Vets in Love

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘Don’t you dare make any truncheon jokes,’ she says, trying to force her mouth into a prim and proper pout while eating a cream doughnut and ending up in a fit of giggles. ‘I’ve known Kev for years,’ she says eventually. ‘It’s only recently that I’ve noticed how good he looks in uniform.’

  ‘I believe he’d say the same about you,’ I point out, getting up and resting my hand briefly on her shoulder. ‘I hope you have a great time.’

  ‘And I hope you and Matt sort things out between you,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry, Nicci. I think everyone knows that Mel’s pregnant and the baby’s Matt’s.’

  ‘How?’ I say.

  ‘Fifi says that your sister told Frances, talking over the garden fence while they were hanging out the washing, and Frances told Fifi.’

  ‘My sister? I’ll kill her,’ I exclaim. ‘What was she thinking of? It’s a private matter.’ It isn’t fair.

  Claire hesitates. ‘Mel came in to see Ben the other day – I had to sort out a pregnancy test and book her in to see the midwife.’

  My heart constricts with pain – the fact that Mel has made the pregnancy official and public makes it feel agonisingly real.

  ‘Nicci, I said I have Bridget on line two,’ Janet cuts in from the staffroom door. ‘She has a query about her diabetes. Can you speak to her now, or should she ring back?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Janet, I was miles away.’

  ‘I can tell,’ she says. ‘Are you all right? Don’t tell me you need to see a doctor too.’

  ‘Or a nurse,’ Claire cuts in. ‘I can check your ears for wax. Janet’s asked you the same question three times.’

  ‘So, do you want to speak to her?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll take it in my room. Put her through, Janet, thank you.’

  I speak to Bridget while I log on. She’s having trouble with her blood sugar levels again and I suggest a slightly increased dose of insulin. She requests a prescription, which I tell her I’ll print, sign and leave for her to collect from reception, where Claire catches me once more.

  ‘Nicci, I have Mrs Brown with me. Would you mind coming to have a look at her leg ulcer? I really don’t think we’re getting anywhere.’

  ‘Of course,’ I say, and I spend fifteen minutes chatting to Mr and Mrs Brown and planning a fresh approach to the management of Mrs Brown’s ailments. She must take the record for the patient with the most problems in the practice, but she rarely complains. When I compare my troubles with hers, they are nothing.

  At the end of the day I head for home. The church bells are ringing, the bell-ringers practising their peals, and somewhere a dog is barking. I’ve forgotten my key and the front door is locked. I tap on the window, trying to attract Gabriel’s attention, but he’s completely involved with Peppa Pig on the television.

  ‘Gabriel,’ I call. I catch sight of my reflection in the window, my face is shiny with sweat and my hair flat and sticky.

  ‘There, I said you should let me have a spare key.’ I turn at the sound of my neighbour’s voice.

  ‘Hello Frances.’

  ‘I have a pot of old keys – one of those might fit the lock.’

  ‘Please don’t worry. I’m sure someone will hear me in a minute.’

  ‘Well, if you need anything, anything at all, cup of tea while you wait—’ Frances gazes at me, her eyes filled with sympathy ‘—or a shoulder to cry on, you know where I am.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say stiffly. I knock at the window again rather harder than I intended. This time, Gabriel turns and stares. Recognising me, he smiles and waves and turns back to Peppa Pig. ‘Gabriel, you’re supposed to run to the door and let me in.’

  I move around to the door and yell through the letter box. ‘Yoo hoo. Anyone else at home?’

  ‘It’s you, Auntie Nicci,’ says Sage when she opens the door a couple of minutes later. ‘Mummy told me to check, so I went upstairs and looked out of the window and there you were.’ She grabs my arm, jumping up and down. ‘Have you seen the paper?’ Without waiting for me to respond, she rushes off to fetch a copy of the Chronicle and thrusts it into my hands. ‘You’re on page three. You’re famous.’

  I open the newspaper and there I am in a photo with Willow under the headline: ‘Talyton’s Galloping GP’.

  ‘What do you think?’ Sage says.

  My neck grows hot as I read Ally Jackson’s purple prose. It’s embarrassing, but also flattering.

