Vets in Love

by Cathy Woodman

  Matt picks something up and walks up to the smooth dark sand, still wet where the tide has fallen away. He bends down and starts writing in the sand.

  ‘What does that say?’ Sage says, joining him, her face flushed, her hair damp and her legs dripping with water.

  Matt pauses, keeping what I can see now is the end of a cuttlefish bone in the sand. ‘Be patient, Sage. You’ll see in a minute.’

  ‘That’s a love heart,’ she cries out and comes running up to tell me, even though you can hear her joyful cries from one end of the beach to the other. ‘Nicci, Nicci, Matt’s drawn you a love heart.’ She holds out her hand. ‘Come and see.’

  ‘Pull me up,’ I say, and we jog down the beach to join Matt, who is standing with his hands on his hips, admiring his handiwork.

  M 4 N 4 Ever.

  ‘No one’s drawn a love heart in the sand for me before,’ I say, going over to kiss him full on the lips. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m hungry,’ Gabriel interrupts, and we go back to eat our picnic. There is sand everywhere, in the drinks and the food. The Bobster sits drooling, waiting for crumbs.

  ‘That must be why they’re called sandwiches,’ Sage says.

  ‘I think it has more to do with a man called the Earl of Sandwich who decided it was a good idea to put a filling between two slices of bread,’ Matt says.

  ‘My explanation’s better than yours.’

  ‘I want ice cream,’ Gabriel says, throwing his bread onto the sand, where a young seagull with speckled plumage swoops down and grabs it.

  ‘You’ve had one already,’ I observe.

  ‘Can’t we have another?’ Matt says. ‘Is there a rule that states a daily dose of one ice cream only?’ His eyes light up with humour. ‘It can’t have anything to do with healthy eating. Look at the picnic you’ve brought, Nicci. It’s all cake and chocolate and fizzy drinks.’

  I give him a lightly mocking look. He’s far too soft.

  ‘Oh go on,’ I say.

  ‘I’m buying.’ Matt touches his back pocket, remembers he’s wearing shorts and digs around for his jeans under the spare towels to find his wallet. ‘Come on, Gabriel, let’s go. What do you girls want?’

  ‘I’m all right thanks,’ I say after Sage has put in an order for a cornet with raspberry ripple ice cream and two flakes.

  ‘Why don’t you two go, Sage?’ Matt says. ‘I can give you my wallet. Don’t lose it though.’

  I watch them go, Gabriel trotting alongside Sage to keep up with her.

  ‘Peace at last,’ Matt grins. ‘At least we can watch them from here.’ He lies back with a towel strategically placed across his midriff to his knees.

  ‘Where’s the dog?’ I ask.

  ‘She’s gone with them.’

  ‘I meant to ask you how Beauty is doing. Mum said she was back in hospital.’

  ‘Yes, I was really hoping I wouldn’t see her again – not your mum, the pony. I repaired the hernia on Friday, and she’s up and about again. I won’t let her go home until we’re sure there’s no infection in the wound like last time.’

  ‘I bet Robert isn’t happy, having to pay out yet more money.’

  ‘You know these mad owners. They’ll do anything to save their horses.’

  ‘We’re back,’ Sage announces happily soon after. She drops Matt’s wallet into the cool-box. ‘Thank you, Matt.’

  ‘Thank you, Matt,’ Gabriel echoes.

  Matt gazes at me and I give him a rueful smile. I know what he means, that it would be good to have some time together, just the two of us, but it isn’t to be.

  Back at the house we have fish and chips, and Sage has a shower and Gabriel a bath. There are sticky fingerprints and tiny heaps of sand all over the house.

  Sage reads her brother a story and Matt and I are trying to persuade them both to go to bed, but they’re concerned because their mum isn’t home.

  ‘Where is Mummy? Hasn’t she texted you, Auntie Nicci?’ Sage asks.

  ‘She hasn’t, but maybe she’s on a train and hasn’t got a signal, or she’s run out of battery.’

  Sage’s lip wobbles and my heart melts.

  ‘Listen, Sage,’ I say, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. ‘She will be back.’ I pause. ‘Now, go to bed. Goodnight.’ I give her a hug. ‘You never know – Mummy might be here when you get up in the morning.’

