by Stella Quinn
He grinned. ‘He can walk, finally. He is the fattest runt ever. You want to help me weigh them?’
‘Sure. Pass me the scales and I’ll do it in here. I already cleaned out the pen and gave them fresh bedding.’
‘You’re a champ, Pop,’ he said, squatting on the floor beside her.
‘I know.’ She grinned up at him, and he almost commented on the makeup that was missing from her eyes, the absence of teen-pouty-face he’d grown used to over the last year, but managed to stop himself at the last second.
‘This one’s called Max, huh?’
‘Yep. That’s his name because he’s the biggest, even if he is the slowest to learn anything besides feeding.’ She lowered the pup into the bowl of the old kitchen scales they used for small animals. ‘Eight pounds? Dad, how ancient are these scales? Australia’s been metric for about a hundred years.’
‘I can convert, Miss Smartypants. Those scales belonged to your great grandparents, so show some respect. You named them all?’
‘Uh-huh. The three black ones are Angus, Bingo and Carmelita. The yellow ones are Frodo, Pumpkin, Kylie and Doofus.’
He wrote the weights down in the chart—weighed words in his head while he was at it—each one of them a whole lot heavier than a plump pup.
He’d put this off long enough. Any longer, and his daughter would be on a train heading north and he’d miss his chance. ‘Pop.’
‘Yes, Dad?’
‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about what happened in my office that day, and now you’re leaving, and well … I should have said something sooner about, you know, why Kelly was in the clinic digging up old gossip.’
‘About you and Mum?’
Boy. No wonder he’d left bringing it up for so long. This was hard. He pushed the scales to the side and sat on the floor next to the cage. ‘Your mum was a student teacher at my high school when I was in my senior year.’
Poppy made a gagging noise. ‘You really don’t need to tell me this, Dad.’
He smiled. ‘Relax. This is not the beginning of a birds and bees talk. Just hear me out, will you?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘If I must.’
Jane Doe stood up in the pen, dislodging the pups clinging to her side, and clambered over the high lip of the gate to settle down beside him. She rested her head in his lap. ‘We liked each other. A lot. And when school was out, we got together.’
‘Like, together together?’
‘Yep. And your mum fell pregnant.’
‘With me.’
‘With you, Poptart.’
‘And you were like eighteen? Dad. That is so not cool.’
He chuckled. ‘Thanks for the heads up. Anyway, the thing about carrying on like you’re an adult, means you’ve got to start behaving like one. We had to make some difficult choices, both of us, and so I gave up my plan to go to university, and your mum returned to finish her teaching studies in Sydney. I went with her and found a job to set us up as a family.’
‘You lived with Mum when I was little?’
‘Sure. But after a while we worked out we were going to be better parents, and the best of friends, if we lived separately.’
Poppy was quiet. ‘And that’s what Mrs Fox was talking about.’
‘Yep. Small towns love their gossip.’
‘Dad, I’ve just spent the last week working in a café. I worked that one out before I learned how to ring up change on the till.’
‘I just don’t like to think you’re the target of anyone’s loose talk.’
His daughter tucked the pups up against the hot water bottle. ‘Why’d you come back here, Dad, if you didn’t like the way people talked about us?’
‘I didn’t come back, at first, not for years and years. Your grandparents always came to us because I was … bitter, I guess. But after a while my bitterness was gone and all I could remember was what I loved about Hanrahan.’
‘I guess it’s not the worst place I’ve been to.’
He smiled. ‘Don’t get all mushy just because you’re leaving today.’
‘But the gossip’s pretty bad, Dad. You wouldn’t believe what I hear when I’m cleaning tables. It’s like being in Year Nine all over again.’
‘True. But still … let me give you an animal analogy. Would you stop loving Maximus if he had a flea?’
‘So the flea is the gossip and the dog is the town.’
‘Uh-huh. I loved growing up here. I love having Old Regret outside my window just waiting for me to look up at each day. I love knowing people on the street, them knowing me, even if it means they know every darn thing about me, good and bad. I wanted you to know a little of what it’s like to grow up here in Hanrahan, before you go away to university or get a job or go travelling and get all grown up.’