  ‘I’m going to cut it out and keep it,’ Sage goes on, and my heart melts when I realise how proud she is of her aunt.

  ‘Nicci, you’re back earlier than I expected.’ Cheska emerges from the kitchen. ‘I’ve made a lasagne – it’s in the oven.’

  ‘Is this some kind of peace offering?’ I say, slightly irritated with her.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know very well,’ I say, reading her expression, ‘for telling Frances about me and Matt.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that. It kind of slipped out.’

  ‘What did you tell Frances, Mummy?’ Sage interrupts. ‘Nicci, are you having a baby?’ she goes on excitedly.

  ‘Sage!’ Cheska warns.

  ‘It’s all right. No, Sage, I am not pregnant. Matt’s having a baby with someone else,’ I add bitterly.

  ‘Don’t you love him any more?’ Sage says sorrowfully. ‘Doesn’t he love you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I turn back to Cheska. ‘Forget dinner. I’m not hungry. I’m going out.’

  I drive to Matt’s – for the first time since we met, he’s cleared his diary and is home at six, waiting for me. The Bobster greets me with a riot of barking when I enter the kitchen at the back of the house.

  ‘Hello,’ I say as Matt stands up from the table, moves across to me and brushes his lips against my cheek. I kiss him back, wanting, aching for him to hold me and tell me that Mel isn’t actually pregnant and everything will be all right, but he looks tired and anxious. I want to comfort him in turn because I can see that this situation with Mel has affected him deeply. Life isn’t one big joke any more. It’s serious.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he says, offering me a hot drink and a piece of cake. ‘I baked it specially.’

  ‘No, thank you. Tea would be good, but I couldn’t eat a thing.’

  ‘Why don’t you go and sit down? I’ll be right behind you.’

  I settle on one of the armchairs in the living room, waiting for him to appear. He passes me a mug of tea before sitting on the sofa, the Bobster jumping up beside him.

  ‘What kind of day have you had?’ he asks, breaking the silence.

  ‘Okay.’ I shrug. ‘How about you?’

  ‘I’ve been out on my rounds all day. While I’ve been driving around the countryside, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.’

  ‘You’ve had a lot on your mind,’ I say, gripping tightly on the mug of hot tea until my fingers burn.

  ‘I know. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘So am I. But Matt, I do understand why you stretched the truth about when your relationship with Mel ended. It’s one of those things.’

  ‘Can you forgive me, though?’ he asks gruffly. ‘I mean, I’ve broken your trust and I know how important that is to you.’

  I rest the mug on the carpet, get up and walk across to him. I sit down on the edge of the sofa, beside the Bobster, aware of a cold, wet nose nudging my hand as I gaze into his eyes, my heart beating loud and hard.

  ‘I forgive you,’ I say, a sob catching in my throat. ‘I don’t want to lose you. The last couple of days have been unbearable.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeats. ‘I wish I’d never met the woman.’

  ‘So do I.’ More than he will ever know, I think.

  ‘Does that mean …’ Matt leans towards me. ‘Bobster, get down.’ As if aware of the enormity of the moment, for once the dog takes notice of her master, jumping down and rooting around in the fireplace, finding one of her smelly old bones to gnaw on.

  I shake my head.

  ‘I as
sume you’ll be spending time with Mel and the baby,’ I go on quietly. ‘And that Mel will not be moving away in the foreseeable future. I don’t know if I can deal with that. Who’s to say you won’t get back with her in the end?’

  ‘I’ve already said, never again. I’m going to do the right thing by Mel because she’s the mother of my child, no other reason. I want to be part of the baby’s life. I want to be a proper dad.’

  At the word ‘dad’ a tear spills over and trickles down my cheek. I can taste salt on my lips.

  ‘Nicci …’

  The room blurs in front of my eyes. The thought of seeing my boyfriend with another woman’s baby cuts me to pieces. Wouldn’t I always be thinking that it should have been our child, our firstborn?

  ‘If I could turn the clock back …’ Tentatively, Matt reaches out and strokes a lock of my hair from my cheek with a tender caress. I turn and lean into him, burying my face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of horse, surgical spirit and musk. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close as he strokes my back.

  ‘Oh Matt.’

  ‘It’s going to be all right,’ he says.

