Vets in Love

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘Look, let’s forget the past and concentrate on now. For the children’s sake, unpack your bags and wait here until I get back tonight. I’ll have a chat with one or two people who might know of a house to rent around here, and then we can talk again. I’m not having you living in a single room. Promise me you’ll wait. Don’t go and do one of your disappearing acts.’ I pause. ‘Cheska, I need you to promise?’

  She starts rambling, talking as if she’s invincible. I recognise her mood, the excitement in her voice, the glint in her eyes and the mania.

  ‘I don’t need you to help me out, Nicci. I don’t need anyone.’

  I wonder now if Alan couldn’t cope with Cheska’s behaviour, her ups and downs. To be honest, she’s like a hand grenade – you never know when she’s going to blow up.

  ‘Listen, I’ve got to get back to work in half an hour. Make sure you’re here when I get home. Even if you’re still intent on leaving, give it one more day. Don’t rush off without saying goodbye.’ I can feel my face crumple. ‘I thought you were going to stay.’

  ‘I really don’t want to hang around now I’ve made my mind up,’ she says.

  Sage joins us in the garden. I’m sure she’s listened to every word. She has the ears of a bat and the memory of an elephant.

  ‘I wanna stay another night, Mummy, because I have to say goodbye to Harry and Willow,’ she says quietly, her voice wavering. ‘Do we have to go? Only I’m going to miss them sooooo much. And Auntie Nicci,’ she puts her hand into mine. ‘And school. And Granma. I like it here.’

  My heart is breaking for her and myself. I’ll miss them too. I’ll miss the chaos and the noise, Peppa Pig and the graffiti on the walls.

  ‘Please, Mummy. Can we stay just one more day?’

  ‘I’ll see, darling.’ Cheska glances wildly around at the luggage as if she’s looking at it but not registering it in her brain. ‘We really should go.’

  Sage folds her arms across her chest. Her chin juts forwards.

  ‘I’m not going with you,’ she says icily. ‘I’m staying with Auntie Nicci.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘I want Nicci to be my Mummy from now on.’ Sage stamps her foot. ‘You can do what you like. You’re fired.’

  Cheska looks at me and I look at her, and suddenly the mood lifts.

  ‘Who do you think I am, your apprentice?’ She giggles. ‘You can’t fire your mother. It’s impossible. Whether you like it or not, Sage, you’re stuck with me.’

  Cheska’s words sober me. If I let her run off, it’s Sage and Gabriel who will suffer. It’s past time that I spoke to my sister about her erratic behaviour. I send the children out to buy milk and sweets, and sit her down for one of the most – no, the most difficult consultation of my life. I’ve thought about how I should broach the subject and whether I should act with tact or go for the blunt approach, but when it comes down to it, I just blurt it out.

  ‘Cheska, have you ever considered that you might be bipolar?’

  ‘What do you mean? That I’m mad?’

  ‘What I’m saying is that you have all the signs of bipolar disorder.’ She’s frowning as I continue, ‘You’ve always been impulsive, and sometimes you’re sociable and upbeat, and other times you hide away and I don’t hear from you for months. I’m not criticising or attacking you. I want to help. It’s important for you and the children that you’re well.’

  ‘I’m not ill.’ She swears. ‘Really, Nicci, you’ve been reading too many medical textbooks.’

  ‘I’m a doctor. That’s what I do.’

  ‘Well, there’s no need to use me as a guinea pig. Go and practise on someone else.’

  ‘I can’t diagnose or treat you because I’m family. What I’m suggesting is that you register with Ben, the other doctor at the practice. He can talk you through it and refer you on to the right people, if it’s necessary.’

  ‘Are you doing this because you want me to be seen leading a normal, respectable, boring middle-class life?’

  ‘Of course not, although I’m pretty sure that’s the sort of life you are leading right at this moment, seeing as you’re living with me, your normal, vaguely respectable, boring middle-class sister.’

  ‘You aren’t normal,’ she says, sitting on the lawn plucking at the grass.

  ‘Thanks a lot.’

  ‘I don’t mean you’re mad,’ she says. ‘You’re extraordinary.’ She pauses, biting her lip. ‘Nicci, there are times when I think I’m losing my mind.’

  ‘So, you will see Ben?’

