Vets in Love

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘Of course I won’t. I want to come with you.’ He takes my hand and gives me one of his caressing glances. ‘It might give us some ideas for the future.’

  My heart beats faster and louder as I hold my breath, afraid to express my understanding of what he’s proposing, in case I’m making a mistake and this isn’t a proposal at all.

  ‘Are you being deliberately obtuse?’

  Smiling, he leans forward, brushes his lips against mine and looks into my eyes, his pupils dark and dilated. ‘Nicci, I was going to do this properly with a ring and flowers, but it has to be now because it feels right … Will you … will you marry me?’

  ‘Oh, Matt …’ My heart leaps with joy, my head says don’t rush in, but for once I ignore my head and go with my heart. We haven’t been together for long and what we’ve been through with Mel and my fall from Willow has only made us stronger. ‘Yes, yes, yes. I’ll marry you.’ I throw my arms around his neck and he lifts me off the ground and swings me round and we’re both laughing and crying at the same time.

  The Bobster jumps onto the table and starts barking too, although whether she’s as enamoured of the idea of Matt and me getting hitched as we are, I’m not sure.

  ‘You,’ Matt says, holding my body tight against his, ‘have made me the happiest man alive. I love you.’

  ‘I love you too.’ It’s all happened so fast. Who would have thought six months ago, when I first set eyes on Matt Warren, that he would become my husband? It’s bizarre, outrageous, and wonderful.

  ‘We’ll have to keep this to ourselves today,’ he says, and I’m grateful for his forethought. ‘I don’t think we should overshadow your mother’s big day.’ He grins. ‘I’ll find it hard to keep my trap shut though. I want to introduce you to everyone as my fiancée.’

  I can feel his heart beating, the life pulsating through his body as he continues to hold me close as if he’ll never let me go.

  ‘If you’re not careful, I’ll have to take those clothes off you again,’ he whispers into my ear.

  ‘I have to go. I promised Cheska I’d help her get the kids dressed.’

  ‘I’m surprised you’re not rushing off to the yard.’

  ‘Not today. Delphi’s friend is bringing a horse and carriage down to the church for the end of the service to take the bride and groom back to the farm, because although Beauty’s well, she’s out of action for another month. Mum doesn’t know about the horse – it’s very romantic.’

  ‘You’ll be going to see Willow tomorrow then?’

  ‘Of course, but I don’t feel quite the same about hanging around up at the yard at the moment.’

  ‘Why on earth is that?’ He touches the back of his hand to my forehead. ‘Are you sickening for something?’

  ‘No. Delphi told me that Dark Star’s been sold. I know he had to go, but it feels like the end of an era somehow.’ I bite my lip. ‘He might be a difficult horse, but I can’t help thinking he’ll be even worse at a different yard. He’s very sensitive.’

  ‘He’s a horse,’ Matt says.

  ‘Exactly,’ I agree, warming to my theme. ‘That’s why he’ll be so upset. He’ll probably go into a deep depression.’ I gaze at Matt, noticing the twisted smile on his lips as he tries to control his laughter. ‘I can’t understand why you’re treating it so lightly when you’re supposed to be at the forefront of safeguarding horses’ welfare.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, sobering up. ‘It’s a shame, but life moves on. I’m sure Dark Star will be fine.’

  I wish I shared Matt’s conviction.

  ‘Cheer up, fiancée. You haven’t changed your mind?’ he adds anxiously.

  ‘Of course not.’ I shrug. ‘I guess this talk of horses makes me realise how much I miss competing.’

  ‘I guessed that much,’ he says. ‘You don’t really talk about it.’

  I don’t tell him it’s because each time I think about it it’s like reopening an old wound.

  ‘It’s taking me some time to get used to it, that’s all. It’s a bit weird not having to get up early to train with Shane or plan the diary to fit it all in. And the winter dressage series is well under way – I used to look forward to that.’ I gaze into Matt’s eyes. ‘It doesn’t matter though. I have you.’ I touch his arm. ‘I’ll meet you at the house.’

  Some of Mum’s friends are staying at her house, and Mum is staying with my sister for the night, to make sure she stays away from the groom. We don’t like to break with any traditions in Talyton St George, including the one where it’s the bride’s prerogative to be late for the occasion.