  ‘Is it? I’m not sure.’ I’m not sure I can go through with it.

  Matt’s breath is warm against my ear and his hearts thudding under my fingertips. ‘Stay over,’ he whispers.

  I could forgive him almost anything, but can I deal with his involvement in Mel’s and the baby’s lives? Can I see myself making a commitment to Mel’s child because, as Matt’s partner, I would have to be prepared to care for it too? Call me selfish, or just plain scared, but I’m afraid that it would be too much of a struggle, that I would end up loving Matt less.

  I stiffen. ‘I can’t do it,’ I mutter, pulling away and looking into his face.

  ‘Is this it?’ he says, his eyes shimmering with tears. ‘Please don’t say it’s over. Don’t let Mel come between us.’

  ‘It isn’t just Mel though, is it?’ I say, standing up.

  ‘Nicci,’ he says, his voice breaking, ‘I think I love you.’

  ‘I think I love you too, but it isn’t enough,’ I say, crying. ‘Let me go. It’s better this way.’ I walk out, not daring to look behind me in case the sight of him makes me weaken. Outside, I stare up at the sky and I feel completely alone. My heart is broken.

  I’m not so alone when I return home and I’m glad of my family’s company over the next few days. Without them I might well have curled up in a ball and given up, but I can’t do that in front of Sage and Gabriel. Work helps me too, and Willow, of course.

  And what about Matt? He’s called and texted every day to tell me that he’ll always be there for me, if I should change my mind.

  Mum calls me too to let me know that Beauty has had to return to the hospital at Westleigh for another operation to repair a hernia which formed as a result of her colic surgery, and to find out if the rumours are true that Matt and I are no longer an item.

  ‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ she says when I confirm that it is indeed the case and explain the reasons for the split. ‘How are you? Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Thanks for the offer, Mum, but, no.’

  ‘Are you keeping busy?’ She pauses. ‘Of course you are. Is your sister still with you?’

  ‘She is. And I want to ask you something while we’re on the subject. It’s her birthday on Friday and I’m planning a small celebration with her and the children. I’d like you to be there too.’

  ‘Does she want me there?’

  ‘I’m not going to give her the choice.’

  ‘Is that wise, after the way she lost it last time?’

  ‘If I could just get you together in the same room with the kids and a glass of wine, Cheska might see how things could be if she could bring herself to forgive and forget the past. Please, Mum.’

  ‘It sounds so simple, but I suspect this rift between me and your sister runs far deeper than you imagine, Nicci.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ she says without responding to my question.

  ‘Can you do me a favour though?’ I ask. ‘Let yourself into the house round the back. It’s at seven o’clock on Friday.’

  I think a party will cheer us all up.

  On Friday morning, I get up extra early to ride Willow before work because it’s only a few weeks until the last one-day event I’ve entered for this season. She’s fit and well-muscled and I’m maintaining her stamina with plenty of hacking, trotting and cantering up steep hills. Having washed her down, I turn her out so she can have a good roll in the paddock. I watch her choose her patch beside the gate where she’s grazed the grass down to a few blades, sink down to her knees, rub her face against the bare earth and roll. She rubs her back, her legs in the air, her expression one of ecstasy, before rolling right over to her other side. She repeats the exercise twice then stands up, shakes, and wanders away to graze.

  ‘See you later, Willow,’ I call, but she isn’t listening. Her flanks are reddish-orange with mud stains. I don’t know why I bothered to run the hose over her.

  That afternoon after work, I send Cheska to chill out in the living room while I enlist the children to help with the preparations. Sage makes the card and Gabriel helps me blow up balloons. I buy a cake from Jennie’s Cakes, flowers from Bridget at Petals, wine from Mr Lacey and party food from the Co-op.

  ‘Who is coming to the party?’ Sage asks.

  ‘You, me and Gabriel.’

  ‘What about Matt?’

  I shake my head, suppressing a wave of regret. I don’t know how long it will be before I stop missing him. ‘I thought we’d keep it close family only.’

  ‘Will Alan come for Mummy’s birthday?’

  ‘Daddy?’ says Gabriel.

  ‘No,’ I say, registering their disappointment. I can see them thinking that this isn’t going to be much of a party, and I wish that Cheska, who was clearly badly hurt by our parents’ divorce, had been more careful about putting her children in a similar position where their father figure is absent from their lives.