‘Yeah, Hanrahan is definitely not Sydney.’
He grinned. ‘You worked that out too, huh?’
She rested her hand on his knee. ‘I don’t hate it here as much as I thought I would.’
If happiness was sunshine, he’d have started glowing right there, that moment. ‘I’m so glad to hear that.’
‘Is this the right time to ask you if I can keep Maximus?’
‘Only if I can keep Jane Doe.’
She grinned at him. ‘You’re okay, Dad. Even if you are a total dork about some things.’
‘You too, Poptart. Listen, me and Hannah are having a meeting in the office, but then we can get some early dinner, pizza perhaps, if you like, before we head down to Cooma. If you’ve got any goodbyes to say, better say them now, okay?’
‘We could have lasagne for our last meal together at the café? Vera makes the best lasagne.’
He hesitated. After Vera blocked out his date request on Saturday, he was wondering if a little space might be a wise choice. She’d been upset and pretty keen to distance herself from him, and he still hadn’t figured out why.
‘But pizza’s my favourite,’ he said with his best fake sad face.
Poppy stroked the belly of the yellow pup who still lay across her lap, and it splayed contentedly under her hand. She looked up at him and pursed her lips. ‘Did you have a fight with my boss, Dad?’
‘No.’ He reached into the pen and flicked his daughter on the ankle. ‘I don’t fight with anyone. Mr Calm and Cool, that’s me.’
‘You had a fight with Mrs Fox right next door in your office.’
He sighed. ‘You got me there. But no, we didn’t have a fight. If you must know, I asked her out on Saturday night, and she said no.’
She nodded her head. ‘That’s what Kev said.’
He inspected his daughter’s face. ‘You and Kev were talking about me and Vera? I thought you were paid to wash dishes, not gossip with the customers.’
She shrugged. ‘Kev said he bet you’d asked Vera out, and I said no way, gross, my dad never goes out with anyone, he’s, like, over thirty, and Kev said he was nobody’s fool and he could smell April and May when it was carrying on right there in front of him, and I said what does April and May mean, and he said, it means your dad’s got the hots for the café lady.’
Josh laughed, he couldn’t help it. ‘That’s quite an analysis.’
‘So.’ Poppy cleared her throat. ‘Do you really have the hots for Vera?’
He groaned. ‘Are we really having this conversation?’
‘Only, I wouldn’t mind. Just in case you were wondering if I did.’
‘Poppy. You’re the centre of my world, you know that right?’
‘Sure I do, only, you’d better cover Jane Doe’s ears next time you say that. But I’m going any minute now, and then I might not be here again for ages.’
‘I know.’
‘What I’m trying to say, Dad, if you’d stop interrupting me, is … maybe you should ask her out again.’
Yeah. Maybe he should.
Hannah had beaten him to the beer. She handed him an open one as he walked into the office and snicked the top off another for herself.
‘Cheers,’ he said, clinking the glass neck of his bottle to hers.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘What did our man Barry have to say?’
‘Nothing helpful. I showed him our file, suggested the concerned citizen who was lodging all the complaints must have an ulterior motive, but I couldn’t work out what.’
‘Did he agree to that?’
‘Well, he spoke at me like a politician for a while, so he could have been agreeing with me, but it was hard to tell.’
Hannah drummed her fingers on the table. ‘You think that’s the end of it?’
‘We’ve dealt with both complaints to his satisfaction—he’s going to send that to me in writing. So we have no reason to think our business licence won’t be renewed.’
‘Okay. And if we get any other council problems, we’ll have to jump on it straight away.’
‘Agreed.’
He swigged down the last of his beer and lobbed the bottle into the rubbish bin. ‘You know, Hannah, I’m getting the feeling that there’s more to you being all quiet and cranky than this complaints business.’ He leaned forward and covered her hand with his. ‘You want to tell me what’s going on? You want me to speak to Tom Krauss about something?’
She skewered him with a look. ‘You want to tell me if you started shagging Beth Horrigan before you finished high school or after graduation?’
