Claude’s Christmas Adventure: The must-read Christmas dog book of 2018!. Sophie Pembroke

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Jack couldn’t remember the last time he walked a dog. When he was growing up, they’d had dogs as family pets – usually something of a decent size, like a Labrador or a Border Collie. Never anything as small as Claude. But the last dog had passed away not long before his dad followed his mum up to heaven, just after Jack enlisted, and since then … well, the army lifestyle hadn’t been very conducive to pet ownership.

      He glanced down at Claude, trotting along beside him at the end of the sparkly pink lead, his oversized black ears perked up and listening to the world around them. Maybe he’d check if his rental agreement could be amended to allow pets. He knew at the moment they were forbidden, but perhaps that could be fixed. Or if he moved …

      He’d already put an email in to his boss to see if it might be possible to get a transfer. Maple Drive hadn’t lived up to his expectations at all. No point hanging around to see if things changed; they never did, in his experience. No, it was time to move on and start looking elsewhere. But in the meantime, maybe a dog would give him the companionship he craved.

      A proper dog, though. One with a decent tail for wagging, and less obtrusive ears.

      ‘Well, I guess we’d better see if anyone around here knows where your owners are, boy.’ Great, now he was even talking to the dog. That’s how hard up for human connection he was.

      Except … he’d connected with Holly. At least, he thought he had. It had been a while since he’d felt that sort of connection with, well, anyone. Perhaps he’d been imagining it. Perhaps she’d just been thinking ‘Who is this strange man in my house?’ As well as ‘Who is this strange dog?’

      All in all, it had been a strange encounter all around. Although that didn’t mean he wasn’t already humming with the anticipation of seeing her again later.

      But first he had to finish his round. And find something to do with Claude, who was sticking very close as he trotted alongside.

      ‘I just hope someone in one of these houses knows how to get in touch with Mr and Mrs McCawley.’ Who knew what he’d have to do with Claude otherwise. Claude moved a little closer again, almost tripping Jack over, as if he had the exact same fears. Maybe he did, Jack allowed, as he did a little hop-jump to avoid getting tangled in Claude’s lead. Nobody liked to be left alone, after all.

      Jack knew that feeling. Except he hadn’t been left, exactly. He’d chosen to leave. He had to remember that.

      The first couple of houses they came to were dark. Jack knocked on the doors anyway, as he pushed their Christmas cards and bills through the letterbox, but there was no answer. The next door was opened by a harried-looking young woman with a baby in her arms, and Jack brightened. This house had to be a better shot. After all, if the mum was home with the baby, surely she’d have more contact with the rest of the community.

      ‘Hi, I was wondering if you could help me. I’m trying to get hold of this little guy’s owners. The McCawleys. At number 11.’ Jack kept a friendly smile on his face throughout, but it didn’t seem to register. The woman shook her head, grabbing the small pile of post from his hand without even glancing at Claude.

      ‘No thanks,’ she mumbled, as she shut the door.

      Jack sighed. He’d known that finding someone who knew the McCawleys well enough to be able to fill him in on their movements was a long shot, but he hadn’t expected it to be so hard to even find someone willing to listen to him.

      As he trudged back up the driveway, grateful for his winter coat in the bitter December cold, his phone rang. Jack fished it out from his pocket, while Claude danced around his feet, wrapping the lead around his ankles.

      ‘Hello?’ Jack said, carefully stepping out from the tangle of lead again.

      ‘Jack? It’s Bill.’ His boss. Jack tensed. Even though he knew this probably had to do with the email he’d sent Bill last night, there was always the chance that it was something worse. But then Bill said, ‘About this email,’ and Jack let himself relax, just enough to head to the bus shelter at the end of Maple Drive and sit down while they talked. Claude entertained himself sniffing around the base of the bench legs, before curling up on Jack’s boots.