Vets of the Heart

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘Do you live locally?’ Ross says, changing the subject – a relief, I think, because I was afraid he was going to go on and talk about rabbit abscesses to put Godfrey off mayonnaise.

  ‘I have a house in Talymouth, a des res on the north side of town with sea views. I’m planning on renting it out.’ There’s a clunking sound from beneath the table. Godfrey winces and his fork drops off the edge of his plate. ‘I’m talking about one day,’ he adds, looking at Mum and leaning down to rub his ankle at the same time, ‘not in the immediate future.’ He dips a cheesy chip into mushy peas, and takes a bite. A green gobbet of food rests on his chin until my mother reaches across and wipes it with the corner of a napkin. He gives her a long and hungry look, as if he might eat her.

  ‘How are you finding Talyton St George?’ Mum asks, looking at Ross as Godfrey slides his arm around her back.

  ‘It’s great for motorbikes. The roads are so quiet compared with London, and the people are interesting too.’ He flashes me a smile. ‘I mean that in a good way,’ he adds, ‘although it’s driving me mad having to stop and talk in every shop. Every time I go into the baker’s or the Co-op, there’s a queue at the till and I feel as if I’m obliged to have a conversation before I can leave.’

  ‘I love a good gossip,’ Mum says.

  ‘I don’t mind talking when there’s a point to it, but when you yack on regarding the weather or the price of apples, it’s a complete waste of time, don’t you think, Godfrey?’

  ‘I’ve made a good few sales over the years through chance discussions. It’s always useful to keep one’s ear to the ground.’

  ‘I guess it’s different for you,’ Ross says, glancing towards me, his expression one of mock seriousness. ‘When people raise the subject of their pet’s ailments, it’s usually because they’re trying to obtain free advice and avoid a trip to the surgery.’

  I have to stifle my laughter at this comment, clearly aimed at Godfrey, who loads his fork with mushy peas and stuffs them into his mouth. When he’s swallowed them, he starts to speak again.

  ‘I do love plain and simple food now and again. It makes a change from the rich dishes you get at business lunches and dinners.’ He belches. ‘Excuse me.’ He holds a paper napkin to his mouth.

  My mother isn’t fazed by his behaviour. I think she would forgive him anything.

  At the end of the meal, Godfrey’s credit card is turned down. He checks through his wallet and looks bashfully at his date.

  ‘You must think me a fool – I’m out of credit and I haven’t any cash on me.’

  I start to wonder about the fortune he’s supposed to have made from property.

  ‘I’ll pay,’ Ross says.

  ‘No, I’ll settle up,’ I say, embarrassed, but he ignores my offer.

  ‘That’s incredibly generous of you,’ Godfrey says. ‘I owe you.’

  We stand up and make our way outside to the pavement. Ross asks if anyone would like to join him for a drink.

  ‘Shannon?’ he says gently.

  ‘Yes. Yes, why not?’ I say, slightly shocked that he’s keen to spend more time in my company.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Godfrey says. ‘I shall escort my lovely lady back to her establishment.’

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ I tell Mum, assuming they would appreciate some privacy and, once we’ve said goodnight to her new man, Ross and I walk the short distance to the Dog and Duck at the bottom of town. I prefer the Talymill Inn, but it’s further away.

  ‘I’ll come back for the bike,’ Ross says, locking it up before we make a move. ‘Your mum seems nice and Godfrey isn’t so bad – a little too full of his own self-importance maybe. They seem very close for a couple who’ve only just met. How long have they been together?’

  ‘I’m not sure exactly. I suspect it’s longer than Mum claims. I reckon she’s kept it quiet because she thought I’d disapprove.’

  ‘And do you?’

  ‘As long as he makes her happy, I’m happy.’ I glance up at him. His eyes are in shadow and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Sometimes, he seems preoccupied and hard to reach, as if something is bothering him, but I don’t feel I know him well enough to ask what. We walk along in silence until we reach the pub. Ross holds the door open for me.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ I ask as we enter the bar, which smells of stale beer and old carpet. It’s pretty quiet – Nobby Warwick, the church organist, is snoring at a table in the corner, and a couple of other old men are playing cards.

