Vets of the Heart

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘Perhaps it’s best not to mention that to Godfrey.’ She giggles before growing serious again. ‘Why does Ross want to share? You have to ask yourself that question, when it’s patently obvious that he can afford to buy or rent his own house on a vet’s salary. Do you think he’s gay?’

  ‘I don’t see how that has any relevance, but he definitely isn’t gay.’

  ‘In that case, does he want you there to wash his socks and iron his pants? Or both.’

  ‘Is this a reference to the fact that Godfrey will insist on leaving the ironing board out so you can iron his boxers?’

  ‘I don’t do any laundry for him. He does it himself.’ She sighs. ‘All I’m saying is, be careful. I know you – you’re very good at hiding your true feelings. If you’re harbouring hopes that you and Ross might get together, this won’t help if he doesn’t feel the same way, and vice versa.’

  ‘But I’m not. He is good-looking, kind, funny—’

  ‘There you go then,’ Mum cuts in as I list his attributes. ‘He’s perfect boyfriend material.’

  ‘He’s also impatient, a little sharp at times, can be inconsiderate, and I suspect he still has feelings for his ex. I think those are more than enough reasons to prove that he isn’t.’

  ‘When you put it like that,’ Mum agrees.

  Later, Godfrey comes to find me. ‘I hope you aren’t moving out on my account,’ he says.

  ‘It isn’t you,’ I say, amused that I find myself unable to hurt his feelings. ‘I’ve been thinking of moving out for a while now, and it feels like the right time.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’ I nod and his face lights up. ‘In that case, I can help you find a suitable property. Give me a list of your requirements and I’ll be onto it straight away.’

  I thank him.

  ‘Move in in haste, repent at leisure,’ Mum reminds me, and I wonder if she’s regretting her situation, but when I see her and Godfrey sidling off upstairs to the bedroom, I doubt it very much. I also begin to doubt myself. Can friends of the opposite sex really live together and remain just good friends?

  Chapter Eleven

  The Home Front

  During the week, we have several more conversations about what kind of home we are looking for. We go out for another drink one evening – at the Talymill Inn this time – and have a couple of quiet nights on call. I swim just once. Mitch isn’t at the pool, and when Gemma tells me he’s changed his shift to mornings, I can’t help wondering if he’s done it to avoid me. I try phoning him, but the call goes to voicemail. I don’t leave a message. I’m sorry that our friendship – or whatever it was – has ended this way, but I did the right thing. I no longer feel as if I’m living in limbo. Life is exciting, sometimes challenging, but I’m loving it.

  The prospect of choosing a place to live with Ross occupies my thoughts. Neither of us wishes to delay the move any longer than necessary, so on the following Saturday morning, we’re all set to go house-hunting. I’ve been out for a walk with Seven and I’m finishing my toast in the kitchen, while Godfrey, dressed in one of his linen suits, prepares himself an espresso from the machine, which hisses and blows steam into his face.

  ‘Today, I’m showing you three properties. They’re very different, but I’m sure you’ll love them all.’ He removes his glasses, breathes on the lenses, and wipes them with the end of his bright red tie. At the sound of a motorbike, he cocks his head. ‘Shall we go?’

  He drains his coffee cup and we head through the shop to meet Ross at the front.

  Tucking his helmet under his arm and unzipping his leather jacket, he shakes Godfrey’s hand, but his eyes are on me.

  ‘Hi, Ross. I couldn’t sleep,’ I say. ‘You probably think I’m mad, but I’m so excited. This is a new experience for me.’

  He chuckles. ‘I’d reserve some of your enthusiasm for moving in with me until after the first couple of weeks when you’re complaining about the bike magazines and gear all over the place.’

  ‘Oh no, it’s going to be fun. I can’t wait.’

  ‘We’ll see. Can I leave my bike out there?’

  I gaze out of the window, past the twisted hazel Mum has used to dress the display. It’s market day and Jennie is already setting up her cake stall in the square, unfurling the stripy pink and white canvas surround and fixing it to the frame. One of her daughters is with her, unloading boxes of freshly baked muffins and fairy-cakes from the boot of a four-by-four. I wonder briefly how Lucky is.

