Page 4 of The Night Before Christmas
‘Ibloodyhate it,’ she said, on a roll now. ‘That’s why I’m working here tonight, in fact.’
‘Seriously?’ said James.
She nodded vigorously. ‘I work in here every year. Keeps me busy. I hate everything about it. Every bloody thing. I hate the food and the presents and the stupid tree and the Christmas jumpers that say things like, “Touch my baubles” and “Champion Sprout Hater”, and I hate the rubbish television and the music and the shopping and everything.’
‘Everything?’ said James, taking an involuntary step back.
Felicity realised she may have come on a tad strongly. ‘Okay, well noteverythingeverything. I quite like mince pies. And those big tins of Quality Street. Oh, and the fact they always showDie Hardon Christmas Eve. That’s really the only saving grace.’
James looked at her earnestly, his eyes looking more blue than grey now against the white of his T-shirt. She stared across at him and they held each other’s gaze.
‘I bloody loveDie Hard,’ he said, quite sincerely.
For a second something like lightning crackled between them. It was Felicity who was the first to look away, her heart pounding hard against her ribs. She looked down at the kitten again.
‘Then there’s only one thing for it. She shall be called Holly. Holly McClane,’ she announced, holding the kitten aloft.
‘Perfect,’ said James, smiling from ear to ear. She liked his smile.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘So,here’s one for you, Penguin Man. Did you know that the costume department for this film made a whole series of vests for Bruce Willis? They were carefully developed so each one looked slightly dirtier and more bloodied and ripped than the last.’
James chuckled, and it sent a pleasant tingle down her spine.
‘Well, that’s ruined the magic. Thanks very much. What vest do you think he’s on now?’
‘Ooh, I’d say maybe five or six, wouldn’t you?’
They were huddled in the office together watching the movie with the heater blasting. Felicity was curled up on the chair under a musty old blanket she’d managed to locate in a cupboard. James had insisted he was happy on the floor beside her, despite her polite protestations that he was the ‘guest’, if that was even an adequate way to describe it. She had found him a cushion at least, and he was leaning on the chair arm for support, meaning there was only a few short inches between them. Felicity had been studiously trying not to notice.
Despite the late hour, neither one of them felt tired. The excitement of the kitten rescue, combined with their mutual hatred of the festive season, seemed to have given them a burstof adrenaline. So, when evil Hans Gruber met his gruesome end and the credits began to roll, Felicity suggested going back out to check the cat trap and the pair of them virtually skipped out of the door. It had stopped raining, but without the cloud cover the night had cooled considerably and the wind had a sharp, icy edge. Felicity could see her breath as they splashed through the puddles and mud towards the ditch.
As they approached, they could hear a high-pitched crying. Crying and what sounded like a rattling of bars. An escaped convict, perhaps?
‘It’s her,’ said James, this time taking the lead, barging straight through the undergrowth ahead of her.
What the hell is he planning on doing when he gets there…?Felicity wondered idly as she followed him. But, to his credit, he was right. It was her. Or it was a cat at least. She was well and truly caught – and was extremely not-happy about it. Felicity bent over the trap and surveyed her, trying not to shine the torch right in her eyes.
The little cat was only young herself, not more than two or three years old, with big wide eyes, matted fur, and a painfully thin body. She had an astonishing-looking face, half bright ginger, half black, as if she was wearing some kind of mask, and her green eyes flashed with fear as she huddled in the corner of the cage. She was making the most mournful wailing sound, and every so often she would hurl herself against the bars in what seemed to be more a gesture of desperation than a serious escape attempt.
‘I know just how you feel,’ murmured Felicity, making soothing noises to try and calm her. She could sense James’ gaze turn towards her as she said this, but she ignored his silent question. Now was not the time. They spent a few moments searching the area to make sure no more kittens were about but there was no sign of any other life in the damp hollow.
‘Let’s get you home,’ she said, turning back to the little cat with the big eyes, trying to swallow the nervous feeling rising in her throat. She carefully placed the towel over the trap and, almost immediately, the crying began to ease. ‘This should help keep her calm,’ she said, sending silent thanks to Andrea for that tip.
As she picked up the trap and turned to go, she caught James’ eye at last.
‘We got her,’ she said, and felt a sudden urge to cry which she only partially managed to stifle. James nodded but kept his lips tightly shut and Felicity realised she wasn’t the only one feeling a bit overcome. She nodded back at him in true British style and, without another word, they headed back to the centre, their quarry moving round and round the trap impatiently as they did so, occasionally rebounding off the sides like a furry bouncy ball. A bouncy ball with claws.
In her time at the rescue, Felicity had never had the opportunity to reunite a baby animal with its mother and she wasn’t sure what to expect. She could feel the nerves threatening to take over as they got closer to the centre and briefly considered calling Andrea for advice but then dismissed the idea. She could do this.
As they headed towards the cat nursery, it was clear she needn’t have worried. The mother seemed to know her baby was near, from the moment they opened the front door, in fact, and had immediately set about wailing at the top of her voice from the cat trap. And as they entered the nursery carrying their precious cargo, they could hear an even more astonishing noise, which turned out to be coming from the ball of fluff under the heat lamp. Soon the two cats were calling to each other and responding as if they were having a conversation.
By this point, Felicity had tears rolling down her cheeks and made no effort to hide them. She placed the cat trap very gentlydown on the table and indicated to James to close the door so Mum couldn’t escape. A move that was entirely unnecessary, it turned out, as she was so desperate for her baby that as soon as they opened the trap, she trotted straight over to her and began licking her all over. The kitten seemed to revive her strength a little as she did so, and James and Felicity looked on in awe.
‘Look what you did,’ whispered Felicity.
Again he nodded, transfixed.