  ‘Don’t push it.’ She stands up and brushes grass from her skirt.

  ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Cheska.’

  ‘I don’t want to be labelled. I won’t be able to get a job.’

  ‘If you are bipolar, you can have treatment—’

  ‘I’m not taking mind-altering drugs,’ she interrupts. ‘And I don’t want talking therapy. I want to be me.’

  ‘It won’t change you. All it will do is smooth out the ups and the downs and make everything easier to cope with.’

  ‘I shan’t take anything, so there’s no point in going to the doctor.’

  ‘You are a very stubborn patient.’ I start picking up half-empty glasses of squash, tipping out the wasps taking advantage of the unseasonable October weather. ‘I’ll leave it with you then.’

  Cheska is cool with me for a few days and I wonder if I should have said anything, but I know I’m right. My diagnosis is correct. It isn’t something I could have kept to myself. If she doesn’t want to accept help, that’s up to her, I’ve done what I can.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Feeling Down? Saddle Up.

  ‘HELLO, NICCI.’ DELPHI looks over the stable door where I’m changing Willow’s rugs. It’s a cold day in late November, and she needs an extra layer. ‘All mine are having their pyjamas on too,’ she observes. ‘It’s going to go down to minus one overnight.’

  ‘I’m glad I’m not one of your riding school ponies.’ They stay out full-time all year round.

  ‘That’s how they’re supposed to live – out 24/7. It’s better for their heads – it’s bad for business when they gallop orf with the small children. Delphi snorts with disapproval. Willow snorts as if in agreement with her. ‘Shane and I were wondering if you wanted to have a ride.’

  ‘Is Shane here?’

  ‘He’s dropped by because he had a cancellation. Go on, Nicci. Dark Star is tacked up ready. You know you want to …’

  I disentangle a small knot at the base of Willow’s mane. ‘I don’t know …’ I want to, but I also know how strongly Matt doesn’t want me to, and the fact it’s on a horse he considers a bit of a nutter doesn’t make it any better.

  ‘Seeing as Shane’s here, I thought it would be nice for you to work with him again, for old times’ sake.’

  I sigh inwardly. Delphi can be very pushy, or am I blaming her for my lack of resistance to the idea of a ride? I’ll be riding in an enclosed arena with Shane present. What can go wrong? Matt can’t tell me what to do – it isn’t right.

  ‘I’m not supposed to ride for another couple of weeks. My ribs are taking longer to heal than my consultant anticipated.’

  ‘You’re a doctor. You can give yourself the all-clear, and Matt need never know,’ Delphi goes on. ‘Shane and I won’t breathe a word.’

  ‘Oh, all right then,’ I say, with a frisson of excitement at the thought of being back on a horse again, a challenging, fiery horse with potential, like Dark Star. ‘I’ll grab my hat.’

  Delphi and Shane have been plotting this moment, I think to myself as he gives me a leg-up onto Dark Star in the chilly confines of the indoor school. I swear it’s warmer outside in the yard.

  I stroke Dark Star’s neck, which is slightly bristly where his clip is growing out. I slip my feet in the stirrups and take up the reins, and I’m back in the saddle. Although I have butterflies in my stomach because it’s the first time since I came off Willow, I forget the odd twinge in my r
ibs and tighten my calves sending Dark Star forwards. He breaks pace into a jog. I pull him back, but he doesn’t respond until Shane calls, ‘Whoah there, big boy,’ and he slows to a bouncy walk.

  ‘VB, don’t forget to breathe,’ Shane says. ‘You’re tense and you’re transmitting that tension to the horse. He’s picking up on how you’re feeling. He’s one of those sensitive kind of guys that you ladies say don’t exist.’ An image of Matt briefly crosses my mind as I recall him crying when he visited me in hospital after the fall – he’s a sensitive guy too – and I’m risking everything we have by giving in to temptation and riding Dark Star, but I’m still miffed with him for not being strong enough, I suppose, to overcome his opposition to my desire to compete. I know it isn’t something I can agree to because it’s such a big part of my life.

  ‘VB, listen up!’ Shane yells, laughing at the same time. ‘Book yourself an appointment to syringe out your ears. I said change the rein at marker K then, when you hit the track again, into working trot.’

