‘You were never a brat Lucy.’ Trish smiled. ‘You’ve always been the love of my life.’
Lucy flung her arms round her, buried her face like she had as a little girl.
‘I’d have done anything for you sweetheart.’ She wrapped her arms round her daughter.
‘You did, you did everything, you were so brave.’ She knew her words were muffled, but she didn’t want to let go.
‘I just did what any mother would.’
‘Oh no.’ Lucy thought of Josie who seemed to be playing games with her own beautiful daughter, of Charlie who was so much more of a father than hers had ever been, of Elsie who she was sure had let her own child go. ‘You did far more than a lot of mums, if you hadn’t have done what you did our lives, my life, would have been totally different.’ For a moment she went cold. It didn’t bear thinking about. And if her mother had given in to her pleas and let her get in touch with Amy, he would have found them. ‘I’m so sorry I nagged at you, didn’t make the best of things.’
‘You were so young Lucy, children hate change, but you were brave. You made the most of it.’ Trish slowly edged Lucy away, held her at arm’s length and studied her face. ‘Look at you now. You can’t believe how proud I am of you.’
Lucy could feel the dampness on her face then, the tears she couldn’t hold back. She flung herself back into her mother’s arms, then swallowed the lump down. ‘I’m proud of you too Mum.’
Chapter 17
Charlie stared at the cat and wondered if he was seeing things. If he was still drunk. If he was in fact still asleep. He hadn’t been sleeping particularly well the last few nights.
Two images were haunting him the second he relaxed and closed his eyes. A young child from his past, and a woman who was very much from his present. But neither as far as he could see were ever going to be a part of his future.
The first he missed so much it left him clenching his fists, fighting the desire to curl into a ball and cry. The second he’d been avoiding.
Lucy.
Lucy who could soon be moving on, whatever Timothy Parry and Elsie Harrington had in mind.
But he’d kissed her.
Unintentionally.
Well, it had been intentional. It had definitely been intentional. You didn’t kiss a woman like that by accident. But he hadn’t intended to. He hadn’t even known he was about to, until it was too late.
It had just been an impulsive gesture. She’d gazed at him, looking slightly insecure, vulnerable, but totally lovable and kissing her had seemed the right thing to do. The natural thing. She’d just made him feel comfortable. Which he was far from feeling afterwards.
Years ago he’d probably have seen it as the ideal situation. Two ships passing in the night. Colliding in a village that wasn’t home to either of them. Having undeniably hot and lustful sex, then moving on with their own lives. In opposite directions.
Shit, where had the ‘hot and lustful’ bit come from?
He felt himself break into a cold sweat, and tried to focus back on the animal that was glaring at him from his consultation table.
Charlie didn’t know what had come over him. He’d asked Lucy out for a drink because he didn’t really want time on his own to think, and he was being selfish – he just liked her company. And of course he’d owed her a full explanation. She understood, if anybody could help him make sense of his life, Lucy could. Not that it was fair to ask her.
‘She just appeared like that for her breakfast this morning. Walking funny she was.’ He blinked at the ginger cat, who stared back disapprovingly, so looked up at his client. ‘I said to my Albert, there’s something funny about that cat. He’s not keen anyhow, and the cat isn’t keen on him, so he couldn’t catch her. I waited ’til he’d gone to deliver the post and I caught her, and here we are.’
Here we were indeed. Very firmly in the here and now, and not thinking about hot sex, or any of his other problems. ‘So she’s er, not very tame, Mrs Graham?’ It looked fairly friendly, if a bit perplexed, but cats were like that. Especially cornered cats, he’d got the scratches and bites to prove it.
He’d actually likened Lucy (only in his mind of course) to a cornered cat, but she was more like a cute puppy. Adorable, loving, devoted to her cause… Cat. Concentrate on the cat.
‘Oh it’s not our cat, duck.’
‘Sorry? Not your? But I thought…’ He glanced at his computer screen.
‘Well it thinks it’s our cat. In our house all the time it is, but my Albert says we shouldn’t have a cat. What do you think it is then?’ She nodded a head towards the cat’s middle, which was encased in a snugly fitting white tube. Like a corset.
