I reach out and rest my hand on his shoulder as he continues, ‘I couldn’t do it, of course, which makes me a coward. I do it every day for my patients, but I couldn’t do the one thing Zac wanted, to put him out of his misery.
‘I bet you wish you hadn’t asked me along today. I’m spoiling it for you.’
‘Not at all. It’s fine.’ I’m touched that he feels he can talk to me about it and reveal the man behind the mask of relentless action, impatience and humour, one who is capable of expressing regret and heartache – and love.
‘Thank you,’ he says, recovering himself. ‘He was my best friend, we’d been to school together, motocross; even went to the same university, although he was doing a different course. I wish I could have helped him at the end.’
‘How can you bring yourself to ride a motorbike after that?’ I ask. ‘No, you don’t have to answer that. Don’t talk about it if you don’t want to.’
‘It’s all right. I’m beginning to feel that I could talk to you about anything.’ He catches my wrist and gives it a quick squeeze. ‘It wasn’t the bike’s fault. I know it’s a cliché, but the accident reinforced my belief in living each day as if it’s your last. I promised Zac I wouldn’t give up motorbikes. If I woke up paralysed from the neck down, would I look back on a life lived the way I wanted, that I was proud of, or would I wish I’d done things differently?
‘I began to question everything I was doing: working for my parents; planning to marry Heidi; buying a house.’
‘Is that why you left the family practice? I’ve been wondering.’
‘It’s part of it. My dad went ballistic when I was back on the bike for Zac’s send-off, but it got worse. Earlier this year, I found him in a clinch with the head nurse. I’d suspected him of having an affair for a while . . .’ He swears. ‘He was living and working with my mum, taking her on holiday and holding dinner parties for their friends, yet behind the scenes he was having it away with a woman twenty years younger than him.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I was completely torn. I didn’t know whether to keep my mouth shut so Mum didn’t get hurt, or whether to risk getting the blame for telling her and breaking up their marriage. I hate cheats and liars so I gave my father an ultimatum. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, so I did.’ He grimaces. ‘As you can imagine, I wasn’t very popular. Mum was devastated and my father was furious with me. He dumped the nurse and made a show of getting the marriage back on track, but it was too late. The damage was done. At the moment, my parents are in the process of divorcing. Dad’s back with his fancy woman and I’m here, getting away from it all.’
‘It wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself.’
‘I think they would have stayed together if I hadn’t said anything. I reckon my mother knew all along and chose to ignore it out of convenience, or misplaced loyalty, or for the sake of the practice, I’m not sure. Anyway, I’m persona non grata and I don’t want to be involved in the fall-out.’
‘Do you think you’ll ever go back?’
He shakes his head. ‘My father is hoping to buy my mother out so she can take her share in the value of the practice and go and work part-time for a friend. I’ve lost all respect for him. I used to think the sun shone out of his behind. I was going to work with him and take over the business when my parents retired, cruising off into the sunset, or buying a house in the country or whatever they chose to do.’
‘What’s he like?’ I ask, thinking about my dad. I can remember his smile, his smell and the way he used to sweep me off my feet and spin me around until I was giddy with laughter.
‘He’s a clever man and a good vet; conventional, predictable . . . some might describe him as boring. He’s quite controlling too – I guess that’s why I rebelled.’ Ross gazes at me, his expression gentle. ‘How about your dad? You’ve never talked about him.’ He clears his throat. ‘Frances told me what happened: I’m very sorry. It must have been incredibly traumatic.’
‘It was a terrible shock. I was eight years old. I was at school – I remember it as if it was yesterday – it was lunchtime, and my gran came to take me to the hospital, but it was too late. He’d already passed away.’ A lump catches in my throat. ‘Mum told me he’d fallen asleep, which left me hoping he’d come back one day. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that she and Gran found the strength to explain that he’d died from bleeding into the brain. He had an aneurysm which could have blown at any time – it waited until he was forty.’
‘What did he do?’