  I relax my fingers on the reins, sit deep into the saddle, squeeze my calves against Dark Star’s sides and he springs forward like a cat, taking me by surprise, so instead of trotting when we hit the track, we’re in canter. I stay with him though, which is possibly a surprise for him in return.

  ‘He usually manages to part with his rider doing that trick of his,’ Shane says. ‘Keep him going forward, that’s it, a twenty-metre circle at A. You remember which marker that is, the one at the end of the school?’ He’s being sarcastic.

  ‘I haven’t been out of action that long,’ I say, smiling.

  ‘No backchat. No cheek,’ Shane says with mock sternness. ‘Now bring him back to trot and ask for a canter at X.’

  At X, I tentatively give Dark Star the aids for canter, at which he shies at either the sound of sand flicking up against the side of the arena or some imagined monster.

  ‘Well sat, VB,’ Shane chuckles. ‘Don’t look down – if you do, that’s where you’ll end up.’

  The next time I’m not so lucky. When I ask Dark Star to canter at the corner, he strikes off on the correct lead, then puts in a sneaky buck – I hold on but he catches me by surprise, entering rodeo mode, bucking repeatedly along the long side of the school. I cling on, trying to keep his head up and pushing him forward at the same time, but I’m too tense and tight, and with a twist of his body, he tips me off, sending me flying through the air and into the sand, where I land with a gasp and a splat.

  The pain … I let go of the reins. I have no choice as Dark Star gallops to the end of the arena and waits by the door for Shane to catch him and lead him back.

  ‘Are you okay, VB?’

  ‘I think so.’ Gingerly, I stand up. No bones broken this time, although I’ve jarred my collarbone again. There’s a sandy orange stain and sand stuck to my buttocks, but my ego is more bruised than my bum. ‘Give us a leg-up, will you?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Quite sure.’

  ‘You don’t have to. Perhaps the other doctors were right after all, and you need more time before you start riding again.’

  I can’t resist getting back in the saddle and I feel ready. It’s my choice – as I’ve heard my patients say: ‘I felt fine, doctor, so I went ahead and did what you told me not to do.’

  ‘Shane! As you know, I am a doctor, so please get on with it.’ Before I lose my nerve altogether … ‘I’m not going to let Dark Star think he’s won.’

  Back in the saddle, I give him a stern telling-off, making sure he doesn’t get away with anything. I move him on, making him trot circles, leg yield and perform perfect serpentines before asking him to canter once more, prepared this time for the bucking, keeping a firm hold on his mouth and my legs close to his sides. He moves beautifully. He looks and feels amazing. It’s his brain that’s the problem.

  ‘He needs more work,’ I say at the end of the session as I give him a pat and dismount. ‘He’s an intelligent horse. Some of this naughtiness is down to boredom.’

  ‘He needs plenty to think about,’ Shane agrees as I walk the horse around for a few minutes to cool down. Dark Star looks at me askance at first then settles and lowers his head, walking alongside me. ‘When are you up here next?’ I ask.

  ‘Whenever you want me,’ Shane replies. ‘I need the work, VB. Does that mean—?’

  ‘I’ll ride him. He’s great.’ I remind Shane that he mustn’t mention to Matt that I’ve been riding again, let alone on Dark Star. If he finds out, he’ll kill me – metaphorically speaking – and it will be the end of a beautiful relationship.

  ‘How will you convince him it’s all right?’ Shane asks. ‘I’m not sure how I’d feel if my other half went behind my back.’

  ‘I’ll find a way. Once I’ve ridden a few times and I can prove he’s safe, Matt will come round.’ I smile wryly. ‘I can only hope.’

  Dark Star is so different from Willow. I don’t feel like I’m in partnership with him. For now, we feel more like two lovers at odds with each other, but will there be passion at the end of the day?

  I am back from the yard later than I said I would be, and when I get home, Matt’s car is outside. Swearing under my breath, I glance down at the evidence of my fall. This is not good. What can I do? Can I blag it? Can I avoid being caught out?

  I leave the car a little way along the road, pull a cap over my particularly bad case of hat hair, and go around to the rear of the house so I can walk up the garden path to the back door and sneak in that way, leaving my muddy boots on the patio. As I enter the kitchen, I’m greeted by the aroma of just-baked fairy cakes and – my heart sinks – Sage and Gabriel sitting at the breakfast bar, scraping out the pink sponge mixture from the bowl. I think they’re supposed to be eating it but it’s all over their faces.

