‘Please …’
Matt gives in and tells me the options.
‘Either we don’t treat her at all …’
‘And she’s put down.’
‘That’s one possibility, unless you turn her out as field companion or potential brood mare.’
‘She’d be bored stiff,’ I say, trying to imagine my clever horse mooching around a paddock for the rest of her life.
‘What I’d suggest is that we try the stem cell route of repair.’
‘You’d better tell me a bit more about it before I give you permission to experiment on my horse.’
‘It isn’t an experiment – this therapy’s been used with good results for a while now. We’ve had three horses at the hospital do very well with it. Anyway, if you let the injury heal naturally, you’ll be left with scarring and a weakened tendon. If we intervene we can make the injury heal better, though not necessarily more quickly. I’ve scanned the leg and put her on box rest.’
‘Bed rest for horses,’ I say. ‘For how long?’
‘Full healing takes up to eighteen months.’
‘Okay, where do these stem cells come from?’
‘I can extract the cells from Willow’s bone marrow, under sedation, from her breastbone. It’s straightforward but as with everything, there are risks.’
‘And then what?’
‘I send the sample off to one of the stem cell labs, and they’ll grow them before returning them to me to implant into the damaged tendon. Then Willow goes into rehab for twelve months, the aim being to get her back into full work. Simples.’
‘You make it sound so easy, but I can’t see Willow surviving three months on box rest. She’ll hate it, and she’ll go ballistic when I turn her out.’
‘We’ll sedate her for that too,’ Matt says.
I can see that he’s itching to go ahead with the treatment. It’s Willow’s best chance of returning to fitness.
‘I need to think about her long-term welfare. If it fails, will I have put her through a lot of pain and suffering and confinement in a stable for nothing?’
‘That I can’t tell you,’ he says gravely, stroking his chin. ‘As with everything in life, there are no guarantees.’
‘So, what does my vet recommend?’
‘Willow’s your horse. It has to be your decision.’
I think for a moment. When it comes down to it, there is no decision to be made. I’ll do anything to get Willow better. I owe it to her. I put her into this situation, so it’s up to me to try and make things right.
‘Where there’s life,’ I say. ‘Let’s go for it.’
‘That’s great. If you’re willing to bear the cost of the therapy, I won’t charge you for the investigations and hospitalisation.’
‘I can’t let you do that. She’s my horse.’
‘And you’re my girlfriend, I hope, unless that fall made you see sense.’ He chuckles. He doesn’t mean it. ‘And it’s my practice.’
‘Can you stem cell me?’ I ask.
‘I can give you a hug,’ he offers.
It’s one of those occasions where a saying rings true: love hurts, but to feel his arms around me, to know I’m alive, is bliss.
‘I don’t like hospitals even though I have one of my own,’ he observes.
‘No one does, do they?’
‘I said I’d bring your sister and the children in to see you later.’
‘That would be nice, but I’m expecting to go home very soon.’
‘Hey, there’s no rush.’
‘I need to get back to work.’
‘Ben’s organising a locum for as long as it takes, while you concentrate on getting yourself better. I thought you … when you were lying there so still …’ His voice breaks and my chest tightens with guilt and compassion.
He kisses me again and again. ‘I thought I’d lost you. I’ve never been so scared in my life.’
To my surprise I feel tears warm and wet against my cheek, Matt’s tears.
‘Matt, you’re crying. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise …’ I don’t know what to do and I haven’t a clue how to console him. Gradually, he regains his self-control and pulls away from me, keeping his hands on mine.
‘You remember you once asked me if I’d ever been engaged?’
‘Yes …’
‘The girl I proposed to – I met her at vet school.’
‘The one who turned you down?’
He nods and bites his lip.
‘And?’ I go on.
‘She was a brilliant rider, tipped for a place in the British eventing team. Anyway, she was riding her horse cross-country one day. She fell.’
From his expression, I don’t need to ask what happened. I reach out my arms to hold him, but the pain is too much. I can’t reach him because of my fractured bones, and he is unreachable anyway, in a place long ago and far away.
