Practically Perfect

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘That’s right. It’s her left ear,’ the mother said, quite unnecessarily, because Letty was scrubbing at the ear with her arm and crying piteously.

  ‘Let’s have a look, then,’ he suggested. ‘If you could hold her on your lap with her bad ear facing outwards, I might be able to get a look…Yup, that’s fine,’ he said, after such a short glance that Connie wasn’t sure he could possibly have seen anything. ‘Yes, she’s definitely got a nasty infection there, so I’ll give her some antibiotic syrup—can you get that into her?’

  The mother laughed. ‘I expect so. I might have to sit on her, but I’ve done it a few times now with the others. I’m pretty slick.’

  Connie chuckled. She’d seen some slick nurses on the wards in London, dealing with the little ones. Patrick wrote out the prescription and they left, giving a host of probably unnecessary advice, but given the state of the place and the unruly nature of the household, Connie wasn’t convinced the advice would be listened to.

  As they were walking down the path, something flew through the air and landed in Patrick’s hair.

  ‘Oh, my word, what’s that?’ Connie said, and then started to laugh.

  ‘What?’ Patrick asked, a nervous edge to his voice. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Chewing gum,’ she told him, chuckling. ‘It’s smothered. You’ll have to cut it out.’

  ‘I might not. You have to chill it with ice and crumble it, and then it’s supposed to come out. I’ll try that before I go to extremes.’

  Connie laughed. From where she was standing there was no way that chewing gum was coming out without surgery, and she was looking forward to watching Patrick try and get it out by any other method.

  ‘Disgusting little wretch,’ he said with a sigh, getting into the car. ‘Have we got any ice in the fridge?’

  ‘I expect so. I’ll have a look when we get in. Then I’ll find the scissors for you.’

  He shot her a dirty look and started the engine. ‘Pessimist,’ he growled.

  She smiled with satisfaction. ‘We’ll see.’

  She’d been right, of course. It annoyed Patrick to bits. She’d gone and collected Edward while he’d messed about with ice and made it worse, and then she’d come in and crowed victoriously, before producing the scissors.

  ‘Here you go,’ she said.

  ‘No way! If you think it needs cutting out, you do it,’ he told her.

  ‘With my left hand?’

  ‘If that’s what it takes.’

  She met his challenging stare for several seconds, then put the scissors in her left hand. ‘God help you, then, because my nails on my right hand always look a complete mess. Right, are you ready?’

  He nodded, and Edward shifted closer, fascinated.

  She slid the scissors into the hair and caught the top of his ear, sticking the scissors into the little fold.

  ‘Ouch!’ he yelled. ‘That was my ear!’

  ‘Well, serves you right. You shouldn’t have such sticky-out ears.’

  Patrick poked his tongue out at her, then caught Edward’s mesmerised expression. ‘I’ve got sticky-out ears,’ he told them. ‘Mummy says they’re like taxi doors, and I have to have an op’ration to shut them.’

  Patrick felt a chill run through him. He was four years old—and if his hair hadn’t been cut so ridiculously short, they wouldn’t have shown!

  ‘Nonsense,’ he said, no longer worried about backing up Marina and presenting a solid front. He stuck his fingers under his hair and lifted it out of the way. ‘My ears are just like yours—they’re the best ears, trust me. They hear things other ears miss all the time.’

  Edward’s eyes widened. ‘They’re even bigger than mine!’ he said, awestruck.

  ‘Of course. That’s because my head’s bigger. My hands are bigger than yours as well, and my legs are longer. That’s because you haven’t finished growing.’

  ‘I’m glad my legs aren’t that long,’ Edward said thoughtfully, studying his father with a quizzical expression, ‘or I’d have to work in a circus!’

  It was his first joke, and Connie and Patrick both laughed till their sides ached.

  And the subject of the ears was closed, hopefully for ever.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT HAD been a week since Patrick kissed Connie, since she’d come back from London and he’d held her and touched her with such tenderness.

  Connie ached for him to do it again, to hold her again, to touch her like that once more with such unbearable gentleness.

  Not that his kiss had been gentle, but she hadn’t wanted it to be. No, the kiss had been fine the way it was. There just hadn’t been any more of them, unfortunately.

