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‘Who else can be on the committee? I’m not sure it’s Mark’s thing.’
‘I can ask,’ Cat said, but she thought Jessica was probably right. She couldn’t imagine him getting enthusiastic about tinsel and mince pies, perhaps not even on the day itself. ‘And I was going to speak to Polly.’
‘Bring her, and anyone else you can rope into it. Seven o’clock. I must dash now, but I’ll see you later.’ She kissed Cat on the cheek. ‘I think with you and me leading the way, whatever we come up with will be pretty unstoppable.’
‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ Cat said.
Cat turned in the direction of the vet’s surgery. There would be nobody at home, and Mark had spent the last few days immersed in paperwork. She didn’t feel like sitting quietly and waiting for him to notice her. Besides, Polly had been a huge supporter of Pooch Promenade from the beginning, and Cat wanted to share her good news.
She pushed open the door into the clinical white reception area. They’d obviously decided that late October was too early for decorations.
‘Is Polly on her lunch yet?’ she asked the receptionist.
‘About ten minutes, I think. Take a seat and I’ll let her know you’re here.’
She sat next to a woman with short, carroty hair, a Barbour jacket, and a small cream dog on a lead. A Cairn terrier, Cat thought.
‘He’s adorable, can I stroke him?’
‘Of course,’ the woman said.
Cat bent and ran her hands along the dog’s shaggy back. He turned to her and sniffed her boots. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Bisto,’ she said. ‘One of my kids came up with it. I like it for him – he’s bold and stocky, so it suits him – but they’re far too keen on food-related names. They’re trying to name all our neighbour’s puppies things like Popcorn and Curry.’
‘Your neighbour’s just had puppies?’
‘Very unexpectedly, poor love. Her little mongrel has somehow managed to have her wicked way with another dog, and there’s five healthy pups, just born.’
‘What’s she going to do with them?’ Cat asked, her eyes wide.
‘Well, she’s eighty-nine, and she doesn’t want any more dogs. I’ve spoken to lovely Polly here, and she’s going to put a sign up, see what else she can do. They’re cute pups, cream and brown, a little scruffy, but utterly loveable. I’m a firm believer that dogs aren’t just for Christmas, but they’ll be ready to leave Mum mid-December, and I’m sure they’ll be snapped up. Here.’ She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, scribbled something on it and handed it to Cat. ‘If you’re interested, just get in touch with me and I can introduce you.’
‘I will,’ Cat said. ‘Thank you.’ She read the details on the piece of paper. Five mongrel pups, three male, two female, ready 20 December. Followed by a name and phone number.
Cat was still staring at it when Polly appeared, her long blonde hair tied back, nurse’s dark-green scrubs on under her duffle coat.
‘Cat,’ she grinned. ‘How are you?’
‘I’ve come to take you for lunch. I have news.’
Polly glanced behind her. ‘I can’t. I only have half an hour, then I need to be back here. I was going to grab a sandwich.’
‘OK, so how about this evening?’
‘I thought you’d be at Mark’s. Owen’s coming over.’
‘Ah.’ Cat grinned. ‘Well, how do you both fancy coming round to Jessica’s to help us work on the plan for Christmas at Primrose Terrace?’
‘Why do we need a plan?’ Polly sounded wary, but Cat could see the excitement in her eyes.
‘To make this the best Christmas ever. Are you in?’
‘I’ll have to make sure Owen doesn’t mind.’
‘Brilliant! Seven o’clock.’
‘But, Cat, I need to ask Owen first.’
‘When has Owen ever said no to anything?’
Cat left Polly rolling her eyes and, with an extra spring in her step, returned to Primrose Terrace.
‘You know you’re welcome to come,’ Cat said, following Mark from the kitchen to the living room. ‘The more heads the better.’
‘I’m not sure my head’s tuned to Christmas yet. It’s not even November.’ He sat down and scribbled something on a printed letter, still doing the paperwork.
‘November’s two days away, and the shops are bursting with Christmas stuff already.’ Cat peered over his shoulder but could only make out part of the logo – something Lawyers.
‘That’s not necessarily a good thing.’ He gave her a quick smile and turned back to his work.
‘I can see I’m going to have to do some de-Scrooging here,’ Cat said, ‘Christmas is the best time of the year.’ She tried to ignore the voice in her head that was reminding her how much Joe loved Christmas, the picture he had painted of hibernating from the cold with the people he cared about. She sat on the sofa beside Mark and reached her hand up, running it through his hair, but her nail caught on his scalp and he moved his head away, turning to her with an irritated expression.
‘Look, Cat – ’ His face softened. ‘Sorry, I just – I’m a bit busy. But I can’t wait to hear what ideas you come up with. It’s you and Jessica and Polly?’
Cat nodded. ‘Owen too, I think. And Elsie, because it would be impossible to do anything worthwhile without her input.’
