‘And they have here?’
‘When I looked out of the window first thing, Jim was peering over the hedge. I felt like he was going to come marching up the path and tell me I’d ruined the roses. I mean I haven’t got that much clue about gardening, I’m the girl that once carefully cultivated a patch of weeds.’
Charlie smiled. ‘You’re doing a brilliant job, I’m sure Annie will be pleased, you can’t exactly destroy a garden. I’d say it’s looking much better.’
‘I suppose it’s more that I feel I’m constantly being checked up on, watched. Sally even popped in to check up on the hen.’
‘Not because she didn’t trust you, I think she wanted a gossip. She’s nice.’
She sighed. ‘She’s very nice.’ In the city, nobody ever popped in on the off chance to share a bottle of wine. Nobody insisted she come down and join in the pub quiz. She didn’t even know her neighbours, let alone where the local pub was. ‘I’m just not used to it, I suppose.’ It had been fun though, much better than the night in alone that she’d planned.
‘I know what you mean. Even though I’ve been brought up here, it takes some getting used to again. You know that if you buy two steaks from the butcher, then go in the post-office next day they’ll be asking who the romantic meal was with and whether you need to book the church.’
She laughed, trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy. ‘So who was the lucky lady then?’
‘Don’t you start! It wasn’t me buying steak, it was somebody I know.’ He looked around, to check there was nobody eavesdropping, then dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper that made the hairs on her arms prickle. ‘Don’t you dare say a word, but it was Sally.’
‘Sally?’
‘She doesn’t think I know.’
Lucy smiled. ‘Poor Sally, she’s mad about Jamie isn’t she?’
‘Young love.’ There was a wry twist to his beautiful mouth. ‘If one of them doesn’t make a move soon then somebody in the village will do it for them. Seriously though, don’t take the interference too much to heart, it means they like you.’
She looked at him doubtfully. ‘I suppose at least it means they’re interested. Jane Smith arguing about the way I do my sums has to be better than apathy I guess, and to be honest,’ she sighed, ‘I can see where she’s coming from. I wasn’t sold on the methods at first, and people don’t like what they don’t understand.’
‘Nobody likes change.’
The hand that held hers had stiffened slightly, the corner of his mouth had tightened, and the words had such conviction that Lucy wondered just what it was that had happened to him. When he’d refused to come into school it had niggled her, it didn’t seem to fit the person she was slowly getting to know. At first she’d thought he was just being awkward, or didn’t like her, now she was sure he had to have another reason.
‘Did you go to school here?’
‘I did, probably sat at one of the desks in your classroom. I might even have scratched my name on the underside.’
The cheeky grin made her heart flutter in her chest. ‘You’ll have to show me.’
‘I will.’ His steps slowed. ‘That field there,’ he pointed, leaning in closer to her, ‘was part of the strawberry farm when I was a kid. They did pick-your-own, and they also paid us kids to pick some to sell on the roadside stall. May Day marked the start of the season, and the smell of strawberries always takes me straight back to those days. We used to eat as many as we picked. Pay was terrible.’ He laughed, a deep rumbling carefree laugh.
‘It’s tomatoes that remind me of being a kid. You know that fresh off-the-vine smell? All sweet and grassy, it makes me think of sunshine. Mum used to take me down to this little nursery and we’d fill a bag with tiny cherry tomatoes, and the old lady that owned the place used to pick out the ripest one she could find for me to eat.’ She paused, she could almost smell that sweet fresh smell, her taste buds tingled as though expecting the burst of the fruit in her mouth. There had been good times. ‘You enjoyed it when you lived here?’
‘It was a good place to grow up.’
‘So why move away?’
‘Oh, there was a big wide world to explore, opportunities.’
He wasn’t quite meeting her eye as he spoke. Which meant a woman. A relationship he didn’t want to be tomorrow’s juicy gossip.
‘Same for you?’ His tone was soft, he was looking straight into her eyes as they came to a halt outside her garden gate. He ran the back of his hand down her cheek, a soft caress she couldn’t help but lean into.
‘Not quite.’ She swallowed, not sure if it was the memories, or being this close to him, that was causing the lump in her throat. ‘I didn’t have a choice.’