‘He worked hard. He was a spark, an electrician, and when he wasn’t rewiring houses, he helped Mum out in the shop and walked me to school. We’d stop at the newsagent and buy sweets – he’d joke around and say we’d have to eat them so Mum didn’t find out because she didn’t want him spoiling me. He used to bring me to the beach and we’d take shells home so we could listen to the sea.’ I smile. ‘That’s what he used to say, anyway.’ I stare down at the water and Ross takes my hand to comfort me.
‘Shall we go back?’ he suggests after a few minutes’ silence, and we swim back to the shore. I beat him to our patch of beach and throw myself onto my towel to watch him walk out from the sea with his wet cotton shorts clinging to his masculine contours. His hair and skin glisten. His muscles are defined and his belly is taut, with a line of dark hair and the tail of the eagle tattoo diving down beneath the waist of his trunks. He has an air of confidence, but not arrogance, and he doesn’t realise how hot he is, I muse – an attractive and rare trait in the male of the species, in my experience.
‘You mentioned Godfrey and his prostate earlier,’ he begins as we settle down to dry in the sun.
‘Don’t.’ I pause. ‘I shouldn’t mock him, should I? One day that could be me.’
‘Um, Shannon, you did do anatomy at college? Only, unless I’m very much mistaken, you don’t and never will have a prostate.’ He looks at me appreciatively. ‘You’re very definitely feminine.’
I can’t help giggling at his comment. ‘You know what I mean though, that I will eventually get old and be struck down by some inconvenient affliction. I wouldn’t like to be talked about like that behind my back. It isn’t his fault, but it isn’t just that. It’s his scintillating conversation at breakfast – I’m being ironic, in case you hadn’t noticed – and the way he and Mum are forever checking out each other’s tonsils. It’s so awkward. I mean, neither of them are spring chickens.’
‘There’s life in the old dog yet,’ Ross grins. ‘It’s reassuring to know that desire and lust don’t wear off with age.’
‘It shows no sign of fading anytime soon. In fact, I’m seriously thinking of finding my own place. It’s about time,’ I add wryly. ‘I’ve never lived anywhere else.’
‘Never?’ He whistles through his teeth.
‘There’s never been any reason to. And I suppose with losing my dad and Mum getting ill with bouts of depression, and then being diagnosed with diabetes, I’ve felt responsible for keeping an eye on her. It’s only recently that she’s started muttering about me moving out. I feel a bit hurt that she doesn’t really want me there any more.
‘It’s been just the two of us for as long as I can remember. I didn’t go away to university or anything, and I did my training on day-release, so there was no need to move.’ I pause to pick up a handful of sand and let it trickle through my fingers. ‘I was this – ’ I hold my forefinger and thumb a couple of centimetres apart to demonstrate – ‘close to leaving once, and I’m ashamed to say I would have walked out, leaving a note, because I couldn’t bring myself to tell Mum to her face.’
‘Was that when you almost ran off with the locum? Frances told me all about that as well,’ he goes on when I don’t respond.
‘It was a long time ago. Drew was a lying bastard – it was a good thing I found out before it was too late. I had a lucky escape.’ I smile. I can talk about it now. ‘After that, there were occasions when I could have moved out, like
when my friend, Taylor, bought a house. I could have shared with her, but it didn’t happen. Mum has diabetes – she has these hypo attacks and they come on so quickly that she doesn’t realise until too late that she needs sugar. I’ve found her collapsed and semi-comatose more than once.’ I shudder at the memory. ‘It’s really scary.’
‘Does she still have these attacks?’
‘She’s been much better recently. She controls the diabetes much more tightly, and Seven’s been a life-saver, literally. If her blood sugar falls, he’s right there.’
‘Wow, that’s amazing. Did you have him specially trained?’
‘He did it all himself. Of course, I still worry that he might miss something, but he’s been one hundred per cent reliable so far.’
‘So you can move out now? And you’d leave Seven with your mother and Godfrey?’
I nod.
‘Perhaps we should look for somewhere together.’
