‘Boats are always an adventure.’
‘They are also not an option right now. So, Calais.’
‘So I should call the tunnel people?’ Oliver asked, his brow creased up.
‘Yes. That would be a good idea.’ Daisy slammed the boot shut on the world’s most well-travelled M&S hamper. Hopefully that was everything, bar the children. Because she sure as hell wasn’t coming back for anything they’d forgotten this time. ‘But first, get everyone in the car. Because we are going to Calais!’
They travelled in convoy; Daisy driving, Oliver navigating while also making phone calls to try to arrange their return travel, and Bella following in the car behind with her grandparents. Every time Daisy checked her rear-view mirror, she’d see her dad giving her a thumbs up, and sigh. It was going to be a long journey.
‘Okay, so there’s no space on today’s trains at the moment,’ Oliver said. ‘But they are running tomorrow morning.’
‘You know, before today, I’d have wondered who on earth wants to travel across the Channel on Christmas Day,’ Daisy mused, signalling to turn left and checking her mirror to make sure her father had done the same. ‘But now I know.’
‘People who can’t bear to spend their Christmases in France?’ Oliver asked.
‘People desperate to spend Christmas with their loved ones, no matter what,’ Daisy corrected him.
It might take them a little longer than anticipated, but they would be back in Maple Drive in time to give Claude his bone patterned Christmas stocking full of treats, one way or another.
‘Do you want me to book spaces for tomorrow, then?’ Oliver asked.
Daisy shook her head. ‘Keep trying. I want to get back today if we can. If we can’t … well, we’ll look at travelling on Christmas Day as a last resort.’
It took them just over five hours to reach Calais, including bathroom breaks for Jay and nappy changes for the twins, and the half hour pause when Daisy’s mother spotted an antiques emporium that might have ‘just the perfect thing for the front bedroom!’
‘We’re going to spend the whole of the next year trying to persuade them to move home in time for Christmas, aren’t we?’ Oliver muttered, as they waited outside with the buggy.
‘That or a hell of a lot of DIY,’ Daisy agreed.
But that was a problem for next year. First, they had to get home for Christmas.
By the time they arrived in Calais, Oliver had called the ticket line eight times, and got the same answer to each call: there were no spaces left on today’s trains, but they might be able to fit them on tomorrow, still. ‘Shall I book it now?’ Oliver asked.
‘Not yet,’ Daisy replied.
Oliver sighed. ‘So, what do we do now, then?’
Daisy flashed him a smile. ‘It’s time to find out if there’s any room at the inn.’
‘Wait,’ Bella said, when they parked up to discuss the plan with her grandparents. ‘You cannot seriously be planning on walking around Calais on Christmas Eve, knocking on doors, until we find a hotel with enough space to take all of us.’
‘It was good enough for Mary and Joseph,’ Grandad said, sounding rather like he was relishing the challenge. Or perhaps just grateful to have escaped his bird-infested chateau.
‘Mary and Joseph didn’t have the internet,’ Bella pointed out. ‘We do.’ She grabbed Jay’s tablet from him with a sigh and, overriding the parental controls Daisy had put in place, brought up a hotel comparison website. ‘Right. What are we looking for?’
‘Um, three rooms?’ Daisy said. ‘One double with space for the twins’ travel cots, a twin room for you and Jay next door, preferably, and another double for Granny and Grandad.’
Bella typed some things into the tablet. ‘On it. I’ll check in on the Find Claude campaign, too. Last I heard, someone had spotted Claude jumping up and down in one of the gardens on Maple Drive, but by the time they got there, he was gone.’
‘At least we know he’s still on Maple Drive,’ Daisy said. ‘And we’ll be home soon.’ She hoped.
Bella glanced up. ‘You guys might as well find us some lunch. I’ll have us somewhere to stay by the time you get back.’
Daisy and Oliver exchanged a look. When had their daughter grown so capable? So in control?
‘Okay, then,’ Oliver said.
