.’