Coming Home For Christmas

Becky’s daughter wouldn’t be joining her this year, and now Charlie looked doubtful too…

Becky sealed the envelope and stuck on the stamp. There – all done. She pulled on her coat, put her house keys in her pocket and picked up the envelope.

As she opened the front door, Charlie appeared, a thin streak of black and white fur. Despite being twelve years old, partially deaf and missing one of his fangs, he could never resist an open door.

“Oh, you’re coming with me, are you?” she laughed as he stepped out into the porch, directly in her path. She shut the door and bent down to rub the cat behind his ears. Charlie purred, butting up against her legs. “Come on then, let’s go.”

It was a Saturday in early November, the afternoon light was already fading, and the air smelled of woodsmoke. Leaves had gathered in piles on the pavement and after checking no one was looking, she kicked through them. It had been Bonfire Night earlier in the week, and although there’d been no village celebration this year people had been holding smaller parties in their gardens for the last few nights and probably would again tonight.

Charlie plodded behind her, miaowing loudly as usual. He always did this whenever she set off anywhere on foot. He’d accompany her as far as the corner of Orchard Road, and then he usually sat on the wall and gave himself a wash and brush-up, watching the world go by.

Sure enough, up he jumped. Becky carried on alone as far as the post box.

MerryChristmas,mydarlinggirl. Becky kissed the envelope and dropped it inside the box. She’d be sending presents separately, but she wanted her daughter to have her card as soon as possible.

Lauren was twenty-two and was having the time of her life teaching English to Japanese adults at a language school in Tokyo. Christmas without her only child would have happened sooner or later. It wasn’t supposed to be this year, though.

Becky had planned to spend Christmas with Lauren travelling around Japan; she’d spent hours putting an itinerary together. But there’d been so much uncertainty with foreign travel this year that she’d reluctantly cancelled her trip.

Charlie was nowhere to be seen when she got back to the corner of Orchard Road so she carried on home by herself. As she was putting her key in the front door, she heard someone call her name. She turned to see Annabel from next door.

“Hey, Becky.” Annabel beamed and waved. She was wearing a hooded onesie with rabbit ears and furry slippers.

“Hi – you look cosy,” Becky said.

“I love being comfy.” Annabel hugged herself. “As soon as I get home from work, it’s off with the bra and on with the PJs. Anyway, just wanted to let you know, me and Daz are having a couple of mates over tonight for a few fireworks. You know – in case you wanted to keep Charlie in.”

Becky was touched. “Thank you, I’ll do that. I’m sure he’ll be fine, but I appreciate you thinking of him.”

Annabel and Darren’s friends arrived later that evening, but there was no sign of Charlie. She wasn’t worried; he often stayed out all night, and as she’d said to Annabel, he’d never been bothered by fireworks before.

However, three days later, he still hadn’t turned up. He had form for this: once he’d been shut in someone’s garage for five days while they were away and had eventually reappeared looking painfully thin and had slept for a week. But Becky was getting worried; he wasn’t a young cat any more and the temperature was really dropping at night now.

“Charlie!” She stood in the middle of her back garden and shook the tin of cat treats. “Charlie, come on, biscuits!” Darren’s head appeared over the fence. “Still no sign?”

Becky shook her head.

“Poor little thing,” he said gruffly, raking a hand through his spiky blond hair. “Annabel has made some posters to stick up around the village, if it’s OK with you?”

He thrust one over the fence to show her. It had MISSING along the top, a large photo of Charlie in the centre and her contact details at the bottom.

“That’s kind of you.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I’ll come and help.”

However the posters didn’t yield any information and by the start of December, Becky was starting wonder if she’d ever see Charlie again.

Winter was well and truly here now and Christmas was only two weeks away. Last Sunday, nearly everyone in the village had gathered around the enormous Christmas tree for mulled wine and mince pies while the local councillor conducted the official lights switch-on.

Becky had had a great time singing carols with her friends and although she might not be spending Christmas with Lauren, there were lots of get-togethers planned for the festive season to look forward to. She wouldn’t be lonely, but it wouldn’t be the same without Charlie.

Becky loved Christmas, always had. She loved getting the decorations down from the loft, loved heading out to the Christmas tree farm in early December to choose the perfect tree, and of course, loved stringing lights up outside, as many as she could. All she had to do was set the timer and voilà – on came several hundred outdoor lights, every day from the start of December until mid-January.

She smiled to herself at the sparkly sight of her house as she pulled up onto the drive. She scanned the porch as usual for signs of Charlie; his presence on the doormat would have been the perfect welcome home to an otherwise empty house. But the space was empty.

