Claude's Christmas Adventure Page 2

  Well, maybe not that last one. Even the season of miracles had its limits.

  But the important thing was they would all be together, having precious family time.

  Daisy smiled to herself. There. Everything felt much calmer now she’d focused on what really mattered. She kissed the twins in turn. They scowled back.

  ‘Right, kids, everyone okay back there?’ she called, back through the seats. No response. ‘Bella?’

  Daisy peered further back. Of course. Bella had her phone out and was staring intently at the screen, her headphones clamped over her ears. Jay was already deep into some game or another on his tablet. She glanced at Oliver for some parental support.

  Oliver was playing Candy Crush on his phone.

  Another deep breath. This one didn’t help nearly so much.

  ‘Right!’ she snapped, reaching between the front seats and whipping Oliver’s phone from his hand.

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Hand them over.’ She held out a hand for Bella and Jay’s devices, and they both stared at her in horror. ‘This is a family holiday. Time for us to reconnect as a family unit. To talk, share our thoughts, play together. Not stare at individual screens for the next three days then go home again.’

  ‘So, what? You’re going to lock up our phones?’ Bella raised her eyebrows. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘If that’s what it takes.’ Did she even have somewhere to lock them? Daisy cast her gaze around the car and spotted her mother’s old vanity case that had been turned into a first aid kit, sitting on the floor of the back seat. That would do.

  ‘But I’ll miss everything!’ Bella wailed. ‘How will I know what’s going on at home, with my friends?’

  ‘You can ask them when you get back,’ Daisy said. Leaning across the twins’ car seats, ignoring the squeaks from the babies, she plucked the tablet and phone from Bella and Jay. Then she flipped open the vanity case and dropped them and Oliver’s phone on top of the half full packets of plasters and some antiseptic cream that had gone green around the lid.

  ‘What about your phone, then?’ Bella’s face was thunderous. ‘I mean, if we’re not allowed ours …’

  ‘Fine!’ Daisy pulled her own phone from her pocket and added it to the pile. She rifled around in the pocket inside the lid of the vanity case to find the key, shut the box and turned the key in the lock. ‘There.’ She decided to ignore the rebellious mutterings from the back seat. ‘Now, is everyone strapped in?’

  A downbeat chorus of agreement followed. Daisy manoeuvred herself out of the back of the car, uttering a silent prayer that the twins wouldn’t choose today not to sleep in the car. Or that they would at least stop wailing sometime soon. It was so hard to think with that constant howl of noise.

  Shoving the tiny silver key in her jeans pocket, Daisy checked her watch as she reached up with her other hand to slam the car boot, blocking the noise for a moment at least. Damn, they were running late now. Portsmouth was an hour or more’s drive from their leafy Surrey suburb, and the ferry wouldn’t wait for them. She’d have to put her foot down to make it. Belatedly, she glanced at Claude’s black and white coat through the grimy rear windscreen, small beside the absurdly huge gift she’d wrapped for the twins. What had she been thinking? Well, actually, she knew the answer to that. It had been October, and she’d still been thinking she’d be spending Christmas at home for once, instead of traipsing around the country visiting family. She’d thought that, just for once, they could have a peaceful family Christmas, just the six of them. Well, seven if you counted Claude.

  She hadn’t been expecting her parents’ phone call with their demand that they all cross the Channel to spend Christmas in France.

  Daisy sighed. It would be fine. Claude seemed to be sleeping, at least. She just hoped he didn’t need a toilet stop before they reached Portsmouth …

  ‘Are we going then?’ Oliver called from the passenger seat. From his tone, Daisy surmised that he was not best pleased to have lost his own entertainment. Well, tough.

  ‘We are,’ she said, as cheerily as she could manage. Buckling herself into the driver’s seat, she started the engine and turned up the volume on the Christmas CD. ‘Right. Which way do I go?’

  Beside her, Oliver shrugged. ‘How should I know? The sat nav is on my phone. Which you locked up.’

  God, he was more petulant than Bella, and Daisy hadn’t honestly believed that was possible. But she was not going to let it get to her. She wasn’t.