  On arriving at home, the church belIs are ringing, yet I discover that my mother isn’t ready. Her hair is not quite to her satisfaction and there’s a mark on one of her shoes that requires attention. Bridget is delayed delivering the flowers – one of the dogs has eaten one of the bridesmaid’s posies, but she’ll be on her way very soon.

  ‘Will you help Sage and Gabriel dress while I help Mum?’ Cheska says.

  It doesn’t take long. Sage, ready in her bridesmaid’s dress, is watching out of the window when a muddy Land Rover pulls up outside the church gates and Robert, dressed in a dark suit and red tie, gets out.

  ‘Is that the man Granma’s supposed to be marrying?’ she asks me as Cheska switches the hairdryer on to tweak Mum’s hair one last time.

  ‘Haven’t you met him before?’ I say.

  ‘Once, I think, when we were round at Granma’s house. He’s very old. I saw a programme on television where the man got married because he was about to die.’

  ‘Robert’s not that ancient,’ I say, but I can see from her expression that she isn’t convinced.

  ‘Matt’s quite old too,’ she goes on.

  ‘Well, to Granma, Robert is and always will be a prince.’

  ‘He doesn’t look anything like a prince,’ she says scathingly.

  ‘This isn’t a pantomime, Sage.’ I walk over and rest my hand on her shoulder. ‘All that matters is that the bride and groom love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together as man and wife.’

  Sage looks up. ‘Is that what you and Matt want to do?’

  ‘Maybe.’ I wish I could tell her. I wish I could run up to the attic, fling open the window and shout our news to the rooftops of Talyton St George, because this is one piece of gossip I’d love everyone, including Fifi, to know about.

  ‘Here’s Bridget with the flowers,’ Sage says, returning to her view from the window.

  ‘I’ll let her in,’ I say, noticing how she’s struggling to lift a long box of posies from the back of her van with the Petals logo printed along the side.

  ‘Aren’t you going to get dressed, Nicci?’ Sage asks.

  I glance down at my sweater and jeans.

  ‘I’ve had a shower. It won’t take me more than five minutes.’

  ‘I’ll get the door,’ Sage says.

  ‘Thank you.’ I dash upstairs to change into my blue peplum dress and beaded bolero. I straighten my blonde locks and pin a small fascinator to my hair. I add earrings, a pair of high heels, make-up and I’m done. ‘How long was that?’ I ask when I return to the living room.

  ‘Seven and a half,’ says Sage. ‘Too slow. Granma, we really must go.’

  ‘Well, I hope Robert’s willing to wait for a few more minutes at least, darling.’ Mum is dressed at last, wearing a shift dress in cream with an embroidered jacket and a simple tiara. She’s adjusting a blue garter at the top of her stocking. ‘It’s only eleven-fifteen.’

  ‘That’s fifteen minutes later than you said.’

  ‘Sage, that’s enough,’ Cheska says. ‘We don’t need any more stress.’

  ‘Here come the rest of the bridesmaids and the pages,’ Sage says excitedly as a minibus turns up and disgorges eleven children and several adults outside the church. ‘Come on, Granma. You don’t want to miss it.’

  ‘What are we having to eat?’ asks Gabriel, who’s perched on the arm of the sofa in his waistcoat
and trousers, picking his nose.

  ‘We won’t be eating until we get to the farm,’ says Mum. ‘If you’re hungry, you need to have a snack now.’

  ‘It’s too late. He’s in his wedding clothes,’ says Cheska.

  ‘I’m hungry.’

  ‘You’ve just had breakfast. Go and help Sage find Granma’s bouquet while I get changed.’ Cheska rolls her eyes at me then smiles. ‘Promise me you won’t go and get married, sis.’

  I pretend I haven’t heard, otherwise I’ll give myself away.

  When we finally arrive at the church I’m surprised to see how busy it is for what is supposed to be a quiet wedding, but then Robert comes from a particularly fertile family of farmers and Mum has lots of friends. I supervise the bridesmaids and pages as they walk down the aisle past the arrangements of foliage and holly covered with scarlet berries, behind Mum, who has asked Cheska to give her away. I can hear the gasps of surprise at what is clearly a serious break with tradition, but for my family it’s the perfect choice, a symbol that the Chieveleys are reconciled.