  I hope she is anyway. I’ll be livid with her if she doesn’t turn up or at least let me know where she is. I’m also concerned though. Surely even my irresponsible sister wouldn’t abandon her children like this, knowing they’ll be worried, and I can’t help wondering if she’s met with an accident.

  I check that both the children are in bed before I rejoin Matt in the living room. I’m exhausted. My hangover is catching up with me.

  ‘I know you’re concerned about Cheska, but I enjoyed today. It was great.’ He leans back, puts his feet on the coffee table and pats the sofa alongside him. At first I assume it’s a gesture meant for me, but it’s for the dog. I smile to myself as the Bobster sits herself beside him. I give up. What are a few hairs between friends? Matt holds out a treat from his pocket. Oh, and a bit of drool, I think, as the string of saliva dangling from the Bobster’s chin drips slowly onto the fabric. Rather sheepishly, Matt scrubs at it with a piece of tissue.

  ‘I saw that,’ I say sternly.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Perhaps we’re incompatible.’

  ‘I can change.’

  ‘I don’t want you to change.’ I lean across to kiss him, aware that the Bobster is giving me one of her looks, showing the whites of her eyes and setting her mouth in a squiggly line like a Snoopy dog, an expression that means I really want to growl at you, but I know I’ll get told off if I do. ‘I like you just the way you are.’ I do. I touch my lips to his stubbly cheek. He smells of the sea and when I kiss his lips he tastes of salt and sweet toffee ice cream.

  ‘I wish I could take you upstairs, but I don’t suppose they’re asleep.’

  ‘And there’s no way of guaranteeing that they’ll remain asleep either.’ I sit down beside him, the opposite side from the Bobster. ‘I’ve texted Cheska again.’

  I stroke Matt’s hair, curling it through my fingers, but I can’t settle. ‘I’m going to call the police.’

  ‘I don’t think you can count her as a missing person yet,’ he says.

  ‘I’ve left at least five messages on her voicemail,’ I go on.

  ‘Hey, don’t panic, Nicci.’

  ‘What am I going to do? What if she’s not back by Monday? I was going to ride first thing and I’ve got to be at work at nine.’

  ‘So have I,’ he says, ‘otherwise I’d offer to have the kids for a while.’

  ‘They aren’t your problem, not that they are a problem,’ I add quickly as Sage appears, crying in the doorway.

  ‘I can’t get to sleep.’

  When a cuddle doesn’t help, I end up giving her ice cream that drips off the spoon and onto the sofa. The Bobster licks it clean.

  ‘Never mind,’ Matt says.

  ‘I’ll go to bed now,’ Sage says eventually.

  ‘Cheska isn’t much like you,’ Matt observes. ‘She seems pretty thoughtless.’

  ‘I’ve always been the sensible one,’ I say. ‘Does that make me sound boring?’

  ‘Cautious. Which is weird when you’re more than happy to risk your neck on a horse.’

  I’d love Matt to stay, but together we decide he should go home because it would feel awkward if Gabriel should turn up in my bed and find Matt there as well.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Another time soon,’ he says, rubbing noses as we embrace at the front door.

  ‘Soon,’ I echo.

  ‘I hope you have a peaceful night,’ he smiles.

  It is not peaceful. Sage has nightmares about giant crabs and tidal waves, crying out several times during the night, and at some unearthly hour of the morning, Gabriel crawls under my duvet, snuggles up and f
alls asleep.

  Sunday passes in a blur, and somehow I manage to keep the children occupied and my growing anxiety hidden. But on Monday morning I sleep through my alarm, which means I don’t get to the yard to ride Willow and, more worryingly, there is still no sign of Cheska. At seven, I slide out of bed, trying not to disturb Gabriel, who once again lies with his head on my pillow, his flaming curls falling across his face, his thumb in his mouth.

  I’ve got to be at work before nine. I can’t leave the children home alone. What am I going to do? I notify the police – they can make enquiries when they decide it’s appropriate. I grab a quick shower before waking Sage.

  ‘Where are your clothes?’ I ask her, as she stretches and stares at me, bleary-eyed. ‘It’s time to get dressed and have breakfast.’