  ‘I’ll get them,’ Ross says.

  ‘No, let me. You paid for dinner.’

  ‘It wouldn’t feel right. I’m not bragging – I’ll point that out because I know you think I’m an arrogant so-and-so – but it’s a fact that I earn more than you. Which often seems a little unfair to me, considering some of the things you have to do.’ He grins. ‘I get to do the good bits while you clear up. Go on, put your purse away and I’ll get the drinks in. What would you like? No, let me guess.’ He looks me up and down, his eyes seeming to linger appreciatively on my figure. ‘White wine?’

  ‘White or rosé.’

  ‘A large glass of each?’

  ‘Are you trying to get me drunk or something?’ I say lightly.

  ‘It’s an attempt to make up for us getting off on the wrong foot. I don’t think I’ve thanked you for the way you’ve helped me out since I arrived at Otter House. I’m very grateful.’

  ‘I’ll have a rosé then,’ I say, pleased that he’s recognised my contribution at last.

  He orders wine and half a pint of bitter, one of the locally brewed ales from the Taly brewery, and we sit down opposite each other at one of the empty tables. At first, we struggle to find anything to talk about, but soon we’re sharing our views on music, pets and hobbies. I like indie music while he prefers rock. I can’t see the attraction of racing around the countryside on two wheels, while he detests swimming pools because of the chlorine. He’s a carnivore with an appetite for exotic meats like ostrich and kangaroo, while I’m a vegetarian. It doesn’t matter that we don’t have a lot in common. It makes him interesting, intriguing even, and the conversation flows far better than I expected.

  It crosses my mind that our differences wouldn’t make a good basis for a relationship, but I can’t help wondering what it would be like to kiss him. I know, I’m letting my imagination run away with me, which is what happened with Drew. I fell for him – but he was a fantasy man, a chimera, as it turned out; poles apart from the person he portrayed himself as or the adoring lover I wanted him to be. I’m attracted to Ross. I’ll go as far as to admit that, but after Drew there’s no way I could let things progress to a relationship when we’re working together – if that’s what he wanted, of course. What if it should all go wrong? It would be intolerable.

  His phone rings and he checks the caller ID.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ll have to take this – it’s the dog.’ And I have a vision of Bart, the big dog in the photo, dialling up his master. ‘Heidi, what’s up? Yeah, yeah. Not bad. I’m in the pub.’ He pauses and I notice that he doesn’t say he’s with me. ‘It’s rather soon after the last visit and it really isn’t the best weekend to choose – I’m on call and at the Country Show on the Saturday. I know. I can have him with me at the practice, but it isn’t ideal, is it? You know how stressed he gets when he’s left home alone.’ He flips a beermat into the air and catches it between two fingers. There’s a slight edge to his voice when he continues, ‘Of course I’d rather see him than not. I’m not being difficult. It’s the way it is. Okay, have it your way. I’ll see you then. Goodnight.’ He takes a deep breath, cuts the call and drains his glass.

  ‘So I get to meet Bart this weekend,’ I say.

  ‘I suppose I should be thankful that Heidi’s willing to bring him down here at all,’ Ross smiles ruefully.

  ‘You can hardly fetch him on the bike.’

  ‘I let her hold onto the car because she has the dog. It seemed fair at the time.’ />
  I wonder if it’s more the case that letting her have the car assuaged some of the guilt he felt at finishing with her. Whatever it is, his mood has changed since the phone call.

  ‘Shall we go? I could do with an early night,’ he says. He stands up and throws on his jacket, leaving it open at the front. He opens the door for me as we head outside where he makes a show of holding out his arm for me in such a way that I feel I can’t refuse. I slip my arm through his and we walk the short distance to Petals where I let go, wishing I didn’t have to.

  ‘Thank you for the wine,’ I say.

  ‘Thanks for the company. I feel I’ve got to know you a whole lot better this evening,’ he says and as he leans slightly closer, raising the hairs on the back of my neck, I realise how much I’d like him to kiss me.

  ‘Goodnight, Shannon.’ He smiles and takes a small step back. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ echo. I watch him return to his bike, wondering if I’m reading too much into it. He’s been a gentleman tonight – it doesn’t mean he fancies me.