  ‘It would be best to bring it around the back,’ I suggest. ‘If you go left and left again, there’s a driveway where you can park behind the shop.’

  He thanks me and disappears, returning a few minutes later, and we head out in Godfrey’s car with Ross in the front and me in the back.

  ‘I can’t persuade you to reconsider buying rather than renting?’ Godfrey negotiates his way through the preparations for the market, narrowly avoiding a crate of eggs and a small queue at the hot drinks stand. I press myself back against the seat, checking I’ve fastened the seatbelt as he waves one arm and swerves away from the pavement to avoid Mrs Dyer and Nero, who appears to have his eye on the petfood stall. ‘Don’t forget about the potential investment opportunity. You can buy, save through a mortgage and sell later for a profit. Simples.’

  I wish he wouldn’t say that – his attempt to be down with the youngsters sounds lamer than a three-legged donkey.

  ‘As I’ve said before, I’m not ready to put down roots,’ Ross says.

  ‘You can easily let the place out if you decided to move on, and buy another property. I’ve never met a poor vet.’

  ‘I could buy a place, but I don’t want any complications. Keep it simple: that’s my motto. I don’t want to be tied down to anything longer than a twelve-month lease to begin with, then Shannon and I will decide whether or not we want to make it a more permanent arrangement.’ He turns round and winks at me. He has to be kidding. ‘Thanks for doing this when Saturday must be your busiest day.’

  ‘I try my best to be accommodating as only an estate agent can.’ Godfrey laughs at his own joke.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I ask.

  ‘We’ve arrived,’ he says, and he pulls into the road that leads into the new estate, not far from Emma’s old house and almost opposite Taylor’s.

  ‘I thought we’d said no to this one.’ I look out at a terrace of modem houses, but Godfrey’s already out of the car and holding the door open for me.

  ‘It’s the one on the end. I know this doesn’t quite fit the brief, but I’d like you to be open-minded because this is about location and price. There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms, one en-suite on the first floor, and a large kitchen/diner and snug living room downstairs. It’s well presented and has a garden suitable for a dog.’

  Ross whistles through his teeth as he looks out onto the patch of lawn at the side. ‘I don’t think there’s room for Bart’s body and tail at the same time.’

  ‘It is a little – what shall we call it? – bijou, but it’s small and perfectly formed.’

  Spare me the cliches, I think, smiling to myself.

  ‘Bijou,’ says Ross. ‘That’s the name of a Siamese cat I treated for lily poisoning. There’s one big drawback to this house – there’s no room for the bike. I can’t possibly live here.’

  ‘There’s plenty of space on the drive.’ Godfrey waves his arm expansively, as though gesturing across acres of parkland, not a couple of square metres of tarmac.

  ‘I did tell you we needed off-street parking.’

  ‘I wish you could be a little more open-minded. Think of the alternatives. You can leave the bike at your place of work and walk here.’

  ‘No, no, she’ll get nicked or vandalised.’

  ‘There’s very little crime in Talyton St George. I think you’re being very pessimistic.’

  ‘Godfrey, this one isn’t for us,’ I say firmly. ‘Let’s move on.’

  ‘Don’t dismiss it out of hand.’ He puts the key int
o the lock on the front door. ‘At least, have a look around. The interior boasts a good number of electrical sockets.’

  ‘I don’t need to see inside, especially if that’s all you can say about it.’ Ross turns to me. ‘Do you, Shannon?’

  ‘Not if you don’t like it,’ I concede, wondering how I can have become so hypocritical in my old age. When I was a teenager, I objected to the new estate – I actually protested with my friends at the desecration of an open field – but now I’m considering living here.

  ‘You like it?’

  ‘It isn’t bad. I could live here.’ I could live anywhere if it meant not living with Godfrey. ‘It’s close to town and Taylor is just around the corner. I know we discussed what we wanted, but it isn’t going to be that easy to find.’

  ‘That is music to an estate agent’s ears. It’s a real benefit being able to be flexible in your requirements and expectations. It isn’t everyone who can see the potential in a property.’ Godfrey stares at Ross, who looks in through the downstairs window.

  ‘It’s still a no. You couldn’t swing a hamster in there.’

