‘Still. It could happen. It is the season of miracles, after all.’ Holly’s gaze fixed onto Jack’s as she spoke. What was she thinking? He wished he knew.
Then Holly jerked her head towards the huge Christmas cake propped up on the dresser in the corner of the kitchen, and an envelope with Kathleen’s name printed neatly on the front, and suddenly he got it.
Jack couldn’t help but grin as he realised what Holly had planned. She really was something special.
‘We realised last night that Kathleen, next door, is going to be on her own for Christmas,’ he said, and Holly gave him a small smile. ‘We thought we might do something to celebrate with her, since Holly and I are both alone for the day this year too. Perhaps you might like to join us?’ he suggested.
‘It’s not the whole community, I know, but it might be a start,’ Holly added. ‘And maybe there are others who are alone this Christmas who would want to join us.’
‘I won’t be alone. My son and his family will be here,’ Mrs Templeton said quickly. Somehow, it didn’t sound like an outright no. ‘Apparently they won’t be staying long this year, though. So I might have some time to help you out.’
Spending Christmas Day with Mrs Templeton wasn’t his idea of a good time, but he couldn’t very well talk about wanting to find a community and then let a neighbour spend half the day alone, when he could help.
Perhaps, Jack realised, as Mrs Templeton’s face creaked up into something resembling a smile, it wasn’t about finding a community at all.
Perhaps it was about building one.
And maybe this, right here, could be the first step.
When I woke up from my small nap in the hedge under Kathleen’s window, the sun was already on its way down again. Days are so short in the winter, sometimes it was a struggle to fit all my meals into the daylight hours.
That hadn’t been a problem today, though. My rumbling stomach woke me up. Again!
Really, this was unacceptable.
Well, I’d made myself a promise. Either I’d get that gingerbread by nightfall, or I’d leave Maple Drive.
It was make or break time.
Kathleen still showed no sign of opening the front door, so I figured I was going to have to find another way in. Checking around to ensure that I wasn’t being watched – and that neither Holly nor Jack had slipped out of number 12 when I wasn’t looking – I bent my little legs and jumped, straining my neck to see through Kathleen’s window.
No good. All I could see were the leaves left on the bush I’d been napping in.
I shuffled back a little way, out of the bush, and tried again, springing up like a bird about to take flight, my paws scrabbling at air as I stretched out to try and make it to the window.
Still nothing. The closest I got was the bricks under the windowsill.
I sighed, and scooted back a little further. I couldn’t give up now. If Kathleen could just see me, I reasoned, she’d have to come and let me in. I just had to alert her to my presence.
Which meant more jumping.
This time, when my nose barely made it to windowsill height, I didn’t pause. I surged straight back up again, launching myself higher and higher with each jump. I was going to make it! I was! I could almost taste that gingerbread!
My nose edged above the windowsill, and this time I could see inside, just for a second. Long enough to see Kathleen, sitting on her sofa. I jumped again, trying to get her attention – would she hear me bark through the window? I wasn’t sure.
With each jump, I saw a little more – Kathleen, a book in her lap. No, not a book. An album, filled with pictures, like the ones Daisy had of Bella and Jay. Another jump. Was she … was she crying? I couldn’t tell.
I wanted to comfort her. To sit with her and let her pet my head. And feed me gingerbread.
Just one more jump …
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Perdita’s lazy purr of a question coming from behind me disrupted my balance, and I landed awkwardly, scrabbling to try and find my balance and stay upright.
I huffed round in a circle to face her. ‘None of your business.’ This wasn’t her house, and these weren’t her gingerbread men.
‘When you’re making such an idiot of yourself right next door to my house, then it’s my business,’ Perdita replied, in between licking her paws.
They probably had food on them. For a brief, insane second, I considered trying to lick her paws myself.
Then I came to my senses and realised she’d scratch my eyes out in a heartbeat.
‘Look, you have a home to go to tonight,’ I pointed out. ‘One with food and warm radiators and nice humans. Why don’t you just go to it and leave me alone?’
Perdita sat back on her hind legs and surveyed me with her cool, green gaze. ‘And here I was thinking you might be looking for a bed for the night.’
‘Gingerbread, actually.’ The sky was getting darker by the moment. Soon, I’d have to admit defeat, and leave Maple Drive forever.
It made my heart hurt just thinking about it.
Perdita’s nose wrinkled up. ‘Gingerbread? Really? What’s wrong with a nice piece of salmon?’
I shuddered. Fish is not my thing.
‘Well, if that’s what you really want, I suppose Holly will have some of that, too. In fact, I think she has a whole house made of it, actually.’ Perdita turned, her long, bushy tail swishing behind her as she sashayed down the path. Then she looked back over her shoulder. ‘Well? Are you coming?’
‘With … you?’ I asked, confused.
Perdita huffed impatiently. ‘Of course, with me. It’s Christmas Eve, Claude. Whatever our differences, I’m not going to leave you out here to freeze on Christmas Eve.’
‘Why not?’ Because, quite honestly, that was exactly the sort of thing I expected Perdita to do. She was my nemesis cat, after all.
She didn’t look at me as she replied. ‘Holly wouldn’t like it.’
Aha! That made sense. For all her airs and graces and independence, Perdita was just as afraid of disappointing her human as the rest of us were.
&nbs
p; It almost made her more dog-like to me.
But I couldn’t accept.
‘I can’t,’ I said, hating the words even as I said them. ‘Holly and Jack – and Mrs Templeton. They’ll call the pound if they see me again. I heard them say so.’
‘So don’t let them see you,’ Perdita advised. ‘At least, not until tomorrow. I heard Holly saying how everywhere is shut tomorrow for Christmas Day. I think it’s a safe bet that includes the pound, don’t you?’
Hope began to fill my chest. ‘But how will I get inside without being seen?’ I asked, praying Perdita had an answer for this, the way she always had an answer for everything. I might even listen, this time.
‘The humans are all busy with some box full of rubbish,’ Perdita said, dismissively. ‘I’ll go in first, make sure they’re all distracted. Then you can sneak in behind me. We’ll hide you in the spare room until later tonight.’
It sounded like a reasonable plan, I supposed. There was just one thing …
‘Is there any food in the spare room?’
‘I’m just saying, maybe we should call before we drive all the way to Calais,’ Oliver said, as Daisy loaded the cases into the car.
‘Absolutely,’ she agreed, turning back to grab the next lot of bags. ‘You call. But we’re going to Calais regardless.’
‘Right. And … why is that exactly?’
Daisy sighed, and turned to face her husband. Inside the chateau, she could hear her mother chatting to the twins in baby talk, and Jay racing around with Petal. Her dad, meanwhile, was trying to fix the oven, again, while fending off the birds that had taken to swooping over his head.
‘Because we can’t stay here,’ she said, bluntly. ‘The place is falling down, my parents are completely out of their depth, and we need to get home to Claude. Calais is one step closer to home, and gives us options.’
‘If we can get on the train,’ Oliver pointed out.
‘And even if we can’t,’ Daisy countered. ‘We can book into a hotel for the night, or even try the other ferry companies. Maybe one of them runs later on Christmas Eve. But I bet there are a lot more trains going than ferries today – and tomorrow, for that matter. Remember? We looked at it when we were booking the ferry, but you thought travelling by boat was more of an adventure, for some reason.’ God damn her husband and his Swallows and Amazons fantasies.