  Two minutes later, as I let Seven out into the garden, I hear the engine power up and the rev and roar of the bike as he rides away through the narrow streets before I follow the sound of the television to find Mum sitting on the sofa.

  ‘I thought Godfrey might still be here.’ I settle on one of the armchairs as she mutes the volume with the remote.

  ‘Oh no, he’s gone home.’ She pauses, toying with the fringe on one of the cushions. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘He isn’t quite what I expected . . .’ I’m being tactful. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

  ‘I agree. I’ve always been under the impression that estate agents are dull and boring, but Godfrey’s quite the opposite.’

  What’s that saying? Love is blind. Mum strokes Seven absentmindedly.

  ‘You will be careful,’ I say.

  She looks up abruptly, a blush spreading across her cheeks. ‘What do you mean?’

  OMG, I groan inwardly. She thinks I want to speak to her about safe sex. ‘I’m talking in general terms. Godfrey could turn out to be too good to be true.’

  ‘Don’t you think I know that? I don’t know what he sees in me, but I’m going to make the most of it, even if it doesn’t last.’

  ‘I can see why he likes you when you have so much to offer,’ I point out. ‘You have a thriving business, and your own place, which is worth quite a bit of money.’

  ‘So, he has his eye on my assets. Equally, I have my eye on his.’ She giggles again.

  ‘Mum, I wish you’d be serious about this.’

  ‘And I wish you had someone to have fun with. Ross is not what I expected at all from the way you’ve described him – much better looking than you said, very friendly and a bit of a tease. Luckily, Godfrey didn’t mind.’

  I’m not sure he noticed, I think, before I go on to say, ‘I’d rather you hadn’t let him pay for the meal.’

  ‘He wanted to. He insisted.’ She pauses. ‘Shannon, there’s something I need to run past you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘How would you feel if Godfrey moved in with us?

  ‘Moved in? Have you gone totally mad?

  ‘I’m not saying that it’s been decided. It’s just an idea at the moment.’

  ‘Is that why he mentioned renting out his house in Talymouth?’

  Mum rests her hand on my shoulder. ‘We want to spend more time together so we can get to know each other properly. Let’s face it, if we find we aren’t suited, then the sooner we find that out the better, and what better way is there than sharing the same living space?’

  ‘Why can’t you live in his house?’

  ‘Because I have to run the shop. You know the hours I keep. I’d hardly see him.’

  ‘I know . . . Why the rush though?’

  ‘Neither of us is getting any younger . . . He looks and acts like a forty year old, but Godfrey’s actually quite a few years older than me.’

  I bite my tongue. It shouldn’t be surprising after her experience with my dad that she’s already afraid that her beau is going to die while in his prime.

  ‘There’s plenty of room for the three of us – and Seven,’ she goes on. ‘Naturally, Godfrey and I would share a bedroom.’

  ‘Ugh, that’s too much information.’

  ‘So what do you think – of the idea, I mean. Could you live with it?’

  ‘With Godfrey, you mean?’ The bean-burger and chips sit like a cold weight in my stomach. ‘I really don’t know. It’s all a bit of a shock. When did he get divorced?’

  ‘Is that relevant?’

  ‘Well, yes, I don’t like to think of him rushing from one woman to another.’

  ‘You’re very prim and proper all of a sudden,’ Mum smiles, ‘but no, he isn’t like that. He and his wife divorced a year ago. There was no one else involved – Godfrey says they grew apart. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s in the past and I’m concentrating on the future.’

  ‘Well, it’s nice to hear you being so positive.’

  ‘All I’m asking is that you think about it.’

  ‘I will,’ I promise her, but I can’t help thinking there is nothing I can say to stop this plan coming to fruition, and nor can I imagine sharing our home with anyone else, least of all Godfrey. I’d be living with a stranger and I wouldn’t feel comfortable chilling out in my pyjamas on my days off. I wish Mum goodnight and head for bed, with Seven padding along behind me. I feel a sense of unease as I start to wonder what the future holds.

