A Cat Called Christmas E-Book

Toni Prette

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: CHRISTMAS
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 259

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

When Holly inherits her Great Aunt Emily’s cottage – and her cat Christmas – she has no idea how much trouble they’re going to cause her! It’s a good job she has handsome, smiling neighbour Will on hand to help out. Will’s a big fan of Christmas and seems to take a shine to Holly too!

Leseprobe

A CAT CALLED CHRISTMAS

by Toni Prette 

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

CHAPTER ONE

Through the rain-spattered windscreen and everything pitch black outside, Holly nearly missed the cottage. She stamped on the brake and the car skidded to a stop on the wet road. She turned off the engine and gave herself a minute to get her breath back. It had been a nightmare journey. Visibility was dreadful and the satnav, not working well in such a remote area, had taken her into dead-end roads three times. Holly had no map. After all, who used maps these days? Luckily a signpost had magically appeared showing that Upper Lyntern was in one direction and Lower Lyntern the other. Holly took the road to Lower Lyntern.

It was all her own fault, she told herself sternly. The landlady of the bed and breakfast had tried to persuade her to keep to her original plan and leave the following day when the weather was forecast to be better. But, no, as usual, Holly was too stubborn to heed any warnings and, besides, she was impatient to see the pretty little cottage at the edge of Lyntern Forest in the midst of the Kent Downs that her Great Aunt Amelia had left her in her will. So she’d settled her bill, loaded her three suitcases and two boxes into the boot of the second-hand Clio she’d bought only the day before, and set off.

She climbed slowly out of the car and tried to remember back to when she’d last seen her father’s aunt. Holly had been five-years-old but the memory of the cottage painted pink was still vivid in her mind with roses growing around the door and a garden full of foxgloves and hollyhocks that dwarfed Holly’s small form. Now everything was shrouded in a dark damp mist and Holly felt her first glimmer of apprehension. She made her way through the puddles to the garden gate. It swung on its hinges and a rusty metal sign hung lopsidedly. Holly, using the limited light from her mobile phone, peered at the sign. Mimosa Cottage.

This was her new home.

Her solicitor, Mr Devereaux, had promised to leave the keys under a stone pot in the porch. She stepped into the porch and, waving her phone around, saw that, sure enough, there was the pot. She nudged it with her knee and wiggled her fingers underneath. No keys.

Now what should she do? She punched in the programmed number on her phone for the solicitor. It went to voicemail. Of course, it was after hours now.

She went back to the gate. She’d been a little nervous about living in such an isolated spot but now she saw a modern house across the road. A light shone in a downstairs room, the curtains were open and, through the window, Holly could see a roaring fire. There was even a cat curled up on a sofa. Everything to make a room look warm and homely, she thought enviously. So at least she had one close neighbour and the thought cheered her up.

Rain dripped down Holly’s neck and she shivered. Where was the Indian summer her parents had told her about? What was she to do? Should she knock on the door and ask for help? No, she told herself decidedly. From now on she was going to be the strong, independent career woman that she’d been back in Queensland. She would find a way through this, even if she had to sleep in the car outside her new home on her first night.

She turned back to the cottage. She stumbled around in the darkness, checking to see if any windows or doors were open but of course there weren’t. The rain had eased to a fine drizzle and there was even a sliver of a moon peeping through the dark, rolling clouds. The cottage had a long back garden with a backdrop of the forest behind it and Holly could just make out a shed. She made her way over to it, her boots that just covered her ankles squelching on the sodden grass. The door was open and she stepped warily inside. She could make out shelves packed with old tins of paint, various rusty tools propped up against the walls, a crotchety stepladder. Holly shuddered as a cobweb brushed her face. If this was the only dry place she could find for the night, she’d prefer to stick to her plan of a sleeping bag in the car. She didn’t relish sharing a makeshift bedroom with an army of spiders.

Then, as she turned back to the door, she screamed. A huge figure loomed over her brandishing what looked like a heavy stick. The figure wore a hat with a wide brim and a black coat that reached down to the top of robust Wellington boots. Holly stared in terror at two eyes that gleamed yellow in the vague strip of moonlight. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears and, when the creature in front of her raised the stick, she could feel her legs giving way.