He winced. ‘That was a low blow, Hannah Cody.’
‘Yeah, maybe. But maybe it’ll teach you to stop mentioning Tom. Okay?’
He wanted to push a little more on the subject, but that little quaver under the surface of her voice decided him against it. ‘Okay. But just so you know: he’s my friend, but you’re my sister. You come first, always. We clear on that?’
She closed her eyes. ‘Clear. Are we done?’
‘We’re done. What ab—’
He broke off as he heard a phone ringing in reception. He looked at Hannah. ‘You switched the night calls over to your mobile yet? I can’t take this; me and Poppy have to drive to Cooma in a couple of hours.’
‘Not yet.’
He heard Poppy’s voice talking, then the clatter of her boots on the timber floor.
‘Dad! It’s Vera. There’s this cat that lives behind the alley, and she thinks it’s sick.’
He looked at his sister. ‘This is a job for you, Hannah Banana. Me and Poppy have pizza plans.’
‘Oh, but Dad!’
He sighed. He could read where this was going from a mile off. ‘Yes?’
‘Can’t you see her? I told her to put the cat in a box and bring her straight over. I told her you were the best vet in town.’
Who could resist that plea? Besides, he felt a warm rush at hearing his daughter say it. He shot a look at Hannah. ‘You hear that, Hannah? I’m the best vet in town.’
‘Please. Don’t make me nauseous. I’ve had a long day.’
‘Oh,’ said Poppy. ‘Sorry, Aunt Hannah. But anyway, Dad’s got the hots for Vera, but he had some sort of dumb fight with her, so he really needs to be the one to save her cat.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘When did you say you were leaving?’
She grinned. ‘You can thank me later, Dad.’
‘Okay. You go let Vera in. I’ll be in the treatment room. A stray cat,’ he muttered to himself as he headed out of the office. ‘Worms, fleas, and a bad attitude, I imagine. Lucky me.’
Hannah fell into line behind him. ‘I’ll assist.’
‘Assist my arse. You just want to be nosy.’
‘Hell yes. Who knows? I may pick up some skills from the best vet in town while I’m at it. How long have you been a registered vet now, Dr Cody? Nine months? Ten?’
He threw a chew toy at her.
The cat could be heard, but not seen. One look at the scratches crisscrossed over Vera’s wrists had him taping closed the flaps of the box she’d carried in.
‘Had an aversion to being helped, did she?’
‘Seems like.’
He looked up from her wrists and inspected her face. There were shadows under her deep green eyes.
‘Hi, Vera. I’m Hannah, Josh’s sister. I saw you at the wake the other week for Mrs Juggins, but we didn’t get to meet.’
‘Hi. Sorry to barge in on you after clinic hours. Poppy said it was no trouble.’
Hannah met his eyes and dropped him a not-so-subtle wink. ‘No trouble at all.’
Sisters. Daughters. What-oh-what had he done to be saddled with one of each? He decided to drag the interview back into medical channels before his sister embarrassed him completely. ‘What makes you think the cat’s sick?’
‘I put some salmon out this morning and she wouldn’t touch it. Then before, when I was putting out some rubbish, I could hear her making a wheezing noise. Like she couldn’t breathe. She let me pat her, but as soon as I tried to put her in the box she went psycho.’
‘Uh-huh. Panleukopenia, most like. Pretty common in unvaccinated cats.’
‘Is it life threatening?’
He opened his mouth to say yes, but then caught his sister’s eye and downgraded his answer. ‘Not necessarily. Let’s have a look at her and see what we can do. Hannah, you do the box, I’ll get the cat. You ready?’
He pulled the longest, thickest gloves the practice owned onto his hands. ‘Poppy? Better shut the treatment door. We don’t want our friend here to spread her fleas all over the place.’
He heard the door shut and nodded to Hannah. ‘Okay, let’s go. Better stand back, Vera. Just in case.’
He slid his hands close to the join in the cardboard, and as Hannah lifted the flaps, he reached inside. Claws sank into the gloves, but not into him, and as the box opened he managed to get one hand securely on the cat’s ruff. ‘Well, you’re a big handsome girl, aren’t you? Come on, out you get.’
