Charlie the Kitten Who Saved a Life

by Sheila Norton

  CHAPTER TWO

  One of my favourite things about my job, apart from the animals themselves, of course, was that it was how I met Claire. Claire was one of the other receptionists, and although we didn’t always work together – she was part-time – it was always more fun when she was there. She was ten years older than me, not that you’d have known it to look at her, and was married with a little boy, seven-year-old Harry. Harry was the reason Claire only worked part-time, and he was also the reason she hadn’t had any more children. When she’d first told me this, I’d looked at her in surprise, assuming she meant that there had been complications, but she’d immediately laughed and said she meant purely for the cost of the childcare.

  I could see how true it was that life wasn’t easy for a working mum. But despite my little roses-round-the-door fantasy that had so irritated Adam, I knew perfectly well that children weren’t going to be on the agenda if Adam and I stayed together. The very thought made me anxious.

  ‘Have you told him you’re starting to have doubts?’ Claire asked.

  ‘No. I’m not even sure enough myself. I’m just kind of unsettled, I suppose. But I do think it’ll be good to have some space. Now I’ve made the decision to go to my nan’s instead of his parents, I’m really looking forward to it.’ I smiled at the memory of Nana Peggy’s enthusiasm on the phone. She’d been delighted to hear from me and was looking forward to spending some time together. ‘It’ll be great. I can take Rufus for lots of long country walks. The fresh air will help to clear my head.’

  ‘Oh yes, Rufus. He’s a springer spaniel, isn’t he? They’re hard work, I’ll bet.’

  ‘They need a lot of exercise, but Rufus is getting on a bit now. Last time I went, I noticed he was beginning to slow down. But he’s a lovely boy, such a good-natured dog. I adore him.’ I sighed at the thought of being in a position to have a dog of my own. ‘And I adore Hope Green, too. It’s such a pretty little place, so friendly, and close to such a gorgeous part of the coast.’

  ‘It might not be quite as gorgeous in April as it is when you normally go in summer,’ Claire pointed out, laughing. ‘Nowhere quite as cold as the seaside when there’s a biting wind blowing.’

  ‘But if you wrap up well, it does you good,’ I said, very conscious of how much I was sounding like my mother.

  ‘Maybe,’ she conceded. ‘And, speaking of which, I need to pop out for a sandwich. I won’t be long, but call me if it suddenly gets busy.’

  There was small chance of that, I thought to myself. It had been a very slow day at the clinic.

  I’d convinced myself that after a couple of weeks in Hope Green, I’d feel more ready to make a decision about Adam, one way or the other. We’d been together for more than three years now, and I knew it’d be hard for both of us if we decided to split up. We didn’t tend to go out clubbing or to restaurants like we used to because we were supposed to be saving up for our future, but there were still good times that I’d miss – cooking together, watching TV together, laughing at some inane thing one of us had said. Those times were the reason I was still with him, why I hadn’t ended it yet. Was I really going to end it? I thought to myself. My heart felt heavy at the thought. It was bad enough that I’d changed my holiday plans – a fact that he hadn’t responded to very kindly – but did I want to end the relationship completely?

  The night before, I’d told him that I was going to Hope Green to see my nana instead, and he hadn’t taken it well at all. I tried to explain my reasons calmly and thoughtfully, but it was as if we were speaking different languages. Adam’s expression quickly changed from calm to perplexed, and then through disappointed to downright annoyed. He stared at me as if I’d grown horns and demanded to know whether it was because of the ‘funny moods’ I’d been having recently.

  ‘Funny moods?’ I repeated, immediately on the defensive.

  ‘You know, about your job. About being in a rut. Does that apply to being with me, too?’

  ‘No!’ I lied. I wasn’t ready to cause a scene, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. Instead, I told him about Nana – how Mum didn’t often get the time to see her, so I felt like I ought to give her some company.

  ‘My parents will be so disappointed, Sam. Mum’s been stocking up the freezer with apple tarts because she knows you like them so much.’ He shook his head, paused, and then said grudgingly, ‘But she’ll probably think it’s really nice that you want to spend time with your nan.’

  It struck me as odd that he seemed more focused on his mother’s disappointment than on his own. But perhaps that was just my imagination.

  But before I could dwell on this any longer I was brought back to the present by a loud banging noise. The door at the front of the reception had flown open, smacking into the wall violently. I looked up, half-expecting it to be Claire having forgotten her purse or something, but it was a thick-set, worried-looking man struggling under the weight of a large Alsatian lying in his arms, its head and paws dangling lifelessly.

  ‘Can you help me?’ the man cried out. ‘Please – he’s been hit by a van!’

  I immediately sprang into action before I’d even had a chance to think about what was happening. Emergencies like this happened from time to time and I was well trained to know just what to do. I jumped to my feet and showed the man through to one of the treatment rooms, at the same time calling out for someone to come and help.

  Sonia, one of the nurses, appeared at once and helped the man to lay the poor dog on the table, reassuring him that Mr Fulcher, the vet, would be with them in a minute.

  ‘He got out,’ the man said, wiping his eyes. ‘There was a fence panel broken. It must have happened in the storm the other night. I didn’t notice. Oh my God. Is it too late?’

  I stared at the dog as Sonia checked for vital signs. His injuries were terrible. I could barely look – just the sight of the wound sent my head funny. I had no idea whether he could be saved or not.