  Daisy reached into the tray under her seat and pulled out the ancient road atlas they hadn’t used since Bella was a baby. ‘We’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way then, won’t we?’ she said, smiling sweetly at Oliver as she passed it to him. ‘Now, who wants to play a word game while we drive? I’ll start. I spy with my little eye, something beginning with M.’

  ‘Muh! Muh! Muh!’ Luca called desperately, and Lara began to wail in response.

  ‘Misery,’ guessed Bella.

  ‘My tablet,’ Jay said, sadly.

  ‘Many, many miles of this,’ Oliver muttered.

  Daisy decided a few more deep breaths might be in order between Maple Drive and Portsmouth.

  Not to mention a very large gin and tonic once they got on the bloody ferry.

  Maple Drive might possibly be the least festive place on his post route, Jack decided, as he took in the sad, token sprig of holly tied to the door knocker of number 13. It was as if they’d all forgotten about Christmas until the last moment, then decided it wasn’t really worth the bother. There was the odd wreath, a glimpse of a fake Christmas tree through a couple of windows, but that was it. Well, apart from the tasteful string of icicle lights hanging along the bedroom windowsill at number 12. And even those looked a little forlorn in the grey, pale, winter sunlight.

  It wasn’t that Jack thought that every house needed a light-up Santa on the roof, along with eight creepy glow-in-the-dark reindeer. Still, a little festive cheer wouldn’t go amiss. He’d even taken to humming Christmas carols on his rounds, just to try and raise the street’s spirits.

  But apparently Maple Drive was the wrong place to be looking for cheer, festive or otherwise.

  ‘And will you look at that travesty of a decoration across at number 12? Makes the place look like a red light zone.’ Mrs Templeton, grey haired and sternly disapproving, shook her head. She reminded Jack of a head teacher he’d had when he was five, who had been scarier than all his superiors in the army put together. Who knew that returning to civilian life after ten years in the forces would still hold such opportunities to quake in his boots?

  Mrs Templeton pointed forcibly towards number 12 and Jack felt obliged to look, if he had any hope of her signing for her parcel. All he could see was the delicate icicle lights under the windowsill. A small patch of brightness in the dark, winter day.

  ‘I quite like them, actually,’ he said mildly, earning himself a glare from Mrs Templeton.

  ‘Well. I suppose you would.’ She looked him up and down, and Jack wondered what she saw. Mild-mannered postman or ex-Corporal Tyler? Some days, he wasn’t sure which one he was any more, either.

  Mrs Templeton sniffed. ‘She’s pretty enough, I suppose. In a blowsy, overblown sort of way.’

  Ah. That was what she was thinking. Well, she was right, to a point. The occupant of number 12 Maple Drive was pretty. Very pretty, in fact. But in a sad, lonely way, Jack had always thought.

  And given the number of parcels he’d delivered to her house over the past few months, he’d had plenty of time to develop that opinion. Holly Starr, 12 Maple Drive, Surrey, seemed to order her entire life online, as far as Jack could tell.

  ‘And that cat of hers! Look, there it goes now, racing about all over the place!’ Jack turned to look, and saw a fluffy black and white streak flying across the road. Then, falling behind, a small, black and white dog scampering after it, his oversized ears flapping in the breeze. ‘Oh, and don’t get me started on the dogs on this street—’ Mrs Templeton said,
as the dog gave up the chase and slunk back to the pavement and, Jack assumed, home.

  ‘If I could just get you to sign here …’ Jack interrupted, proffering his electronic pad again, and holding in a sigh when Mrs Templeton sniffed at the very sight of it.

  ‘Modern gadgets.’ She took the plastic stylus gingerly between two fingers. ‘I don’t know what was wrong with a pen and paper, personally.’

  Jack gave her what he hoped was a patient smile. Unfortunately she seemed to take it as encouragement.

  ‘That’s what’s wrong these days. Too much reliance on electronics. Especially the children. Even my grandson Zach is glued to his computer thing … but that’s because his mother doesn’t know how to control him. He never plays on that device in my house.’ She pointed the stylus at him, somewhat menacingly. ‘I remember when there was none of that. Children listened and played outside in the street and they didn’t act up if they knew what was good for them. And there was none of this gaudy … Americanisation of Christmas.’ The stylus waved towards the icicle lights again. ‘Really. Lights. On the outside of the house!’