  Still, she and Edward were getting on well, and having lots of fun. They did more cooking, and then one day, when they’d made fairy cakes with Teddy Edward’s help, Connie asked what they should do next.

  ‘Could we take Teddy Edward on a picnic?’ Edward asked. ‘By the river? And catch minutes?’

  Connie suppressed the smile. ‘Minnows? I expect so. We might have a net somewhere in the back of the garage. I’ll go and look. Why don’t you put some fairy cakes in a little bag while I go and see?’

  She found the net, and came back to discover Edward sitting in a sea of broken glass, tears streaming down his cheeks, white to the gills. ‘Oh, pumpkin, what happened? Are you hurt?’ She crouched beside him, hugging him, and he turned his head into her shoulder and wept.

  ‘I broke a jamjar,’ he sobbed. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She looked down at him, stroking his head and wiping away the tears. ‘Is that all? You aren’t hurt? Cut?’

  The fair little head shook from side to side. ‘No. I just broke it.’

  ‘Well, if that’s all, there’s nothing to cry about! I’m always breaking things. It just happens, especially with this hard tiled floor. Just so long as you aren’t hurt.’

  She lifted him up, regretting the weakness of her right arm, and plonked him on the worktop while she swept the floor and cleared up all the glass. Then she found another jar, put it with the fairy cakes in a carrier bag and found a piece of string.

  ‘What’s that for?’ he asked. ‘Fishing?’

  ‘No—to tie Teddy Edward to you, so neither of you can fall in the river and float away. All right?’

  He grinned. ‘Then he can catch me if I fall,’ he said happily.

  Not before I do, Connie thought, dodgy arm or not. I couldn’t lose you, you’re much too precious. ‘Come on, then. We’ll take the dogs—they like picnics, and we can have a bit of a party. We’ll take them some biscuits.’

  The dogs pricked their ears and sat up, making Edward laugh, and together they all headed off across the fields behind the house to the river where Connie had so often gone with Anthony. He’d taught her to catch minnows when she’d been no older than Edward, and it seemed right and yet very strange that she should be teaching this little one.

  So much water under so many bridges, she thought, and so much of the water was so troubled.

  ‘Can we sit here?’ Edward asked, but it was a bit nettly so they moved along the back until they found a bit without nettles, and settled down there. Connie had brought a rug, and they spread it out, sat on the sides and put the picnic in the middle. That was where Patrick found them, using scraps of cake as bait to encourage the minnows to the surface so they could scoop them up with the net.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’ he asked, hunkering down beside Connie.

  She couldn’t have stopped the smile if her life had depended on it. ‘Of course not. Have a fairy cake—we just made them.’

  It was odd, she thought, how much more complete the party seemed with him there. ‘How did you know where to find us?’ she asked him as he stretched his long legs out beside her.

  ‘I saw you all heading over the field from the surgery window. I was in the nurse’s room, and as I’d just about finished, I watched to see which way you went, tidied up after the clinic and followed you.’ He looked sudden
ly uncertain. ‘Am I in the way?’ he asked softly, so Edward wouldn’t hear.

  He was sitting on the edge of the bank, with Teddy Edward on his lap, talking to him about the fish. He was miles away, and utterly content. ‘In whose way? I’m sure Edward’s delighted to have you here, and I certainly don’t mind.’

  ‘Are you delighted to have me here?’ he asked, a soft smile playing about his lips.

  She was, but she wasn’t falling for his obvious tactics so easily. ‘Stop fishing,’ she told him.

  ‘I thought that was what it was all about.’

  ‘Do I have to stop fishing?’ Edward asked from the water’s edge.

  ‘No, sprog, you carry on. Connie’s just teasing me.’

  ‘OK.’

  They watched his little head for a moment, bent to the bear’s in earnest conversation, and Connie wondered how it must feel to know that you’d been responsible for the birth of something as amazing as that funny little boy.

  All of a sudden she felt a great wave of love and tenderness, and a terrible yearning ache for him to be hers, and for there to be others, hers and Patrick’s. She jumped to her feet.