  ‘Where’s Mummy?’ she asks, and my heart sinks because I’d hoped to avoid that conversation until later. ‘Have you heard from her?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I say brightly. ‘I imagine she’s on her way though. She should be back very soon.’

  ‘I worry that Mummy will do something bad to herself and we won’t know where she is,’ Sage says in a small voice.

  I touch her back. ‘Has she ever suggested she’d do anything bad?’

  ‘Sometimes when she’s really sad, she says she’ll walk out and disappear, or she’ll hurt herself.’

  I’m torn between compassion for my niece and anger towards my sister. It’s all very well harbouring dark thoughts, but you can’t express them in front of your children. It isn’t fair.

  ‘I keep asking her to go to the doctor,’ Sage goes on, sounding like she’s twenty-one, not eleven. ‘Could you speak to her, Nicci?’

  ‘Certainly,’ I say. I’ll be having words with her when she turns up. Sage is right – my sister needs professional help.

  I ask Sage for their home address, but when I try to trace the phone number the landline has been disconnected.

  ‘Is there anyone Mummy might go and stay with? Has she got a best friend?’ She’s mentioned a couple of people, but I haven’t a clue who they are. It crosses my mind that I should drive up to London and look for her, but if she isn’t at the flat where she lives with Alan, it will be a wasted journey. When I ask Sage where Alan works, she says he’s a plumber and he goes out and about in an unmarked, unidentifiable white van, which is no help at all.

  ‘Are you going to look after us today?’ Sage goes on bravely.

  ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’ I’ll have to.

  ‘What are you going to do about work?’

  ‘I haven’t figured that out yet. Don’t worry though. I’ll think of something.’ What can I do? I can’t possibly take them to the surgery. There’s the nursery in Talyton, but I don’t like the idea of leaving Gabriel with complete strangers, not without preparing him in advance, and Sage is far too old.

  I call the surgery to see if I can negotiate a later start with Ben, but Claire says he’s out on an urgent house call and there are two patients waiting for me already. There is only one thing for it – I call my mother.

  She’s over the moon.

  ‘Of course, I’ll have them for you.’ She pauses. ‘Nicci, I’m so sorry about the other night. I wish I’d talked to you about it, the abortion …’

  ‘Mum, there’s no time for that right now, and I know you would have done what you thought was best at the time. Just come over to the house asap.’

  ‘I’m on my way, poor little mites. Oh, I can’t wait to see them.’

  ‘Mummy doesn’t mind us seeing Granma?’ Sage asks.

  ‘She isn’t here to ask, so we’ll assume it’s okay. Now, hurry up and get dressed. I’ve got to go to work. I have patients waiting for me.’ I can tell it’s going to be one of those days.

  Mum’s on my doorstep within fifteen minutes.

  ‘I’ll have to leave you to it, I’m afraid,’ I say, throwing on a cardigan. ‘Sage, you know where everything is.’

  ‘I do, Nicci,’ she says.

  ‘Don’t worry about us,’ Mum says with a smile. ‘We’re going to have a lovely day.’

  When I return from work, they appear, from the state of the kitchen, to have had far too much fun together. For once, Mum’s clothes are rather the worse for wear, spattered with what could be cake mix and tomato ketchup, but she’s still smiling – for the children’s benefit anyway. She’s extremely anxious about Cheska.

  ‘She hasn’t been in touch with you, Nicci?’ she says, taking me aside.

  I shake my head. I’ve tried calling her several times throughout the day.

  ‘I spoke to that daft police constable on the phone – I didn’t like to go down to the station with the children.’

  ‘What did he say?’ I ask quickly.

  ‘He said he’s making some enquiries and he’ll let us know when he has any news, but he wasn’t terribly optimistic. Cheska’s an adult and she left voluntarily. And she has a habit of disappearing.’

  ‘I know,’ I say, forcing optimism. ‘I just wish she wasn’t so thoughtless. All she has to do is text me to let me know she’s safe.’ I change the subject, finding it too painful to think of the alternative, that she’s done something really stupid and hurt herself. ‘How have the children coped?’

  ‘They’ve been wonderful. You know, I’ve loved having my grandchildren for the day. Sage is such a clever girl – she reminds me of you. And Gabriel – well, he’s cheeky and happy-go-lucky, much like Cheska used to be at his age.’ She lowers her voice. ‘Do you think she’ll let me have them another time now she knows I’m not going to snatch them away from her?’