Then she heard a human voice.

“I’m sorry if I startled you. I live across the road and I saw someone moving around so I thought I should investigate. May I ask who you are and what you’re doing here?”

Holly exhaled as she realised it wasn’t a creature at all but a man, tall with dark features, returning her stare. Slowly regaining her composure, Holly took a deep breath and pulled herself up straight.

“I happen to be the owner of this property,” she said steadily. “I have every right to be here.”

She squeezed past until she was standing on the grass outside, relieved to be out of that eerie shed that made things seem unreal.

“Then you must be Ms Lawrence.”

“Of course I am. My solicitor was supposed to leave the keys but they’re not where we agreed.”

“That’s because I have the keys to Mimosa Cottage. If you’d arrived on the day you planned, which I believe was Friday, not Thursday, then I’d have ensured they’d be placed under the stone pot as you’d arranged with Henry Devereaux.”

Holly bristled. She didn’t like this man’s tone but she knew he was right. As usual, she’d made a quick decision without thinking about the consequences. But she wasn’t going to admit that to this offensive, mocking stranger. The clouds shifted above her and Holly managed to study the man in front of her more fully. She reckoned he was in his early thirties. His eyes that a few minutes ago looked yellow were as black as coal, strands of dark hair had escaped from his hat and what might have been full, well-shaped lips were now curled into what Holly thought was a sneer. She was considering what response to make, when he went on,

“There’s no point standing out here arguing about something that can’t be changed.” He pushed out a gloveless hand. “I’m William but you can call me Will. You’d better come over with me and collect your keys.” He paused as if considering something. “I suppose you could do with a cup of tea, maybe something to eat, a hot bath?”

“Yes,” said Holly, briefly touching his hand with hers, “all that, but I can boil a kettle and run a bath in my own home, thank you, if you’ll just let me have my keys.”

“Of course but I’m afraid you’ll find you have no electricity. I believe it’s not due to be switched on until sometime tomorrow. So at least let me make you that cup of tea.”

Holly said stiffly, “I wouldn’t want to put you to any bother. As you say, I wasn’t expected until tomorrow so, if you don’t mind, I’ll manage somehow.”

He looked at her for a moment then shrugged. “As you wish.”

Holly followed Will, her new neighbour, to his house. A burst of warmth hit her as he opened his front door and he beckoned her to step inside. She found herself in a wide hallway. The door to the living room was open and Holly surreptitiously glanced inside. The cat she’d seen earlier, a plump tabby with a white nose, paws and whiskers and wearing a red collar, was still curled up on the sofa in front of the fire. It opened one eye, peered at Holly, yawned, then went back to sleep.

Will, still wearing his heavy coat, had disappeared into what Holly assumed was a cupboard. She heard the jangle of keys and some rustling and then he reappeared, holding the keys in one hand and a plastic bag in the other.

“I expect you have a torch.”

“No, but there’s one on my mobile.”

He gave the mocking expression Holly had seen before. “Really? I doubt that the little light you can get from your mobile will be much use to you. Then how are you going to charge it with no electricity? Have you thought of that?” Holly looked at the floor, scowling as her neighbour reached into the cupboard again and brought out a large, heavy duty torch. He put it in the bag which he handed to Holly. “You’ll find a candle in there, too. If you won’t accept my offer of tea, I’ll get you some hot water in a flask.” Before Holly could again protest, he started to walk away.

After a few moments, Holly heard clattering followed by a rather noisy electric kettle. She took a step closer to the living room. As she’d surmised before, it looked comfortable, homely, with a country style sofa and its sleeping cat and two wide armchairs. There was a pine dresser adorned with blue and white china, a low glass coffee table on which Holly saw a briefcase and a pile of papers, and the polished floor was softened with coloured rugs. A framed print of Monet’s water lilies hung on one wall. Holly wondered if her neighbour was married but there were no signs of anything particularly feminine in the room – no lighted candles, no fluffy cushions, although there were some late summer flowers in a vase. Still, what did she care? She’d be keeping away from this bossy, controlling individual as much as she could.