  ‘There’s a pulse,’ she said gently. ‘But it’s very weak. We’ll do our best, sir. Here’s Mr Fulcher now.’ She turned to greet him and caught my eye. A look of concern crossed over her face. ‘Are you OK, Sam?’

  ‘Yes. I, er, think so.’ My head had started to feel peculiar. Everything in the room was going out of focus.

  ‘Go and sit down,’ she said. ‘You don’t look well.’

  But instead, I bolted out to the staffroom, past Claire, who had just returned, and straight into the toilet cubicle, where I was horribly sick.

  ‘What …?’ Claire was behind me in a second, holding me and scraping back my hair. ‘You poor thing, you look awful. Are you not well? You’d better go home.’

  ‘No. I … I think I’ll be all right now. I just came over kind of woozy. There’s a dog just come in, he’s awfully hurt …’ I straightened up and tried to compose myself.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Claire. Could you cover the desk for a moment? I just need a minute.’

  ‘Of course. Typical, I’d only popped out for a minute. I still think you need to go home, though.’

  And I had to, of course, even though I was starting to feel better. It was the clinic’s policy, in case I had something infectious. I knew I didn’t, that I’d just reacted badly to the sight of that poor dog’s injuries. But what I couldn’t understand was why. I’d witnessed scores of horrible sights during my time here, and although the emotional impact had sometimes been hard to deal with, I wasn’t squeamish and I’d never been taken ill like this before.

  As I sat on the Tube on my way back to my dismal flat, I thought about what had just happened. Was it just the shock? The emergency had come in pretty suddenly, after all. But I still didn’t really get why it should have affected me so violently. Maybe I was overtired, working long days and worrying myself silly about Adam. Perhaps I really did need my holiday.

  Now I thought about it, there had been a couple of times recently when I’d felt a bit dizzy and nauseous for no apparent reason. Perhaps I was anaemic o
r something? I remembered one of my flatmates had fainted halfway through making herself an omelette one evening, and had eventually found out that she needed iron tablets due to her heavy periods. Whereas my periods were—

  Well, actually, come to think of it, I hadn’t had—

  I sat up straight. It couldn’t be that, surely? My pulse suddenly racing, I fumbled in my bag for my diary and had a quick check of my dates. I was over a week late. How had I not noticed? I must have been so caught up with my worries about Adam and what I was doing for the Easter break. A wave of panic overcame me, but within minutes I’d talked myself round. No, there was probably another explanation. Like stress. Yes, that’d be it. I was probably late because of the stress of all the recent arguments.

  But the next morning, there was something about the sight of my boiled egg that gave me the same feeling as the poor Alsatian’s injuries had, and after being thoroughly sick again, I went back to the kitchen, feeling shaky and anxious, wondering what I could eat or drink that wouldn’t make me feel ill. I automatically went to put on the kettle, but changed my mind. The last thing I fancied was a cup of tea, which was strange in itself as it was always my favourite lifesaving pick-me-up. And then I remembered how Claire had joked with me a couple of days before when I told her I didn’t want one.

  ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ she’d teased, making me laugh through my firm denial. ‘There’s got to be something up for you to say no to a brew. Loads of pregnant women go off tea or coffee, it’s a really common sign.’

  At the time, of course, I thought nothing more of it. But now …

  ‘What’s up?’ Helen, one of my flatmates, gave me a curious look. I was sitting at the table, staring into space. ‘Did you overdo it last night or something? You look well hung-over.’

  ‘No. I’m OK.’

  ‘Well, you don’t look it. Not going into work, are you?’ She shook cereal into a bowl and poured milk over it, which made my stomach lurch with nausea again.

  ‘No. I’ve got the day off.’ I’d been told to stay home for forty-eight hours in case I had a bug. I got to my feet and headed back to my room. ‘See you later.’

  Within minutes I was dressed in jeans and a jumper and heading for the pharmacy on the next street. All the way there and back, I kept telling myself there must be some other explanation. But there wasn’t. Back in the safety of my flat, the result of the test was all too conclusive. I was pregnant – with a baby Adam had made very clear he didn’t want, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for either.

  The shock made me feel weak and nauseous all over again. I spent most of the day lying on my bed, my mind in a whirl. I had no idea what I was going to do. But I had made one very important decision. I wasn’t telling anyone yet – not my parents, not Claire or my flatmates and most of all, definitely not Adam. I’d wait until I’d got back from my two weeks in Hope Green. That, at least, would give me some time to think, get some much-needed perspective and make some decisions. Perhaps by the time I came back, Adam and I would have missed each other so much we’d be ready to make a fresh start, and perhaps then, his reaction to the pregnancy would be better than I was imagining.

  Also by Sheila Norton

  OLIVER

  The Cat Who Saved Christmas

  A friend who brings light at the darkest of times...

  Oliver the cat is a timid little thing and rarely ventures from his home in the Foresters’ Arms.

  Then his life changes dramatically when a fire breaks out in the pub kitchen and he is left homeless and afraid. But, with the kindness of the humans around him, he soon learns to trust again. And, in his own special way, he helps to heal those around him.

  However, it isn’t until he meets a little girl in desperate need of a friend that he realises this village needs a Christmas miracle...

  Available from Ebury Press

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Epub ISBN: 9781473550100

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  Ebury Press, an imprint of Ebury Publishing,

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  Ebury Press is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com

  Copyright © Sheila Norton 2016

  Extract from The Vets at Hope Green © Sheila Norton, 2017

  Sheila Norton has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

  First published by Ebury Press in 2016

  www.eburypublishing.co.uk

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 9781785034190