‘You are joking?’ I say slowly.
‘Why not? It was a light-hearted suggestion,’ he continues, ‘but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I want to move out of the manor before I grow hooves and start neighing, and you need to get away from Godfrey and the prostate. We can find somewhere with two bedrooms and share the bills. I’m being serious. I don’t want to buy my own place – I’m not ready to put down roots. I’d rather rent for a while, find a place with a garden so I can still have Bart to stay at weekends . . .’
‘Oh? You mean you’re thinking of leaving us?’ I feel a stab of disappointment at the idea that he might move away just as I’ve got used to him being around.
‘I’m not going anywhere. I like it here. Devon holds a lot of attractions.’ I feel his eyes on me and my skin tingles in the heat of his gaze. ‘Any more questions?’
‘What would people think? Your ex, for example?’ I clear my throat. ‘I don’t believe it would help your case if you have some inkling that you might get back together in the future.’
‘I have no intention of doing that.’ His eyes narrow. ‘What gave you that idea?’
‘Heidi gave me the impression that you might try again. Actually, it was more than an impression. She told me.’
‘I can’t imagine why. She must have been having a moment,’ he says dismissively.
‘With reason, I suspect. She hinted that you still hooked up now and again.’
‘In her dreams. We shared a room when she came to stay, but that was only because it’s about the only one that’s still habitable.’
I’m not sure I believe him.
‘Who cares what anyone thinks?’ he goes on. ‘It’s nobody’s business except ours; if it doesn’t work out, neither of us has lost anything.’
‘It could be fun. I’d love to see the look on my mum’s face if I told her we were moving in together.’ I think for a moment. ‘We have more in common than I imagined when I first met you.’
‘Not difficult, considering you thought I was a courier in the beginning.’
‘We’d have to decide on some house rules,’ I go on.
‘No way. As you know, I don’t like rules – as far as I’m concerned they’re only there to be broken so I don’t think we should bother.’ He pauses. ‘So, shall we do it?’
‘I’m not sure . . .’
‘You seem shocked.’
‘It’s a bit of a surprise, that’s all. I’ve only known you for three weeks.’
‘Some people get married in less.’ Ross looks at me through a fringe of damp curls. ‘Your face! Don’t worry, this is a purely platonic arrangement. We get along well – at least I think we do. We’ll make good housemates.’ He gives me a wicked grin. ‘At least I know the floors would always be spotless.’
‘Ross!’ I flick the end of the towel at him.
‘I thought it might help you out, knowing your situation.’ Chuckling, he holds out his hand. ‘Shake on it?’ I take his hand and shake it. He holds on to my fingers for a fraction longer than necessary, his skin grazing mine as he withdraws. I gaze at him, losing myself in the depths of his brown eyes, and suddenly what seemed like the perfect plan feels like it could be One Big Mistake. Working and living together in the same house? I stir up the sand between my toes.
‘If you feel homesick,’ he says, perhaps misinterpreting my silence, ‘I’ll remind you of Godfrey and his prostate. Let’s not waste time. We’ll ask him to find us a nice place to rent.
‘Straightaway?’
‘Why not? I’m a man of action.’ Ross leans back and closes his eyes and, just as I’m about to remind him about the ice cream he owes me, his mouth opens slightly and his breathing deepens; within seconds, he’s fast asleep.
I sit back and stare towards the horizon, listening to the cries of the sea birds overhead. What on earth have I done?
Later, we pack up and stroll along to the beachfront café for chips and ice cream. We sit side by side at a table inside to avoid the dive-bombing gulls and chat about our plans for our new home.
‘So what kind of house would you choose to live in?’ Ross asks.
‘A castle at the very least.’ I smile as I dip the end of a chip into tomato ketchup. I notice how Ross has picked mayonnaise.
‘Is that one with a moat or without?’ He chuckles. ‘It sounds too draughty for me.’
‘How about a thatched cottage with roses around the door?’
‘That old cliché,’ he sighs.