  Nobby Warwick is playing the organ. According to Fifi, who caught me briefly outside the church, he is in his cups. His Wedding March is more like a drunken amble along the aisle, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a pity I couldn’t convince him to take responsibility for his health and come off the alcohol, but – I smile fondly as I think of my patients – you can’t win them all.

  For the service, I take my place alongside Matt, keeping half an eye on the children and half on the ceremony – for future reference.

  ‘I do love a winter wedding,’ says the vicar, looking snug in his robes. He makes the introduction before starting the declaration.

  ‘Robert Lancelot Christi—’

  ‘Lancelot?’ whispers my sister, a sob of laughter catching in her throat. I raise one eyebrow at her, but she can’t help herself bursting into a fit of giggles.

  ‘Sh,’ I whisper frantically, aware of many sets of eyes watching me and Cheska, who turns away to compose herself – I know from experience that we’ll be okay if we don’t look at each other. Her shoulders are shaking and it’s like we’re kids again, and none of the intervening years and tears ever happened.

  The vicar clears his throat and starts again.

  ‘Robert Lancelot Christian Ash, will you take Kathryn Frances Chieveley to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and protect her and forsaking all others be faithful to her for as long as you both shall live?’

  ‘I will.’ Robert’s voice rings out loud and clear through the church.

  The vicar repeats the declaration for my mother to confirm her promise to Robert, at which tears prick my eyes, tears of joy, because I know she has found happiness once more.

  After the ceremony, the kiss and the signing of the register, we head outside into the cold for a few photographs.

  ‘We’d better not keep the horse waiting too long. It’ll catch a chill,’ says Robert, holding out his arm for my mother, and I smile to myself because he’s oblivious to the effect of the weather on the rest of us.

  ‘What horse?’ she says.

  ‘That one.’ Robert points towards the church gate where a smart bay horse and carriage are standing by, ready to whisk them away to the farm for the reception.

  ‘For me?’ Mum’s hand flies to her mouth. ‘Oh, thank you.’

  ‘Only the best will do for my wife.’ Robert leads her along the path through cheers and a shower of rose petals and confetti. ‘Mrs Ash, your carriage awaits.’

  ‘They look very happy,’ Matt says, taking my hand.

  ‘Everyone does. It was a lovely wedding.’ I look around at the smiling faces. Sage and Gabriel are tearing around the graveyard, playing hide and seek among the headstones with the other children, laughing and giggling. And me? Am I happy? Yes, I have everything. I’m engaged to the man I love. I have a lovely family and friends, including patients who have become friends, and thanks to Matt, I still have my beautiful horse. I can relax and look forward to Christmas which is only days away.

  I do some last-minute shopping with Cheska and stay at Matt’s on Christmas Eve.

  ‘Happy Christmas, darling.’ In the morning, Matt brings boiled eggs and toast to the kitchen table while the kettle whistles on the range. We’re both dressed, ready to go up to the yard. I’m in my jodhpurs, the ones that went pink in the wash, in case Sage and I have time to take Harry and one of Delphi’s steady cobs out for a hack – and Matt is in a sweater and chinos.

  ‘Happy Christmas,’ I say as he leans down and kisses me on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’ I push the gift I’ve wrapped for him across the table. ‘Are you sure you won’t open it now?’ I’ve bought him a watch and had the back engraved.

  ‘It’s the tradition in my family to open the presents after lunch.’

  ‘It’s the tradition in mine to open them before breakfast,’ I counter.

  ‘You chose the tree, so I’ll choose when we open the presents. Don’t argue with me, fiancée of mine. Eat your eggs before they get cold.’

  ‘Excuse me, who wears the trousers in this relationship?’

  Chuckling, he glances down at my legs. ‘I think you’ll find that on this occasion, it’s me.’

  The dresser is decorated with a string of blue indoor lights, a swag of holly and ivy, and a yule log with a red candle that Sage made for us. Outside, the trees and bushes sparkle with a delicate frost and the spiders’ webs look like twisted strands of silver in the pale sunlight.

  ‘Do you have to go to the yard?’ Matt says.

