Page 1 of The Night Before Christmas
CHAPTER ONE
It was Christmas Eve,and Felicity Brooks was ready for whatever the night could throw at her.
She was all alone at the rescue centre, which was just how she liked it. Her man-eating boss, Andrea, was on a festive date with a mysterious Spanish man she’d met online, so she would be MIA for at least twenty-four hours while he tried his level best to get her wellies off, and in the meantime, Felicity was in charge.
On her way over, she had ducked into the little M&S at the petrol station and picked up armfuls of snacks, which were now strewn all over Andrea’s office. Nothing festive mind, nothing too Christmassy. But, grinch-like as she was, even Felicity couldn’t turn down a packet of Santa-hatted Percy Pigs on Christmas Eve. Or any night for that matter. Armed with a couple of ready meals, her PJs and sleeping bag, a well-thumbed copy ofThe Hobbitand a pristine copy ofUlysses– she knew she wasn’t ever going to read that one, but quite enjoyed carrying it around – she hunkered down for a familiar anti-Christmas Christmas with her beloved animals, who she knew wouldn’t ask her any awkward questions.
Now, if she could just stop her mind from whirring and clanking away like an old-fashioned slot machine, she would befeeling quite peaceful. In a pathetic attempt to block out her own thoughts, Felicity put on the cranky old TV in the corner, leaned back in the office chair, and flicked through the channels.Die Hardwas on at 10pm. Sorted. The only seasonal movie she could tolerate. Well, that andThe Grinchof course.
Wow, what a cliché I am, Felicity thought dismally, sticking her hand deep into a bag of salt and vinegar twists.
Every half an hour or so she would get up and wander between the cages to check on the centre’s tiny residents. It had been a relatively uneventful few months, rescue wise, but Andrea and Felicity knew all too well that as soon as the festivities were over, their phone would be ringing off the hook as all those kittens and puppies mistakenly given as presents ended up unwanted or abandoned. Once, they had found a carrier bag with the body of a kitten in it just dumped by the side of the road. It made her heart hurt so badly, Felicity cried herself to sleep that night.
A high-pitched mewling drew her back to the present. Bobby Charlton, a little black kitten with four white socks and a big personality, was hanging off the bars of his cage in the cat nursery in an effort to get her attention.
‘Come on, Bobs,’ she said, opening the door and carefully scooping him onto her chest. Not for the first time since working here she wished she had a more ample bosom like Andrea’s, a ‘kitten shelf’ if you will, but he seemed content enough with her offering and snuggled into her gratefully. As she began to stroke his soft fur, he mewled a little more softly, and nuzzled her chin.
Bobby had been abandoned shortly after he was born and had somehow survived for three days or so before Andrea and Felicity found him in the alley behind the centre. It had been touch and go for a while as he was absolutely tiny, very skinny, and very quiet, and neither of them really thought he would pull through. Felicity’s heart gave a lurch at the memory and she heldhim a little closer, breathing in his familiar baby-powder-like smell. Bobby was not the first kitten who had arrived on their doorstep, of course, but he was probably the one who had made the biggest impression on Felicity. She knew she wasn’t meant to have favourites, but he was such a fighter, and he was becoming so bold and friendly that you couldn’t help but fall in love.
The puppy room, with its sunny yellow walls, was also miraculously quiet. There were only a couple of dogs in over the holidays this year, and Felicity had insisted to Andrea she would be able to cope. Secretly, though, she was a little worried about one of them. Felix and Freddy were two tiny dachshunds – one black and tan, one a lovely mahogany brown – who had been brought in by the RSPCA a few weeks ago. Both of them were extremely cute, and usually very friendly, but for some reason when Felicity went anywhere near the brown one, Freddy, he would bare his teeth or bark the place down. Even now, as Felicity crept past Freddy’s cage, he gave a low growl from his basket. Andrea insisted he would come round but that was easy for her to say, the animals always adored her instantly. Felicity wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to him to make him so wary of strangers.
It was nearly time forDie Hard. An old friend. Felicity hit the record button on the remote, just in case. She’d completed her final rounds and in theory all her furry charges were tucked up for the night but one could never be too careful where animals were concerned. Of course, there would be some fidgeting and whining, and she’d have to give little Bobby his night feed in a couple of hours, but for now, there was a brief moment of peace. Idly, she spun on the chair to stare out of the window behindher. As she wiped the condensation away with her sleeve, her reflection appeared in the glass. Felicity stared dispassionately at the tired eyes looking back at her, the too-pale face without even a hint of a freckle to make it interesting, the ever so slightly sticking out ears only partially hidden under her red hair. She tutted and tried to get out of her own way to examine the world beyond but there was nothing to see. Just the same old pitch-black darkness that seemed to go on and on, and the occasional tap-tap-tap of rain against the filthy windowpane.
Just then, a strange scuffling noise came from down the corridor.
There was a brief pause, and then frantic banging on the front door, loud and shocking in the quiet of the night. Felicity’s heart clanged in her chest. Freddy’s too, from the sounds of it, as the little dog began barking furiously.
Who would be knocking on the door at this hour on Christmas Eve? Not Santa, surely?
If it’s Father Christmas, she thought, trying to calm her nerves,he’s a bit early. Still, I can probably find some sherry knocking about the place, knowing Andrea.
She crept up behind the door. Freddy’s frantic barking was at fever pitch now and Felix, not wanting to be left out, was making a high-pitched whining sound that really added to the atmosphere.
No way was she opening it.
No way, no way, no way.
Instead, she shouted in the general direction of the scuffling. ‘Who is it? Can I help you?’
‘Oh, thank God, yes, yes please, I really need your help,’ came a deep male voice.
That’s what a murderer would say,thought Felicity.Do murderers work on Christmas Eve?
‘Do you want me to call someone for you?’Like the police, for example.
‘It’s not for me,’ came the voice. ‘It’s… well, I really need to show you. I found something and I didn’t know what to do and then my feet fell off and it’s really wet out here. Can you let me in?’
Okay, it’s probably not a murderer, but it may be a mad person. Is that better? What to do, what to do?
‘Just stay there a moment,’ yelled Felicity over the noise of the dogs, and stood on her tiptoes to peer through the glass porthole in the door. But even with the side of her nose pressed right up to the filthy glass, all she could make out was a glimpse of a dark shape with flashes of white. Whatwasthat? Not Father Christmas, that’s for sure.
‘Please hurry, I think it’s dying,’ came the voice again and this time Felicity’s heart started thumping so hard she could feel it in her ears.
He’s got an animal. It needs help. I must open the door. Even if I get murdered.
She took a deep breath and unlatched the rickety wooden door.
There, standing in front of her, was a giant, rather dishevelled penguin with bare human feet and a human face. It was very wet and muddy, and it was clutching something in its hands that resembled a ridiculously small wet ball of dirty fluff. This was not good.