Charlie had not had a good night’s sleep and his powers of deduction appeared to have been shot to pieces. Seeing Maisie again had been an actual physical shock, kissing Lucy had left an image of her imprinted on his brain and affecting his bodily parts, and the time in between spent eating, drinking or staring at case notes that swam dizzyingly in front of his eyes had left him feeling like he’d been on a night march with a rucksack full of bricks.
He’d woken up this morning with a banging head, and the shakes. Looking at himself in the mirror had been a mistake, and he felt sorry for any clients.
‘I’m not quite…’
‘My Albert said to wedge it in his vice and leave the cat to wriggle its own way out. He said it had got itself into the fix so it could darn well get itself out. But that wouldn’t be right now, would it? Poor thing.’
‘No, it wouldn’t be…’
There was a brief knock on the door, then it opened cautiously and Sally peeped round. Looking as full of life as she always did. ‘Sorry Charlie,’ she spotted the cat, and grinned, ‘a cat flap would be a better idea, Mrs Graham.’
‘What do you mean, duck?’
‘You’ve got one of those window extractor fans in your kitchen haven’t you? I’ve seen it when I’ve been round.’
‘Well yes, but it’s old and broken. It lets in a draft it does. I’ve told our Albert to get off his fat bottom and put a new pane of glass in. But…’
‘I bet you the centre tube has gone missing,’ she pointed at the tube round the middle of the cat. ‘You go home and check. I’ve seen it before, cats like crawling through things. You’ve left the door shut so it’s decided to climb through the window.’
Mrs Graham chuckled, a loud sound that built up like a tsunami and left her whole body trembling. ‘Well I’ll be damned, I reckon you’re right from them cobwebs on it. Needs a good clean. Our Albert thought shutting the door on the cat would be enough. Would you credit it, little bugger.’ She stroked the cat’s head affectionately and it purred. ‘You’re not going to be outsmarted by a man, are you pet?’
Sally grinned at Charlie, who couldn’t even summon the energy to respond. ‘I’ll take him through to the back where it’s quiet, we’ll need to make him drowsy so we can pull it off. I’ll ring you later, okay Mrs Graham?’ She opened the door, and gestured. Mrs Graham edged obediently over.
‘She will be okay?’
‘Of course she will, just come with me and sign the consent form then I’ll give you a call as soon as she’s ready to go home.’ She ushered Mrs Graham through the door then looked back at Charlie. ‘The cat will be okay but I’m not so sure about you. I’ll make you a strong coffee, then I’m afraid you’ve got an emergency to go out to.’
‘Oh God,’ he rested his head in his hands, ‘please don’t tell me Serena’s squashed that flaming dog again.’
‘No.’ She giggled. ‘Lucy’s lazy pig is acting, to put it in her own words, like he’s had a night on the tiles.’ She pulled the door half shut. ‘A bit like you. Caffeine shot on the way.’
‘Pig?’
‘Pig. Pork-chop,’ she grinned, looking alarmingly cheerful, ‘that’s his name not his state. I could always ask her to bring it in if you like?’
He wasn’t taken in by the innocent tone. Lucy trying to control a pig in his waiting room
was a crazy image too far in his muzzy head. ‘Can’t she call the vet up the road?’ It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her, it was the opposite. With each day that had passed he’d got more and more desperate to catch a glimpse of her. But what good would seeing her do? ‘They’re better with large animals.’
Not seeing each other was by far the most sensible solution. Then she could move on. She’d be much better off getting involved with a man like Matt Harwood, who was more than up for some mild flirtation to fill in his days, than a screwed up vet with a work addiction and a daughter.
‘Charlie!’ Sally tutted, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. ‘This is a very small pig. Honestly, anybody would think you were avoiding her.’
***
‘Good afternoon.’ Charlie stood there awkwardly, his case held between them like a protective barrier. ‘Sally said you had a bit of an emergency.’
Lucy stared. She hadn’t actually seen him since kiss-gate. ‘Sorry, I wouldn’t have called if I wasn’t worried.’ She’d actually been hoping for an over-the-phone diagnosis from Sally. ‘I was going to come in, but you were busy, and Sal said…’
‘It’s fine.’ His voice was mild, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth even if his eyes were a bit wary. ‘It is my job.’
