by Nancy Peach
She remembered Mary’s words about him holding her in high regard and in spite of herself, smiled at him genuinely for the first time in a long while.
It was close to midnight when Tess’s mobile rang. She was re-writing a patient’s drug chart when she felt a buzzing in her pocket and saw an unfamiliar number on her screen. She answered impatiently, suspecting that at this time of night it was probably a call centre based in Delhi trying to sell her insurance.
“Hel-lo?” She was only half concentrating as she continued writing the chart in front of her.
“Oh. Hello there.” The deep voice on the other end of the line was gruff and there was traffic noise in the background. “I’m sorry to trouble you. Do you own a ginger cat?”
“Yes?” replied Tess. Suddenly on high alert, she held the phone closer to her ear. “Yes, yes I do. Morris. He’s my cat. Is something wrong?” She tried to stop the alarm creeping into her voice.
“I’m terribly sorry, miss.” The man’s voice softened into a Bristol burr. “Your cat, he, um, well, he just came out of nowhere. Shot out from behind the bins and, well, he was under my wheels before I knew what!”
Tess felt her throat tighten and gave a little sob as she pressed the phone to her ear. “Is he, is he alive?”
“He is, miss. He is indeed. He’s in a pretty bad way though. He’ll need to see a vet, I reckon.”
“Oh, thank God!” Tess almost wept with relief. He was alive. But what was she going to do now? Her shift didn’t finish for another nine hours.
“Where… whereabouts are you?”
“Just at the junction by Cranbrook Road,” he said. “Near your house, is it?”
“It is, but I’m at work at the moment,” said Tess. “I’m just thinking… Could you give me a minute to see if I can get hold of a friend to collect him? I’ll call you straight back? Thank you so much, if you could just stay with him for a little longer I’d be really grateful?”
“Of course, my lovely. I’ll stay right here with him for now. I’ve got to get on though. I can’t stay all night. But you see what you can sort out. Call me back on this number – I’m Chris, Chris Tyler.”
“Thank you so much, Mr Tyler. I’ll, I’ll get back to you as quick as I can.”
She rang off and went to dial the landline at home but remembered that Kath was in Bath with Ravi. “Shit!” she said under her breath. She tried Simon but the call went straight to voicemail, so she started scrolling through her phone contacts trying to work out who might be around and able to help. Of course, it was nearly midnight on a warm Saturday in the city, and most of her friends who weren’t working or sleeping would be in noisy pubs and clubs. Every number she tried either went straight to voicemail or just rang out.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
She thumped the palms of her hands down on the desk and stared at her phone, willing it to offer up a solution. She thought of Morris, hurt, bleeding by the side of the road, and put her head in her hands. What on earth was she going to do? She couldn’t leave work; there was nobody else to cover the end of her shift and she couldn’t expect Mr Tyler to stay with Morris until eight in the morning.
At that moment Edward emerged from his mum’s room and strode over to the desk.
“I thought I’d take your advice,” he said quietly, waving the paperback in his hand and then he caught sight of Tess’s face.
“Are you all right? What is it? What’s happened?”
Tess, trying to keep her composure, explained in stilted breaths what had happened to Morris.
“I know it’s ridiculous,” she said when she’d filled Edward in on most of the details. “He’s only a cat, but I can’t bear to think of him hurt and alone, and, and, I can’t get hold of anyone. God! What am I going to do?”
Edward passed her the box of tissues from the top of the desk and waited while she wiped her eyes and blew her nose loudly. He looked thoughtful.
“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll go and collect your cat. No, no…” he interrupted her as she began to protest. “No. Mum is fine. She’s sleeping. I’ve been with her all day. She won’t even know I’ve gone and I assume”—he looked at Tess to verify—“that you’d call me if her situation changed anyway?”
“Of course, but—”
He held out his hand for her to stop, “I’ll sort it out. Give me this chap’s number.”
