Cressida McLaughlin - A Christmas Tail - A heart-warming Christmas romance

Cat was trying to come up with a witty reply when her eyes snagged on a familiar name. Jessica Heybourne. Why did she know that name? She clicked onto her page, where there was a photo of a glamorous blonde, probably a few years older than Cat, smiling warmly at the lens with a confidence reserved for the frequently photographed. She had pale skin, heavily lined eyes and fair hair piled and teased like a cloud of candyfloss around her face. She had 22,000 followers, and her bio read: Bestselling cookery writer, total foodie, love my Westies and living by the sea. THE HEART OF FOOD out now.

That was it! Westies.

Elsie had told Cat that Jessica Heybourne should be at the top of her list of potential clients. She was a well-known author, popular in the community as well as further afield, and had three West Highland terriers and the potential to provide Cat with more word-of-mouth custom than the Fairhaven Press . And, as Elsie had told her gleefully, she lived at number one Primrose Terrace.

Cat had walked past it often, her eyes lingering over the elegant primrose paint, the large porch and the gleaming glass extension that was just visible from the side of the house. Cat sat back and sipped her tea, wondering how she should approach her. Jessica would never notice a general tweet – she probably didn’t have much time to read Twitter, though she used it to promote her books and hook her adoring public. She’d have to send her a direct tweet. She could always follow it up with a personal visit.

Abandoning her laptop, Cat walked to the window. The rain was falling in a solid sheet, the terrace barely visible beyond the raindrops slaloming down the glass. It was a typical March day, and Cat didn’t mind it – she would have to embrace all weathers if she was going to be a successful dog walker – but she wouldn’t give a good impression if she knocked on Jessica’s door looking like a bedraggled Great Dane.

She returned to her computer, followed Jessica and began composing her tweet. Half an hour and two bitten nails later she clicked the ‘tweet’ button, sat back and waited.

‘What are you looking so nervous about?’ Joe picked up her empty mug.

Cat shrugged. ‘Nothing. Just…looking for some clients.’

‘Inside your computer?’

‘That’s where it’s at these days,’ Cat said breezily, just as she remembered Joe’s insecurities about traditional illustration being sidelined by digital design. He disappeared into the kitchen and Cat heard the mugs hitting the sink with excessive force. ‘Shit,’ she whispered, then called out, ‘but how do you do it? You’ve got so many followers.’

Joe appeared and leaned against the door frame. He shrugged, his blue eyes fixing on Cat. ‘I put stuff out there – what I’m working on, links to clients’ websites and work I’ve done for them, chat to people when they ask a question. Just be open, friendly and professional, funny sometimes. And always talk about key things – mention Fairview a lot, and dog walking. Gradually people will pick it up, find out about you through searches or retweets.’

‘Oh,’ Cat said, surprised by Joe’s openness and lack of sarcasm. ‘Thanks, that’s really helpful. Funny?’

‘Funny’s good. Funny will get noticed much more than a straight tweet. And I know you can be funny.’

‘But…funny to you, maybe. Not intentionally.’

‘I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. Try it, see what happens. I’ve got to get to work.’

Cat listened to him pad gently up the stairs. His office was at the front of the house, above the living room, as it had the biggest windows, the most natural light for him to work with.

Once he’d gone, Cat felt the silence like a weight. She wasn’t used to being at home during the morning. And Joe thought she was funny? She rubbed her forehead, reached out for her mug that was no longer there, and hit the ‘load new tweets’ button.

Jessica Heybourne had followed her – and replied! Cat bit her lip. @PoochPromenade: A dog walker in Fairview? Are you new? I need to know more! Message me. Cat’s triumphant squeal filled the room, echoing off the high ceiling, and she thought she heard Joe’s office door open, wait a beat, then click shut.

Twenty minutes later, against a darker sky and even heavier rain, the doorbell rang. It was a high, optimistic trill and Cat rushed to answer it. In a series of direct messages, Jessica’s enthusiasm for Cat’s new business had almost surpassed her own, and the celebrity author had insisted on visiting her personally, right away. Cat had changed out of her dressing gown into a cream ruffle-collared shirt and smart jeans, run a brush through her short hair and framed her large dark eyes with mascara.

She opened the door to see Jessica – even more attractive than her photo – smiling up at her from beneath the hood of a wide-belted navy trench-coat, a cloud of white, soggy fur at her feet.

Cat glanced behind her, listened for a second and then welcomed them in a little way. ‘Hi, Jessica, thank you so much for coming. I’m Cat.’

‘Lovely to meet you.’ Jessica slipped off her hood, and her blonde hair cascaded down her back. ‘And this is Valentino, Coco and Dior.’ She gestured to the Westies in turn as they snuffled at Cat’s bare feet, their wet noses tickling her skin, and explored the new space with enthusiasm. One of them took hold of Joe’s running shoe, and Cat gently prised it from the dog’s mouth, checked it for tooth marks and put it on the stairs. She prayed that Shed wouldn’t appear, that Joe wouldn’t decide he needed a top-up of coffee. If he realized she’d let three dogs into the house…she pushed the thought away and stroked each of the dogs in turn. They responded without a hint of shyness, all keen to lap up the extra attention.

They were wearing different-coloured velvet collars dotted with sparkling stones, which Cat thought probably weren’t made out of glass. One of the dogs – was it Coco? – had his right ear bent over, as if affecting a slight vulnerability. Cat stroked the ear; the fur was unbelievably silky. They were friendly, pure white bundles of love, and Cat could feel her heart giving way.

‘They’re beautiful. How often do you walk them?’ Cat stood so she was back at eye level with Jessica.

‘Well, at least once a day, and it’s easy having Primrose Park so close by, but I do sometimes run out of time, and I’m sure they’d like more.’ Jessica’s voice was low and breathy, even though she’d only walked a few hundred yards, and Cat wondered if it was deliberate, along with her ditziness – she’d lived in the area long enough to know what the park was called – as part of a persona. ‘I’m on my own, you see,’ Jessica added, ‘and it’s hard sometimes.’

Cat nodded. ‘I know what that’s like. Is it…recent?’ She held her breath, wondering if she’d pushed it too far.

Jessica studied her dogs for a moment. ‘Quite recent. I…I’ve had a bit of a time of it, but I’m coming out the other side, emerging, slowly, from my chrysalis. Things are looking more positive, exciting almost. But I couldn’t have done it without my designer dogs. They’ve kept me sane, and they deserve the best.’

‘Well, I can definitely help with that,’ Cat said softly. ‘I’ll treat them as if they were my own. I – I’m sorry I can’t invite you in. My housemate’s working.’ She gestured towards the living room.

‘Oh, no, of course. I can’t stay long anyway, but I did want to meet you. And I wanted you to meet my boys.’ She gave an exaggerated flourish, but her smile was warm, her pale eyes meeting Cat’s easily.

‘They’re lovely. Really, really lovely. I’d be very happy to walk them as frequently as you needed – on a trial basis, and then more permanently if everything works out. I can’t see why it wouldn’t, but the trial is just so we’re all happy – you, me and your Westies.’