  ‘Sage and Gabriel, would you like another day with Granma sometime?’ I ask them when they return to the kitchen to show me the drawings they’ve done, a rainbow and a ‘Please come home, Mummy’ card, the sight of which makes me want to cry.

  ‘Can we do some more cooking?’ Sage says. ‘We made gingerbread men and iced them.’

  ‘Didn’t you save me one?’

  ‘We ate them all,’ Sage giggles. ‘I had two and Gabriel had three.’

  ‘They didn’t want any tea,’ Mum says.

  ‘Hardly surprising,’ I say quietly.

  ‘Let me spoil them a little. I have to make up for a lot of lost time.’

  I keep my thoughts to myself, that she might have to make the most of this precious day, in case Cheska throws a wobbly when she does come back and refuses to let her see them again. I can only hope that this is progress, and that Sage and Gabriel will be able to put pressure on their mother themselves.

  I notice a rosette lying among the post and other debris on the kitchen worktop and wistfully I picture Willow in my head. How I wish I could be riding instead.

  *

  It’s three days in all before my sister comes home. She calls me from the train.

  ‘Hi, sis. You couldn’t give us a lift, could you?’

  ‘Actually, I couldn’t.’ Although I’m relieved to hear her voice and know she’s safe, I’m furious with her for not getting in touch before, and I’m in the middle of morning surgery. ‘I can’t just drop everything. You’ll have to get a bus.’

  ‘There isn’t one for another two hours. Buses to Talyton St George are as rare as hen’s teeth, you know that. What about Matt? Could he pick me up?’

  ‘I’m not asking Matt. How much is a taxi?’

  ‘I can ask,’ she says brightly.

  ‘I’m not paying for it. Cheska, you’ve brought this on yourself. You’ll have to bloody well walk.’

  ‘Nicci, you swore!’ she exclaims. ‘You never swear.’

  ‘You’ve driven me to it,’ I tell her sharply. ‘You have one hell of a lot of explaining to do.’ I cut the call and immediately phone Mum at the house to let her and the children know Cheska is safe and well and on her way. Then I turn my attention back to Fifi Green’s blood test results, mulling over the possible causes of her anaemia before I call her up to give her the news and a plan of action to return her red blood cell count to nor
mal.

  Cheska arrives at the surgery two hours later when I’m sitting in the staffroom eating lunch with Claire.

  ‘Nicci, would you mind? The taxi driver’s waiting outside,’ she says as if nothing has happened.

  ‘Yes, I do mind. Tell me why I should bail you out again? You’re a liability, Cheska. You’re thoughtless, cruel—’

  ‘But the driver needs paying. What am I going to do?’ she goes on helplessly.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake. Will he take a card? I haven’t got any cash on me,’ I say, fuming inwardly as I get up to fetch my purse out of the locked drawer in my desk in the consulting room. Luckily he does take cards. When I return, I find my little sister eating the remains of my sandwich.

  ‘Hey, that’s mine.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I thought you’d finished with it.’ She smiles. ‘I wish you wouldn’t get so stressy.’

  My fingers tighten around my purse. ‘I take it that you’ve been having a good time while putting the rest of us through hell.’

  ‘That’s rather melodramatic,’ she counters.

  ‘Hardly,’ I say. ‘Where have you been?’ I take her aside into the consulting room where we continue our conversation in private.

  ‘Where do you think? I went to see Alan,’ she goes on without waiting for my response.

  ‘You and Alan? Are you back together?’

  ‘Not. We had some fun trying, but it’s time to accept it and move on.’ Her eyes begin to water, but they’re only crocodile tears, I think crossly.

  ‘You could have texted to let me know where you were, or left your address. We’ve all been worried sick. Sage thought you’d come to harm. We’ve even alerted the police.’ I stamp my foot. ‘How could you?’

  It’s as if a lightbulb is suddenly switched on in my sister’s brain. ‘I’m sorry. I was angry with you, so I went to see Alan, and I kind of got swept up with seeing him again, and I thought everything would be fine because Nicci will look after Sage and Gabriel,’ she says, turning to face the window. ‘I thought you’d enjoy getting to know the children.’