“But how are you…? What are you going to…? Where are you going to take him? How is this going to work? I… I don’t… It’s really kind of you but I just don’t…”
“I will sort it,” Edward said. “What other option have you got? Now, just let me have the number and don’t worry.”
Tess slid the piece of paper with Chris’s number scribbled on it across the desk.
“Are you sure? I, just, well, thank you so much. I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
Edward took the paper and pulled out his phone.
“It’ll be okay. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I happen to be excellent in a crisis…”
He gave her an ironic smile and strode out of the foyer, dialling Chris’s number on his way. Tess heard him as the sliding doors closed, “Hello, is that Mr Tyler? My name’s Edward Russell…”
Tess was busier than usual for the rest of her shift, the heat was causing people to feel agitated and patients who couldn’t sleep were in pain and distressed. She texted Edward repeatedly after finding his number on Mary’s notes but there was no response, and as a result she was frantic by the time her shift ended, not knowing what had happened to Morris and whether he was even alive. She shared her concerns with the day staff after she had completed her handover.
“I hope everything’s all right,” Jill, one of the ward sisters, said as she gave Tess a little squeeze. “You let us know. It’s horrid when something happens to a pet. I remember when those bloody foxes got one of our hens. My favourite she was too, Agatha, always a good layer.” Jill paused, gazing into the middle distance before returning to focus on Tess. “Anyway, my love, we all understand. I’m sure he’ll be right as rain.” She patted Tess’s arm. “Don’t you fret. Home you go and get some sleep.”
Tess was tense as she drove, alert to any flash of colour darting in the corner of her vision, any movement that could be an animal, a pedestrian, a cyclist. What had Morris been doing going as far as the junction with Cranbrook Road? He never went that far. Anyway, she sighed, too late to question it now. Cats were always a law unto themselves; even fat predictable lumps like Morris could surprise you. Another tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away angrily. Honestly, she dealt with death and serious illness all the time. People all around her at work were struggling to come to terms with real bereavement and grief. She needed to get a grip.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Back at home the house was silent with no welcoming miaow or writhing bundle of fluff to greet her. The armchairs with their little mounds of matted ginger fur all reminded her of Morris’s favourite places to snooze in the sun, and her eyes filled with tears again. The television host’s voice was back in her ear:
“I’ve gone for another audience poll, Tess. Try and help you out a bit. Here it is: ‘Has Morris succumbed to the inevitable and shuffled off this mortal coil? Text DEAD now. Or has he only sustained life-altering injuries? Text MAIMED now. We’ll be back with the results after this short ad break. Don’t go away!’ What d’you think?”
She phoned Edward on the way upstairs to the shower, increasingly desperate to find out what had happened. There was no answer, so she left a message and texted him again. While she was in the shower her phone rang, but by the time she reached it, the message had gone to voicemail. It was a sleepy-sounding Edward. He apologised for not calling sooner but the reception had been patchy and her texts had only just come through. He reassured her that Morris had needed emergency surgery but was now doing well. He left the address of the vet’s, apologising that he had used the veterinary practice nearest his own home, as they
were the only ones he knew would be open at that time of night, and suggested that she head over there as soon as she had a chance.
The sun was beating down on the pavement as she got into her car and the tree-lined streets were dappled with bright light. She made her way through Clifton and crossed the suspension bridge with the water of the Severn twinkling below. The roads were more shaded as she followed her satnav and headed out towards Clevedon, past Ashton Court and the golf course. Halfway down a winding country lane, as instructed she took a turning down a narrower track and crossed a cattle grid, following a sign for “Rosings Veterinary Practice”. She drove on, passing a large outdoor manège with a stable block and a sign indicating the equestrian hydrotherapy unit to the right. Another sign pointed to the rehabilitation unit where Edward had said Morris would be. The size of the place took Tess’s breath away, and whilst part of her was smiling to herself at the idea of her non-pedigree RSPCA moggy being treated in this centre of excellence, another part was panicking enormously at the costs she had already incurred. She was certain that her budget pet insurance would not cover emergency surgery and a recovery package in what appeared to be the veterinary equivalent of The Priory.
