A Christmas Tail: A heart-warming Christmas romance. Cressida McLaughlin
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believe. Everything about him is smug, his trendy frayed leather jacket, his stubble, his jawline.’
‘He has a smug jawline?’ Elsie looked sceptical.
‘It’s the most smug thing about him. But …’ Cat narrowed her eyes.
‘But?’
‘What do you know about Jessica?’
‘Jessica the author? Owner of your Westies?’
Cat nodded. ‘Is she married?’
‘Divorced, a couple of years ago now. She’s clearly unsettled, because the house has been up for sale several times since then, but it always comes off the market again. I suppose she might not be around for much longer.’
‘She did say she’d had a hard time recently. She was quite honest about it, considering we’d only just met.’ Cat thought of Jessica’s sad eyes, and then the Westies. Their soft white fur, their open, eager expressions. They hadn’t been that bad today, and who could hold a grudge against such pretty dogs? Already she would miss them if they weren’t there. ‘What about now?’
‘Came off the market again two weeks ago,’ Elsie said with a smile, clearly happy that she had the answers to Cat’s questions.
‘Which means…?’
‘She’s found a reason to stay in Fairview?’
‘Exactly!’ Cat leaned forward, her voice rising, making Chalky jump. She held onto the old dog, unprepared to relinquish his warmth.
‘What do you mean?’ Elsie asked.
‘Mark.’
‘Smug Mark in the park?’
‘If you have to use his full title. He said he was new here, and the “To Let” sign recently came down outside number four.’
‘Good detecting,’ Elsie said. ‘But why do you suppose he’s the one who’s moved in there? Have you seen him?’
‘No, I’ve only seen him a couple of times, in the park. But he said something that makes me think he and Jessica know each other.’
‘Which was?’
‘He called it Primrose Park. Have you ever heard anyone call it that? I mean, it’s not even on Primrose Terrace – it’s a road back – so why would you give it the wrong name?’
‘No idea. What has this got to do with Jessica?’
‘Guess who else called it Primrose Park.’
Elsie’s eyes widened. She sipped her tea thoughtfully. ‘That does seem quite coincidental. Good for Jessica. I don’t know her well, but by all accounts she’s had a rough time – there was a lot of speculation in the press about her ex-husband. She deserves some happiness.’
Cat nodded, her hands going over Chalky’s ears again and again. He was asleep now, his breaths turning to snores, his back leg twitching as in his dreams he caught the squirrel. ‘And Jessica said things were looking up – she hinted that there might be someone else. But then he didn’t seem to recognize her dogs, or maybe he was pretending not to. I wonder…’ she murmured.
‘Wonder what?’
‘Well, Mark seemed so smug and flirtatious. He seemed like he’d be…I don’t know. If she’s had a bad break-up, if she’s had her heart broken…Maybe I should – should find out a bit more about him.’
‘Cat.’ There was a warning note in Elsie’s voice.
‘She seemed so lovely and trusting when I met her. She gave me spare keys to her house after five minutes. You’d think someone in the public eye would be more cautious and I just…I don’t want her to get hurt.’
‘You barely know her.’
‘But I’m going to, if I’m going to be walking her dogs, and I think that Mark might…’
‘Might what? Not be right for her? Cat, how on earth can you think that after having met each of them for five minutes? You’re inventing things.’
‘I’m trying to be helpful.’
‘Don’t you want to focus on building up your business walking dogs to begin with, rather than inserting yourself into your clients’ private lives?’
Cat sat back on the sofa, her mind whirring. ‘But I’m in the right place to find things out. I can easily do a bit of investigating…’
‘No, Cat.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because, as I’m sure you already know, it’ll end in tears.’
With the relaxing warmth of an extra-long bath working its magic on her limbs, Cat was in her rose-print pyjamas on the sofa, struggling to stay awake. She’d spent the afternoon plotting out the pages for the Pooch Promenade website, and now just needed somebody expert to create it. She wasn’t sure after yesterday that Joe would want to be that person.
Darkness had descended, and the front room of number nine Primrose Terrace was cosy. Cat loved this time of year: the early sunsets, chilly in the evenings so that you could wrap up, but with vibrant flowers peeping up through the soil, the promise of summer around the corner. Her wrists and shoulders still ached, but her initial dismay at the disastrous walk had faded, her thoughts focused on how she could prevent it from happening again.
Shed padded into the living room, eyed Cat suspiciously and walked towards where her toes dangled enticingly over the edge of the sofa. Cat whipped her feet under her just as the front door banged open and Joe, breathing heavily and in full running gear, went straight past her and into the kitchen. Cat pretended to look at her website notes, listened to the cold tap running, the washing machine door opening, and tried not to feel so uncomfortable.
‘Hey,’ she called. ‘Good run?’ It felt lame, but she had to say something.
‘Cold,’ he called back. ‘But that wasn’t unexpected.’
‘Still raining?’
‘Yup.’
Great. Making an enemy of Polly’s brother was not on her to-do list. She took a deep breath.
‘Joe, I’m sorry I—’ She stopped as he appeared in the doorway stripped down and bare-chested in just his shorts. Cat could see that underneath his jeans and hoodies, Joe clearly kept himself very fit. ‘I shouldn’t have let the dogs in yesterday,’ she said quickly. ‘Jessica sprang the visit on me, and I didn’t realize she was bringing her dogs, but I…I couldn’t turn away – t-turn her away.’ Cat wasn’t sure where to look; there was something about Joe’s ripped torso that was making her feel a bit hot under the collar. She fumbled awkwardly as he stood there half-naked, fixing her with a steady gaze. His blond hair was dark from the rain, his blue eyes bright after his exertion.
She tried again. ‘What I’m saying is…’
‘I know what you’re saying. I know it was an awkward situation, and I’m sorry if I seemed unreasonable. But I don’t want dogs here, and I was surprised you’d let them in.’
‘I am really sorry.’
‘I know,’ he nodded. ‘Apology accepted.’ He gave her a hint of a smile, retrieved his glass of water from the kitchen and sat down opposite her, his elbows on his knees. His breathing had just about returned to normal, but Cat found herself fixated by the rise and fall of his chest, his slender but toned arms, and the six-pack. She looked away, thought of Mark, of his dark, amused eyes, his easy charm. She studied the individual orange hairs of Shed’s tail. She should go upstairs.
‘You looked a bit soggy when you came in earlier,’ Joe said eventually. ‘Were you walking the dogs?’
Cat nodded, reached