As he headed back to Holly’s, the whole street burst into light again, with snowmen and reindeer and icicles and snowflakes and Christmas trees shining down from almost every house in the street. He paused by the front door for a moment, and took in the display. Even Mrs Templeton’s house had delicate snowflake lights hanging from each of the windows, now. The only dark patch was Number 11 – Claude’s house.
‘Do you think his family will be home in time for Christmas?’ Holly asked from behind him, and he realised she was staring at the same thing he was.
‘I hope so,’ he said, thinking about the McCawleys, stranded in France, missing Claude.
‘Me too,’ Holly said. He turned towards her, and saw she had her arms wrapped around her middle to ward off the cold. Instinctively, he took her hand and tugged her towards him, so she stood with her back to his chest, and his arms around her waist.
‘We’ll look after him, though. If they don’t,’ he said, wanting to reassure her.
‘I know. But …’ she sighed. ‘I know what it feels like to be abandoned. I wouldn’t want that for Claude. He can’t understand that they’re trying to get back to him. All he knows is that he’s alone.’
‘But he’s not, is he?’ Jack said, suspecting they weren’t just talking about Claude any more. After all, the little dog wasn’t the only one who’d been left behind this Christmas. Holly should have been married to that idiot Sebastian by now – a thought that Jack hated even thinking. ‘He’s found new friends – us for a start. New people who love him just as much. Who won’t ever leave him.’
Holly froze in his arms, and he knew that she had read the hidden meaning in his words. ‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘But then, how can you ever really be sure that someone will stay? I mean, things change, don’t they? A new opportunity. A new job … and suddenly people leave you.’
‘I suppose so,’ Jack admitted. Maybe this wasn’t just about Sebastian, either, he realised. Hadn’t Jack told her that he’d applied for a transfer? And yes, things had changed since then. And yes, maybe he did want to stay in Maple Drive, after all – if everything worked out the way he hoped. But Holly didn’t know that. She thought he was leaving – and he wasn’t a hundred per cent sure she even wanted him to stay.
But he knew he had to take a chance that she did, or he’d regret it forever.
Just telling Holly he planned to stay wouldn’t be enough. She’d been let down and left behind once too often before.
He had to prove it to her.
And standing there, watching the lights of Maple Drive twinkling in the darkness, he knew exactly how.
‘Well, look at you two sweethearts.’ Holly’s voice cut through the fog of sleep still surrounding me, and I stirred, trying to find wakefulness. I was curled up against something else furry, and soft. Fluffy, in fact … Hang on, was I in Perdita’s bed with her? I had a vague memory of falling asleep there.
Oh, who cared? I was warm and cosy, and for the first time in days I’d actually slept well enough to feel rested. In fact, my stomach was rumbling again, I’d been asleep so long. ‘Merry Christmas, both of you! There’s special breakfast for you both when you get up.’
Breakfast. In fact, special breakfast.
Suddenly my eyes were wide open.
Holly laughed. ‘I knew that would get you moving. Come on! It’s a busy, busy Christmas Day!’
Music played from the stereo on the kitchen counter, and Holly sang along as she put cat food into Perdita’s bowl, and something else from a tin into a second bowl she pulled from the cupboard. ‘A special donation from one of our neighbours,’ she explained as she spooned the food in. It looked moist and juicy and meaty and delicious. ‘Mr Yates at number 6 was worried that you might be a little peckish, and not so keen on cat food. He showed up just after sunrise with this for you.’ She held up the blue tin. It had a picture on it of a dog who looked a little like me – although not as handsome, of course. ‘Wasn’t that kind of him?’
I showed my appreciation for Mr Yates’ kindness by launching myself mouth first into the bowl. Oh, it was good.
There was a knock on the door, and Holly went to answer it, voices floating through the house – Christmas greetings and laughter and more music. Perdita prowled up to her bowl beside me. ‘I suppose you think you’re set for life now, then,’ she said, sighing as she delicately bit into her first mouthful of food. But somehow, the old venom was missing from her voice.
I was starting to think that Perdita didn’t mind having me around at all.
‘Thank you for letting me share your bed last night,’ I said, between chews. ‘I appreciated it.’
Perdita tilted her head to look at me. ‘You’re welcome,’ she said. ‘This once. Just until your family come home.’
‘Agreed.’ Because surely Daisy and Oliver would be back soon. And then I could go home, for real.
Although I might still pay the occasional visit to Holly. And Jack. And Kathleen. Especially if any of them had gingerbread in.