The reception area was cool and clean, with squeaky linoleum underfoot and a medicinal smell of disinfectant that reminded Tess of some of her previous hospital placements. She walked up to the teenage girl sitting behind the main desk and asked to see Morris Carter, feeling faintly ridiculous as she always did using her pet’s full name. The girl, whose badge identified her as Flo, had been expecting her and led her through a key-coded door to the side of the desk.
“He’s pretty groggy at the moment,” she said, “but it’ll be nice for him to see you, and hear your voice. Henry, our head vet, was in theatre with him for most of the night and one of our orthopaedic specialists came in to assist with his surgery, so he’s had the absolute best.”
Tess found herself welling up again. She was so anxious to see him, although alarm bells were ringing at Flo’s words; two surgeons called out in the middle of the night would be incredibly expensive. How on earth was she ever going to be able to pay for it? She was briefly distracted until they approached a door on her left and she heard a familiar miaow. Flo led her into a small white room and Tess could see Morris through the grill of a narrow crate.
Tess walked over to the crate and poked her fingers through the grill, “Hey puss!” she said as Morris nudged his nose against her hand, hampered by the neck collar he was wearing that kept knocking into the grill. She put her face down towards him and he came as close as possible, purring loudly and butting the plastic against the bars while she reached her fingers in to just behind his ears. Flo laughed.
“Well, he’s certainly perked up now. I might try him with a bit of breakfast. You can stay in here with him for a while, if you like? But he’ll have to stay in the crate, sorry.”
Half an hour later Morris had wolfed down his breakfast with breathtaking speed and was trying to work out how to get the last specks of cat food off the periphery of his head collar, when Henry the vet arrived. He introduced himself with a vigorous handshake, although Tess had heard him well before she saw him, his booming voice reverberating off the walls of the corridor as he greeted various animals like old friends. He was wearing a tweed jacket and had the complexion of a man who spends the majority of his time out of doors; his russet cheeks were sprinkled liberally with greying whiskers that met in an extraordinarily impressive moustache. This item of facial hair bobbed up and down as Henry spoke, dancing across his upper lip as if it had a life entirely independent of its owner.
“Well, young lady!” he bellowed. “You’ve got a very lucky mog there. Used up eight of his nine lives in one fell swoop, I should say. Not that he seems to have suffered enormously for it.”
“No, he seems to be doing really well. Your assistant, Flo, said—”
Henry roared with laughter as Morris tentatively poked a paw through the grill and caught his jacket.
“Aha! My friend. You can smell the sprats hey?” He pulled a tiny dry fish out of his top pocket like a magician and posted it through the grill to Morris who couldn’t believe his luck.
“Got to keep the boy’s strength up,” he said to Tess. “Although, he is a bit of a porker to be honest, dear. Carrying a bit too much timber currently. You might have to keep an eye on him, food-wise. He won’t be very mobile with that hip, and it’s tough to keep the weight off. I should know! My old hip’s an absolute bugger.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t you worry, dear girl. I’m not about to regale you with tales about my own ailments. I know you’re a medic and I bet you’re sick to the back teeth of ruddy old fools like me banging on about their arthritis.”
“Oh, how did you—?”
“Yes, yes, yes! Eddie told me. I know all about you, my girl.” His bushy eyebrows were high on his forehead. “His mother speaks very highly of you – favourite doc, I think. Talks about you every time I see her out with those daft dogs! Of course, she can’t manage walking them now. Smashing lass that Mary. Ruddy shame, the old Big C and all.” He frowned as he foraged in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Still, back to your cat, my dear. He’s fixed up a treat now. Had to call Jumbo in at two. Think we woke up the wife, but she’s used to it. He’s done a cracking job – titanium plate and whacked a few pins in, nice and tidy.”