‘It was the worst day of my life.’ He grimaces as he explains what happened to the girl, the love of his life. ‘There are times when I never want to see another horse again.’
‘I didn’t realise. You never talked about it.’
‘I thought it would make you feel insecure. You were jealous of Mel.’
‘It’s only because I feel so strongly about you, Matt. I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through.’ I reach out gingerly for his hand and stroke his fingers. ‘It won’t happen again. It was a combination of circumstances – the weather, the ground, the horse and most of all, my riding …’
‘Let’s look forward, not back,’ Matt says.
‘Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.’
‘Just like you,’ he says gently.
Over the next forty-eight hours, I have a constant stream of visitors bearing cards and gifts. The nurses are always asking with ironic smiles if anyone can read the sign detailing visiting hours and the limit on the number of visitors per bed at any one time, but they bend the rules for Matt because he’s a vet, he’s charming and he’s hot, depending on which nurse you talk to.
It does make me feel better, knowing people are thinking of me, even if their sentiments are rather confusing. For example, Steve seems to think he’s cheering me up when he tells me in a sombre tone, as if I’m not out of the woods yet, that you never know when your number’s up.
‘Thanks for the gift,’ I say, staring at a bunch of grapes so shiny and perfect they look like stage props. ‘Are you sure those are real?’
‘Of course they are. Only the best for my doctor,’ he says.
Claire drops by with a cider cake from Jennie’s and tells me not to worry about work because they have a lovely locum.
‘You won’t need me any more,’ I say.
‘The locum doesn’t eat cake. You should hear her going on at us about healthy eating. There’s only so much we can take. We can’t wait to have you back.’
‘It’s going to be at least a couple of weeks.’
‘Ben says six.’
‘I’m negotiating. It depends how I feel and how quickly my bones heal.’
‘What does Matt think about that? I bet he isn’t happy.’
‘He’d rather lock me up in a box – he’s very protective.’ Why did I say that? It dawns on me that it’s something I feel uncomfortable about. He’s fun and strong-willed, and I know he wants what’s best for me, but I’m starting to wonder if what he thinks is best is quite different from what I think is best. It’s a tiny niggle, like the twinge of a sensitive tooth. I try to forget about it.
‘Hey, Nicci, your boyfriend’s back,’ one of the nurses calls from the ward entrance.
‘I’ll go,’ says Claire.
‘You can stay.’
‘Two’s company. See you soon, Nicci.’
‘Thanks, Claire.’
‘By the way, I forgot to tell you – the Browns have been assessed as eligible for a carer to pop in twice daily to help get Mrs Brown bathed and dressed, and to put her to bed.’
‘That’s great. When does tha
t start?’
‘Next week, I think.’
There is an awful lot of simpering from the nurses whenever Matt makes an appearance. He always arrives bearing gifts, a bouquet of flowers from Petals or boxes of clotted cream fudge, which I surreptitiously share with the nurses, so I don’t end up with a rump like a horse.
Wincing, I haul myself up to a sitting position and run my fingers through my hair to make myself half decent. It doesn’t work. I feel wrecked. Matt pulls a chair close to the bed.
‘You don’t have to do that for my benefit.’ He’s teasing and my reaction is to laugh, but the pain cuts me short.
‘Please don’t.’ I breathe. Laughter is supposed to be the best medicine, but it really hurts.
‘How are you today?’ Matt asks.
‘Not so bad. In fact, I’m ready to go home. They’ve said tomorrow.’
‘That’s great. I’ll take you home – you can come to mine and I’ll look after you. Please, Nicci, it’s perfect,’ he goes on when I hesitate. ‘I can help you out—’ my skin tingles at the sound of his husky whisper ‘—do the things you can’t, like scrub your back.’
‘Matt, it’s a lovely offer, especially the back scrub, and I’d love to show you my bruises in return,’ I tell him, ‘but seriously, I don’t want you to see me in the mornings all grumpy because I’m incapacitated and unable to ride. I get a bit cranky if I can’t get out on the horse.’
‘Well, you won’t be riding for a while.’
