she said again. ‘Oh, right. So what happens now?’ She made a face at Joe.
‘Your item’s been moved to the next agenda.’
‘When’s that?’
‘The end of the month. I assure you I will let you know the outcome.’
‘OK,’ Cat said warily. ‘There’s been nothing else, has there? Since yesterday afternoon?’ She thought of how Mr Jasper would have reacted to their protest, and knew that, given the opportunity, he wouldn’t leave it alone. ‘No more evidence from the opposition?’
‘I can’t say at this point,’ Mr Cawston said. ‘I will let you know what happens, of course.’
‘But you have to give us a chance to—’ Cat dropped her head, frustrated, as the line went dead.
‘What’s happened?’ Joe asked.
‘No decision on dogs at the cove until the end of the month.’
‘Shit, I’m sorry. But it doesn’t make a win any less likely?’
‘I don’t know,’ Cat admitted. ‘He wouldn’t say if they’d heard any more from Mr Jasper. Crap. What if he’s heard about our protest and gone back to the council? He’s now got another month to strengthen his argument. What if he’s done enough?’
‘He won’t have. Not after what you achieved yesterday.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Joe said. ‘An early Christmas present.’
‘I’ll want to celebrate – or commiserate – with everyone. You and Polly and Jessica and Elsie.’ She didn’t think bringing Mark’s name into the conversation would be helpful. ‘But you might not be here.’
‘I’m coming back. And we’ll have a great Christmas.’
‘You don’t strike me as the Christmas type,’ Cat said, smiling.
Joe gave her a look of mock horror. ‘How can you say that? You have no idea!’
‘So, what do you love most about Christmas, then?’
‘Eating and drinking too much, silly hats and pointless presents, Christmas films. Not having to do anything except hole up in the warm with the people I care about.’ He held her gaze, and Cat’s stomach did a small, unhelpful somersault. It sounded perfect.
‘What time’s your flight?’ she asked.
‘First thing in the morning. I’m travelling down to Heathrow tonight.’
‘Right.’ Cat nodded. ‘Well, I have to—’ She pointed behind her.
‘Of course. Go, walk dogs, have fun. I’ll see you soon.’
‘Sure,’ Cat said, a lump forming in her throat. ‘You too, Joe. I hope it’s wonderful.’
They stood facing each other, unsure what to do next, and then Cat heard Joe whisper ‘fuck it’ and he closed the gap between them, pulling her into his arms. Cat closed her eyes, wrapped her arms round his waist and listened to his heart beating, letting herself indulge, for a few moments, in how good it felt to be so close to him. She was so relieved that she’d come home, that she hadn’t turned up the following day to discover he’d already gone, that they’d been able to have this goodbye.
It was only temporary, Cat told herself as they broke apart, the lump still firmly in her throat. He’d be back in a few weeks, resuming his place on the sofa, ready to have a lazy, indulgent Christmas with them all.
So why did it feel like the bottom had fallen out of her world?
‘I want to do something for Christmas,’ Cat said later as she and Mark sat on the sofa in front of an old horror film.
‘Like what?’ He turned to her, pushed her hair back from her forehead. ‘I thought we could get a turkey and hibernate – take Chips for a long walk, have a quiet day just the three of us.’
Cat shook her head. ‘My parents are going to Canada straight after Christmas, so I have to spend it with them. But I didn’t mean the actual day, I meant the build-up. Something that all of Primrose Terrace can get involved in.’
Mark leaned back and folded his arms. ‘What do you mean? Not another protest?’
‘No, no no. Well, unless we get bad news from the committee. I mean something fun, something Christmassy.’
‘Why?’
‘Why not? Don’t you think this is the best place you’ve ever lived? Everyone here, Jessica, Frankie and her kids, the Barkers, Boris and Charles, they’re all so friendly. Why can’t we do something, you and me, Polly and…and Elsie. I’ll have a think.’ She took a sip of wine and stroked Chips’s soft fur with her bare foot.
‘Christmas is hectic enough without having something else to organize on top of presents and food and family.’
‘Have you got family you want to see?’ Cat asked.
Mark shook his head. ‘Not really.’
‘Your mum and dad?’ Cat realized she knew very little about Mark’s family.
‘We’re not close,’ he said. ‘They live in Spain now, they do their own thing.’
‘Oh, that’s sad. Why’s that?’
‘No real reason. They wanted to go to Spain, I was living my life here. It works fine.’
‘But don’t you want to see them? Spain’s not that far.’ Cat felt a flip of unease at the thought that that could happen with her own parents. What if they loved Canada, decided to make a permanent life for themselves out there? Or – she brushed the thought away, but it returned, stronger, and lodged itself firmly in her head. Oh yes, she heard herself say, I used to know Joe Sinclair, the famous illustrator. He lives in Portland now, does his own thing. Cat took another gulp of wine.
‘I don’t mind,’ Mark said. ‘I have enough to keep me busy here, and I saw them at the beginning of the year. I’d much rather spend this Christmas with you.’ He snuck his arm round her waist, pulled her into him. ‘But just you, not the whole street. I’m sure Jessica will organize some kind of party. I don’t think you need to worry about doing anything else.’
‘Well, I could speak to Jessica, see if we could organize something together. We could involve the dogs – almost everyone here has dogs, and they should be included.’
Mark laughed softly. ‘You’re pretty determined when you want to be.’ He kissed her forehead.
‘Isn’t that why you like me?’ Cat grinned.
‘Partly,’ Mark admitted. ‘There are other reasons too.’ His kisses travelled further down, to her nose, her cheek and then her lips. ‘Lots of other reasons.’
‘Good,’