Becky sighed as she climbed out of the

She smiled at the sparkly sight of her house, and scanned the porch for Charlie

car. It had been over a month since he’d disappeared. She just wished she knew for sure where he was, that he wasn’t locked in somewhere or worse, lying injured…

She opened the front door, dumped her bag and flicked the kettle on. Lauren would be FaceTiming her shortly, but she just had time to nip outside into the back garden with the tin of treats.

“Charlie! Charlie!” She shook the tin extra hard. These treats were probably crumbs by now, she thought. “Charlie!”

She walked around the garden shaking the tin. It was cold but clear and the night sky was alight with millions of tiny stars.

“Come home for Christmas, please,” she murmured under her breath.

“Ah, poor Charlie, poor you.” Becky jumped as Annabel’s head popped up over the fence, her hair tucked into the hood of her dressing gown. “They do this apparently, cats, they take themselves off to die. It’s natural.”

“Thanks for that,” said Becky dryly, who wasn’t ready to think like that yet.

“Listen,” said Annabel, “me and Daz are having a party tomorrow, just two other couples, a bit of a sing-song on the karaoke machine and a few drinks. You must come. You can’t stay in on your own all the time, not at Christmas.”

“No, really,” Becky protested feebly, “that’s very kind but –”

“Nope,” Annabel said firmly, vanishing from view. “I insist. See you tomorrow.”

Becky groaned as she went back inside. She’d been to one of their karaoke parties before. Daz fancied himself as Gary Barlow and had hogged the microphone for much of the night, literally murdering a million love songs. Never mind; she had twenty-four hours to think up an excuse.

The following evening, she was in the kitchen grating cheese for the top of her pasta. Annabel had popped a note in earlier, saying she’d be expected at seven. It was almost seven now.

Becky had her excuse ready: a headache, which was only half a lie because if she had to endure Darren’s singing she really would have one.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar scratching noise at the back door. Heart thumping, she dashed to unlock it and there, to her absolute amazement, on the doorstep in the dark, was Charlie, miaowing indignantly as if he’d been waiting there for hours.

Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Charlie! You”ve come home, thank goodness!” she exclaimed, scooping him up and giving him a hug. “Where have you been? Oh, my word, you’re filthy, and so thin! Food – let’s find your bowl. In fact, have some treats.”

She put him down and picked up the tin but before she could even get the lid off, he ran out again.

“Charlie, wait!” she called. She followed, but he’d disappeared into the darkness. What on earth was he doing?

She didn’t have long to wait. From the bottom of the garden came a muffled miaow, and then another.

She gasped in delight; Charlie was back again and this time he wasn’t alone. With him was another cat, small and white with two ginger front paws.

She crouched down and held the treats tin out, shaking food onto the ground. The white cat held back in the shadows, but Charlie padded over and began to eat.

Next door, the music was suddenly cranked up and someone yelled, “It’s

Christmas!” Becky smiled, stroking Charlie as he ate, listening to his purr. At least now she had an excuse not to join them; she couldn’t possibly leave Charlie.

“Come on, puss,” Becky called to the little white cat, making kissy noises to tempt it over. “Oh, my goodness!”

The cat had something in its mouth… It couldn’t be… Becky held her breath as the little cat deposited a tiny bundle of white fluff beside Charlie. A kitten.

When the doorbell rang half an hour later, Becky sprinted to open the door. Annabel, dressed in Christmas pyjamas, was wearing reindeer antlers and had a glass of prosecco in each hand.

“Hey, Becky, we’ve got a houseful round at ours, come and join the party!”

To Annabel’s surprise, Becky dragged her into the kitchen where Charlie was in his old basket, fast asleep.

“Look who’s home!” she beamed. “OMG!” Annabel squealed. “I don’t believe it!”

“And not just him.” Becky turned her neighbour round to see an old wicker basket layered with blankets containing the young mum and a litter of kittens.

“No way!” Annabel gasped. “So that’s what he’s been up to!”

The little white cat had brought in four kittens in total. Charlie kept giving them proud, fatherly looks.

“They can’t be his,” Becky laughed.

“He had the snip years ago. I haven’t the heart to tell him. I’ll have to find out if the mum belongs to anyone, but I’m just glad to have them all home for Christmas.”

“Bless,” said Annabel warmly. “I’m really happy for you.”

“So, as you can see, I’m afraid I can’t come to your party because I’ve got rather a houseful of my own.” Becky accepted one of Annabel’s drinks and gazed happily at her unexpected and most welcome guests. “Merry Christmas!”

Running a childminding business and living with three octogenarians is always going to be a recipe for fun, so when Gina is faced with losing her home and business, the fight is on for her home The Evergreens. Another great romantic comedy from Top Ten bestselling Sunday Times author of TheLemonTreeCafé.

A Patchwork Family by Cathy Bramley, Orion, PBO, £7.99. Out now.