‘But you do now.’ His tone was soft, unexpectedly gentle. She did have. Nobody was pushing her, not even the demons.
‘So do you.’
‘My life’s complicated.’ He rubbed his thumb over her lips, but didn’t make a move to kiss her. ‘I don’t think I have a choice yet, I don’t know where I’ll be this time next year, next month even. It’s out of my hands.’
‘We always have choice, have control, even when it doesn’t seem like it.’ The words came out before she even knew what she was saying. ‘We can’t always control where we are, what we do, but we can decide how we handle it, what we do next. Who we are. Nobody can take that away.’
‘Maybe.’ He leant closer then, and did what she hadn’t expected at all. He kissed the tip of her nose, the slightest brush from warm lips that sent a shiver straight down her body to the pit of her stomach. ‘Take care, Lucy. Good luck for tomorrow.’
Lucy instinctively put her fingers up to the spot he’d kissed as she watched him walk away. So that was a pretty firm hint to keep away. Even she could see the neon sign he was waving saying he didn’t want to get involved. That he could be leaving even before she did.
Clutching the box of cakes to her she walked up the crazy paving to the front door. This place was mad, crazy, wonderful. Tears burned at the back of her eyes as she fumbled for her keys, and then she saw it. Propped up in the tiny porch. A carrier bag.
Inside were a pair of shiny new garden shears, and a note. Thought these might make the job easier, place looks grand. Jim x
He hadn’t been judging her, he’d been helping her.
She stumbled in, put the cakes and shears on the kitchen table and stared at them through the haze of tears.
Langtry Meadows was nothing like her warped, tarnished memory of village life. People were people, wherever they were. They cared, had hearts, needs, a desire to band together. To be stronger in a group, than working alone.
People wanted you to be part of a community – unless you decided not to let them. To shut them out. And in a city it was easy to shut everybody out, to put up barriers that nobody had the time or strength to chip away at. People battled away on their own because they felt they had no choice. She’d just told Charlie that nobody could take away who he was, and yet she’d let somebody do it to her. She just wasn’t sure who.
‘Oh Mum.’ She sat down and buried her head in her hands. She was being dragged into this community whether she liked it or not, not being excluded. And she did like it. She knew that. The little things that she’d be so sure would niggle her, were fading into the background as the well-meaning villagers grew on her.
Lucy picked up her mobile phone, and dialled her mum’s number before she had time to change her mind. It rang out, echoing emptily. With a start she noticed the time on the kitchen clock. She wasn’t being fair, just because she’d decided she suddenly had a million questions, didn’t mean her mother was there to answer them. She was probably fast asleep in bed. With a sigh she ended the call, put the phone on the table and wiped her eyes.
She was pushing her chair back, to get a glass of water, when it rang.
‘Mum? I didn’t wake you did I?’
‘No.’ Her voice said otherwise. ‘What’s wrong, what’s happened, Lucy?’
/> ‘Er, nothing. Nothing’s wrong.’ She sat down again. ‘Somebody gave me cakes, and garden shears.’ A single hot tear ran down her cheek.
‘That’s nice dear.’ There was a note of concern in her mother’s voice as Lucy gave a loud sniff.
‘Why did Dad sell the piano?’ The words rushed out, before she could stop them.
She could sense her mother’s hesitation.
‘He didn’t want me to do something I loved, did he?’ She’d always thought that he didn’t like the noise, that she played too loudly, and she’d begged him to change his mind. That she’d be quieter. He’d told her not to question his decisions, and sent her to her room. ‘I really enjoyed playing that piano, I wanted to play it all the time.’
‘I know.’ The heavy sigh rippled over the airwaves. ‘Your father liked,’ she hesitated, ‘to make the decisions.’
‘To be in control.’
‘To be in control. Yes.’
He’d liked to force her to practise, but as soon as he’d realised she wanted to do it, then he’d taken it away. ‘He took everything away.’ Her own words reverberated round the empty kitchen. He had. He’d taken everything away. Even her friends. That stillness, the quiet in the house hadn’t been peace. It wasn’t like the gentle, calm peace that had enveloped her and Charlie tonight as they’d walked home from the pub, it had been an undercurrent. Fear. Dread. Her mother had been holding her breath in anticipation of what he’d do next.
