A Christmas Tail: A heart-warming Christmas romance. Cressida McLaughlin
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her memory, her heartbeat quickening. She hadn’t said any of those things out loud – had she?
He held her gaze, his eyes fixed so firmly on hers that she started to fidget. ‘To walk Chips.’
‘Oh, that offer. Of course, but I thought you didn’t need me – my services, my…’ She shook her head, her cheeks flaming at the thoughts that had been running through her head. ‘Pooch Promenade.’
He looked away. ‘It seems I might have to go back to London for a couple of days. Unexpectedly.’
He didn’t sound thrilled and Cat thought of George. Maybe Mark was a spooky after all. ‘I can take care of her.’
‘I know. Thank you.’ He squeezed her hand quickly, and Cat shuddered as his touch sent a thrill through her, all the way to her toes. ‘It could turn out to be exactly what I need.’
‘Sure,’ she said quietly. She could see flecks of green in his brown eyes, the direction of the hairs in his stubble, and it seemed that, for that moment, he was scrutinizing her as much as she was him. She felt breathless.
‘Anyway,’ he said, breaking the spell, ‘I’d better…’
‘Of course, right.’
‘We should take things off the pavement next time. Go for a coffee.’
‘I’d like that. It was nice to…bump into you.’
He grinned, walked past her and then turned back. ‘For Friday night?’ He pointed at her bag. ‘Looking forward to seeing you there. I’ve heard Jessica’s parties can be on the wild side.’ He widened his eyes in mock horror, turned away and strode up the road, leaving Cat flummoxed. She wouldn’t be surprised if Carol was in his spook network, and he was on his way to find out exactly what dress she’d bought.
He’d confirmed that he knew Jessica well enough to be invited to her party, but how well? And was he flirting with Cat just so she’d look after Chips, or was there more to it? Did he have to go back to London unexpectedly on official spy business? Cat shook her head – she couldn’t let George’s madness infect her.
She had new information, but she also had more questions, and, more importantly, she wasn’t meant to be interested in any of it. ‘Curiosity killed the Cat. Curiosity killed that Cat.’ She said it over and over, like a mantra. She wished Polly was at home, or she at least had a dog to talk it over with. She was sure Disco would tell her exactly what to do.
It was two days until the party and Cat had spent hours rehearsing what she would say, how she would introduce herself and Pooch Promenade, imagining the photos people would show her of their under-walked Labradoodles, Pomeranians and Dalmatians. Since she’d been spending so much time in the fresh air, with no emails to respond to and only dogs for company, Cat had become a perpetual daydreamer. Which meant that all of her party scenarios ended with her in Mark’s arms, in a beautiful fairy-lit pagoda in Jessica’s garden.
She’d been to visit Elsie, and turned to say goodbye, but she’d been daydreaming so hard that she hadn’t noticed the older woman putting her coat on at first. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ve not been out today, and the doctor says I need to keep the knee moving if it’s going to recover properly.’
‘Doesn’t it hurt?’
‘There’s no gain without pain, Cat. Coming, Disco?’ Disco was at her feet like a shot, and Elsie deftly clipped the lead onto her collar. ‘Chalky?’ Chalky lifted his head, then placed it back on his front paws, his lack of interest clear. ‘He’s getting old.’
‘You only notice that because you’ve got Disco. Hey –’ she put her arm round Elsie – ‘what’s wrong?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ Elsie muttered into her collar and gave a loud sniff. ‘He just reminds me that I’m getting old too.’
‘You are not. You’re the most sprightly fifty-year-old I know,’ she teased, even though Elsie was well into her seventies.
Elsie smiled at her. ‘Flatterer. If I knocked twenty years off your age you’d be eleven, and you wouldn’t be invited to the party at all. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door, then go to the end of the road and back.’
Twilight had cloaked everything in shadow, the Victorian streetlamps flickering on one by one, masking the stars that had begun to wink in the night sky. The air was crisp and clean and Cat breathed it in, feeling a twist of excitement low down in her stomach. ‘Have you got your outfit sorted for Friday?’
‘Oh, shush. People my age don’t spend time worrying about what they’re going to wear.’
‘I don’t believe you. I’ll come round tomorrow and you can show me.’
‘Isn’t that something you want to do with Polly?’ They stopped outside number nine, and Cat ferreted in her bag for her keys.
‘Polly’s not coming. She’s got to work on Friday night. It’ll just be you and me, kid.’ She punched Elsie lightly on the shoulder. Disco yapped, her bark louder and fuller than it had been a few weeks ago, and gazed up at Cat. ‘Sorry, Disco,’ she said, ‘I don’t think dogs are invited. Apart from the Westies, of course.’
‘What about Joe, isn’t he coming?’
‘Coming to what?’ Joe stood in the doorway, blocking out the light from the hall. His hoody of the day was a faded terracotta, his sleeves rolled up to reveal long, slender forearms that reminded Cat just how toned the rest of his body was.
‘Jessica’s party,’ Cat blurted. ‘I’ve asked—’
‘Roughly seventeen times,’ added Joe.
‘And so far, the answer has been no.’
‘The answer will continue to be no until Saturday morning, when I might consider it.’ Joe looked down as Disco licked his bare feet. His face was devoid of expression, as if the dog’s touch had turned him to stone, but he didn’t step back. Cat realized she was holding her breath. She saw his jaw clench, then he sighed and shook his head. ‘Are you coming in? You’re letting all the heat out.’
‘You opened the door!’
‘And I can close it again.’ He moved backwards and Cat put her hand on the wood.
‘Hang on.’ She gave Elsie a quick hug, Disco a longer one and then waved them back down the steps, wincing at Elsie’s pronounced limp. ‘I’ll come round tomorrow!’ she called after her.
‘Wine?’ Joe asked.
She followed him into the kitchen. ‘Thanks. How’s work going?’
‘Fine. Busy, so I can’t complain.’
‘Any exciting projects?’ She leaned against the counter, watching him as he got out glasses, took a half-open bottle of white wine from the fridge.
‘I’m still working on the designs for the local magazine and I’ve…had a request from Alison at the nursery to help her redesign their website.’ His blue gaze was directed at her, and she struggled to keep her face neutral. She was happier than she’d been for a long time, but she still felt stung that he was working with the woman who’d fired her without hesitation.
‘Oh. That’s good, I’m sure you’ll do a great job.’ Cat found to her horror that her voice was wavering. She remembered Alison’s final words: I can’t imagine you being successful anywhere else. She swallowed.
‘It’s a good project,’ Joe said slowly, still watching her carefully.