Tinsel and Terriers. Cressida McLaughlin
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thing in the morning. I’m travelling down to Heathrow tonight.’
‘Right.’ Cat nodded. ‘Well, I have to—’ She pointed behind her.
‘Of course. Go, walk dogs, have fun. I’ll see you soon.’
‘Sure,’ Cat said, a lump forming in her throat. ‘You too, Joe. I hope it’s wonderful.’
They stood facing each other, unsure what to do next, and then Cat heard Joe whisper ‘fuck it’ and he closed the gap between them, pulling her into his arms. Cat closed her eyes, wrapped her arms round his waist and listened to his heart beating, letting herself indulge, for a few moments, in how good it felt to be so close to him. She was so relieved that she’d come home, that she hadn’t turned up the following day to discover he’d already gone, that they’d been able to have this goodbye.
It was only temporary, Cat told herself as they broke apart, the lump still firmly in her throat. He’d be back in a few weeks, resuming his place on the sofa, ready to have a lazy, indulgent Christmas with them all.
So why did it feel like the bottom had fallen out of her world?
‘I want to do something for Christmas,’ Cat said later as she and Mark sat on the sofa in front of an old horror film.
‘Like what?’ He turned to her, pushed her hair back from her forehead. ‘I thought we could get a turkey and hibernate – take Chips for a long walk, have a quiet day just the three of us.’
Cat shook her head. ‘My parents are going to Canada straight after Christmas, so I have to spend it with them. But I didn’t mean the actual day, I meant the build-up. Something that all of Primrose Terrace can get involved in.’
Mark leaned back and folded his arms. ‘What do you mean? Not another protest?’
‘No, no no. Well, unless we get bad news from the committee. I mean something fun, something Christmassy.’
‘Why?’
‘Why not? Don’t you think this is the best place you’ve ever lived? Everyone here, Jessica, Frankie and her kids, the Barkers, Boris and Charles, they’re all so friendly. Why can’t we do something, you and me, Polly and…and Elsie. I’ll have a think.’ She took a sip of wine and stroked Chips’s soft fur with her bare foot.
‘Christmas is hectic enough without having something else to organize on top of presents and food and family.’
‘Have you got family you want to see?’ Cat asked.
Mark shook his head. ‘Not really.’
‘Your mum and dad?’ Cat realized she knew very little about Mark’s family.
‘We’re not close,’ he said. ‘They live in Spain now, they do their own thing.’
‘Oh, that’s sad. Why’s that?’
‘No real reason. They wanted to go to Spain, I was living my life here. It works fine.’
‘But don’t you want to see them? Spain’s not that far.’ Cat felt a flip of unease at the thought that that could happen with her own parents. What if they loved Canada, decided to make a permanent life for themselves out there? Or – she brushed the thought away, but it returned, stronger, and lodged itself firmly in her head. Oh yes, she heard herself say, I used to know Joe Sinclair, the famous illustrator. He lives in Portland now, does his own thing. Cat took another gulp of wine.
‘I don’t mind,’ Mark said. ‘I have enough to keep me busy here, and I saw them at the beginning of the year. I’d much rather spend this Christmas with you.’ He snuck his arm round her waist, pulled her into him. ‘But just you, not the whole street. I’m sure Jessica will organize some kind of party. I don’t think you need to worry about doing anything else.’
‘Well, I could speak to Jessica, see if we could organize something together. We could involve the dogs – almost everyone here has dogs, and they should be included.’
Mark laughed softly. ‘You’re pretty determined when you want to be.’ He kissed her forehead.
‘Isn’t that why you like me?’ Cat grinned.
‘Partly,’ Mark admitted. ‘There are other reasons too.’ His kisses travelled further down, to her nose, her cheek and then her lips. ‘Lots of other reasons.’
‘Good,’ Cat said, kissing him back and then wriggling out of his reach. ‘Me too. But right now I need pen and paper. I’m definitely organizing something for Primrose Terrace. This is going to be their best Christmas yet.’ She jumped up and, before Mark had time to change her mind, went in search of a notepad.
Two days before Halloween, Cat was walking Jessica’s Westies when her phone rang. It was the day of the rearranged council meeting, and she’d taken Coco, Dior and Valentino on an extra-long walk to distract herself. Mr Cawston had said he would call her as soon as the decision had been made.
Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she sat on a bench at the edge of Fairview Park, the cold immediately seeping through her tunic dress. The Westies stopped at her feet and Dior sat on them, warming her toes through her boots.
‘Hello?’
‘Miss Palmer? It’s Mr Cawston here, from the council.’
‘Hi, Mr Cawston,’ Cat chirped nervously. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m very well, thank you. I’m calling with the outcome of today’s committee meeting.’
Cat closed her eyes. ‘It went ahead, then?’
‘Indeed.’
‘That’s…good. Did Mr Jasper do anything else to make sure the ban was imposed, before…?’
‘Not after your sterling efforts. It really was an effective campaign which, I’m pleased to inform you, has been successful. With the weight of public opinion, our councillors have agreed to continue to allow dogs at the cove.’
Cat opened her eyes, resisted squeaking at Mr Cawston and leant over to stroke the Westies. ‘That is incredible news,’ she said, ‘thank you so much.’
‘No need to thank me – it was all your hard work that won them over.’
‘Wow,’ Cat said, ‘will you be letting everyone know? I can help too, but—’
‘Yes, we’ll get notices out, make sure Fairview residents are aware of the decision. It’s been good working with you, Miss Palmer.’
‘You too, Mr Cawston.’
She waited until he’d hung up, and then she knelt on the concrete and embraced Coco, Valentino and Dior, letting them lick her face and cover her bottle-green coat in their trademark white hairs. ‘You’ve got your beach,’ she said. ‘It’s yours. For ever. What do you think of that, eh?’ She sat on her haunches and, blinking tears out of her eyes, took in the beauty of Fairview Park, the trees, almost bare for the winter, the other dog walkers and their running, playing pets. She really did love living here.
She took the dogs back to Jessica’s house, eager to tell her the good news.
‘It wouldn’t have happened without you,’ Cat said. ‘We wouldn’t have been able to spread the news nearly as far, or get as many signatures. The campaign might have sunk before it had even got going.’
‘I don’t believe that for a moment,’ Jessica said. ‘You’re the driving force behind everything dog-related in Fairview. You’ve come here and worked your magic. You’re incredible, Cat.’
‘Well, I—’