‘I know,’ I sigh. ‘But as soon as my injuries heal, or maybe a bit before, I’ll be back in the saddle.’
‘Now who’s disobeying doctor’s orders? Really, Nicci.’
I’m chuckling, but sober up quickly when I realise Matt’s serious.
‘Matt, I’m not stupid. You know, Delphi rode when her arm was in plaster.’
‘I hope you told her off.’
‘It was way before I qualified as a doctor. She’s amazing. She can ride most horses without reins or a saddle.’
‘Delphi’s mad,’ Matt says, ‘and you’re as bad. Promise me you won’t get back in the saddle too soon. Promise,’ he repeats.
‘I promise,’ I say eventually, more to shut him up than anything.
He kisses me. ‘I’ll see you later. I can sneak back in after hours. You don’t mind, do you, Carly?’ he says to one of the nurses passing by with a tray of medications.
‘I didn’t hear any of that, Matt,’ she says, her face glowing.
He leaves as Mum turns up with Sage.
‘This is for you,’ Sage says handing me a card with a drawing of me – I can tell because she’s dressed me in my cross-country colours – and Willow jumping a fence.
It reads, ‘To Nicci and Willow, get well soon. Lots of love from Sage x’
I turn away, choked up and put it on the shelf behind me, wincing as I turn back. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Does it hurt a lot?’
‘It’s getting better. That card is lovely, Sage. Thank you.’
‘Granma says that seven falls make a rider.’
‘That’s what they say. I must have come off more like seventy times since I started riding.’
Sage’s eyebrows shoot upwards. ‘Then it isn’t right,’ she says.
‘Possibly not,’ I agree.
‘You’ve fallen off a lot.’
‘It isn’t entirely surprising – I’ve spent many hours in the saddle.’
‘And a lot of time out of it,’ Sage says chuckling. ‘Auntie Nicci, are you a good rider or not?’
‘I’m okay, but there’s always room for improvement.’ I pause. ‘I hope it hasn’t put you off riding.’
‘No way,’ she exclaims. ‘I want to go cross-country one day.’ She changes the subject. ‘When do you come out of hospital?’
‘Tomorrow, I hope,’ I say, at which Mum also offers to collect me and take me home.
‘It’s all right,’ I say. ‘Matt’s coming to get me.’
‘Oh? Is he taking you home with him?’
‘He’s dropping me back to the house.’ I notice I don’t refer to it as my house any more. Matt can’t look after me because he’s at work. Cheska’s going to help me out. I don’t want to become too dependent on Matt and I don’t think drifting into living with someone is a great idea. I want to move in when we both choose, not because of circumstances, even if Matt does see it as a great opportunity to try and persuade me to live with him.
Chapter Seventeen
Bits and Pieces
A FEW DAYS later Delphi drives the lorry to collect Willow from the hospital. I’m not allowed to drive yet, which is ridiculous because I’m sure I can manage, even with a fractured collarbone. The lorry has power steering, after all. And Ben is happy for me to start work again soon with some half days, proving that my condition isn’t that bad.
Delphi parks the lorry, saying she’ll wait while I go and fetch the horse.
When I look over the stable door, Willow whinnies in recognition. Matt is in there too, running his hands down her legs while Mel holds her on a head-collar. Mel’s padded jacket fails to hide her pregnancy.
‘Hello,’ I say, over the moon to see my horse again, but a little unnerved to see Matt and Mel together.
‘Hi, darling,’ Matt says, looking up. ‘She’s ready to go.’ He walks across and kisses me, and I’m aware of Mel’s sharp intake of breath. I glance past his shoulder. Mel’s eyes glint from the shadows as she bites her lip.
Matt turns. ‘Would you mind taking her over to the lorry while I have a word with Nicci about aftercare?’
‘Yes, I do mind,’ Mel says. ‘I’m not here to look after your girlfriend’s horse.’ She throws down the end of the lead-rope, making Willow start. ‘Do it yourself.’
‘Mel!’ Matt exclaims. ‘Don’t get upset. Think about the baby.’