Once I’d finished my breakfast, I padded out into the hallway to see what else was going on. Away from my food bowl, the air smelled crisp and cold – but with a hint of the sort of spices and flavours that had led me to discovering the wonders of gingerbread in the first place. People were everywhere; not just in the house, but out in the street, too, moving tables and chairs out from their houses into the road, and carrying plates and boxes from house to house, laughing and joking as they worked. The lights on the houses had been turned off for now, but the winter sun shining on the white and frosty ground more than made up for them. Everything looked bright and new and shiny.
And every person who saw me, as I trotted up and down the street, surveying the action, stopped to say, ‘Hello, Claude,’ and scratch my ears.
Maple Drive seemed a different place than the one Daisy and Oliver had driven away from, just two days ago.
And I had to say, I liked the new Maple Drive a whole lot better than the old one.
‘He’s been! Mum, Dad! He’s been!’ Jay’s voice resonated through the hotel room, and Daisy smiled as Oliver hid his head under the pillow with a groan. At the end of the bed, Lara and then Luca stirred in their travel cots, as Jay began hammering on the door.
‘Merry Christmas, darling.’ Daisy dropped a kiss onto Oliver’s bare shoulder, then pulled on her dressing gown as she went to let her older children in.
‘I tried to keep him in bed longer,’ Bella said, her eyes tired. ‘But he was desperate to come and see you, the moment he’d finished opening all the presents in his stocking.’
‘That’s okay,’ Daisy said, hugging her daughter. ‘Merry Christmas, Bell.’ Behind her, she heard Oliver howl as Jay landed on the bed.
It was beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.
‘Merry Christmas everyone!’ Dad boomed from the doorway, a Santa hat lodged on his head at a jaunty angle.
‘Any good children here waiting for presents?’ Mum asked from behind him.
Soon, they were all piled into the one hotel room, Jay between Daisy and Oliver under the covers, Bella perched on the far end of the bed, Dad in the chair by the window and Mum on the dressing table stool holding Lara. Luca nestled in Daisy’s arms, and she suddenly couldn’t remember how many times she’d been woken in the night to feed them, or how awful the explosive nappy change at 2 a.m. had been.
All that mattered was that her family were together, demolishing forests’ worth of wrapping paper by the second as they ripped into their gifts.
They’d retrieved croissants and chocolate spread from the M&S hamper, since the hotel didn’t start serving breakfast for another hour, and were tucking into them as they handed out presents. Daisy hoped that housekeeping staff were up to dealing with all the crumbs …
The twins seemed to like their special giant play nest, as well as playing Old MacDonald, filled with soft animals that made noises and had crinkly textures and plastic mirrors and chewable bits. Well, as much as two five-month-ol
ds could really like anything. Still, it gave them somewhere to play while everyone else got on with opening their presents.
‘Cool,’ Bella said, as she opened the new headphones Daisy had scoured the internet for, after she mentioned them. Oliver opened a new cookery book, aimed at men, and gave Daisy a look.
‘Is this a hint?’
Daisy widened her eyes. ‘I think that one’s from Santa, darling. Maybe he thinks you should cook more.’
‘Hmm,’ Oliver hummed, unconvinced. But he did open the book and start reading, which Daisy took as a small victory.
‘Mum? This is for you.’ Jay handed her a sloppily wrapped parcel with a glittery bow on the top. Oliver’s wrapping skills, Daisy recognised.
‘Thank you, darling.’ She kissed Jay on the top of the head, then set about untangling the roll of Sellotape that had been wrapped around her present. Eventually, she made it inside, and pulled out a mug, covered in childish drawings and the words ‘World’s Best Mum’ in bright red printed letters.
‘That’s us,’ Jay explained, pointing to the stick figures. ‘That’s Dad, with the tie, and you with the beautiful hair. Then Bella, and me, and the twins – except I couldn’t draw them very well, so I drew them in their pushchairs. And there’s Claude.’ His voice wobbled a little on his beloved pet’s name.
Daisy held him closer. ‘I love it. Thank you, Jay. It’s the best present I’ve ever been given.’
‘Don’t know why I bothered with the spa voucher, then,’ Oliver muttered, and she flashed him a grin.
‘Okay, that was pretty good too.’ Not the voucher itself, of course, but the implicit promise. One day, in the not-too-distant future, Oliver would have to take charge of all four kids, and the house, and the dog, for a full day, while she went somewhere relaxing and calming and did nothing for several hours.