While she was waiting for him to come back, Holly caught sight of her reflection in a mirror by the front door. Her appearance shocked her. Tendrils of her normally shining auburn hair clung like pieces of wet string to her face and streaks of mascara that she’d applied carefully that morning were smudged around her eyes giving her a look, she was sure, of a zombie. She hardly recognised herself– cross and scowling.

Will returned carrying the flask. “No doubt you’ll find some tea bags in your kitchen.” His eyes softened briefly. “Amelia loved her cup of tea. But, if not, here are some to keep you going – and take this milk, the bottle is nearly empty but it should last you a few cups.” He gave Holly what was almost a smile. “Anything else I can do for you?”

Holly dropped the flask, the tea bags and the milk into the carrier bag. “Look, Mr... erm... thank you but I have everything I need for tonight in my car.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me to walk across the road with you? I believe the lock on the front door can stick sometimes. You have to wiggle it until it turns. Not only that but I’ve seen intruders creeping around the house a few times. Kids mostly. It’s why I came over to investigate when I saw movement. Yes, I’d better come with you.”

Holly had had enough. She just wanted to get into her cottage, have a cup of tea and go to bed.

“No, please. You’ve been very kind but I’ll be just fine.” She wasn’t sure if her neighbour had told her his surname but she certainly wasn’t ready to call him William, or Will, just yet, if ever. She walked down the path, head held high and feeling his eyes following her.

“Don’t forget to blow out the candle before you retire for the night,” he called.

Holly raised a hand in acknowledgement and kept walking.

CHAPTER TWO

It was certainly a struggle making the key turn in the rusty lock and Holly wiggled it as she’d been instructed. At last she heard it click and she stepped inside the house that now had her name legally on the deeds. The strong, wooden door, as she remembered, entered directly into a long living room with a bay window at the front and French doors at the back that, in the daytime, looked out to Lyntern Woods. Holly squinted in the shadowy darkness but it was hard to pick out anything she might recognise. She took her phone from her pocket and switched it on. Annoyingly, William - or Will - had been right. The tiny beam of light barely lit up the room even with the shafts of moonlight that now and again appeared through the clouds.

She pulled the torch out from the bag. The strong beam lit the space in front of her. She found her way to the kitchen that led off the living room then reached into the bag to get the other things that Will had supplied. A flask, tea bags, milk. She felt in the bag again. Yes, there was the candle, long and thick, and even a box of matches. Holly sighed. It seemed her new neighbour had thought of everything.

With the torch and the candle standing on the saucer Holly had found in the kitchen, she was able to move about without bumping into the random pieces of furniture scattered around. She could barely wait until morning when she could explore the house as she used to as a child. She could remember it now – somewhere she could pretend she was either a princess or an ogre. There were cupboards to hide in, huge sofas that seemed to swallow her up, a staircase that creaked, her aunt’s nineteenth century doll’s house that gave Holly many hours of pleasure. She wondered if it was still there.

Mimosa Cottage had been magical – and now it was hers.

Holly collected a sleeping bag and a small travelling suitcase from the car then made tea with Will’s supplies and a mug and spoon she found in the kitchen. The hot drink was welcome and she felt refreshed but, with no electricity and only a candle and a torch, there wasn’t much she could do but go to bed.

She went to the front door to lock it and it was then she noticed a square opening at the bottom of the door with a plastic cover that was flapping in the wind. Whatever was that, she asked herself. Then she realised it was a cat flap and she gasped.

The cat! Wasn’t there supposed to be a cat? Great-aunt Amelia’s precious cat that Holly had inherited along with the house. She’d almost forgotten. It was the main proviso of Amelia’s will – that Holly would take care of her cat as long as it lived. It had a strange name. What was it? Try as she might, Holly couldn’t remember.

She opened the door again. She looked across the road and could see Will moving about in his house. She tentatively called out Cat, Cattie, Puss-Puss, then again, louder. But the only cat she’d seen that night had been Will’s, fast asleep on his sofa.