  ‘I hope you don’t change your mind – a property like this will always be in high demand, and they don’t come along very often.’

  ‘A bit like the buses in Talyton St George. Mrs Wall was telling me how the bus company’s cutting the number from three to one a day. Soon, you’ll be able to leave town, but never come back. I offered her a ride on the back of the bike, but she declined.’ Ross grins. ‘It’s probably a good thing – I wouldn’t like to be responsible for scaring her to death . . . I really don’t like this house. It’s just a box. It’s boring.’

  ‘So it’s absolutely, definitively and decidedly a no. Never you mind,’ Godfrey pats Ross on the back, ‘there’s more to see. Let’s move on to the next property, a spacious end-of-terrace in a prestigious address, ultra-convenient for all the local amenities.’

  We get back in the car and Godfrey drives us back through town, pulling up outside the church, a massive gothic-looking building built from grey stone, covered with gargoyles like rabid dogs, with bulging eyes and lips drawn back to reveal their teeth. The graveyard surrounding it is bordered with an iron railing and dark green yew trees, underneath which nothing grows. I know the names of the ancient families of Talyton St George etched into the gravestones by heart.

  ‘It’s that one, number one.’

  ‘Oh no,’ I say quickly. ‘I couldn’t.’

  ‘That’s almost next door to Frances,’ Ross says. ‘She lives at number three.’

  ‘So you know you have friendly and responsible neighbours, willing to help you out if you need them,’ Godfrey says, putting a positive spin on the situation.

  ‘And when you don’t,’ Ross adds.

  ‘The house is of a good size and spread over three floors.’ Godfrey gets out of the car.

  ‘Are you coming, Shannon?’ Ross asks when I hesitate. The biggest bell in the tower tolls the hour: ten booming strikes.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ He grins. ‘Are you worried about the other neighbours, the ones across the road?’

  I don’t know why, but a wave of sadness suddenly hits me, and I’m my eight-year-old self again, sitting beside my mum in the black car behind my father’s hearse, and she’s crying because I’ve just asked her for the hundredth time when he’s coming back from heaven. My throat tightens and tears prick my eyelids.

  ‘Oh god, your dad. You told me.’ He reaches his arm around my shoulders. ‘I’m sorry. You must think I’m really insensitive.’

  ‘It isn’t your fault. I thought I’d be fine about it. I mean, I come and visit him often. I sit or stand at his grave and, when no one is listening, I tell him what’s going on in my life, and how I wish he was still here.’

  Okay, I don’t know if he can hear me. I don’t even know for sure, even with the evidence from Mrs Wall’s crystal ball, if there’s an afterlife, but if there’s any chance he’s about in some form or another, I’d hate him to think I’d forgotten him. It’s comforting in a way. I’ll come here if I’ve had a really bad day at work. I didn’t talk to him about Mitch, and I haven’t told him everything about Ross. It’s hard to talk to your dad about the other men in your life, dead or alive.

  I take a deep breath and wipe away a tear with the tissue Ross hands me. It’s got some grease on it from the bike, but I thank him anyway.

  ‘Shall I tell him we want to go on to the next place?’

  I shake my head. ‘I’ll come and have a look. We don’t have a lot of choice – when people move to Talyton St George, they never leave.’

  He takes my hand to help me out of the car and we cross the road, following after Godfrey, who ducks his head to enter the house through the front door straight from the pavement.

  ‘This lovely house has oodles of character,’ he says as we catch up with him in the first room on the ground floor. ‘Look at those beams and that fireplace – all original features that have been sensitively restored. It’s absolutely charming.’

  ‘What do you think?’ Ross asks me.

  ‘I’m not sure. In some ways I like the idea of being close to my dad, but I don’t think I can deal with seeing the grave every time I look out of the window.’ I can just make it out among the stones on the north side of the churchyard.

  ‘Your dad? Your father.’ Godfrey’s voice wavers as he raises his fist to his forehead.

  ‘He’s buried here,’ I say quietly. ‘Didn’t Mum tell you?’

  ‘I knew she was a widow, of course, but we’ve never talked about it . . .’ He frowns. ‘Never mind.’

