Vets in Love

by Cathy Woodman

  I can sense my sister bristling with anger and resentment.

  ‘Yes, so much that you didn’t have time for me,’ she spits. ‘You never had time for me.’

  ‘I tried,’ Mum says, ‘but you pushed me away. And then you fell pregnant. At sixteen!’

  ‘And you were so ashamed, you could hardly bear to look at me,’ Cheska says.

  ‘It wasn’t that. I was upset that you’d thrown everything away on that bastard—’

  ‘You didn’t know him from Adam,’ Cheska cuts in.

  ‘I knew he was no good.’

  ‘I don’t believe you’re still arguing over a man all these years later,’ I say. ‘Why can’t you both agree to get over it and move on?’

  ‘She gave me the money for a private abortion,’ Cheska says, her voice like ice. ‘You see, Nicci, if our precious mother had had her way, Sage wouldn’t be here. She’s here wanting to see her grandchildren, yet if she’d got her own way, she wouldn’t have any. She doesn’t deserve them!’

  ‘I didn’t know this. Why didn’t I know about this?’ I mutter as Cheska makes for the door. ‘Hey, where are you going?’

  ‘Out,’ she says, collecting up her bag and shoes from the hall. The muscles in her arm are taut and sharply defined as she yanks the front door open.

  ‘What about the children? What do I tell Sage and Gabriel?’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something, you deceitful cow,’ she snaps. She stumbles outside and slams the door in my face, the sound vibrating throughout the house and bringing the children downstairs, Sage clutching the pass the parcel.

  ‘Where’s Mummy gone?’ she asks.

  ‘Oh, she’s popped out for a while,’ I say, forcing myself to maintain a brave front when inside my emotions are in turmoil – disbelief at my mother’s behaviour, compassion and resentment towards my sister for keeping the secret of their falling out from me, and worry for Sage and Gabriel at their mother walking out in the middle of her surprise birthday party. ‘She’s being a bit of a party pooper.’

  ‘I think I should go as well,’ Mum says, joining us. ‘I’m sorry, Nicci.’

  ‘I’m sorry too …’ I pause. ‘Why did you never say anything?’ I feel betrayed, left out.

  ‘I felt so guilty afterwards,’ she says. ‘I tried to forget it. Cheska never did and I don’t suppose she ever will.’ Mum looks towards Sage, tears in her eyes. ‘I’ll never forgive myself.’

  I throw my arms around her. ‘You can’t blame yourself for the rest of your life,’ I say. ‘You did what you thought was the right thing at the time.’

  ‘I know,’ she says, more calmly now, stepping back and taking a tissue out of her sleeve. ‘Hindsight is a wonderful thing.’ She forces a smile. ‘Goodbye, Sage. Goodbye, Gabriel. You’d better go and put some music on for the pass the parcel. I’m sure Auntie Nicci will join in.’

  So I’m left with two kids who are concerned about the whereabouts of their mother, a glut of party food, a pass the parcel with an unbelievable number of layers to get through, a couple of bottles of wine and an awful lot to think about.

  Sage puts the radio on, and I take control of the volume while she and her brother play pass the parcel, arguing about ownership every single time the music stops. Completely stressed out, I do what I have never done before. I pour myself a glass of wine and another and then another, until I am sitting on the floor, surrounded by shredded paper with Sage feeding me jelly babies and Gabriel asleep on the sofa.

  I try to get up, but the room is spinning and I feel terribly sick.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Sage asks me. ‘Mummy gets drunk sometimes,’ she adds matter-of-factly.

  ‘I’m not drunk,’ I protest, slumping back down on the carpet, my back against the coffee table.

  ‘You should be. You’ve had a bottle of wine all to yourself.’

  ‘Thank you, Sage.’

  ‘Do you think Mummy will be back soon?’

  ‘I expect so.’ I’m slurring. I’ve been such an idiot. How am I going to manage, drunk in charge of two kids? ‘Sage, would you mind fetching my mobile? I think I left it in the kitchen by the sink.’

  She brings it to me and I try calling Cheska, but her mobile is off, so I ring Matt instead.

  ‘Nicci, how are you?’

  My heart leaps at the sound of his voice. ‘Matt, I’m sorry to bother you, but I couldn’t think of anyone else.’ I don’t want anyone else. ‘I feel really unwell,’ I mumble.

  ‘I’ll be straight round,’ he says. ‘Don’t move.’