“Thank you,” said Tess. “I can’t believe how much you’ve done for him.”
“Pah! No bother. I enjoy a bit of drama in my old age. Keeps me on my toes.”
“I know it sounds ridiculous but, I don’t know what I’d have done without him. He’s one of my favourite things in the world.”
“Oh, I know exactly how you feel. Not ridiculous at all. I’d be the same if anything happened to my Bert or Ernie. Anyway, I knew we had to get it sorted when I heard from young Edward last night. He ran in here carrying that cat like a baby. Not the first time he’s been here frantic about an animal, mind, but he hasn’t done it for a while, not since he’s all grown-up and a big-shot lawyer at any rate. Now – where was I? Ah yes, this cat of yours, he’ll need a bit of rest now, so let’s us head back to ground control and I’ll talk you through what needs doing.”
Tess gave Morris a last scratch behind his ears and reluctantly left him pawing at the corner of newspaper in the crate. She walked back to the main desk with Henry, who was limping slightly on his aching hip. He told Tess more about the younger Edward. How he had spent hours helping out in the practice during his holidays from boarding school.
“Enjoyed school, he did, Edward. At least I never heard anything to the contrary, but back home most of his friends lived miles away and he didn’t know any local lads. Father working all the time, Mary running the house and the estate, not much for him and his sister to do, so he and Maddie were always down here, walking the dogs, mucking out the stables, larking about. Maddie split her time between here and the riding school down the road – fantastic rider she was, natural equestrian. Her brother, fearless but not quite so graceful on a pony. Ha!”
Henry paused to poke his head through a window in the corridor and gave a cheery “Morning Marge!” to a woman sitting at the desk before making his way back to the reception, still chatting to Tess and enjoying the sound of his own voice.
“Loved them though, Eddie did. All those horses that came in lame or colicky, he used to head off on his bike as the sun was setting, and he’d be back here at the crack of dawn the next day, finding out how they’d fared overnight. And if he wasn’t here he’d be at home, just up the hill, looking after his own little zoo. Mary used to spoil him rotten with whatever animal he wanted; of course, she was left looking after the whole menagerie when he was boarding, so she put her foot down about the snakes, but they’ve had all sorts up there: lizards, llamas, goats, parrots, an axolotl at one point, I think? You’d have to ask him. Audrey, he called her, as I recollect… Hmmm.”
They had reached the main desk some moments ago and Tess had opened her handbag to get out her credit card. She was stood politely, waiting for Henry to finish talking whilst becoming increasingly anxious to establish exactly what the damage to her finances was. Henry finally noticed her open purse.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she said, “I might not have enough in my account to cover the bill all at once. Do you have a payment scheme or something similar?”
Henry put a calloused hand on her purse and closed it firmly. “Oh no, dear girl,” he boomed. “No need for that. All paid for. You’ve got young Edward to thank for that. Which reminds me…” He reached behind the counter top and pulled out a blue cashmere scarf that was covered in dried blood. “You might want to return this to him.” He handed it to Tess.
“He’d wrapped Morris up in it I think, judging by the look of it. Not sure as it’ll ever recover. But if you’re heading over to the house then you could maybe pop it in?”
“Of course. But can I just check… He’s paid for all of it? I, um, don’t know what to say…”
“Yup!” said Henry. “Every last prescription and dressing, emergency call-out fee – even the physio, all sorted.” He smiled broadly. “He’s up at the house now, getting it ready for when Madeleine and the kids arrive this week. You pop along there now; you should catch him.”
He gave Tess the directions to the house, advising her that she couldn’t really miss it, and suggested she try the back door because, “Nobody ever answers at the ruddy front in those types of houses – mainly just for show! Oh, and watch out for the dogs. Pack of lunatics, but terribly friendly.”
She nodded and listened but in the back of her mind she was totting up the various expenses that Henry had outlined. She must owe Edward Russell a fortune.