  I mind, I think. It’s as if she’s betrayed my father’s memory. She used to walk Seven and our old dog, Daisy, in there all the time. I wonder if she ever does that now.

  ‘What do you think of the house?’ Ross says.

  ‘We should look at the third option before we make a decision. I do like it. It feels homely and it’s handy for the practice – maybe too handy. If people find out we’re living here, they’ll be on our doorstep at all times of day and night with their animals. I think we’d be better off out of town.’

  ‘Let’s move on then,’ he agrees.

  The final property on Godfrey’s books is in Talyford, just along the road from the Old Forge where Penny and Declan live. It’s a barn conversion with a stable door, shared courtyard for parking at the front, and long windows onto the garden at the rear that backs onto fields. There’s even a shed where Ross can park his bike.

  We go inside the house and have a look around.

  ‘This is more like it,’ he says.

  ‘It’s perfect.’ I look out across the fields and the Taly valley. There’s a large kitchen/diner and small sitting room with a wood-burning stove; two bedrooms, one en-suite which, as Ross quietly reminds me, means I won’t have to worry about sharing a bathroom if his prostate should give him trouble prematurely.

  ‘Can we have pets here?’ I ask.

  ‘I’ve already spoken to the landlord – I’ve checked the tenancy agreement which is for twelve months, and they’re happy with one small dog or a cat.’

  Twelve months is a long time if we don’t get on, I muse as he continues: ‘Size is relative, and Bart wouldn’t be here full-time anyway.’

  ‘I can picture you two sitting here on a winter’s evening in front of a flaming log fire,’ Godfrey says, ‘or sitting out on the patio with wine and salad in the sun.’

  Ross smiles at these pictures of cosy domesticity.

  ‘How much?’ he asks.

  Godfrey responds with a monthly figure and my heart sinks.

  ‘That’s too much,’ I say.

  ‘There may be a little wriggle room for negotiation,’ Godfrey says, but I think he’s being overly optimistic.

  ‘Oh, who cares?’ Ross says. ‘It isn’t much over.’

  ‘We said we’d stick to the budget.’

  ‘I’ll leave you two to explore while you d
iscuss it,’ Godfrey says tactfully. ‘I’ll be in the motor.’

  Ross and I move to the kitchen to talk.

  ‘It’s pretty much perfect,’ he begins. ‘It’s fully furnished so we don’t need to buy much. It’s tucked away so we won’t run the risk of having clients knocking at the door at all times of day.’

  ‘Except perhaps for Penny and Declan they live almost opposite and Trevor’s prone to accidents.’

  ‘If you’re worried about the money, I can pay the difference.’

  ‘You can’t do that. I won’t let you.’ I couldn’t. I’d hate to feel under any obligation to anyone, especially him. ‘We have to be equals in this arrangement.’

  ‘I know, but I earn more than you and I want to live here, so it seems fair.’

  ‘But we set a limit—’

  ‘Godfrey’s right. If we don’t take this one, someone else will snap it up and we’ll have to look further afield, and I’m not sure Maz and Emma would be happy with that. We can’t be too far away when we’re on call.’

  I stare at him. Why does he have to be so insufferably right?

  ‘If you don’t want to go in with me, if you’re having cold feet, don’t worry. I’m going to move in here anyway. I’ve made my mind up.’ He grins. ‘So, are you in? Please say you’re in.’

  I take a moment to think. It’s a beautiful place and I can see us living here. If I make a few adjustments, I can pay my share. That is non-negotiable. If I turn this down, I’ll either have to pay more for a home of my own or spend more time with Godfrey. I make my decision.

  I’m in.’

  ‘That’s great!’ Ross grabs me by the hands and spins me around the kitchen until I’m giddy breathless and laughing. ‘We are going to have so much fun. We’ll stock up the fridge with beer, have a bit of a party.’

  ‘Beer? No way. It has to be wine.’

  ‘Both then.’ He tips his head to one side. ‘You see, I’m prepared to compromise. I am going to be your perfect housemate.’

  Godfrey is delighted.

  ‘Good decision,’ he says when we return to the car, although I’m sure he’d have preferred us to take one of the other rental properties off his hands. ‘We can go down to the office and sign the agreement if you’re sure. There’s no time like the present.’