‘Ahh yes, dealing with emergencies.’ Okay, so this wasn’t quite as embarrassing as she’d thought it might be. She’d honestly considered calling the vet in the next village. In fact, she’d looked up the number, and lifted up her phone to dial it. Then told herself she was being childish. Then double-checked on the pig to see if it really did look ill. And then after all her faffing about had decided it really did look like an emergency (unless she was prepared to message Annie and tell her that she now had a freezer full of sausages and bacon, but a pig-sized gap in the garden).
His mouth really was attractive, it tipped naturally at the corners (apart from when his lips were pursed which meant he was thinking, or cross with her) and his lips were just full enough but still masculine. Firm looking. Well they felt firm too, from the fleeting contact she’d had with them. Oh hell, she was going red. ‘It is an emergency. Honestly.’
He was watching her intently, as though waiting for something.
‘Or I wouldn’t have…’
‘Well do you think you should show me?’
Now she looked a complete numpty. Of course he was waiting. To see the patient.
Pork-Chop.
‘It’s Pork-Chop, the pig.’
‘And,’ he paused, ‘what appears to be the matter with Pork-Chop?’ His mouth twitched. ‘How on earth could anybody call a pig that?’
She grinned. ‘I’m beginning to think Annie has a quirky sense of humour. She’s got all kind of weird things in the cottage, including a stuffed owl called Hoot. I had to turn it round, it was watching me.’ He was watching her now, and it was a bit disconcerting. Better to stick to the matter in hand. ‘He’s er, acting a bit like he’s drunk.’
‘Drunk?’
‘Drunk. Come on I’ll show you. He’s been all, well, trembly, and staggering about a bit.’
‘Drinking?’
‘Yes, it’s like he’s been drinking.’ She stared. She’d already said that. ‘But he’s not actually drunk, I mean I’m not stupid I haven’t been giving him…’
‘I mean has he been drinking a lot?’ He looked amused. ‘Water as opposed to beer?’
‘Oh, water.’ Now he thought she was stupid, as well as a groupie. ‘Well actually, yes, he has. I wondered if I’d not filled the trough up properly. But he’s off his food, too.’
He really did have nice, long elegant fingers thought Lucy as Charlie ran his hands over the pig (she wondered what it would be like to have him run them over her?). He took his temperature (not as nice), checked his heart rate then straightened up. ‘Has he been panting much?’
‘Not much.’
Charlie ran his fingers through his hair, looking worried.
‘He is going to be okay, isn’t he?’ Oh hell, how would she explain this to Annie?
‘Fine.’ Charlie snapped shut his case ‘Sun stroke.’
Lucy stared. Sun stroke? She had a sudden image of the pig with a sunhat on as he pottered around the garden. She was losing her marbles. Maybe that was the heat as well. When she’d first arrived in Langtry Meadows, Liz Potts had reminded her of Mrs Tiggy-Winkle, and in a weird kind of reversal she was now seeing the pig in some kind of human form.
‘Are you okay?’ Charlie was frowning at her.
‘Sure, sure. Er.’
‘Well, heat stroke really to be more precise.’ He leaned over and pushed open the window at the back of the pig shelter. ‘He’s come in here probably to get out of the sun, but there’s no real air circulation. It’s a bit like a sauna.’
‘Oh crumbs, I’ve been frying him.’
He chuckled. ‘Not quite. More like steaming.’
‘I didn’t even notice you could open that window, let alone think about doing it. I just thought it was open at this side, and…’ She hadn’t thought at all. Poor Pork-Chop.
‘It was a good thing you spotted he was a bit distressed quickly.’ He opened the pen. Stood right next to her, and she didn’t know about the pig, but she was burning up. ‘Pigs generate quite a lot of heat.’ Like her then. ‘And they aren’t very good at regulating their temperature, they only sweat through their snouts.’
‘Ah.’ She wiped her sweaty palms down the back of her shorts, at least she hadn’t got a drippy nose even if she was as pink as a pig.