‘What about the baby?’ she says bitterly.
‘Our child,’ Matt continues, frowning.
‘Oh for goodness sake, it isn’t your baby, Matt.’
He steps back, his eyes wide with shock.
‘It isn’t yours,’ she repeats.
‘How?’ His fists curl with anger and distress and I open the door, wanting to comfort him, but he pushes me away. ‘Tell me how that can be.’
He doesn’t believe her, I think, but I recall what Henry said about the baby allegedly being Matt’s, a statement which, looking back, implied an element of doubt, and I remember how Matt said the baby was small for its dates at the scan.
‘I made a mistake.’
‘There was someone else? After all you’ve said about the way you feel about me?’
‘When you ended it, I was shattered,’ she sobs. ‘I had a stupid one-night stand and I slept with somebody else.’
‘Who?’ Matt growls. ‘No, don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter. I don’t want or need to know.’ He pauses. ‘Why did you do it?’
‘I hoped you’d come back to me,’ she stammers. ‘I love you, Matt.’
‘This isn’t love. It’s bloody madness.’
Mel’s face loses all its colour, she looks devastated. Then pushes past him and makes her way across the stable yard. I stand, gazing at my poor boyfriend, who looks pale and confused.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask him gently.
‘I’m not sure.’ The muscle in his cheek tautens and relaxes. ‘I’ve just got used to the idea that I’m going to be a dad. I’ve been dreaming about the child, imagining how he or she would grow up, who they were going to look like …’ He swears. ‘I can’t believe she carried the pretence on for so long.’
I hear a door slam.
‘Do you think someone should be with her?’ I say tentatively.
He sighs. ‘I’ll get one of the nurses to make sure she’s all right.’ He touches my back and I turn to give him a hug. ‘I’m sorry.’
So am I, I think. I feel sorry for Matt and although I’m furious with her, there is a small part of me that feels some sympathy for Mel. She need
s help and support, not blame.
‘I’ve got a couple of visits to make,’ he says eventually. ‘Can I come over later?’
‘Course you can,’ I say. ‘Whenever you like.’
He says goodbye, and I rescue Willow, who’s standing at the end of the stable, flicking her ears back and forth and showing the whites of her eyes. She doesn’t like confrontation. It makes her nervous.
‘Come on, girl.’ I pick up the end of the lead-rope. ‘Let’s get you home.’
I’m so pleased to see Willow back at the yard that I spend the rest of the afternoon and long into the evening with her, fortifying myself with hot chocolate and crisps, and promising myself I will return to a healthy diet when I’m better. After I left the hospital I visited her every day at Westleigh, and I cried every time to see her being so stoic about her situation, confined to a loosebox, and the treatment that caused her some distress, in spite of the painkillers Matt gave her.
Once everyone has disappeared home, fog drifts in from the sea as dusk falls. I redo Willow’s stable bandages – I’m not sure how much they aid healing, but it makes me feel better. I pick out her feet, remove the droppings from her stable and refill her hay net, and then I sit in the corner on an upturned bucket, watching and listening to her munching contentedly on her hay.
I hear the sound of a car and Dark Star next door shifts around his box as Matt appears at the stable door.
‘I guessed I’d find you here,’ he says smiling ruefully. ‘There was no one at home.’
‘My sister was taking the kids out for tea to an old schoolfriend of hers she met at Sage’s new school.’ I pause. ‘How are you?’
‘After Mel’s revelation, you mean?’ He runs his hands through his hair. ‘It’s a weight off my mind. How about you?’
‘The same. I can’t forgive her for what she did, but I’m relieved she came clean in the end.’ I move over to the door as Matt opens it for me.
‘I wish I was your horse,’ he says. ‘You can scratch my withers any time.’
‘Thank you for saving her life,’ I say.
He takes me by the hand and pulls me to him for a kiss and a bear hug.
‘Your nose is cold,’ I giggle. He’s dressed for the weather in boots, a big coat, and cords, and smells of musk and horse and surgical scrub.
Vets in Love Page 25