  Sage spears cocktail sausages on sticks and puts them onto a plate from which Gabriel promptly helps himself.

  ‘Gabriel, stop it. They’re for later,’ Sage says.

  ‘Okay,’ he says, taking another one.

  ‘It’s time to get this party started,’ I say, trying to divert them.

  ‘We’ll go and get Mummy,’ says Sage. ‘She’s going to have a big surprise.’

  ‘She certainly is,’ I agree. Little does Cheska know exactly how big a surprise it is.

  Sage and Gabriel lead her into the kitchen.

  ‘For me?’ Cheska looks from me to the balloons and flowers, and back.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ I say, moving up to give her a hug.

  ‘Sis, you shouldn’t have.’

  ‘I wanted to,’ I say, feeling a fraction uncomfortable at having to deceive her. ‘Wine?’

  ‘Please,’ she says.

  ‘Sausage,’ says Sage, picking up the plate. When Cheska declines, Gabriel offers to eat her share. ‘You’ve had twelve already – I counted the sticks.’

  I pour her a glass of wine, a large one. I think she’s going to need it.

  ‘Cheers,’ I say, handing it over.

  ‘Aren’t you going to have one?’ she says. ‘I dare you to break the habit of a lifetime.’

  ‘It’s all right. I’ll stick with apple juice.’

  ‘You are so predictable, Nicci.’

  I glance down the garden, catching sight of Mum walking up towards the patio. ‘There is one more surprise for you,’ I say, moving past Cheska to open the back door. ‘Come in, Mum.’

  ‘It’s Granma,’ says Sage.

  ‘Granma,’ echoes Gabriel, wide-eyed.

  Mum steps inside. I close the door behind her and quietly turn the key in the lock.

  ‘Happy birthday, Cheska,’ Mum says.

  Cheska loosens her grip on the wine glass, which drops to the
floor, smashing into tiny pieces.

  ‘Oops,’ says Gabriel.

  Cheska glares at me. ‘Nicci, what is she doing here?’

  ‘I invited her. Mum, grab yourself some wine.’ I get another glass out of the cupboard for my sister.

  ‘How could you do this to me on my birthday, of all times? I’m not staying.’

  ‘Oh yes you are,’ I say fiercely. ‘You are going to sit down and talk.’

  ‘What about the mess?’ Sage asks.

  ‘I’ll clear it up later. Now, can you and Gabriel go up to my room and make a pass the parcel? I’ve left the prize for you to cover in as many layers as you can. The sticky tape’s on the bed and you can take the rest of the Chronicle to add to the wrapping paper that’s already up there.’ I grab the wine bottle and carry it into the living room, ushering my mother and sister along in front of me. ‘Sit!’ I tell them.

  Cheska drains her fresh glass of wine in one go before perching her bottom on the windowsill. Mum sits on the sofa, sipping at her wine. I sit on the armchair in between them like a referee.

  ‘I’ll start then,’ I say, watching them staring at each other. ‘I’m not here to take sides, nor do I expect you to become best friends. What I would like is for you to be on speaking terms – for Sage and Gabriel’s sake. They’re lovely kids and they deserve the chance to get to know their grandmother.’

  ‘If they knew what she’s like, they’d run a mile,’ Cheska says snappily.

  ‘Darling, no,’ Mum murmurs.

  ‘Don’t you “darling” me,’ Cheska says, standing up straight. ‘I am not and have never been your “darling”.’

  ‘That isn’t true,’ Mum argues. ‘I’ve always loved you.’

  ‘You have the strangest way of showing it. If you’d loved me, you would have respected my decisions, like you did for Nicci.’

  ‘Well, she always makes the right choices.’

  ‘Mum,’ I cut in. I wish she hadn’t said that. She’s antagonising Cheska further with her implied criticism.

  ‘Let’s go back, shall we?’ Cheska says. ‘When Nicci went off to uni, you couldn’t wait for me to leave home too.’

  ‘That isn’t true.’ Mum gazes down into her glass. ‘I admit, I wasn’t the most fun person to be with when Nicci left. I missed her.’ She looks up at me. ‘We used to spend so much time together with the horses.’