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

took the register and explained that their activity was called ‘What’s that Sound?’ She started shaking a pair of pink plastic maracas. The children squealed and giggled and reached out towards the box of instruments.

      ‘No, children,’ Alison said, holding up a finger. ‘I’m going to give you a musical instrument each, but you have to help me say what sound it’s making first. Right.’ She shook the maraca again. ‘What’s this?’

      ‘Snakes!’ Andrew shouted.

      ‘It sounds a bit like a snake’s rattle, doesn’t it? Excellent.’

      A few of the children mimicked the noise. ‘Wwwhhsssssshhhhh.’

      ‘Good.’ She handed out maracas to some of the children.

      ‘It sounds like sand,’ Emma said.

      ‘That’s excellent, Emma,’ Alison said. ‘Can you think what might be a bit bigger than sand?’

      Emma thought for a moment. ‘Stones?’

      Alison nodded. ‘Small stones or seeds.’ She handed Emma a maraca. ‘Well done. The maracas are filled with seeds, or sometimes tiny stones, so that when you shake them they make a rattling noise. Now, everyone, what’s this?’

      There was a chorus of ‘Drum!’ as Alison took out a tiny bongo drum and started tapping it. ‘And what do you do to a drum?’

      ‘Bang it! Hit it!’

      Cat thought she heard a small yelp from the other end of the room, but a quick glance told her that her handbag hadn’t wandered. She began to relax, joining in with the drumming and handing out instruments.

      Alison pulled the next item out of her box, and Cat froze.

      ‘Does anyone know what this is?’ Alison asked. She held the small metal item out in front of her.

      The children looked perplexed, then Emma let out a gasp, her hand shooting up, fingers trying to touch the ceiling.

      ‘Yes, Emma?’

      ‘A whistle?’

      Alison smiled. ‘That’s right, it’s a whistle. And what sound does it make?’

      Emma shaped her lips into a tight ‘O’, preparing to whistle, and Cat shot from the carpet, nimbly jumping between the children to get to her handbag.

      ‘Cat? Where are you going?’ Alison’s tone was pleasant, but Cat heard the steel in it.

      ‘I – I just need to…’ She edged towards her handbag.

      ‘Please come and sit down,’ Alison said sweetly. ‘We’re having so much fun.’

      Cat looked despairingly at the bag, then returned to the carpet and sat down slowly, wondering if she could delay the inevitable by freezing time. She planted a grin on her face.

      Alison continued. ‘What sound does the whistle make, Emma?’

      Emma made the shape with her lips and blew as hard as she could. What came out was a soft, wet raspberry noise. Emma looked surprised. ‘My mummy can do it,’ she said.

      Alison nodded. ‘It takes a bit of practice, but you’re very close. Now this –’ she held up the whistle ‘– does it for you.’ She pressed it to her lips and blew.

      Children shrieked, a couple put their hands over their ears and Tom shouted: ‘Dog!’

      Alison frowned and gestured her palms towards the floor. ‘Dog?’

      Cat risked a glance at her handbag. It was in the same place.

      ‘Dog!’ Tom shouted again, his bottom bouncing up and down on the carpet. ‘Dog!’

      ‘Well, yes,’ Alison said slowly, ‘lots of people use these to train dogs, but—’ She was interrupted by a quiet but determined yelp.

      ‘Dog!’ Tom shrieked again, and other children joined in. ‘Dog, dog, dog!’

      Cat got onto her knees. If she crawled quickly, maybe she could get there in time. Children were imaginative; it would be dismissed as overexcitement. But then the little black nose, the grey fur and next the whole fuzzy, inquisitive head pushed out of the handbag’s opening, forcing the zip, and Disco was out. The puppy ran on her tiny legs towards Cat, knocking over three bottles of paint, and into the middle of the children, who erupted into delighted squeals.

      Disco leapt and bounced and yipped and snuffled, exploring the sounds and smells and warm bodies around her, her little paws clambering on knees, small hands reaching out to stroke and tug her. Cat tried to gather the puppy to her, but Disco and the children were having too much fun, and so instead she turned to see her boss’s reaction, wondering fleetingly if she’d be pleased that Cat had made the children so happy, and realized she was doomed. Alison was standing with her arms folded, staring at Cat with eyes that burned right into her conscience. She gestured towards the dog, words unnecessary.

      Disco was standing with her front paws on Peter’s knee, and Cat watched in horror as the patch of carpet around her back legs turned a darker shade of red.

      ‘Wee!’ Peter squealed.

      Cat picked the puppy up and held her wriggling body tightly. The children reached out towards her, and as Cat left the carpet she caught sight of Emma. The young girl was grinning with undisguised satisfaction.

      ‘Right, children,’ Alison said, her voice as sharp as ice, ‘that’s enough sounds for today. If you’d all like to go to your chairs, we can do some colouring-in until fruit time. Cat, go to the office and wait for me.’

      ‘Alison,’ Cat tried, ‘shouldn’t I clear up—’

      ‘I’ll be through as soon as I can.’ Alison turned back to the children. Peter was tugging on her skirt, his face bright and open. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘what is it, Peter?’

      ‘Allergic to fun,’ Peter said, pointing up at her. ‘Achoo!’

      ‘How could you do that to me, Catherine? After all we’ve talked about? All the rules we’ve gone through.’

      ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’ Cat was leaning against the table in the office, Disco tied to a bench outside the back door, because Alison couldn’t stand to look at it for a moment longer; not after the havoc it had caused. Cat didn’t think that reminding her that Disco was a she, not an it, would add weight to her cause.

      ‘You never do, not about the safety of the nursery. You’re imaginative, full of bright ideas, but you never stop, for one moment, to think of the consequences.’ Alison was walking backwards and forwards in the small, windowless space, her long plait swinging, her limbs tight with anger. ‘What part of you thought bringing a dog into my nursery would benefit anyone? The children could have been injured, infected – anything!’

      ‘I was helping out a friend,’ Cat murmured. ‘But I know, now, that I shouldn’t have done it.’ She shuffled her feet and looked at the floor.

      ‘Do you?’ Alison shot. ‘Really? Because I think that given half the chance, you’d do it all over again. You’re not a completer-finisher, Cat, and that’s the kind of assistant I need. It’s not going to work out, but I think you already knew that.’

      Cat’s stomach shrivelled. ‘If you could give me one more cha—’

      ‘No.’ Alison shook her head. ‘No more chances. I’m surprised you stayed in your last employment for as long as you did. You’re not reliable, you’re not supportive and, frankly, you’re downright disruptive. Your time at Fairview Nursery is over, and if I wasn’t so angry with you, I’d pity you. I can’t imagine you being successful anywhere else with this kind of attitude. Go out of the back door, and take that thing with you.’

      ‘Can I say goodbye—’

      ‘No.