  Don’t move? I stare at the screen on my mobile. I can’t move. I feel as though I’ve been anaesthetised.

  Fifteen minutes or so later, I hear Sage letting Matt in and their voices in the hall. I must have drifted off for a while because when I wake, the children have disappeared and Matt is virtually carrying me up the two flights of stairs to the attic, where he gives me sips of water before undressing me very gently and tucking me into bed.

  ‘Would you like me to tell you a story?’ he says, smiling. ‘I’ve already read Postman Pat twice, but I reckon I could manage it once more for you.’

  I try to smile back, but my lips are numb and out of control.

  ‘I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry,’ I mumble.

  ‘You will be tomorrow. You’re going to have one hell of a hangover.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have called you.’

  ‘Hey, let’s have none of that.’ Matt sits on the edge of the futon, holding my hand. ‘Get some sleep, darling. It’s all right,’ he goes on. ‘I’ll stay over.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. Can I sleep here? With you?’ He pauses. ‘Someone should be with you when you’re in this state.’

  I nod weakly. Still fully clothed, he slides into bed alongside me and holds me close as I drift into a deep, alcohol-induced slumber.

  Chapter Thirteen

  White Horses

  I WAKE WITH the sun burning into my eyes, a throbbing headache and severe nausea. Groaning, I roll over, only to find Matt lying alongside me. I stare at him. He opens one eye.

  ‘Hi,’ he says, a smile playing on his lips. ‘How are we this morning?’

  ‘Bad,’ I say, closing my eyes to quell the sensation of giddiness that threatens to overwhelm me. ‘I knew there was a good reason why I don’t drink. Remind me never to touch the stuff again.’

  ‘Let me get you some breakfast,’ he says, getting up.

  ‘No, I couldn’t—’

  ‘You’ll feel better with something inside you.’

  Matt returns from downstairs with tea, paracetamol and fried eggs on toast – and Sage and Gabriel, who are curious to find out how I am and if there is any news of their mum.

  ‘Let Nicci eat her breakfast in peace,’ Matt says, dismissing them. ‘We need time to decide what we’re doing today. I thought we might go on a bit of an adventure.’

  We? I wonder what’s going on. Sage and Gabriel are excited though and they’re happy to take themselves off for a while to watch the television while Matt plans a trip out.

  ‘Matt, what are you doing?’ I say, forcing down a mouthful of toast. I really can’t face the eggs.

  ‘They’re having a rough time. I thought it would be easier for them to cope with their mum’s absence if we took them out for the day.’

  ‘What about work? I thought you were supposed to be at the hospital this morning.’

  ‘I’ve had a word with Jimmy. He’s going to cover for me. I’ve done enough favours for him recently. He owes me.’

  ‘I don’t want you to do this, thinking you can make it right between us,’ I begin.

  ‘I have no expectations,’ he says gravely. ‘I’m not going to make any secret of the fact that there’s nothing I want more than for us to get back together, but if you can’t deal with it, then c’est la vie. I’ll have to be content with being friends, if you’re willing.’

  I watch him picking imaginary pieces of fluf
f from his trousers and a lump forms in my throat. He is beautiful inside and out, and I can’t feel indifferent about him.

  ‘I’m not sure I can be just friends with you, Matt,’ I say hoarsely.

  ‘That’s going to make life difficult then.’ He hesitates. ‘Do you want me to go?’

  I shake my head. ‘You’ve been so kind. Last night … there aren’t many ex-boyfriends who would have come over to rescue me.’

  ‘To be honest, I’m glad you got raving drunk, Nicci.’ Recognising that I’ve had enough and that the sight of congealing cold eggs isn’t going to help me, Matt takes my plate and puts it on the floor. He clears his throat and reaches his hand across the duvet until the tips of his fingers are inches from mine. ‘Is there any chance … No, I shouldn’t have said anything. You’ve made up your mind. I’m sorry.’

  I slide my fingers closer to his until they make contact.

  ‘Matt, you’ve shown me what I’m missing.’ I look up and meet his gaze. ‘I don’t know how things will work out between us. I’m scared I won’t be able to deal with you seeing Mel and the baby, but I’m willing to take the risk, if you are.’ I wait, my chest tight, unable to breathe, until he answers me, interlinking his fingers through mine then curling his fist around my hand.

  He leans towards me and kisses me on the cheek.

