The Village Vet

by Cathy Woodman

  Was that why he was in such a rush to get married? Was it a premonition? Dad brings me back to the present, saying, ‘I know Nathan glowed in your eyes, all shiny and bright, but I always thought there was something of the night about him. Jack obviously thinks so too.’

  ‘I didn’t jilt Nathan at the altar on Jack’s say-so,’ I point out, a little annoyed at the suggestion that I’d actually listen to Jack, an old friend who has become a stranger. The decision was mine, and mine alone.

  ‘But what he said gave you a nudge in the right direction,’ Dad persists quizzically.

  ‘My decision had nothing to do with Jack, nothing at all.’ I will not admit it to anyone, but Jack’s dramatic gesture did endow me with an extra shot of self-confidence, and Nathan’s response failed to persuade me against my subsequent course of action.

  ‘Whatever your reasons, Tessa, you did the right thing. Life isn’t a rehearsal – it’s the real thing.’ After a pause, my dad changes the subject. ‘By the way, I rang about the dog. I knew you’d want to find out how he was.’

  ‘You’ve made me feel really bad now. I forgot.’

  ‘Not surprisingly.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘He’s up and about. He’s got a sore head, but Maz reckons he’ll be fine in a couple of days.’

  ‘Has the owner of the dog come forward?’

  ‘Not yet, although you would have thought someone would have noticed by now. He’s a big dog to miss. Maz was wondering if he could be the one that’s been terrorising other dogs on the Green for the past few months. She’s grateful that we caught him, even though we did have to run him over to do it.’ Dad grins. ‘He looks as if he’s been living rough – ruff, get it, ruff, ruff, ruff.’

  ‘Dad, you’re barking.’ I can’t help smiling.

  ‘That’s better, Tessa,’ he says. ‘That’s my girl. You know you have to kiss an awful lot of frogs before you find a prince.’

  ‘That’s just a fairy taIe,’ I tell him. ‘I’ve kissed an awful lot of men I thought were princes and they’ve all turned into frogs.’

  ‘Not all of them, surely. There’s Jack.’

  ‘What do you mean, there’s Jack?’ A flush of indignation spreads up my neck.

  ‘I remember you two were always snogging on the sofa when your mum and I got home from bridge. There was never any sign of him turning into a creature of the amphibious kind.’

  ‘Dad, you are so embarrassing.’

  ‘I always hoped you two might get it together again one day, but I suppose there’s absolutely no chance of that now.’ I don’t need to respond because my father continues, ‘It’s so out of character for Jack to draw attention to himself. At the club’ – he means the Am Dram Group – ‘he’s very much backstage, as you know.’ He pauses. ‘By the way, he says he’s very sorry.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to him?’ The idea of my father chatting with Jack upsets me – it seems disloyal somehow.

  ‘I spoke to him at the church, as you know, and again when he turned up this afternoon with one of your shoes – you must have dropped it somewhere on your way to the river.’ Dad sighs softly. ‘He reminded me of Prince Charming bringing the glass slipper for Cinderella after the ball. Listen up.’ Dad flaps his hands behind his ears, like a dog in a wind tunnel. ‘They’re on their way, your mum, your uncles and your aunts.’

  I can hear Aunt Fifi’s raucous laughter from here.

  ‘Oh no, they’re all out of their skulls,’ I groan, holding a cushion over my face. ‘Dad, will you excuse me? I’m going upstairs.’

  ‘Go on then, love, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep them away. You know what they’re like.’

  Dad is right. I feel as though I’m lying in state when my mother and aunt turn up in my old room and sit on the end of my bed, one each side, my mum holding a glass of wine and my aunt clutching my teddy bear. They’re both in their sixties and there’s a strong family resemblance in their sharp, terrier-like features, but my mother dresses in casual tops, jeans and long boots, and lets her ash-grey hair grow long, wearing it pinned on the top of her head, whereas Fifi fights the ageing process by all means possible; keeping her hair short and coloured with blonde and copper highlights, she wears coordinating separates with matching shoes and handbags more suited to mayoral events, weddings – don’t remind me of weddings just now – and school prize-givings than everyday activities.

