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

a big moment.’

      ‘Oh, shut up, Sis.’ He turned towards the door, but not before Cat caught his grin. ‘Night all.’

      Polly put her head on Cat’s shoulder. ‘Looks like the King of Grump can be cheered up after all.’

      ‘I think Jessica has magical powers. She’s bewitched him.’

      ‘He didn’t look that bewitched.’

      ‘No,’ Cat agreed. ‘Happy, though.’

      ‘That could be all the champagne.’

      ‘True.’ Cat stretched her toes out and yawned. ‘Maybe we’d better do a temperature check tomorrow, see how long it lasts.’

      She felt Polly nod against her shoulder. ‘So you didn’t get to speak to Mark, not properly. Did you get any new clients?’

      ‘I did,’ Cat said, feeling the flap of excited butterflies below her ribcage. ‘The Barkers at number six. They’ve got two retrievers, and they need someone to walk them three days a week, when Juliette has to go into the office. I’m going to see them on Sunday to firm up the arrangements.’

      ‘So you managed to have fun and network?’

      ‘I managed it. I didn’t think I would, but I did. I was given some very good advice,’ she added.

      ‘Fab, good for you!’ Polly put her arm around Cat, and Cat returned the hug. Contentment washed over her with the knowledge that, nearly two months in, her new business wasn’t failing. It was still slow, but she hadn’t messed it up the way Alison had told her she would, and – thanks to Joe – she had a plan. She was surrounded by friends, she got to spend her days out in the fresh air with the friendliest creatures on the planet, and Mark wasn’t going out with Jessica. It felt as if everything was slowly coming together.

      ‘Come on,’ she murmured, when Polly started snoring gently into her ear, ‘let’s get to bed, or we’ll still be here when the sun comes up.’

      Cat switched off the lights, leaving the living room in darkness and her black patent heels where she’d kicked them off, no longer needed now the party was over.

      In the early May evening, Fairview beach looked like something out of a daydream. Small waves crested the sand and the sun was beginning to descend, a glowing, amber orb on the horizon, giving the sea a golden shimmer. The elegant houses on the seafront looked steadily on, and it gave Cat a glow of satisfaction knowing that her cosy home on Primrose Terrace was just beyond.

      She strolled near the waves, her hands in the pockets of her military-style jacket, Valentino and Dior at her feet, Coco splashing in the water, yapping at the foam as it sprayed around him. She breathed in the strong, salty air, felt it sting her dry lips. It was a week after the party, Jessica was at a fellow author’s launch, and Cat could almost taste summer around the corner.

      The beach was beginning to empty out. The sun’s heat was not yet strong enough to linger into the evenings, and the pull of warm houses and family dinners drew people away. Cat walked past the ice cream parlour, closing up for the evening, the lighthouse silhouetted ahead of her on its rocky outcrop. It was picture-postcard perfect, quieter than Brighton and much more peaceful, much more room to think. Cat could see herself staying in Fairview for a long time, whatever happened with Pooch Promenade.

      There were several dog owners on the beach, and she watched as an Airedale raced into the sea, chasing nothing but the waves. Valentino and Dior were happy to keep their feet dry, and Coco kept edging up the beach, intrigued but scared by the encroaching water. They were definitely divas, but Cat wouldn’t have it any other way.

      A tennis ball landed in the breakers ahead of them, and a glossy Border collie raced in and retrieved it before running back to its owner. Cat knew who it was before she’d laid eyes on him. She hid her nerves behind a smile and tugged gently at the leads, praying that, for once, the Westies would behave. Spotting her, Mark changed course, throwing the ball further along the beach so that Chips ran after it.

      He was eating fish and chips from a cone of paper, the smell of vinegar wafting towards Cat, making her stomach rumble.

      ‘Lovely evening for it,’ he said, coming to a stop in front of her. ‘Chip?’

      ‘Thanks.’ She took one. It was hot and greasy and delicious and, glancing up at him, she took a second.

      ‘Nothing better than fish and chips on the beach.’

      ‘Agreed.’ The Westies settled at Cat’s feet, as if aware that this was an important conversation. It made her more nervous. ‘It was a good party, the other night.’

      ‘It was. Jessica has some great party-throwing skills, and it was good to meet more people from Fairview. You can’t meet everyone walking in the park.’

      Cat nodded. ‘I’ve only been here since the beginning of the year, and Jessica’s been a good friend.’ It felt strange to think of her that way, but Cat saw her as more than just a client.

      ‘She’s very generous, very willing to help,’ Mark agreed. ‘I’ve been in touch with the producer she was telling me about, and we’re meeting in London next week.’

      ‘That’s great! Congratulations.’

      ‘And Dior’s looking better, after his scare that night.’

      Cat examined her wellies, aware that Mark was scrutinizing her. ‘He is,’ she mumbled.

      ‘Not that there was ever anything wrong with him.’ He took a chip and chewed it thoughtfully.

      ‘No,’ Cat tried a laugh. ‘Just being a diva, like Jessica said.’

      ‘Or a helpful accessory.’

      ‘For what?’ Cat looked up, squinting against the setting sun.

      ‘For some spying. So you could come and find Jessica, or me, or both of us, and have a good excuse if you were found out. Which you were.’

      ‘I-I don’t know what you mean.’ It sounded lame even to Cat. How could she have imagined, for a second, that Mark hadn’t seen through her?

      ‘I think you do,’ he said. He took another chip and held it in front of her. Without thinking, Cat opened her mouth and he popped it in. ‘I think you came looking for us, and I think – though this could be due to my overconfidence – that you were pleased to discover our friendship was – is – platonic.’ He smiled at her, and Cat felt her cheeks redden, knowing she’d been beaten.

      ‘Maybe.’

      ‘Maybe?’ He laughed. ‘OK, I’ll have to go with maybe then.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      He turned towards the horizon, his dark eyes creased against the sun. Cat decided that, though his jawline was still very definitely smug, it was also incredibly attractive. Like the rest of him.

      ‘I mentioned that I have to go to London next week. I’ll hopefully only be away for one night, but in lots of meetings, and so…’ He turned back to Cat. ‘I was wondering, would you be able to look after Chips for me? I’ll leave a key. You could feed her, walk her, spend some time with her. Give her some of the endless love you have for everything with four legs and a wagging tail.’

      Cat bit her bottom lip to stop herself from grinning. ‘Sure. I think I could fit Chips in.’

      Mark scrunched the empty chip paper into a ball and stuffed it in his pocket. ‘Thanks, I’d appreciate it.’

      ‘Always happy to help a fellow Primrose Terrace resident.’

      ‘I thought you’d find my offer hard to resist.’ He started walking and Cat fell into step alongside him, the dogs happy to get going again, bounding along at her feet.

      ‘You did, did you?’

      ‘We’ve already established that I’m