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

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СКАЧАТЬ of them has a full set of Snow White and the seven dwarves lit up on their roof.’

      Mrs Templeton gasped with predictable horror. ‘But … that’s not even festive!’

      Jack shrugged. ‘Well, there’s also one with the Nativity. Maybe you’d like that one more.’

      ‘I sincerely doubt it.’

      So did Jack. ‘Anyway …’ He glanced meaningfully at the stylus, still punctuating Mrs Templeton’s every thought. ‘If you could just …’ He shook the electronic pad again.

      ‘Humph.’ Mrs Templeton scrawled a few lines across the screen, and Jack decided that was good enough. He handed her the parcel, along with a few Christmas card-sized envelopes on the top. She scowled at them. ‘And look at these stamps! What happened to a good, old-fashioned Nativity scene for a Christmas stamp? I ask you.’

      Jack quite liked the cartoon Santas, but Mrs Templeton had already shut the door before he could say so.

      ‘Merry Christmas, Mrs Templeton,’ he called, through the closed door. ‘You miserable old bat,’ he added under his breath.

      This wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d moved to Maple Drive. Fresh out of the army, he’d taken a job as a postman and, when he was assigned to an area of the suburbs with nice, neat houses, friendly looking front doors and well-kept lawns, he’d thought he’d stumbled onto exactly what he’d been looking for. Somewhere peaceful, friendly, and properly British. The sort of place he might get invited in for the occasional cup of tea or a biscuit. Or, at least, somewhere he might make new friends, and find a new community to replace the family he’d left behind when he left the forces.

      He was so sure this was what he was looking for, he’d even rented one of the smaller terrace houses on the edge of the estate, just at the corner of Maple Drive.

      It hadn’t taken long for the illusion to be shattered.

      Maple Drive might look like friendly, community-spirited suburbia, but those neighbourhood watch signs and hedges trimmed into animal shapes were misleading. The street was filled with curtain-twitchers, busy workers who left post-it notes asking him to leave their parcels in strange hiding places, and Mrs Templeton. In three months, he could count the number of actual conversations he’d had with his neighbours on one hand – and most of them had been to do with the declining standards of the postal service. He doubted anyone on Maple Drive even realised that he actually lived there too.

      With a sigh, Jack trudged back along the street, away from Mrs Templeton’s house at the top of the cul-de-sac. He dropped a few cards through the letterbox at number 11, the McCawleys’, and was about to cross the street to deliver the small parcel in his bag for Holly Starr at number 12 – her of the icicles – when he spotted something shining on the driveway. Frowning, he bent down to pick it up. He held the small, silver key between two fingers and considered it. It looked like the sort of key that might open one of those padlocks that came in Christmas crackers, or maybe a secret journal or something. Probably nothing important, but still … Turning, he pushed it through number 11’s letterbox to land on the cards. At least that way, they’d find it in case they needed it.

      With a satisfied nod, he marched across the street to number 12. After all, it was Christmas. And the pleasure of delivering presents to Holly Starr was basically the only present he expected to get this year.

      Maybe he’d even tell her he liked her icicles.

      

      I scampered after the car, but being a dog of little legs, I stood about as much chance of catching it as I did of catching Perdita. Although, cars couldn’t climb fences, so maybe a slightly better chance …

      Either way, by the time I got home, the car – and my family – were gone. Off to ferry, France and chateau. Leaving me behind.

      Alone.

      This, I decided, was simply not how things were meant to be. Ever since I was a tiny, squirming puppy, I’d always been with people. To start with, there were my litter mates, my mum, and my mum’s people. Then, soon enough, there was Daisy and Oliver and Bella, and tiny Jay in his buggy. They took me home to Maple Drive, and I knew I’d never be really alone again. Oh, maybe a couple of hours when they were all out but, to be honest, in a house with so many people the occasional hour to doze away by myself wasn’t a hardship. And most of the time, there was always someone around to scratch my ears, rub my belly, or refill my food bowl.

      But not now. They’d packed up everything – even the box of interesting smells – and taken it with them. That meant they weren’t coming back, not for a while, anyway. It was just like when we went away camping (even my fluffy dog bed couldn’t keep me warm that week. Jay ended up sleeping in it with me) or when we used to visit Granny and Grandad down by the seaside. They’d meant to take me with them, I knew. But how had they not noticed I wasn’t there?

      How could they have left me behind?

      Me! Claude! Their beloved pet!

      I hunkered down beside the bush at the end of our driveway, feeling mightily sorry for myself. I was cold and lonely and I wanted Jay. Even the twins would be welcome company right now.

      Then my tummy rumbled, and I realised the situation was even more dire than I’d first thought.

      I wasn’t just alone, I was hungry. And since I wasn’t meant to be there, Daisy and Oliver wouldn’t have left me any food out!

      I jumped to my paws and scampered up the driveway, bouncing up the three steps to the front door. I pawed at the wood and whimpered, hoping against hope that Daisy might have forgotten to lock it again and it might swing open under my paws.

      No such luck.

      Maybe the back door, though … I rushed around the side of the house, but the solid wood back door wouldn’t budge either. The patio doors were locked tight too and, even if I could see an open window, I couldn’t jump high enough to get through them.

      The house might as well have been a fortress, like the big wooden one Jay played with sometimes in his room. (I was usually cast as his noble, handsome steed. I wasn’t sure what a steed was, but the noble and handsome part sounded about right.)

      I sat on the back step and looked out at the garden. There was the treehouse, if I could climb the ladder. I’d tried once or twice before, when Perdita had hidden up there, but hadn’t had much luck.

      Wait. Perdita.

      This was all her fault. I would never have left the car if she hadn’t been snooping around, trying to get into the box of interesting smells. Everything was definitely Perdita’s fault.

      Which meant it was up to Perdita to put it right. Or at least get me some food.

      Daisy and Oliver and the СКАЧАТЬ