  ‘He is a right charmer,’ Mum says, ‘and more than comfortably off. Tessa, you would never have wanted for money.’ She touches the corner of her eye. ‘I thought I might be a grandmother by this time next year.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ I say, my fingers tightening on the duvet, ‘but it’s my life. You would have been more disappointed if I’d ended up divorced and a single parent. I couldn’t go through with it because I realised we didn’t love each other enough to make it last. I loved him’ – I bite back a sob – ‘but he couldn’t say the same about me.’

  ‘Men!’ my aunt sighs.

  ‘We shouldn’t tar them all with the same brush,’ Mum says. ‘Look at my Steve.’

  ‘I wish you hadn’t – looked at him, I mean,’ says Fifi with her customary sisterly tact (I’m being ironic). ‘Steve’s always been as poor as a church mouse.’

  ‘I’ve always loved him though,’ Mum says quietly, ‘which is more than you can say.’

  ‘Annie, are you casting aspersions on my marriage?’

  ‘What’s this about casting nasturtiums?’ Dad waltzes in to join us. ‘Oh, I see. Girls’ talk. I’ll make myself scarce.’ He rolls his eyes at me and I shrug back.

  ‘Don’t mind us, Steve,’ says Fifi. ‘We’ll all be on our way downstairs in a minute, Tessa included. No buts,’ she adds, aiming this at me. ‘You mustn’t be a party pooper.’

  ‘That’s right,’ is my father’s parting shot. ‘Life might fall apart now and again, but the party must go on.’ - ‘Fifi, I’ve had an extremely traumatic day,’ I begin. ‘I’d like some time to myself.’

  ‘You must join us. We meet once in a blue moon for the odd hatch, match and despatch. Go on, Tessa, this could be your very last chance to see Great-Auntie Marion before she pops her clogs, and you must have some cake.’

  ‘We brought the rest of the wedding cake back from the reception. I hope you don’t mind,’ says Mum, ‘but it seems such a shame to waste it.’

  ‘You can freeze one tier and use any that’s left for making trifle,’ says Fifi, getting up and taking my dressing gown down from the hook on the back of the door. ‘There you are.’

  Fifi and my mum virtually frogmarch me down the stairs and I spend the next few hours feeling like an exhibit at the zoo, being consoled by the extended family and jollied along by my maiden great-aunt over brandy and wedding cake until I’m so sozzled that I can almost believe the day never happened.

  ‘That’s right, dear,’ Great-Auntie Marion says, patting my knee. ‘You mustn’t upset yourself any more – you can rest assured that we’ve all had a wonderful day.’

  ‘I shall die an old maid,’ I say with a theatrical flourish of my hand.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong in that,’ my great-aunt says.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I wish I hadn’t mentioned dying either, considering that, according to Fifi, she’s supposed to be on her last legs.

  ‘It’s all right. I’ve had a lot of fun as an old maid.’ She lowers her voice and, glancing around the room, she adds, ‘I’ve never been attracted to anyone of the male persuasion. It’s so much easier to share one’s life with women. I’ve always enjoyed tipping the velvet, if you know what I mean.’

  I’m not sure that I do, but I have my suspicions.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear you haven’t been well,’ I go on, changing the subject.

  ‘Oh, I’m well enough,’ she assures me. ‘The doctors are keeping me going.’

  What a day! The wedding car ran over a dog, the bride jilted the groom at the altar, the wedding cake is to be turned into trifle and
my great-aunt has come out of the closet.

  It’s been the most devastating, yet bizarre day of my life. I wonder how Nathan must be feeling and hope he is all right, and then I start to worry about what I will do next. This morning, I had my future mapped out. Tonight, I have no idea what the future holds.

  ‘You’re in demand, Tessa,’ my dad says, waking me the next day with hot whisky and lemon and some toast and honey, to make doubly sure that I won’t catch a cold after my unplanned dip in the river. ‘Are you up to seeing visitors?’

  ‘I really can’t face playing happy families again, not just yet,’ I sigh, pulling the duvet up as far as my nose. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘I’ve got Nathan in the kitchen with your mum, and Jack on the doorstep. And don’t frown at me like that. I had to let Nathan in because I didn’t want them coming to blows, and you’ll have to come down and speak to him because he refuses to leave without seeing you.’