‘It’s been warm for the time of the year, humid. We’ll wash him down a bit, get some air circulating and he should be fine.’ She could do with some air circulation herself. A fan. Luckily Charlie had hardly noticed her, he was looking at poor Pork-Chop.
‘I’ll get the hose pipe then, shall I?’
Washing a small grunting animal down should not be erotic, but crouching next to a hunk of male as she did it, and watching his capable hands reassuring the pig, was playing havoc with her mind, and her churning insides. Even if the vet in question did seem oblivious.
He wiped the back of his arm over his brow and grinned. ‘It is a bit warm in here.’
‘I’ve got some lemonade, fancy a glass? Or are you busy?’ She was holding her breath, waiting for his answer, and it came out in a rush when he said yes. Along with a ridiculous grin. Why the hell was she so happy about him saying he’d stay for a quick drink?
The poor man was sweltering, and he was probably about to tell her that when he’d kissed her it had been by accident. Which was good. She hadn’t got time for awkward moments with men. In a few weeks’ time she’d be packing up and leaving the place.
The twinge in the pit of her stomach was unexpected, and she sighed as she stood up, plastered a smile on her face and headed in to get the drinks.
‘Oh.’ He fumbled in his pocket as his phone rang. ‘Better check that.’
‘Another emergency?’ Please don’t be.
‘Emergency or not, I’m still parched, so I’m having that drink with you.’ He smiled reassuringly, as though she’d said the words out loud. Oh hell, she hadn’t had she?
Lucy looked round, holding the two glasses of lemonade, and thought Charlie had actually done what he’d said he wouldn’t. And dashed off. To avoid any discussions about ‘the kiss’ no doubt. Then she spotted him. Sat on the small bench that was half hidden by the old, gnarled apple tree, his head in his hands.
‘Charlie?’ He opened his eyes, looked through his fingers at her feet, then with a weary sigh he let his gaze drift up. She frowned down at him. He’d done it again, one minute happy and relaxed, and now looking like she’d done something terrible. Which apart from nearly cooking the pig, she hadn’t. Well not recently. And not that he knew of.
He ran his fingers through his hair and slowly sat up straight.
‘Do you mind if I sit down?’
‘No, no, of course not, sorry.’ He shuffled up a b
it. Made some room.
She took a sip of her lemonade, sneaked a look at him under her eyelashes. He was staring at his hands, which were wrapped round his untouched drink. Fingers twitching ever so slightly, even though he’d got them so tight the colour had leached out of his skin.
‘Charlie,’ deep breath, ‘is everything okay?’
‘Fine.’
So that put her straight on that one. Even though he didn’t look okay. He looked all uptight, like he had the day he’d fled from outside the school. Maybe a different approach. ‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’
He gave a short laugh. ‘What are you going to badger me about now?’
‘Nothing. It’s not work.’ Another deep breath. ‘Okay, tell me to mind my own business.’
‘Is that going to work?’ He had an eyebrow raised. ‘Would you take the slightest bit of notice?’
She pulled back affronted, then relaxed again. ‘You might be right. I don’t tend to butt out easily.’ But maybe if she’d persisted with her mum all those years ago, she would have got an explanation sooner. Understood. Realised that it wasn’t all about her.
‘Spill. I know having to see me again was a bit of an ordeal.’ He made a bit of a harrumph noise and a glimmer of a smile appeared. ‘But there’s something else, isn’t there? It’s just,’ no polite way of putting this, ‘you look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ He didn’t immediately tell her to shut up, which was good. ‘And it’s just you looked like that the other day, when you scowled at me, well Jill, at school. The day Maisie…’
‘As good as.’ He put his hand over his mouth, pinched his nose between finger and thumb, and then exhaled. ‘I feel like I’ve seen a ghost.’
Charlie wasn’t okay. One phone call and his world had just been tipped upside down. Again. He felt a bit like a hamster, caught on the wheel, ploughing on blindly.
The warmth of Lucy’s thigh against his was slightly comforting. ‘Have you been called out?’
‘What?’
‘The phone call, when I went in to get a drink?’
Summer with the Country Village Vet Page 24