‘Mum?’
‘Yes, I’m still here.’
‘Mum, did Dad leave us, or did we leave him?’
There was a deep, heartfelt sigh. ‘It was complicated.’ Her voice faltered. ‘I did what I thought was best for you, I wanted you to be happy, Lucy.’
‘I know.’ She did. ‘I wish you’d told me.’
‘So do I. Maybe we need to have a little chat about this. You’ll always be my little girl, Lucy. I didn’t want to hurt—’
‘I think I need to start growing up, Mum. Don’t you?’ She spoke softly, she didn’t want to upset her mother, she didn’t want to cause waves, but she needed to straighten out her memories. Then she could shut the door on them. Take control of her own life. ‘I’ll give you a ring next week?’
‘Whatever you want, darling. Lucy, I am sorry—’
‘Don’t be sorry, Mum. You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Night.’
‘Night, darling. Sleep well.’
Lucy put the phone gently down, and very calmly sat on the kitchen chair staring out into the darkness. She didn’t fully understand what had happened in the past, why her mother had made the decision, but she was beginning to wonder if their lives had actually been far different to how she remembered it, the reality she’d created in her head.
Chapter 8
‘Good morning my dear.’ Timothy Parry dodged around Sophie who was sitting cross-legged on the grass, making a neat pile of grass and daisies. Her skirt crumpled up around her chubby thighs. ‘No Mischief?’
‘Well they’re being quite good so far,’ Lucy couldn’t quite cross her fingers at the same time as re-tying the ribbon in Daisy’s hair, and with hairgrips in her mouth she knew the words were muffled but the puzzled look on Timothy’s face still surprised her. ‘It is early though, but at least the sun is shining.’
‘Miss, Miss, my mam says you need to put sun cream all the way up my legs in case I fall over.’
‘Sophie Smith,’ Jill clapped her hands, ‘your mam was given strict instructions to put the cream on before you got here. Now come and stand in the line like a good girl, we can see your knickers as well as your legs.’
‘Miss?’ Lucy put a clip through the ribbon to keep the bow in place and turned to find Ted studying her solemnly.
‘Ted?’
‘Sir doesn’t mean naughty mischief.’
‘Don’t you?’ She glanced from him to Timothy who was smiling benevolently, but not doing much to help as far as controlling the excited children went.
‘No dear. I meant little Mischief.’
‘Little?’
‘Mischief the pony, Miss. Miss,’ Daisy tugged her sleeve for attention, ‘why can’t my hamster come to the May Day if your pony can?’
Lucy did a quick check in Daisy’s pockets to check that the hamster hadn’t been smuggled in, then looked back at the headmaster.
‘It’s tradition.’ He looked slightly disappointed, as though he’d expected her to know.
Oh God, she was beginning to hate that word. In fact she was beginning to get the same nervous twitch that Charlie had whenever anybody said ‘Eric did’.
‘I’ll leave it with you, shall I?’ He nodded, gave the children a quick once over. ‘Back in a tick.’
‘I’ll go and get him for you, shall I love?’ Jim, resplendent in bright red breeches, a white ruffled shirt, and jingling bells below his wrists materialised in front of her.
‘You look, er…’
‘Morris dancing, love.’ He grinned, and waved a stick at her. ‘You hang on to these for me and I’ll get our Annie’s little pony for you. Can’t have a procession without Mischief, can we? He’s been leading the way for years. Let’s hope he hasn’t got the runs like he did two years ago, eh? All this spring grass plays havoc with the little bugger’s stomach.’ He chuckled and Lucy felt like something was playing havoc in her own stomach. This wasn’t butterflies, it was more like her insides had been replaced with a washing machine set to spin cycle.
She’d thought it was going so well, that she had it in hand. That none of the children were going to, accidentally or otherwise, strangle anybody with a ribbon, that sun cream had been applied to all, and that nobody had their skirt tucked in their knickers, or worms in their pockets. Now she had to cope with the prospect of a pony with an explosive bottom.