  Chapter Six

  One’s a Kiss, Two’s a Letter, Three’s a Wish for Something Better

  The next morning I find a silk tie and a file of property details under the coffee table which Godfrey must have left the evening before, and I realise that – whether I like it or not – he is moving in gradually anyway, almost by default. I join Mum in the shop where she’s unpacking a fresh delivery of flowers, dividing them up and bunching them for display. I fetch a couple of buckets from inside the door for her.

  ‘About what we talked about last night – I’m cool with it.’

  ‘Are you really?’ Mum gives me a long hard stare before breaking into a smile. ‘Thank you, darling. You don’t know what this means to me,’ she adds, but I can tell – I haven’t seen her this happy for ages. ‘I’ll speak to Godfrey. Have a lovely day.’

  ‘I hope so,’ I say, knowing I don’t have to worry any more about my position with Ross. In spite of myself, I can’t wait to see him.

  On arriving at Otter House, I find Izzy is already looking after the inpatients, so I spend the few minutes before morning surgery making up the repeat prescriptions – ‘spot-ons’, tablets, shampoos and eye ointments – ready for clients to collect.

  ‘Is everything under control?’ I ask Frances as I deliver them to reception.

  ‘At the moment – touch wood,’ she looks around and reaches for the shelf behind the desk, ‘but, Shannon, I’ve been a little dizzy. Look, I managed to double-book the operations today. Maz isn’t happy with me at all.’

  ‘How did you manage that?’

  ‘I got confused with the dates.’

  ‘So what’s happening?’ I feel sorry for her because she prides herself in doing a good job.

  ‘She sent two of them home – I don’t know, she found some excuse to rebook them. Anyway, it’s sorted now and everything else is running like clockwork. DJ is here – he says they’re putting the new units for the lab in today. And there’s more good news.’ She clasps her hands together and tucks them under her chin. ‘Fifi’s booked a celebrity guest to give out the prizes at the Country Show.’

  ‘Who is she? He?’

  ‘I’ll give you three guesses.’ I can hear joy bubbling up in her voice.

  ‘Well, from your reaction, I’d say Robert Downey Junior.’

  ‘Robert who?’ Frances’s pencilled eyebrows shoot up behind the strands of hair that have escaped her bun.

&nbs
p; ‘The actor. Or Kit Harington?’ I giggle. ‘If it isn’t him, I’m not interested.’

  ‘It isn’t him,’ Frances confirms. ‘One more try. Come on, I’ll give you a clue. He’s on television every week day, has been for years.’

  I’m thinking along the lines of the presenter of a show like Countdown, but I don’t know his name so I plump for Jeremy Kyle. Frances shakes her head.

  ‘It’s Bray from the local news – you know, Bray Molland.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t got the foggiest idea who he is. I can’t picture him at all.’

  ‘Tall, has a twinkle in his eye and the most wonderful voice, smooth and deep like rich chocolate sauce. I can’t believe you’ve never heard of him. All the ladies at the WI have a crush on him.’

  ‘That explains a lot. How old is he? Ninety?’

  ‘You may mock, but you’ll be ninety one day. No, he’s in his early sixties, I’d guess; not far off retirement, I suppose, like me.’ She pauses, appearing upset again. ‘I’m sure Maz and Emma are going to ask me to leave.’ She looks past me. ‘Oh, here’s Ross’s first appointment. Good morning, Ally.’

  Two minutes later, Ross and I are together in the consulting room with Ally and a purple pet carrier.

  ‘Would you like to take the first one out while I draw up the vaccines, Shannon?’

  ‘What are they?’ I ask, wondering what I’m letting myself in for. Will used to delight in surprising me with all kinds of creepy-crawlies.

  ‘Have a look,’ he says, smiling.

  ‘Oh, they’re rabbits.’

  ‘Well spotted,’ Ross says dryly.

  I open the front of the carrier, finding two youngsters with manes of fur, one cinnamon and one white.

  ‘They’re called Mojo and Flyte,’ Ally says. ‘The boys chose the names.’

  ‘Are they from the litter I found on the doorstep?’

  Ally nods. ‘We go up to the Sanctuary to help out when we can – I used to write about the rehoming campaigns for the local paper. Anyway, we saw these guys and fell in love with them.’

  I pick the braver one out of the box. His brother sits towards the back of the carrier, twitching his nose.