  Jack couldn’t resist. ‘You should see the houses on Cedar Avenue,’ he said, in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘One of them has a full set of Snow White and the seven dwarves lit up on their roof.’

  Mrs Templeton gasped with predictable horror. ‘But … that’s not even festive!’

  Jack shrugged. ‘Well, there’s also one with the Nativity. Maybe you’d like that one more.’

  ‘I sincerely doubt it.’

  So did Jack. ‘Anyway …’ He glanced meaningfully at the stylus, still punctuating Mrs Templeton’s every thought. ‘If you could just …’ He shook the electronic pad again.

  ‘Humph.’ Mrs Templeton scrawled a few lines across the screen, and Jack decided that was good enough. He handed her the parcel, along with a few Christmas card-sized envelopes on the top. She scowled at them. ‘And look at these stamps! What happened to a good, old-fashioned Nativity scene for a Christmas stamp? I ask you.’

  Jack quite liked the cartoon Santas, but Mrs Templeton had already shut the door before he could say so.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Mrs Templeton,’ he called, through the closed door. ‘You miserable old bat,’ he added under his breath.

  This wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d moved to Maple Drive. Fresh out of the army, he’d taken a job as a postman and, when he was assigned to an area of the suburbs with nice, neat houses, friendly looking front doors and well-kept lawns, he’d thought he’d stumbled onto exactly what he’d been looking for. Somewhere peaceful, friendly, and properly British. The sort of place he might get invited in for the occasional cup of tea or a biscuit. Or, at least, somewhere he might make new friends, and find a new community to replace the family he’d left behind when he left the forces.

  He was so sure this was what he was looking for, he’d even rented one of the smaller terrace houses on the edge of the estate, just at the corner of Maple Drive.

  It hadn’t taken long for the illusion to be shattered.

  Maple Drive might look like friendly, community-spirited suburbia, but those neighbourhood watch signs and hedges trimmed into animal shapes were misleading. The street was filled with curtain-twitchers, busy workers who left post-it notes asking him to leave their parcels in strange hiding places, and Mrs Templeton. In three months, he could count the number of actual conversations he’d had with his neighbours on one hand – and most of them had been to do with the declining standards of the postal service. He doubted anyone on Maple Drive even realised that he actually lived there too.

  With a sigh, Jack trudged back along the street, away from Mrs Templeton’s house at the top of the cul-de-sac. He dropped a few cards through the letterbox at number 11, the McCawleys’, and was about to cross the street to deliver the small parcel in his bag for Holly Starr at number 12 – her of the icicles – when he spotted something shining on the driveway. Frowning, he bent down to pick it up. He held the small, silver key between two fingers and considered it. It looked like the sort of key that might open one of those padlocks that came in Christmas crackers, or maybe a secret journal or something. Probably nothing important, but still … Turning, he pushed it through number 11’s letterbox to land on the cards. At least that way, they’d find it in case they needed it.

  With a satisfied nod, he marched across the street to number 12. After all, it was Christmas. And the pleasure of delivering presents to Holly Starr was basically the only present he expected to get this year.

  Maybe he’d even tell her he liked her icicles.

  I scampered after the car, but being a dog of little legs, I stood about as much chance of catching it as I did of catching Perdita. Although, cars couldn’t climb fences, so maybe a slightly better chance …

  Either way, by the time I got home, the car – and my family – were gone. Off to ferry, France and chateau. Leaving me behind.

  Alone.

  This, I decided, was simply not how things were meant to be. Ever since I was a tiny, squirming puppy, I’d always been with people. To start with, there were my litter mates, my mum, and my mum’s people. Then, soon enough, there was Daisy and Oliver and Bella, and tiny Jay in his buggy. They took me home to Maple Drive, and I knew I’d never be really alone again. Oh, maybe a couple of hours when they were all out but, to be honest, in a house with so many people the occasional hour to doze away by myself wasn’t a hardship. And most of the time, there was always someone around to scratch my ears, rub my belly, or refill my food bowl.