  ‘Let’s see how it goes,’ he murmurs. ‘Now, where shall we go today? I thought the beach as the weather’s okay, or we could go to the farm the other side of Talysands, the one where you can drive a tractor and stroke the donkeys and the goats.’

  ‘Have you got buckets and spades?’ I ask, amused at Matt’s enthusiasm.

  ‘You know, I think there are some in the shed in my garden. If not, I’ll invest in some. We can buy a crabbing line and bait at the same time.’ He pauses. ‘I’ll have a look when I pop back to fetch the Bobster.’

  I’m still in the shower, trying to wash away the alcohol that seems to ooze from every pore on my skin, when Matt arrives back with the Bobster. I clean my teeth, towel dry my hair, leaving it loose, throw on shorts and a vest top and run downstairs to find Matt in the living room with Sage and Gabriel. Gabriel is trying to pack clothes for the beach – all of his clothes – into a shopping bag while Sage is sitting on the sofa with the dog on her lap.

  ‘Get off,’ I say, but the Bobster is oblivious, as is her owner. ‘There are some establishments where dogs aren’t allowed on the furniture, and this is one of them.’

  ‘She isn’t doing any harm, is she, Sage?’ Matt grabs me around the waist and pulls me close.

  ‘She’s all right.’ Sage puts her arms around the Bobster’s neck, and the dog licks the tip of her nose, making her giggle, and I can see there’s no point in pursuing the point. I’m not going to win this one.

  ‘Thanks again for last night,’ I whisper to Matt. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

  Our eyes and lips lock in a lingering kiss, making me wish for a brief moment that it was just the two of us.

  ‘Oh, please, no PDAs,’ I hear Sage sigh.

  ‘What’s a PDA?’ Matt asks, turning to her.

  ‘A public display of affection.’

  ‘Is that text speak? I don’t speak text.’

  ‘That’s because you’re so old,’ Sage says.

  ‘I can learn,’ Matt says, grinning.

  ‘I’ll teach you when we’re on the beach,’ Sage says. ‘Nicci, have you packed your swimming costume?’

  ‘I’ve put it in the bag, but I’m not sure I’ll wear it.’

  Matt’s grin broadens. ‘This isn’t a nudist beach, Nicci. We’re going to the far end of Talysands so the dog can come with us.’ He lowers his voice. ‘Not so you can parade naked across the sand, although I wouldn’t have any objections …’ He stops abruptly. ‘I apologise. I shouldn’t have said that, not yet. We’ve only just agreed to make a fresh start.’

  ‘It’s all right, Matt,’ I say. ‘I want you to be you, not on edge, pretending to be someone you aren’t.’

  ‘Did you know I can lip read?’ Sage cuts in.

  Matt blushes. ‘I do now.’

  ‘I’m ready,’ says Gabriel, dragging his bag that’s as big as he is across the floor.

  ‘I don’t think you’ll need your pyjamas,’ I say, catching sight of them hanging out of the top. ‘We’ll be home by teatime.’ But no matter how much I try to convince him, Gabriel will not leave his pyjamas or anything else behind, so it all goes into the boot of my car.

  ‘It’s lucky I couldn’t find any buckets and spades,’ Matt says, putting another holdall in the back. ‘They would never have fitted. We’ll have to buy them from one of the shops along the front.’

  A strange odour of rotting meat accompanies us on the journey to the coast, and at first I wonder if the Bobster, sitting in the footwell at Matt’s feet, has a problem with wind.

  ‘What’s that smell?’ says Gabriel, who has no concern for social niceties.

  ‘It’s you,’ says Sage with sisterly fondness. ‘You stink, little brother.’

  ‘I don’t. Mummy, I don’t stink.’

  ‘Mummy isn’t here, silly.’

  ‘I want my mummy.’ Gabriel kicks and screams perched on his car seat behind me. It’s most distracting.

  ‘It’s bacon,’ Matt says.

  Gabriel stops kicking. ‘Bacon? I like bacon. That smell is like poo.’

  ‘It’s bait for the crabs,’ Matt goes on to explain quickly. ‘It was past its use by date so I stuck it in my bag. It seemed a shame to waste it.’

  ‘Yuck,’ Sage says, chuckling.

  ‘I hope you didn’t put it anywhere near the picnic,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll catch any crabs with that,’ Sage says, her mouth turned down at the corners. ‘They won’t like it – it’s disgusting.’

