Bliss.
‘Right, last one,’ Dad said, pulling another present from the bag. They all turned to look, and he pulled out a red velvet stocking, covered in embroidered bones.
‘That’s for Claude,’ Jay said, and bit his lip.
Suddenly, the mood dropped again. Yes, it was lovely to have her family together on Christmas Day, Daisy realised, but there was still one thing missing.
Bella pulled her phone from her pyjama pockets. ‘I’ve got one more Christmas present for you all,’ she said, holding it up.
‘What?’ Jay asked, frowning. ‘That’s just your phone.’
‘Look closer.’
They all huddled around the phone to look at the screen.
‘That’s Claude!’ Jay yelped. Daisy peered closer, and saw an unfamiliar photo of their pet, wearing a headband with reindeer antlers on, with a plate of gingerbread snowmen in front of him. ‘Where is he?’
‘The postman and the woman at number 12 are looking after him,’ Bella said, with a laugh. ‘He’s absolutely fine, and waiting for us to get home.’
‘I was wrong. That’s the best Christmas present ever,’ Daisy said, relief washing over her. She checked her watch. ‘Right, we’ve got an hour and a half before we need to be at the terminal for our train. What do you say we all get cleared up here, get dressed, pack up the car and go home?’
Jay cheered, and even Bella gave up a little whoop.
It was time to go home to Claude. Then Christmas could really begin.
Maple Drive was almost unrecognisable when Jack walked through it on Christmas morning. He’d overslept, just a little, after being so late home from Holly’s, and after his fall. But apparently the rest of the community had been up and raring to go with the sun.
A long row of tables had been laid out down the middle of the street, and covered with a patchwork of table cloths in bright whites, reds, golds and greens. Bamboo canes had been affixed to the legs at regular intervals, and Mr Yates’ fifteen-year-old son Toby was hanging tinsel and Holly’s homemade bunting between them, helped out by another boy Jack didn’t recognise from the street. Neighbours bustled past with table decorations, dishes, and in one case, a six-foot Christmas tree, already decorated. And in the middle of it all was Mrs Templeton, dressed now in a festive tartan skirt and thick red jumper, holding her notepad and directing the activities.
‘Zach! Not another red piece of tinsel next to the green,’ she called, to the boys hanging tinsel. ‘Alternate!’
‘Yes, Grandma,’ said the boy Jack hadn’t recognised. Well, that explained that, he supposed. He wondered if Mrs Templeton’s family might decide to stay a little longer today, after all, once they took in all the festivity.
Despite all the people filling Maple Drive, Jack couldn’t see the one person he was looking for: Holly.
Waving to people as he passed, Jack crossed over the road to Holly’s house, and let himself in through the wide open door. He’d spent the walk over planning what he wanted to say to her, but now he worried she might not have the time to listen.
‘Yes, the cake is ready to go out,’ he heard her saying, before he even caught a glimpse of her. ‘But be careful, the snowflakes are still drying on the top.’
‘Understood.’ Heather Roberts, the doctor’s wife, stepped out of the kitchen with an immense Christmas cake in her arms – three tiers, perfect snowy white icing, snowflake decorations and a silver glitter sheen. Jack stared at it in awe as Heather walked past him heading outside. He’d known Holly was very talented, but that cake …
‘You should be making cakes for a living,’ he told her, as she stepped into the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron. She had flour on her nose, glitter in her hair, and Jack thought she’d never looked more beautiful.
‘Maybe one day,’ Holly said, her cheeks pink from the compliment. ‘But I couldn’t just make cakes. There are too many other things I like to make too.’
‘And what would you do with all that air drying clay,’ Jack said, straight faced, and Holly laughed, a beautiful, musical sound.
God, what would his army friends say if they could see him now, crazy for a girl he’d barely spent more than a day with, and planning on arranging his whole life around the possibility that she might want him too.
Actually, now he thought about it, he had a feeling that they might be happy for him. And a little bit jealous, come to that.
Jack grinned, as he watched the cake taking centre position on the long table outside. Even from the distance of Holly’s house, it looked stunning.
‘You are a marvel,’ he said.
‘And you are late,’ she replied. ‘We’ve all been working for hours, you know.’
‘I was looking for something,’ Jack admitted, reaching into his pocket.
Holly turned to him, a curious look in her eye. ‘Something for today? For the Maple Drive Christmas?’
‘Sort of.’ He pulled out the small box he’d found at the bottom of a rucksack he’d forgotten he’d owned, an hour or more after he started searching for it.
This was it. The moment he proved something to Holly. The moment his future could really begin.
All he had to do was hand her the box, and explain.
‘Jack! We need you out here.’ Kathleen stuck her head around the front door, and she grinned. ‘Merry Christmas, by the way. But we need a little help before we can get to the celebrating.’
‘Just one moment,’ he started, but it was too late.
‘Holly? Where do you want us to put Claude’s gingerbread house?’ Mrs Yates came bustling in past Kathleen, standing between him and Holly, and any hope of resurrecting the moment was gone. Jack stared at the gingerbread house, iced to perfection and laden with sweets he was fairly sure Claude shouldn’t eat. But then he spotted the tiny black and white icing French Bulldog, sitting at the front door of the gingerbread house, and he smiled. It was perfect.
‘Um, let’s see if there’s space on the extra table at the end,’ Holly said, already following Mrs Yates back outside. ‘I’ll see you later, Jack?’ she said, as she passed, and Jack nodded.
Apparently romance would have to wait. Th
ey had Christmas to pull off first.
‘Come on then,’ he said, to Kathleen. ‘Where do you want me?’
By lunchtime, I had eaten gingerbread snowmen, another bowl of special dog food, and exchanged Christmas barks with at least three other dogs on the street. They’d all looked at me curiously, but it wasn’t until I stopped to talk with Perdita that I understood why.
‘Don’t you see?’ she asked. ‘You’re a legend in this street now. Without you, Jack would never have met Kathleen, so Jack and Holly would never have had the idea of holding a Maple Drive Christmas. And if you hadn’t knocked over Jack’s ladder last night … well, none of this might be happening at all.’
‘But how do they all know about that?’ I asked, confused. I certainly hadn’t told them.
Perdita stuck her nose up in the air, almost as high as her tail. ‘Some animals gossip,’ she said, as if that were a bad thing.
But then I realised; the only person who knew about all that was Perdita herself.
‘Thanks, Perdita,’ I called, as she stalked off towards where Holly was sitting with Jack, at the end of the table.
Perdita had made me a legend. She’d told my story, and the story had been retold around the neighbourhood, until everyone knew it. Maybe, in some small way, I’d brought the animals of Maple Drive together the way Jack and Holly had brought together the humans.
It was nice to think so, anyway.
Everyone was sat down at the long table in the middle of the street, loading their plates with all the different sorts of food that their neighbours had contributed to the feast. I made my way slowly from one end the table to the other, pausing by any likely looking hands that might pass me a scrap of turkey, or something even better. By the time I reached the far end of the table, up by my own house, I was almost full.