He set the spitting cat on the treatment table, held her firmly while Hannah moved the box off the table and came to stand by his side.
‘What’s the plan, Dr Expert?’
He chuckled. ‘You’re never going to let that go, are you?’
‘Not in this lifetime.’
‘I vote we sedate her. Then we can check for a microchip, run some bloods. See if she’s been spayed.’
Vera’s voice sounded by his side. ‘Spayed?’
‘If she’s a stray, she has to be spayed. We can bath her, too, to get rid of any fleas or other mites she may have. Sedating her will be the kindest way to do it.’
Vera huffed out a breath. ‘You know I’m broke, right? I don’t know if I can afford an operation.’
‘Council legislation. We can’t get around it.’
‘I knew I hated legislation for a reason.’
Hannah interrupted. ‘You know a lot about legislation, Vera? Hey … didn’t I hear along the Hanrahan grapevine that you used to be a journalist?’
Josh raised his eyebrows at his sister over the table. Where was she going with that question?
‘That’s in the past.’
Vera’s tone of voice didn’t invite closer questioning. He figured they could set her mind at rest about the fee, because he knew what being broke felt like. ‘Don’t worry about the cost of the operation. Since you’re Poppy’s boss, you get the family discount.’
‘Don’t start sharpening your scalpel yet, Josh,’ said Hannah. ‘She might not be a stray.’
‘Can you do the honours, Han? I’ll hold her still.’
‘Sure.’ He watched her slide the thin needle into the thick fur on the cat’s neck, then held the cat until the dose began to work. When he felt it safe, he laid the now loose-limbed animal on the table.
‘Can I pat her?’
He glanced at Vera. ‘Sure. But she’s going to be asleep for a while, and we can keep her here overnight.’
Hannah moved in beside him with the microchip reader and slid the machine around the cat’s neck, along her spine. ‘Flip her for me, will you, Josh?’
He pulled the cat’s legs up and rolled her over onto her other side.
The cat was breathing heavily, rough snorts of air coming through her snub nose. ‘Anything?’
She shook her head. ‘No. She’s a stray all right. Just a good-looking one.’
‘Okay. Let’s do this then.’ He looked up at Poppy. ‘You want to make Vera a cup of tea or something? We won’t be long.’
‘Okay. Vera?’
She seemed reluctant to go, so he gave Poppy his favourite do-as-you’re-told dad look and jerked his head to the door. Jokes aside, if you weren’t used to the realities of slicing into living flesh with a scalpel, you had no place in an operating theatre.
‘Come on, Vera,’ Poppy said again. ‘I can show you Maximus on the way. He’s super cute. Even cuter than Dad. Who is totally available, by the way.’
Oh. My. God. He and his daughter were going to be having a serious talk on the drive to the train station.
They’d barely been gone ten seconds when Hannah started in on him. ‘She’s not your usual type, Josh.’
‘Like I have a type.’
‘Oh come on. Lily Sanders? Penelope Kanye? Giggly and pink-cardiganed and addicted to nail salons?’
He arranged instruments in a kidney dish: scalpel, suture kit, swabs. ‘That was in high school. Anyone in a bra who looked in my direction was my type at high school.’
She snorted. ‘Some of them did more than look, as I recall.’
He grinned at her. ‘What can I say? Chicks loved me.’
She made a gagging noise. ‘No, seriously, Josh. Vera seems kind of … I don’t know. Prickly.’
‘Yeah. You’re not wrong there.’
She swabbed the cat, held it firmly while Josh used clippers to trim her belly of fur. ‘So what makes you think she’s interested in you?’
He ran a hand over the animal’s smooth belly. ‘She’s told me she’s not interested.’
‘I see. Finally, a woman of sense. Maybe she and I will become friends.’
He paused as his fingers ran over a tiny bulge. ‘I think she’s lying.’
‘And what tells you that, hotshot? Your high school history of being ogled by anyone wearing a bra?’
He shrugged. ‘I’d tell you, but it’s part of the blokes’ code. We know what we know.’