  ‘That’s the whole point,’ Matt says. ‘The more revolting it is, the more the crabs will like it. We’ll catch loads of the little buggers.’

  ‘Matt!’

  ‘I mean creatures,’ he says with a grin.

  ‘Buggers,’ says Gabriel. ‘Buggers, buggers, buggers.’

  ‘You are a bad influence,’ I tell him.

  When we arrive, our first stop is at one of the shops along the beachfront to buy buckets, spades and crab lines. Gabriel isn’t happy with any old bucket. Oh no. He chooses a purple one shaped like a castle and a bright yellow spade. Sage goes for a blue bucket and a matching spade.

  ‘Do you want one, Matt?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t think so. I don’t think the doctors will approve of me doing any digging because of my shoulder.’ He glances at me. ‘Mind you, my doctor isn’t here.’

  ‘I’ll tell,’ I say. I’m teasing. ‘How is it anyway?’

  Matt swings his arm back and forth and over his head.

  ‘Not too bad,’ he says, sounding surprised. ‘The steroid Ben gave me must have had an effect. It was bloody painful for the first couple of days.’

  ‘Matt.’ I give him a nudge. ‘No swearing.’

  ‘Does she always nag people like this?’ he says, turning to Sage.

  ‘No, just you,’ she says, shielding the sun from her eyes.

  ‘I wanna catch a crab,’ Gabriel complains. ‘I’m bored.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ Matt says, and we carry various bits and pieces along to the end of the beachfront where we join the path that continues on top of the wall running alongside the estuary. We stop just beyond the moorings for the fishing boats and the small yachts and set up the crabbing lines over the edge of the wall.

  While Matt unpacks the stinking bacon, I point out the colourful houses and hotels of Talymouth on the opposite side of the estuary, and the rocky sandstone cliffs.

  ‘That’s where Mummy and I used to live with Granma when we were kids,’ I say, but neither Sage nor Gabriel is impressed. They’re too busy listening to Matt’s instructions.

  Sage lowers the first line into the water with Matt’s assistance,
while I hang onto Gabriel who is in danger of throwing himself over the edge in his enthusiasm to catch a crab.

  ‘How can you tell there are any down there?’ Sage asks, looking at the muddy brown water.

  ‘Just wait and feel for the tug at the end of your line.’ Matt squats down beside her. ‘Give it a little pull.’

  ‘I’ve got something.’

  ‘Pull it up.’

  ‘Yes!’ she says in triumph as she brings up a good-sized crab out of the water, at which it promptly detaches itself and drops back in with the bait firmly between its pincers. ‘Bother.’

  ‘I reckon that one’s done this before,’ Matt says. ‘Let’s try again with some more bacon. Watch out for seagulls.’

  It’s Gabriel who lands the first crab, a small one with a green carapace and barnacles.

  ‘Drop it in the bucket,’ I say, but he doesn’t like the crab as much as he thought he was going to. He screams, drops the line and runs for the bushes behind us as the crab lifts itself onto its back legs and makes a break for freedom, scuttling sideways to the edge of the wall and dropping back into the water with a plop.

  Sage laughs.

  ‘I don’t like it. I don’t like it!’ Gabriel wails.

  ‘What do we do?’ Matt says rather helplessly. ‘Shall we go and get an ice cream?’

  ‘I wanna catch a crab,’ says Sage. ‘It isn’t fair if Gabriel catches one and he doesn’t want to, and I want to but I don’t get a chance because he’s being a cry baby.’

  ‘All right,’ I say, intervening. ‘Gabriel and I will get an ice cream. You can catch up with us. There’s a café over there where we can watch from a safe distance.’

  Later, the crab incident apparently long forgotten, we head back towards the seafront to spend some time on the beach. I stake our claim to a small territory above the tideline, arranging the towels and unpacking the cool-box while Matt strips off his shirt and jeans – and I’m mightily relieved to see that he’s wearing shorts rather than Speedos. The wearing of Speedos could very well be a deal-breaker. Matt jogs down to the sea with Sage and Gabriel, where they scream and splash about in the waves, Sage in a strappy summer dress and Gabriel in shorts because they don’t have swimming costumes with them. Matt’s making a good job of distracting them – they’ve only mentioned Cheska’s absence three times so far. I settle down to make the most of the sun on my skin and watch the ‘white horses’ dancing on top of the water, soothing away the remnants of my hangover.