‘It sounds like you’ve got everyone you need – I’m sure I’d just get in the way anyway.’
‘Oh no,’ Cat said weakly, shaking her head. ‘Of course you wouldn’t.’ But it wasn’t Mark’s absence she was concerned about. Cat thought of the ideas that had been jumbling in her head for the last few days, and knew that Joe would have been able to organise them and better them, and come up with a final, perfect plan. She didn’t know how they would cope without his creative input, and she didn’t want to think too hard about the fact that he wasn’t back yet, or how acutely aware she was of his absence at number nine Primrose Terrace. She was sure Shed was pining too.
‘I have to go, or I’ll be late.’ She kissed Mark on the cheek, raced to the door and turned, but he was already engrossed in the documents again, his script or lawyer contracts. Feeling a flush of relief that he found whatever it was more worthwhile than Christmas, she headed out into the cold night.
Cat, Elsie, Polly and Owen sat around the huge table in Jessica’s luxurious kitchen. The bank of windows looked out over the back garden, which was in darkness save for white fairy lights woven through the branches of an ash tree. In soft lamplight, and with bottles of spiced red wine and a cinnamon-flavoured candle, Jessica had instantly got them in the festive spirit, and was putting the Michael Bublé Christmas album on to complete the effect.
‘So,’ Elsie said, ‘Christmas at Primrose Terrace. What are the options?’
‘I’m having a party,’ Jessica said. ‘The spring “do” was so successful that I couldn’t imagine not holding another one.’
‘That was a great party,’ Polly sighed. ‘I had so much fun.’
‘So did I,’ Jessica said, smiling. ‘I hope your delicious brother’s going to hotfoot it back from America in time for this one. He sounds like he’s having far too much fun!’
‘Sounds like?’ Polly asked, frowning.
Cat stifled her gasp and stared at Jessica.
Jessica gave Polly a cat-like grin. ‘I’m redesigning my website, my whole brand. A fresh look for a new year, and you know me, I’d much rather support local businesses. I emailed Magic Mouse Designs and Joe told me he was in Portland. Some of the photos he’s been sending me – it looks gorgeous.’
‘He’s sent you photos?’ Polly asked. ‘I’ve only had two.’
Jessica preened. ‘We’re going to meet up when he’s back, but for now the email exchange is working well. I think he can see what page I’m on.’
Cat doodled a picture of a Christmas tree on her notepad and tried not to think about Jessica’s flirtatious emails to Joe.
‘Well, I —’ Polly shook her head. ‘It’s fantastic that you’ve asked him. He’ll be so busy he won’t know what to do with himself!’
‘I’d better get some mistletoe in,’ Jessica said. ‘An essential element of any Christmas party. And Joe will be a great person to manoeuvre underneath it.’
‘I’ll tell him you said that,’ Polly said, laughing. ‘I’m sure he’ll be flattered.’
‘I hope he’ll be more than just flattered,’ Jessica said, running her polished nails up the stem of her wine glass.
Cat felt her cheeks burning, her mouth drying out.
‘So,’ Owen said, rubbing his hands together. ‘What are your thoughts, Cat? You said you wanted something that could work with Jessica’s party.’
Cat swallowed, nodded and turned to her notes. ‘I was thinking of organizing some kind of game or competition that the whole of Primrose Terrace can take part in. Offices have Secret Santas and Christmas buffets, and there are always family games at Christmas – charades and quizzes. I thought about a quiz, but I’m not sure it would bring the street together in the way I want to.’
‘A treasure hunt?’ Owen suggested. ‘Taking people all over Fairview, with a Christmas theme and the prizes given out at Jessica’s party.’
They pondered this, Polly chewing her pen. ‘But if everyone knew it was ending at the party, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?’
‘And it’s only going to get colder between now and Christmas,’ Elsie added, ‘so I’m not sure it would play to everyone’s strengths.’
‘True,’ Owen said, his head on one side, his black curls bouncing. ‘Maybe that’s more a summer thing.’
‘A competitive element would be good, though,’ Polly said. ‘That way people would make an effort.’
‘So something that can be judged, with prizes awarded at the party?’ Jessica went to the cupboard and took out a box of dog biscuits. She shook it, and the three Westies, followed by Owen’s fox terrier Rummy, and then Disco and, finally, Chalky, pattered in from the dog den where they’d been playing. She crouched, her grey cashmere shawl brushing the floor, and gave out the treats.
‘I like prizes,’ Owen said. ‘Pets win prizes?’
Cat nodded. ‘I want to involve the dogs somehow. It’s such a doggy street. Except…’ She glanced at Polly. ‘We don’t have one.’
‘No,’ Polly said, ‘but that means we could judge it. Especially as you’re the resident dog walker.’