  ‘I’m going to take the dogs for a little stretch,’ she told him. ‘You stay here with Edward, could you? Thanks.’ And whistling up the dogs who were watching the fairy cakes with enormous enthusiasm, she set off up the path beside the river.

  It was all too much. Living with Patrick all the time, it was very bitter sweet, and she wondered if she was just torturing herself by staying up here or if she shouldn’t just go back to London and wait for her arm to heal.

  No. She couldn’t do that. She’d done it for weeks after her arm was broken, and she’d gone stir crazy. That was why she’d gone to Yorkshire.

  Perhaps she should go backpacking again?

  She sighed. No. She couldn’t do that. She was needed here, at least for a little longer, and the next few weeks would pass much faster if she was here with them.

  ‘Penny for ’em.’

  She jumped and whirled round, her hand on her heart. ‘Where’s Edward?’ she asked, immediately concerned.

  ‘He’s coming. He says the fish are tired and they’ve gone to lie down, so he and Teddy Edward are eating the last of the fairy cakes and packing up. I said I’d come and get you—and, don’t worry, I’ve pulled the blanket away from the edge of the water and told him to be careful. And, anyway, don’t change the subject.’

  ‘What subject?’ she asked, confused.

  He smiled gently and cupped her cheek. ‘Whatever it is that was making you look so forlorn.’

  ‘Oh. That subject,’ she said, flannelling.

  ‘Is it your arm?’ he asked, his face concerned.

  She nodded. ‘Sort of, in a way. It’s not knowing. It’s the waiting, being in limbo. I’m not very good at it.’

  ‘Nor am I,’ he said with a sigh, turning back towards Edward. ‘I saw another practice advertised the other day, but it was nothing like as good as this. They all seem to be in a horrible area, or else they’re part of a busy group practice, or it’s part time, or there’s some other fatal flaw.’

  ‘Do you want a single-handed practice, then?’ she asked. ‘I thought most people these days liked to be in a group.’

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe. I don’t know. I like working alone and being my own boss, and, with a co-operative doing the out of hours stuff most of the time, it’s not as tiring as it used to be in the old days. I have to say if I had to design a practice that suited me ideally, it would be this one, but it’s not available so there’s no point in fretting about it.’

  They arrived back at the picnic site, to find Edward and the bear curled up together on the rug, having a nap. ‘He must have been tired,’ Connie said softly. ‘He’ll get chilled if he stays there—the ground’s too damp to lie on.’

  ‘I’ll carry him if you can manage the rest,’ Patrick suggested, and scooping up the child and bear—still tied together with the piece of string—he waited for Connie to pick up all the other things, then they headed back over the fields to the house.

  ‘I’ll put him on the sofa,’ he murmured, and Connie put the kettle on. Moments later he was back, phone messages in hand.

  ‘That’s what you get for snatching a few minutes. I have to go out before surgery—urgent visit. I’ll see you soon.’

  He waggled his fingers and went, and she thought, if we were married, he would have kissed me, and she felt a great wave of loneliness.

  Which was ridiculous, because they weren’t married—they weren’t even close. So he’d kissed her once. Clearly he thought it had been a mistake because he hadn’t done it again.

  She made herself a cup of tea, took it in the sitting room and vowed to do her physiotherapy until Edward woke up.

  ‘Connie, have you got a minute?’

  ‘Sure.’ She flicked a glance at Edward, still fast asleep, and went out quietly after Patrick. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked him once they were out of earshot.

  ‘One of the patients—Mrs Grimwade. I believe you know her?’

  ‘Yes, she used to run the village shop. She’s amazing. What about her?’

  ‘She’s had a stroke—a few days ago, by all accounts, but she’s refused to tell anybody because she knows she’ll have to go to hospital. Her neighbour’s been looking after her, and she called me in because she was so worried. Of course, Mrs Grimwade’s cross about it, but she’s still refusing to go to hospital because of her kittens.’

  ‘Kittens? Again?’

  He nodded. ‘Apparently she was brought these three kittens when their mother was run over—they’re about fifteen weeks now, but she’s been hand-rearing them from ten days, and she’s besotted by them and can’t bear to leave them. I just wondered if you’d got any influence or if you knew anyone who’d have the litter so she didn’t have to worry.’