Holly remembered what her parents’ neighbours had done whenever their cat hadn’t come home and she went back inside. In the kitchen she groped around until she found a fork and a tin, of what she had no idea, and went back to the porch. Banging the tin with the fork, she continued calling but to no avail. The solicitor had told her in one of his e-mails that someone had been coming in to feed the cat but cats were free spirits, weren’t they, and it had probably wandered off during the six months after its mistress had passed away. Holly gave the tin another pounding and gave up. So had the cat apparently.

Holly locked the door, picked up the candle and felt her way up the stairs. Yes, they still creaked. Since she’d been in the house, she’d heard a steady plop-plop and, when she reached the top stair, she realised what it was. Rain was dripping from the roof, through the ceiling and adding to an already large puddle on the floor. So, she thought grimly, that was the first problem to face her. There were surely going to be many more in a house that had been neglected and left empty for so long.

She opened the first door she came to. In the flickering light of the candle, she could make out a single bed, a small table beside it and what was probably a dressing table. This would do for tonight, she decided, putting the candle on the bedside table. She went to the window to draw the thick curtains and saw the downstairs light over the road being switched off. A minute later an upstairs light came on.

She went back downstairs to collect the rest of her meagre requirements for the night, then spread the sleeping bag onto the bed and crawled into it, exhausted after her long, difficult day . How she hoped tomorrow was going to be better. She’d been cold, wet, tired, hungry, lost, frightened, ridiculed and embarrassed – yes, all that summed up her arrival in Lower Lyntern very well.

She was just dozing off when she remembered she hadn’t blown out the candle.

CHAPTER THREE

When Holly opened her eyes the next morning, she realised she was staring up at pink roses. She smiled. Dear Aunt Amelia. Holly remembered that, all those years ago, she’d thought it fascinating how the walls, ceilings and even some of the cupboard doors in Mimosa Cottage were covered in flowery wallpaper. Looking up now, she saw that most of the paper was peeling off. If the rest of the cottage was the same, it seemed that stripping wallpaper would be one of her first jobs. She whispered a silent apology to Amelia.

It wasn’t quite light. Holly took her toilet bag and towel from her case and padded along the corridor looking for the bathroom. In fact there were two, one with a shower and one with a bath. She turned on the taps in the shower but could only get cold water. But she’d forgotten there was no electricity and perhaps that was how the boiler ran. She went back to the bedroom and dressed quickly in jeans and a green jumper that her mum had knitted.

It was time to explore.

Her optimistic mood of the night before now threatened to forsake her. As she wandered through the bedrooms, then descended the stairs and looked at the living room, her heart sank. Already she could see that the once pretty cottage was in need of renovation. Holly knew that Amelia had refused to leave her home even when it became obvious she couldn’t get about as she used to but surely she’d had some help. Well, no doubt Holly would find out in the fullness of time.

Her inspection took in all that she couldn’t see the previous night. Mimosa Cottage. It could hardly be called a cottage, she thought, with its four bedrooms, long living room and high ceilings but the brown paint on the skirting boards and banisters and dull wooden floors made everywhere look small.

She didn’t dare sit on the sofa or the two armchairs. She was afraid she’d choke on clouds of dust. The dining table, once ornate and highly polished, was now scratched and surrounded by a few wobbly chairs. As in the bedroom, paper was peeling off the walls, the shining marble fireplace of old was stained by smoke and several Victorian tiles were missing in the hearth. An unattractive mirror hung over the fireplace. There were still the beautifully carved cornices around the ceiling but they were also discoloured.

Her shoulders drooped. This was supposed to be her big adventure – coming back to England and making Mimosa Cottage nice for her mum and dad when they also returned at the end of the following year. Thinking of her parents brought a wave of homesickness flooding through her and a tear rolled down her cheek.

However, there was one item that could surely be restored to its previous splendour. As a five-year-old, Holly had often stood looking up at the opulent crystal chandelier hanging from a silver chain with its shining fake candles. Holly hoped that, once the dust and cobwebs had been brushed off, all the chandelier would need was a good cleaning.