  ‘I don’t want to see either of them. I’ve had enough of men – you excepting, Dad.’

  ‘If you would just talk to them, they might both leave you in peace,’ Dad says optimistically.

  ‘Look, I can’t do it.’

  ‘Tess, love, you have to speak to Nathan at least.’

  ‘Is he okay?’

  ‘He’s very upset.’

  ‘After what he said to me yesterday in front of all those people?

  ‘He wants to apologise.’

  ‘But, Dad, it won’t make any difference. We’re finished and the sooner he realises that the better.’ My voice sounds harsh, but it’s a cover for how I’m really feeling: pain and regret for not understanding before that Nathan and I don’t love each other any more, if we ever did, and guilt, because I blame myself for making such a mess of things. It took Jack Miller to bring me to my senses.

  ‘That’s why you should have a word – to make it clear exactly where you stand, otherwise he’ll be back here every five minutes, hassling you.’ Dad turns and takes the robe off the hook on the back of the bedroom door, flinging it across the bed, where it falls on top of my head. ‘Throw that on. I’ll deal with Jack. You come down to see Nathan and clear the air.’

  I make up my mind. ‘Give me five minutes,’ I say, and I fling on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, the ones I wore the night before the wedding when I was getting ready for the big day. I head downstairs to the kitchen, where Mum leaves Nathan and me alone. We stare at each other, unable to think of anything to say.

  ‘You look pretty wrecked,’ I begin, resisting the urge to give him a hug to console him, because I still feel for him as a human being, although he seems rather less than human at the moment. His breath reeks of alcohol and he’s wearing the same clothes as the day before but without the tie and jacket.

  ‘I think I’m allowed to,’ he says, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the worktop. He looks from me to the toe of his shoe and back. ‘I’ve come to ask you if you’ll reconsider, Tessa. I mean, just look at what you’re throwing away.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ I can feel my forehead tighten into a frown.

  ‘I’m sure you are,’ he says, misinterpreting what I’ve said. ‘I heard you tried to drown yourself in the river – people saw you walking back through town with your father. You were soaked through.’

  ‘Nathan, it wasn’t like that,’ I say, but he ignores me.

  ‘You had good reason to want to top yourself, considering you thought you’d never see me again. But you’re lucky because here I am, willing to give you another chance. You and me, we’re good together.’ He means in bed, I muse, as he goes on, ‘I’m prepared to do anything to give it another go. We can still go on honeymoon, we can get married, a small do at a register office when we get back, just the two of us. How about it?’

  ‘I don’t understand why you’re so keen on the idea,’ I say, confused.

  ‘We make a good team. I need you, Tessa.’

  ‘What for?’ I ask suspiciously. ‘You don’t seem to need me all that much – you don’t spend a lot of time with me. I’m not sure you enjoy my company.’

  ‘Of course I do. And I do spend time with you, as much as I can. I’m a busy man, working to make sure you have the best of everything, my darling.’

  ‘I am not your darling,’ I snap back. ‘And you might be working all hours, but it’s me who’s been paying the bills recently.’

  ‘I know I’ve had to ask you to use your credit card, but you know why that is – because my replacement card got lost in the post.’

  ‘Yes, all right.’ I hold my hands up, gesturing him to stop talking. ‘You’ve already told me that several times over. When are you going to pay me back?’

  ‘There’s no need to worry about that when we’re married.’ Nathan walks over to me and grabs for my hand, but I step aside, putting the kitchen table between us. ‘The investments I’ve made over the past couple of months haven’t yielded a return yet – business is slow – but there’ll soon be more cash coming in. I’m sure of that,’ he adds in a far less confident tone than I’m used to hearing. His complexion is pale and shiny with sweat, and I’m not sure if he’s hungover, or really worrying about his money or lack of it.

  Suddenly, I realise with a sinking heart that, although I imagined a clean break from my ex-fiancé, we are going to be entangled financially at least for a while until Nathan pays me back and we sort out whether or not we sell the house, or he buys me out and keeps it.

  ‘Nathan,’ I say firmly, ‘you have to listen to me.’