  ‘It’s Christmas Day.’

  ‘Exactly. Surely, you can have one day off.’

  ‘But everyone goes to the yard to see their horses on Christmas Day. It’s special.’ I start to protest before realising that Matt is grinning at me. ‘All right,’ I sigh. ‘I really should know by now when you’re pulling my leg.’

  As soon as he sits down to eat, the Bobster leaps up onto one of the spare chairs, pops her head above the table and begs, reminding me of a meerkat with a piece of purple tinsel wrapped around her collar.

  ‘Aren’t you going to tell her to get down?’ he asks, raising his eyebrow.

  ‘It’s Christmas.’ I smile. ‘You can sit there, Bobster, for one day only.’

  ‘Should I have cooked eggs for her?’

  ‘I think that’s pushing it a step too far.’ I pause. ‘Hurry up. I don’t want Willow to feel left out because we’re not there.’

  ‘You don’t mean that. She doesn’t care as long as she gets her breakfast.’

  ‘You are such an old cynic, Matt,’ I tease. ‘Come on. Get your wellies on.’

  As we’re grabbing our coats, his mobile rings and I know immediately from the tone of his voice that it isn’t good news. It can only be one of those – I swear under my breath – colics. What timing!

  ‘I’ll be right over,’ he says, looking at me, his eyes wide and questioning. ‘I’m so sorry, Nicci.’

  ‘It’s one of those things.’ I bite my lip. I could cry. ‘It’s such a shame when I was so looking forward to spending our first Christmas together. You won’t be back in time for lunch at Mum’s. Everyone will be there, except you.’ I pull on my boots. ‘I know. Why don’t I come to the hospital?’

  Matt is most insistent that I go and see Willow.

  ‘I’ve got to get going. Can you lock up?’ He gives me one of his heart-melting smiles.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re being so cheerful about this,’ I begin.

  ‘I’ll catch you later.’ The door closes behind him and it’s just me and the Bobster.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I say, picking up my keys. I put the Bobster’s travel harness on – I bought it recently from the ‘For dogs’ section in Tack n Hack – and clip it to the seat belt in the car before driving up to the yard. There are lights strung across the sign outside the equestrian centre and a poster advertising Christmas Pony Parties. When I reach the car park, I spot both Mum’s car and Matt’s.
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  ‘I smell a rat,’ I say. ‘What do you think is going on, Bobster?’

  She yaps three times as if to say, ‘I don’t know.’

  I let her out of the car and she races straight for Willow’s stable, throwing herself at Sage, Gabriel, Cheska and Mum, who are waiting there.

  ‘Nicci, I’m over here.’

  I turn to find Matt emerging from the cover of the barn.

  ‘Matt? Did the horse not make it?’

  His eyes gleam with amusement. ‘There was no horse. It was a trick. Here—’ he holds out his hand ‘— I’ve got something for you, but you have to close your eyes. Promise me you won’t peek.’

  I screw up my face to make doubly sure, then, realising it isn’t a good look, I hesitate.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ Matt repeats. ‘No, this isn’t going to work. I’ll have to blindfold you.’ He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, one covered with Santas. ‘A client gave it to me. It’s clean.’

  I stand beside the hay, inhaling its musty scent as Matt stands close behind me, tying the blindfold around my eyes.

  ‘Is that too tight?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I say.

  ‘No peeking.’ He pinches my bottom before spinning me around until I’m giddy and laughing and falling against him. I catch hold of him by the front of his coat. He takes my hand. ‘Right, Nicci. Let’s go.’

  ‘This is a test of trust,’ I tell him.

  ‘But you do trust me,’ he says.

  ‘You have been rather furtive over the last couple of weeks.’

  ‘You know I said it was a tradition in my family to open gifts after lunch? I admit that was a cock and bull story – did you really think I’d be able to wait that long to open my presents?’

  ‘I did wonder.’

  ‘I had to think of a way of getting you to wait without arousing your suspicions.’

  ‘This is an elaborate way of giving me a present. Wouldn’t it be easier to have done it the usual way, through Father Christmas?’

  ‘Ah, this present wouldn’t fit down the chimney.’ Matt’s voice bubbles with humour and fun.