Cat thought of Joe’s insistence that she couldn’t have dogs in the house, the hints that he and Polly had given her since the spring that the reasons were complicated. She still hadn’t got to the bottom of it, but had begun to accept it. The details that the woman at the vet’s had given her were still in her coat pocket, but she had her clients’ dogs, and she got to spend time with them every day. Perhaps she wasn’t destined to have one of her own.
‘So, one thing for the dogs,’ Elsie said, ‘one for the humans.’
‘Something sparkly and fun and creative,’ Cat added. ‘There’s loads of creativity on this road – Boris and Charles are super stylish with their bed and breakfast, there’s Frankie and the girls who are always doing crafty things, and then us.’
‘Sure,’ Polly said. ‘Just think of the banner Joe designed for your event.’
‘Exactly.’ Cat could picture it perfectly when she closed her eyes. It was rolled up under her bed, within reach whenever she wanted to have another look at it. ‘Something Christmassy and crafty.’
‘Tree decorations?’ Elsie asked.
‘Good,’ Cat said, ‘but I think it needs to be bigger.’
‘Christmas trees?’ Owen suggested. ‘People go to town with their trees.’
Cat nodded. ‘That sounds great, but…’ She frowned, thinking. ‘Something even bigger. Something we could all enjoy without having to traipse through everyone else’s house. Maybe…’ She stared out of the window, seeing the glimmering fairy lights against the reflection of them sitting round the table. She turned back, mouth open, and Jessica caught her eye.
They spoke together.
‘Christmas lights.’
Jessica’s smile was triumphant.
‘Lights?’ Polly asked, ‘on the trees? Isn’t that the same as decorations?’
Cat shook her head, dropped to the floor and pulled Disco towards her, lifting the mini schnauzer up. Disco pawed at Cat’s dress and licked her cheek.
‘Not on the trees, on the houses. Primrose Terrace is one of the prettiest roads I’ve ever seen, let alone lived on. All the houses have their own character, so why not have a lights competition? See who can decorate theirs the best?’
Owen sat up. ‘Everyone would have to decide whether they wanted to go for classy, just a couple of colours, or all-out with reindeers and Santa climbing up the side of the house. You’d have to think tactically as well as creatively.’
‘You could judge it, Owen,’ Elsie said. ‘You don’t live on Primrose Terrace.’
‘Are you kidding? There’s no way I’m being left out. I’ll help with number nine, if – ’ he turned to Polly, taking her hand – ‘if you’ll have me?’
Polly grinned, her pale cheeks flushing. ‘Of course I will.’
Cat buried her smile in Disco’s fur. The young dog yelped, jumped down and went to be overfriendly to Chalky who, having had his treat, was lying on the floor next to Jessica’s glass-fronted wine cabinet.
‘We’ll have to get someone else to judge it,’ Jessica said. ‘Someone unconnected with Primrose Terrace. Maybe someone at the Fairhaven Press?’
‘To judge a Christmas lights competition?’ Owen asked, incredulous.
‘Why not?’ Jessica said. ‘I’ve done enough interviews with them. I’m sure if I got in touch they’d spare a reporter.’ She left the room and came back with the day’s paper. ‘I’ll see if I can find someone.’
Cat swallowed, her eyes drawn to the newspaper. ‘We could ask Phil,’ she said, ‘who I’ve been in touch with about doggy events, and the protest. He might be happy to do it.’
‘Oh, of course!’ Jessica said. ‘Of course he would, silly me.’
Jessica moved the paper aside. ‘Right. Let’s think about the details and the dog element.’
‘Dogs and lights aren’t a good mix,’ Elsie said. ‘There could be chewing issues.’
‘No, you’re right, we need something distinctly dog-related.’
Quiet settled on the room as they thought, the only sounds the soft crooning of Michael Bublé, the occasional crackle of the candle, and the snuffling of the dogs. Cat, inches away from the copy of the Fairhaven Press, had become distracted. Thursday was the day Curiosity Kitten was published. She didn’t know if Joe had sent in a whole batch of cartoons to run while he was away, or if he was sending them from America, but they had been appearing for the last three weeks. So far they had been final versions of sketches that Cat had already seen – the kitten about to lift a lid on a pan containing a piranha, scrabbling on a box outside a window – but she’d come to look forward to them, to feel the connection to Joe while he was hundreds of miles away.
With the excitement over the result of the protest and planning a Christmas event, she hadn’t yet looked at today’s cartoon. She was sure Polly had. She often mentioned to Cat how proud she was of her brother, how well he was doing in the States, which meant he was keeping in touch with her. Cat had no right to expect him to contact her too, especially not since the events of the protest, but she couldn’t deny that she missed him, and that Curiosity Kitten had become an important part of her week. She’d gone from feeling affronted by it to counting the days until it arrived.
‘Dog secret Santa?’ Polly asked. ‘We could buy them all something, have a Santa give them out at the party.’