‘I wouldn’t like to live in a modern house, unless we absolutely had to. Mind you, I’m not sure I can afford to be fussy. We’ll have to agree on a budget.’
‘Oh, that’s too boring. Let’s not worry about money.’
‘It’s important to me,’ I say firmly.
‘I’m sorry.’ He reaches out and touches my hand. ‘I shouldn’t be flippant. It’s just that I’m really excited about this. I can’t wait to leave the manor – I never thought I’d say that – and move in with someone who isn’t completely bats. I’m looking forward to being able to have friends to stay – if you don’t mind, that is.’
‘Of course I don’t mind. I’d like to meet them.’
‘And then there’s Bart. We’ll need somewhere suitable for a big dog so he can spend weekends with us. It’s pretty well impossible for me to have him at the manor with the Fox-Giffords’ dogs. I’ve tried, but he hates them.’
‘They are rather overwhelming,’ I agree.
Ross picks up the salt cellar from the table and tips it up. Nothing comes out, so he taps it and gives it a shake. Still nothing. He unscrews the lid and tilts the container; a few grains fall and the rest come tumbling out onto the remains of his chips. He swears lightly.
‘Have some of mine,’ I offer. ‘We’re going to have to get used to sharing,’ I add when he hesitates. ‘Go on. There are too many here for me.’
We move on to ice cream afterwards. I have mint choc chip and Ross has raspberry ripple before we walk along the seafront and back before making a move.
‘So, do you want to speak to Godfrey, or shall I?’ Ross asks as I’m driving back to Talyton Manor. ‘I don’t want to hang about. The sooner we get the ball rolling, the better.’
‘I’ll talk to him tonight. I’ll explain what we’re looking for: somewhere close to the practice with two or more bedrooms and a large garden for the dog.’
‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Off-street parking for the bike, preferably under cover.’
I didn’t remember the bike, I think, recalling how he talked of the tragic loss of his friend. He seems more cheerful now, as if the day out has done him good.
As the sun begins to set, I pull in to the drive leading to the manor.
‘You can leave me here,’ Ross says. ‘I’ll walk the rest of the way.’
‘If you’re sure.’
‘You don’t have to hang around. You’ve done enough today. I really appreciate it, Shannon. Thank you.’ He leans across and kisses me
on the cheek. ‘That was platonic, by the way,’ he adds with a grin on his face.
‘Goodnight,’ I say, wondering why it didn’t exactly feel that way. ‘See you soon, housemate.’
When I return home, I find Mum with her feet up and Seven lying on the sofa beside her with all four paws in the air, and Godfrey in the kitchen, washing the dishes.
Mum looks up from a bridal magazine and smiles. ‘Have you had a good day?’
‘Great, thanks. Ross and I have been talking and we’ve decided we’re going to be housemates.’
She frowns. ‘Isn’t he still living up at Talyton Manor?’
‘It was supposed to be a temporary measure, a stopgap while he got to know the area, but he’s had enough of it now and this is the perfect solution. This place is too small for the four of us – or should I say five, including the prostate? This means you and Godfrey can have your own space’.
‘I have to confess this is a bit of a shock,’ she says eventually. ‘You said there was nothing going on between the two of you and now you’re moving in with him.’ She can hardly criticise, seeing how quickly she and Godfrey moved in together. ‘Have I missed something?
‘We’re friends, that’s all,’ I insist.
‘Sure,’ Mum snorts sarcastically. ‘There must be more to it than that. Did he ask you or did you ask him?’
‘It doesn’t matter. We’re going to have separate bedrooms and all that.’
‘I think you’re completely barking if you really believe that you can work with him, live with him and be “just friends”.’
‘We’ve agreed that it’s a platonic arrangement.’
‘Wonderful. What could go wrong? Sometimes, you can be very naïve. Ross is charming, charismatic . . . and very attractive, and if I were twenty years younger—’
‘I’m not sure I like the idea that you have a secret crush on my new housemate.’
Vets of the Heart Page 16