  Connie laughed. ‘Oh, she’ll worry, whatever. She adores cats. Hasn’t she got any others at the moment?’

  He shook his head. ‘Apparently not. Just the kittens. Connie, she’s got to go to hospital. She’s in urgent need of anticoagulation therapy before she has another stroke or a heart attack, and I can’t allow these kittens to get in the way of her life.’

  ‘I think she’d disagree with you.’

  He remembered the argument and laughed. ‘She did disagree with me. That’s why I’ve come to get your help. She said you’d understand.’

  Connie snorted. ‘Oh, yes, I understand. I’ve done just the same thing in the past—well, my mother has. In fact, my mother was saying the other day that they ought to get another cat once Dad comes home.’

  Patrick looked at her narrowly. ‘Another? As in, A. N. Other? One? Not three!’

  She chuckled. ‘No, probably not three, but we’ve had three in the past—and, anyway, if they’re fifteen weeks they’re over the worst. They’ll be litter trained and old enough to go out in the garden, and Edward would simply love them.’

  Another thing to tear them both away from, Patrick thought despairingly. Unless one of the kittens was Edward’s, and came with them when they moved?

  ‘Do you think she’d let you have them?’

  A warm, lovely chuckle bubbled Connie’s throat. ‘Oh, yes. I know she will, just as she knows I’ll take them. Besides, stroking cats is very good therapy, and I can practise my physio by tickling their ears with each finger in turn. What colour are they?’

  He laughed. ‘What possible difference could that make?’

  ‘You’re right, it makes none. I was just curious. So, what are they?’

  Patrick shook his head, bemused. ‘I don’t know—tabby? Black? I couldn’t be sure, they were moving too fast.’

  ‘Lively, are they?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘I have surgery shortly. If you want these cats and you think it’ll be all right with your parents and it will get Mrs Grimwade into hospital, then let’s, for goodness’ sake, go for it!’

  ‘We’ll take Edward,’ Connie
said. ‘He’ll love it—and we can take the cat carrier. It’s in the garage. We’ll need to stop at the village shop for cat litter and food—’

  ‘All right, all right. Come on,’ he chivvied, one eye on the time, and went and woke Edward.

  He came, sleepy and bleary and fascinated, and chattered excitedly between yawns all the way there.

  The house was chilly when they got there, and Connie was instantly worried about the poor woman. She was slumped in a chair, the left side of her face drooping, her left hand curled into a little claw. There was a definite aroma of incontinence in the air, and the place was a mess.

  ‘Mrs Grimwade!’ Connie exclaimed, going up to her and taking her frail, gnarled old hands. She used both hands, Patrick noticed, and wondered if she’d realised. ‘I gather you’re very poorly—I am sorry,’ she said, her voice rich with sympathy. She crouched down beside the elderly woman and patted her knee.

  ‘Patrick tells me you’re worried about the kittens. Well, you mustn’t because, if you’ll let me, I’ll take them. My parents were talking just the other day about getting some more cats, and I know they’d be delighted if they were yours again.’

  ‘Again?’ Patrick said, and Connie flashed him a smile.

  ‘Oh, yes. Our cats always come from Mrs Grimwade, don’t they?’

  ‘Have done in the past. Oh, Connie, you don’t know how relieved I’d be. I never meant to keep them all, but nobody seemed to want kittens this summer. They’re such lovely little chaps, too—all boys. The tabby with the circle on his side is Leo, the other tabby’s Joey and the bad little black one is Mickey. The boy’s made friends all ready, look.’

  They looked, and found Edward on the floor, two kittens fighting with his shoelaces, the other one on his lap attacking a bit of string he was dangling.

  ‘Right, let’s put them in the cat carrier and take them home, and we can get you off to hospital,’ Patrick said firmly. While Connie and Edward rounded up the kittens, he contacted the hospital, arranged admission and knocked on the neighbour’s door to tell her what was happening.

  They got back to the surgery just before the patients started arriving, and because they hadn’t had time to go shopping Connie and Edward shut the kittens in the kitchen, put the dogs in the hall and walked to the shop.