  ‘I am listening.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re not hearing what I’m saying, which is, I am not going to change my mind. I am not going to marry you, ever.’

  ‘And that’s your final decision?’

  ‘My final decision,’ I repeat for him.

  ‘You’ll regret this when I’m a multimillionaire,’ Nathan growls.

  ‘No regrets,’ I say, as yet another realisation hits me right between the eyes: Nathan’s frequent enquiries as to the state of Great-Auntie Marion’s health and the size of my potential inheritance. (I caught him looking up land prices in Wales once.) ‘I would never think of marrying anyone for their money,’ I say coldly. ‘Now, go away and don’t come back.’ Taking control, I direct him out through the back door, so there’s no risk of him running into Jack if he’s still at the front, but although I put on a show of emotional strength for Nathan, I am in tears when I sit down at the kitchen table, my head in my hands, because I got him so wrong. I thought he was marrying me for love.

  Chapter Three

  Hair of the Dog

  I HAD A lucky escape. I have to keep reminding myself of that. I have plenty of support from friends and family, especially my dad, and I’m grateful, although I admit I don’t always appreciate them.

  Aunt Fifi has taken it upon herself to take me out today for a change of scene, and she’s gone overboard with the nautical theme, wearing a navy dress printed with a yacht design, a jacket with an anchor brooch, a captain’s cap, white deck shoes and matching handbag.

  ‘Where’s the boat?’ I ask her, teasing her lightly when I join her outside my parents’ house in my uncle’s car after lunch.

  ‘Oh, Tessa, I’m glad you’ve held on to your sense of humour.’

  ‘I’m hanging on to it by my finger tips,’ I say wryly. It’s been three weeks since the wedding and I’m feeling worse, not better, more angry now than sad, especially having seen Nathan out and about in Talyton with a deep natural tan from where he soaked up the sun with Mike on what should have been our honeymoon. I glance down at my leggings, tunic-style top and flat sandals. ‘Should I have dressed up? I can go back and change.’

  ‘You’ll do, though I don’t understand young people today – one’s appearance should be a matter of pride.’ Fifi sighs with regret. ‘Mind you, when you have youth and beauty on your side, I suppose the clothes don’t matter in quite the same way.’

  ‘Well, you look great,’ I say to cheer her up. She
smiles briefly and changes the subject as a car horn sounds behind us.

  ‘Dear niece, I’m afraid your wedding day will go down in the annals of family history. Who would have thought there would be fighting in church and blood spilled at the altar?’

  ‘There wasn’t all that much blood,’ I point out, not wishing to be reminded but aware that Fifi’s desire for a full inquest will have to be endured.

  ‘So it turns out that Nathan was too good to be true.’ Before I can ask her how she knows, she goes on, ‘Annie told me about the money and, who knows, after that deceit, it wouldn’t be impossible to imagine that he was two-timing you as well.’

  ‘You said you liked him.’

  ‘I did, but he misled us all, including poor old you.’

  He certainly deceived me, I think. I discovered the full extent of his lies the day after the wedding.

  ‘Your mother adored him and I thought he was the bee’s knees. Your father was the only person to have any doubts.’

  ‘He didn’t say anything.’ I shut my mouth quickly, recalling how Dad did try, but I didn’t take it too well. ‘Aren’t you going to drive on?’ I say above the cacophony of horns sounding from the cars queued up behind us, and the Co-op lorry coming towards us. ‘There are people waiting.’

  ‘It’s better that you’ve dealt with it now rather than go through a messy divorce. I hear he’s left you in a bit of a pickle,’ Fifi says, ignoring them. ‘Tessa, don’t glare at me like that.’ She puts the car in gear and pulls out sharply. ‘A problem aired is a problem shared. Your mum isn’t the only person in the world who’s talking about it. I’ve met with the WI and the local council, and you’re currently top of the agenda – I don’t mean officially. I’m referring to the latest gossip.’

  ‘I hate that,’ I say, grabbing hold of the seat as my aunt brakes to avoid an elderly woman who’s struggling to cross the road with a heavily laden shopping trolley.

  ‘Everyone will forget as soon as the next scandal comes along.’

  So it’s classed as a scandal now, I muse.