‘Can I hold them, Miss? Jim, Jim, can I hold them?’
‘No.’ Lucy very firmly took the sticks and handed them to Liz, who was bustling about straightening collars and pulling up socks.
Twenty minutes later Mischief the Shetland pony, looking rather livelier, and a lot cleaner than normal arrived, clip-clopping his way over the cobbles of the village square. He looked around at the children, then lifted his tail.
Oh God, no. He couldn’t. Not here. Not now.
He didn’t. But she had never in her life heard any animal pass wind so loudly, and for so long. He looked through his large eyelashes at his audience to see if they appreciated his efforts.
The boys thought it was hilarious. The twins keeled over in a synchronised mock faint (why couldn’t they skip simultaneously round the pole?), most of the girls covered their noses and mouths with tiny hands, and little Ted stared in awe. ‘Cool. That’s better than our cows do.’
Jim ignored it, pointing proudly at the clean and shiny coat. ‘Looking smart, isn’t he love? I gave him a quick once over. I mean,’ he looked at her, wiggling his bushy eyebrows, but didn’t seem to be judging, ‘our Annie does normally give him a bath first thing in the morning, but I know you’ve not time for that, what with sorting the kiddies.’
‘He is, erm, looking wonderful, thanks for brushing him.’ It would be rude to talk through her hand, but she really didn’t want to take it away from her nose and mouth. ‘I didn’t know he was in the procession though, or I would have given him a bath.’ How the hell did one bath a pony? A ridiculous image of Mischief in the small claw-footed bath with a shower cap on jumped into her head. ‘I am sorry, I don’t want to let Annie down, if that’s…’
‘Oh don’t you worry, love. All done now. Right, he’s all yours, I’ve got to get my clogs on.’
She took the lead rope without thinking, then stared at it. She couldn’t. She really couldn’t look after a pony as well as all her little maypole dancers.
‘Clogs?’
‘We’re leading the procession, love. Liven the crowd up a bit!’ He winked, gave a brief nod and headed off at remarkable speed. Jim, she was discovering, had perfected the art of a quick exit when it
suited him.
‘Miss, Miss, my knickers are falling down.’
There was a tug on her sleeve and she looked down to see Daisy in front of her, pointing to a pair of polka dot pants pooled round her ankles like a fallen rainbow. ‘’Lastic gone.’
The elastic had indeed gone. She was just about to shout Jill and ask if she had any spares, when Mischief, realising her concentration had lapsed, made a bid for freedom and whisked the rope from her hand before she had a chance to react.
She’d never seen his little legs move so fast. In fact she’d never seen him move much at all. Since she’d arrived at Langtry Meadows, all he seemed to do was eat.
He headed off at a trot, head high, straight towards a float that carried the May Queen – and a carpet of fake grass. Realising his mistake, he veered away straight into the path of a startled Charlie – who caught the end of the rope as he passed and brought him to a neat halt, then looked around trying to work out where the pony had come from.
‘Over here!’ Lucy waved, and he glanced her way – a look of mild terror on his face as he took in the throng of children who were gathered around her. Straightening his shoulders he seemed to take a deep breath before heading her way, towing the pony behind him.
‘You’re the new vet, aren’t you mister?’ Ted studied him, unsmiling. ‘My dad says all the new flungly stuff…’
‘New-fangled,’ corrected Lucy automatically.
‘New flangly stuff you does isn’t as good as,’ he paused and frowned, ‘experiments that Eric has in bucket-loads.’ He looked at Lucy. ‘Eric is the proper vet.’
‘Experience.’ Lucy put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sure Mr Davenport has lots of experience as well as new-fangled stuff, Ted.’
‘My dad says Eric knows what’s what.’
‘I’m sure he does.’ Lucy was surprised to hear Charlie speak. ‘And as soon as he’s better he’ll be back. Until then it’s me and my new-fangled magic I’m afraid.’
‘Magic?’ Ted’s eyes opened wide, along with his mouth. ‘Cor I never knew it was magic, do you have a wand like Harry Potter?’
Summer with the Country Village Vet Page 13