‘Wait!’ Bella called, as they turned to go. Daisy looked back to see her daughter’s best innocent smile. ‘Leave me your credit card?’
‘So, what do we do now?’ Holly asked, as Mrs Templeton tottered down the pathway back towards her own house, with promises of pigs in blankets and eggnog for the next day. ‘And, do you mind? About Mrs Templeton, I mean?’
Jack shook his head, watched Mrs Templeton open her front door then shut it behind her, and turned back to face Holly with a smile. ‘It’s fine,’ he said, shutting her front door, too. ‘You were right. We couldn’t just leave her to spend Christmas on her own, if her family aren’t planning on sticking around. Not when we’re organising something especially so that neither of us nor Kathleen are alone.’
Holly tilted her head as she looked at him. ‘You realise I never actually said any of that, right?’
Jack blinked. ‘But you were thinking it. Weren’t you?’
‘I was.’
‘I guess I must have read your mind, then.’
Holly’s smile spread wide across her face, her lips pink and soft in the light from the Christmas tree fairy lights. ‘That’s quite the talent you have there.’
‘I’m a talented man.’
‘I’m sure you are.’
Were they flirting again? Jack was pretty damn sure that was what was going on, but he’d already learned that he couldn’t make too many assumptions when it came to Holly, mind reading notwithstanding. And he couldn’t forget that he might be leaving soon.
He shook his head, and followed Holly back into the kitchen. Those were questions for another day. Another year, even, maybe. First they had to get through Christmas with Kathleen and Mrs Templeton.
And they had to find Claude.
Suddenly, Jack remembered the Find Claude poster outside.
‘Hey, do you have your laptop or tablet handy?’ he asked.
‘Sure. Why?’ Holly reached over to the counter, where a pile of Christmas crafts had been stacked, and grabbed her tablet from its precarious position on the top of the pile.
‘There’s a poster on the lamppost outside,’ Jack explained, as she unlocked the screen and handed it over to him. ‘Part of the campaign to find Claude that the McCawleys’ daughter set up, I think. I never thought to check it out last night, but if they’ve got as far as posters …’
‘It’s worth a look,’ Holly finished for him, taking the seat beside him and looking over his shoulder. ‘Wow!’
‘Yeah.’ Jack scrolled through the screen, past hundreds of messages of support – and a link to the BBC website and their report on Claude. ‘I just figured it was a thing with her school friends, but it looks like it grew!’
‘Any news from the McCawleys?’ Holly asked.
Jack scanned the page. ‘They’re still trying to get back. Apparently they’re in Calais right now, trying to get a place on the car train.’
‘Then they could be home really soon. That’s good. I’m sure Claude will come out of hiding once they’re here.’
‘Yeah.’ Jack handed the tablet back. Soon, Claude would be the McCawleys’ problem again, not his. He just wished he’d been able to find him for them. Keep him safe and well fed on gingerbread.
‘So, you never answered my question,’ Holly said, topping up their wine glasses. They’d moved past mulled wine now, and onto the real stuff, which Jack was grateful for. All those spices had given him a headache – not that he’d ever admit that to Holly. ‘And since I can’t read your mind I’m going to have to ask it again. What do we do now?’
Suddenly, in a flash, Jack knew what he wanted to do, the image so firmly printed on his brain it felt like a memory, r
ather than a fantasy. He wanted to curl up on the sofa with Holly in his arms, Claude at his feet, and watch bad Christmas telly before scooping Holly up and carrying her to bed. And then he wanted to—
Well. It didn’t matter. Because a fantasy was all it was. And that wasn’t what Holly even meant by her question, he suspected.
‘You mean, about Kathleen’s Christmas surprise?’ he guessed, trying to shake off the image of him and Holly, headed to bed together on Christmas Eve.
‘Yeah. I mean, we got so caught up with Mrs Templeton’s time capsule, we’ve barely started. And it’s not like we had a detailed plan to start with.’