  ‘Auntie Nicci!’ Sage exclaims.

  ‘Sh!’ I say. ‘I’m not here.’

  She frowns, but Gabriel doesn’t get the subtleties of the message. He’ll never make it in the diplomatic service.

  ‘Why? Are you playing hide and seek?’

  I hold my breath then groan when I hear Cheska’s voice.

  ‘Nicci, is that you? I didn’t hear you come in.’

  ‘She came in the back door,’ says Sage.

  Here we go, I think, as Matt and Cheska join us in the kitchen. Matt smiles at me as he folds a used fairy cake case and drops it into the pedal bin, making me smile back in spite of my situation. He’s gradually becoming more domesticated – there was a time when he’d have left it lying around for the Bobster to chew into soggy pieces and spit out on the floor.

  ‘I couldn’t wait for the icing,’ he says.

  ‘We’re going as quickly as we can,’ Sage says. ‘Anyway, I thought you were going to buy some more sprinkles.’

  ‘I will do.’

  I’m just beginning to think there’s a chance that Matt is going to push off to the shops and I’ll get away with it but he moves to the breakfast bar and takes another undecorated fairy cake from the batch cooling on the rack.

  ‘I’ll go as soon as I’ve had another one of these.’

  Like a naughty child, I sidle into the corner, hoping to hide the evidence of my fall. My pulse is racing and my palms are damp. Even now I could come clean, but I can’t bring myself to because I know how strongly Matt feels about me riding again, especially so soon and on Dark Star.

  ‘Hi, darling,’ Matt says, coming over to join me. ‘I drop in to see how you are and find that you’re up at the yard with Willow.’ He kisses me, his forehead bumping into the peak of my cap. I want to laugh but the renewed force of the pain in my ribs is too much to bear. I bite my lip.

  ‘I think you’ve overdone it,’ he says. ‘Go and sit down. I’ll bring you tea and a cake.’

  ‘She can’t sit down in those dirty jodhpurs,’ Sage chuckles, repeating my words back to me. How many times have I told her that she can’t come into the living room to watch television until she’s changed out of her riding
gear?

  ‘That’s me been told,’ I say brightly. ‘I’ll be a few minutes.’ I start to edge my way around the kitchen, but I can’t quite make it to the door without either revealing my rear or looking like a freak.

  ‘Did you fall over in the muck heap, Auntie Nicci?’ Sage sings out. ‘Turn round and show everyone your bottom.’ Sage is too sharp for me. ‘That’s sand – you’ve been riding, you lucky thing!’

  I am mortified. I can’t lie.

  ‘Nicci?’ says Matt, the muscle in his cheek taut.

  ‘I fell off Dark Star,’ I say in a tiny voice.

  ‘You what?’ A veil of disappointment falls across his eyes.

  ‘How did it happen?’ says Sage, oblivious to the tension between us. ‘Did he buck you off?’

  ‘More importantly, what the hell were you doing on that horse in the first place?’ he growls. ‘You promised me …’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, close to tears. ‘I can explain.’

  ‘Don’t bother.’ He pushes past me.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Home to see the dog. I can rely on the Bobster.’

  ‘Matt! Wait!’ I follow him down the hallway. I grab for his arm, but he shakes me off.

  ‘I’ve got to get out of here. I need some air.’

  ‘Bye, Matt,’ Sage calls after him.

  Matt hesitates, as if he’s just remembered we’re not alone.

  ‘Goodbye Sage, and thanks for all the cakes.’

  ‘So what did happen?’ Sage says, tugging at my sleeve as I watch Matt drive away and the rain fall from a grey sky. It pours from the gargoyles’ mouths and drips down the stonework of the church on what is turning out to be a miserable evening.

  ‘Matt and I have had a falling-out,’ I say quietly.

  Sage slips her hand through mine.

  ‘He’ll be back,’ she says. ‘He loves you and he’s going to buy us some sprinkles for the fairy cakes.’

  I appreciate her conviction, even if it is misplaced, and I realise that this doesn’t affect me in isolation. The children have grown fond of Matt – he’s become a part of their lives as well as mine.