Holly wandered disconsolately through to the large kitchen but at last she found that there was room for optimism. Apart from a stale odour, a dripping tap and the fridge definitely only fit for the local dump, it brought to mind a farmhouse kitchen with its original flagstone floor, long pine table and an ancient cooker that needed a good cleaning but looked workable – when there was electricity, of course. The cupboards were of oak and there was an attractive old dresser, also made of oak and with an assortment of chipped china ornaments and dusty glasses. Holly inspected the washing machine which, surprisingly, looked almost brand new. It was a bonus.

She made a cup of tea with the warm water that was left in the flask. When she saw two stainless steel dishes on the floor – one with water coated in a fine dust, one empty - she was reminded of the missing cat. Well, she was sure it hadn’t come in the cat flap during the night and she once again took the tin and fork and went outside, banging and calling. She tried names that she believed people called their cats – Tiddles, Fluffy, Tigger – but again with no result. She could do no more.

Suddenly, she was aware of the man called Will coming out of his front door. He wore a smart grey suit that shimmered under the early morning sunshine and was carrying a brief case in one hand and a stack of buff files in the other. He walked over to his car on the drive – a smart metallic grey BMW – and caught sight of Holly. He started to lift a hand in acknowledgement but Holly quickly turned around and scuttled back inside.

It was still too early to keep her appointment with the solicitor in Upper Lyntern so she decided to make some notes on what needed doing urgently in the cottage and what she needed to buy. It looked as if it would be a long list. How she hoped her job interview on Monday was going to be successful. Her savings wouldn’t last long at this rate. She remembered her conversation with her dad when he’d insisted on sending her a monthly allowance.

“You don’t need to, Dad. After all, it was my fault that I didn’t listen to your advice about...” Her voice was breaking and he hugged her.

“It wasn’t your fault, darling. I always smelt a rat there but none of us could have foreseen what was to happen.”

A ripple of anger ran through Holly as she thought of the money she’d worked so hard for. What a blind fool she’d been. She’d resolved that, with a new start back in England, she’d put her disappointment and heartbreak behind her and move on. Driving from Lower to Upper Lyntern that morning, Holly had her first glimpse of the only other houses in her road. They were three old terraced farm houses now modernised with new tiled roofs, double glazed windows and neat gardens. Then, when she reached Upper Lyntern, she passed a row of general purpose shops – a post office, pharmacy, homeware store, mini-market, greengrocer, butcher, and scanned each of the Victorian three-storey houses now mainly converted into offices on the other side of the road. Then she saw it. A well-kept building with a shiny brass plaque on the front wall bearing the name Henry B. Devereaux – Solicitor. Holly stopped the car and walked across to the polished steps leading up to the front door. She pressed the buzzer and the door opened automatically. A distinguished-looking grey haired man in a striped suit, white shirt and conventional tie was talking to a receptionist at a counter. When Holly entered, they both regarded her enquiringly. She could hear someone tapping keys not far away.

“G’day,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Holly Lawrence. Mimosa Cottage?”

The man walked over to her, smiled widely and held out his hand. “Ah, Ms Lawrence, very nice to meet you at last. I’m Henry Devereaux. I’ve been dealing with the transfer of Miss Lawrence’s title deeds into your name. Please follow me and we can finalise the rest of the formalities.”

He hustled Holly into an office full of heavy mahogany furniture, a Chesterfield and an enormous Indian rug. The desk, apart from being nearly taken up with a computer, printer and two telephones, was covered in text books, folders, print-outs of emails and other loose papers. There was an open door leading to another office that was completely the opposite with the desk housing only a computer, printer, telephone and a foolscap notepad. Holly wondered whose it was.

Henry Devereaux gestured Holly to a comfortable chair and rifled through some files on his desk. “You are an early bird, aren’t you? Luckily I have all the documents ready.”

“Actually, Mr Devereaux, I arrived last night.” She smiled at his expression of surprise. “With a candle and a sleeping bag, I was fine. But I’m hoping the electricity will be turned on today.”