  But not now. They’d packed up everything – even the box of interesting smells – and taken it with them. That meant they weren’t coming back, not for a while, anyway. It was just like when we went away camping (even my fluffy dog bed couldn’t keep me warm that week. Jay ended up sleeping in it with me) or when we used to visit Granny and Grandad down by the seaside. They’d meant to take me with them, I knew. But how had they not noticed I wasn’t there?

  How could they have left me behind?

  Me! Claude! Their beloved pet!

  I hunkered down beside the bush at the end of our driveway, feeling mightily sorry for myself. I was cold and lonely and I wanted Jay. Even the twins would be welcome company right now.

  Then my tummy rumbled, and I realised the situation was even more dire than I’d first thought.

  I wasn’t just alone, I was hungry. And since I wasn’t meant to be there, Daisy and Oliver wouldn’t have left me any food out!

  I jumped to my paws and scampered up the driveway, bouncing up the three steps to the front door. I pawed at the wood and whimpered, hoping against hope that Daisy might have forgotten to lock it again and it might swing open under my paws.

  No such luck.

  Maybe the back door, though … I rushed around the side of the house, but the solid wood back door wouldn’t budge either. The patio doors were locked tight too and, even if I could see an open window, I couldn’t jump high enough to get through them.

  The house might as well have been a fortress, like the big wooden one Jay played with sometimes in his room. (I was usually cast as his noble, handsome steed. I wasn’t sure what a steed was, but the noble and handsome part sounded about right.)

  I sat on the back step and looked out at the garden. There was the treehouse, if I could climb the ladder. I’d tried once or twice before, when Perdita had hidden up there, but hadn’t had much luck.

  Wait. Perdita.

  This was all her fault. I would never have left the car if she hadn’t been snooping around, trying to get into the box of interesting smells. Everything was definitely Perdita’s fault.

  Which meant it was up to Perdita to put it right. Or at least get me some food.

  Daisy and Oliver and the others would be back soon, I was sure. The moment they noticed I was missing they would rush back to find me. We were family, after all, and that’s what you did for family. They wouldn’t leave me alone for Christmas. They’d be back in no time, pro
bably with extra treats to make it up to me. Like the stocking they gave me last Christmas, filled with chewy treats. Yes, of course they’d be back.

  I just had to be patient. And find something to eat to keep me going in the meantime.

  I padded back round to the street, shivering a little in the winter air. Times like this, I almost thought Daisy had a point when she’d bought me that tartan coat. Oliver had laughed, though, so she only got it out of the coat cupboard when he wasn’t looking.

  Across the road stood number 12 – home of my furry nemesis. I’d never been there before, but I knew a little bit about it from previous encounters with Perdita. For instance, she’d bragged once that she had a special little door, around the back, through which she could come and go as she pleased. No waiting around to be let in or out when she needed to find a nice patch of dirt to take care of business. No waiting for her person to take her for a walk, or to tell her she had to stay inside.

  Cats had the sort of freedom us dogs could only dream of. But I couldn’t help thinking that they missed out on the connection we had with our people. What human really wanted a pet that didn’t need them, anyway?

  Usually, the fact that Perdita could come and go as she pleased, even into my garden, annoyed me. But today I was glad of Perdita’s independence. Today, I intended to turn it to my advantage, by using her little door myself. I wasn’t all that much bigger than her, and I was sure I could squeeze through if I tried. And once I made it inside …

  Well, how different from dog food could cat food really be?

  Daisy let out a long breath of relief as the official gave a sharp nod, after too many minutes considering their paperwork, and let her drive through onto the ferry. Really, they were only a few seconds late. Well, maybe minutes. Certainly less than half an hour.

  Oh, who was she kidding? She’d never been on time for anything since the moment Bella was born. It was as if having kids had robbed her of the ability to tell the time. Or at least to accurately estimate how long anything took. Although, to be fair, it was hard to predict exactly how many times the twins would need their nappies changing, or how long it would take to find whichever toy Jay had lost and desperately needed to take with him, or even how much time Bella would spend arguing about having to go out at all. She could estimate based on past experience, but somehow, whenever she thought she had a handle on it, the kids upped their game.