“Most definitely.” Mr Devereaux looked up at the clock on the wall. It showed just after nine. “I’ll get my secretary to give the electricity company a call and ask them to make it earlier rather than later.” He extracted some papers from a file. “If you wouldn’t mind initialling the signatures you sent by email, I think we can say everything is in order.” Holly did as she was asked. Mr Devereaux passed her a plastic wallet. “This contains all the details about your utilities and council tax. So now - congratulations on being the new owner of Mimosa Cottage.” He shook her hand again. “I’m afraid I must run. I have an early appointment.” They heard a car stopping outside and both looked out of the window to see a man getting out of a red Golf. “Ah, that’s Matthew, my nephew and partner,” said the solicitor. “He’ll look after you and answer any questions you may have.”

So that’s who the other office belongs to, thought Holly. “There’s just one thing, Mr Devereaux,” she said. The solicitor had picked up his briefcase but now turned back to Holly. “I’m still wondering why Aunt Amelia left the cottage to me. She hadn’t seen me since I was a little girl. I’m curious.”

“You and your parents were the only family Miss Amelia had left. You have no siblings and, as you know, your great-aunt never married. Any other relatives passed away a long time ago. Miss Amelia said she always remembered the sweet little girl who used to visit her.”

Holly sighed reflectively. “I remember her too. But why not pass the cottage on to my parents? Not that they mind it coming to me, of course.”

“I believe she thought a young person would be more enthusiastic and motivated to look after her old home.” He shook Holly’s hand for the third time. “Very nice to meet you, Ms Lawrence, and good luck. Do call in or ring if we can be of any assistance at all.” He hurried out.

Holly heard him speaking in the reception area and then the man who’d got out of the Golf came in. In his mid-thirties, he was an inch or so taller than Holly’s 5 ft 7 in, and, like his uncle, looked business-like in a smart suit. He had a pleasant, slightly chubby face, a mop of fair hair and vivid blue eyes. Holly could detect a faint aroma of Armani aftershave. She took his outstretched hand.

“Miss Lawrence, very pleased to meet you. My uncle’s filled me in. Welcome to Upper Lyntern – or, in your case, Lower Lyntern. Shall we move into my office and then how about a cup of tea?”

Holly returned his smile. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more. With no electricity in the cottage, I couldn’t even boil a kettle this morning.”

“We’ll soon put that right,” he said with an attractive grin. Holly found she was liking the young solicitor more every minute.

She followed him into the other office and he pulled a chair round the desk so he was sitting next to Holly. He lifted the phone and asked the receptionist to bring in tea for two – and not to forget the biscuits.

“Did your uncle tell you I actually arrived last night?” Holly asked. “I’m sorry about that but I was impatient to get out of the B&B.”

“No, he didn’t so well done. It must have been difficult.”

“Erm... I managed.” Holly didn’t think it necessary to tell him about her first meeting with the man over the road.

The receptionist, a middle-aged woman whom Mr Devereaux’s nephew introduced as Stella, brought in a tray of tea with a plate of custard creams.

Holly took a long gulp of tea. “Just what I needed, Mr Devereaux,” she said.

“Oh, it’s not Devereaux. I’m the other side of the family. Matthew Fowler, but please call me Matt.”

“And I’m Holly.”

They chatted while they had the tea and biscuits.

“I passed a row of shops while I was driving here,” said Holly, starting on her second cup of tea. “Are there others nearby because I have a lot of shopping to do?”

“Actually, you can get most of your daily requirements here in Upper Lyntern but perhaps I should explain how the local area is set up.” Holly listened attentively. “Our administrative town is Aidensdale, about ten miles away, with the town hall, police station, fire station, council offices and so on. Under its umbrella are Upper and Lower Lyntern and other surrounding small towns and villages. But one town that’s grown considerably over the past few years is Billingdon and you’ll find a very good shopping complex there.”

“I can’t wait to explore,” said Holly, feeling excited.

“So does this mean you’re planning to stay permanently at Mimosa Cottage? My uncle and I had the feeling you might want us to put it on the market if you decided it was too much to take on.”

But Holly had made a decision. Aunt Amelia had entrusted her with her home and she wouldn’t let her down.