by Kate Hardy
‘She tunnelled out of the garden, took herself off in the hills, and got stuck in a rabbit hole,’ he said. ‘I dug her out.’
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself,’ Linda said.
Not so much himself as on Georgie, but anger was still warring with guilt, so he said nothing.
‘I’ve known dogs who’ve sprained a leg by jumping off a sofa, so it’s easily done,’ Linda said. ‘When did she last eat?’
‘This morning.’
‘That’s good. Do you want to carry her over to the scanner?’
He was glad to have something to do. Waiting really didn’t sit well with him. ‘Sure.’
He stayed with Truffle, soothing her, while Linda did the scan.
‘Good news,’ Linda said when she’d finished. ‘It’s not a fracture, but I do need to stabilise the joint so I’ll operate now. She’s going to be fine. Though don’t look up the operation or anything on the internet,’ she added with a smile, ‘because you’ll panic yourself—just as I’m sure you tell your patients’ parents not to look things up while they’re waiting.’
He did. And now he knew how it felt from their perspective. Utterly, utterly horrible.
It looked as if there was nothing he could do other than go into the waiting room and—well, wait. His eyes prickled and his throat felt full of sand as he stroked Truffle’s head and saw her deep brown eyes looking anxious. Oh, dear God, this was unbearable. He looked at Linda. ‘Can I stay with her while you give her the anaesthetic? I don’t want to leave her—I don’t want her to worry about what’s going to happen.’ Most of all he didn’t want the dog to think he’d abandoned her, the way her first owners had.
Linda, who knew Truffle’s background, nodded. ‘But then I want you out of here so I can concentrate on doing the surgery and not be worrying about you, OK?’
‘OK.’ He nodded. ‘I love you,’ he whispered to the dog.
When had he last said those words to a human?
When had someone last said those words to him?
He hated every second that he stood there by the examination table, trying to keep his voice calm as he soothed his dog, stroking her head and then seeing her eyes grow dark as the anaesthetic took over.
If she didn’t make it through this he’d never, ever forgive himself.
‘She’ll be OK,’ Linda said again. ‘It’s a routine operation and I do this all the time.’
Just the sort of thing he said to his patients’ parents.
‘Go and tell Carol I said to make you a mug of tea with two sugars,’ she said with a smile.
‘Thanks.’ But he felt too sick to drink anything.
Georgie was sitting in the waiting room, her face white and her expression forlorn. ‘How is—?’ She stopped and covered her hand with her mouth when she realised he was alone. ‘Where is she?’ she whispered.
‘In the operating theatre. It’s not a fracture, it’s a sprain. Grade two. Linda—the vet—needs to operate to stabilise the joint,’ he said.
‘I’m so sorry.’
Despite his misery, Ryan knew it wasn’t fair to take out his fear on her. ‘Linda said she’s seen a dog sprain a leg like that just getting off a sofa. It happens.’ He sat down heavily next to her. ‘I just have to wait.’
‘I’ll stay with you,’ she said.
Yeah. As if anyone stayed with him for long. ‘You don’t have to.’
‘I want to. There’s nothing worse than waiting on your own.’
To his shock, she took his hand. His skin tingled where it touched hers; and it left him feeling even more mixed up. He didn’t have a clue what to do now, so he just left his hand where it was, with her fingers curled round his.
She didn’t say anything; she was giving him space, he realised. And supporting him at the same time, by just holding his hand. Being there.
And eventually the words started to spill out. He couldn’t look at her, but he could talk. Just.
‘I’m sorry for snapping at you.’
‘It’s OK.’
‘No, it isn’t. But Truffle...’ How did he explain? ‘She’s not just my dog. She’s my family.’
‘I know.’
She didn’t seem to be judging him. ‘My only family,’ he clarified.
Again, she didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask, didn’t probe, just gave him the space to think and talk when he was ready. Although Georgie hadn’t promised to keep everything confidential, he was pretty sure that she would: just as he hadn’t said anything to anyone else in the department about her being a widow. She understood how excruciating it was to be gossiped about.
‘My mum had me when she was very young,’ he said. ‘She was sixteen. I don’t know who my dad was. She didn’t put his name on my birth certificate. And she wouldn’t tell anyone who he was, so her parents kicked her out before I was born.’
Georgie said nothing, but her fingers tightened around his. And suddenly it was easy to talk. Easy, for the first time ever.
‘She got a flat and a job, and we were doing OK together. But then Mum was killed in an accident when I was six. Someone knocked her off her bike when she was on her way from work to pick me up from school and she wasn’t wearing a helmet. She hit her head in the wrong place, and that was it.’ He shrugged. ‘So that left just me. And her parents—well, they hadn’t wanted to know me when she was alive and they told the social worker they didn’t want to be lumbered with me. So I went into care.’
* * *
Ryan had been abandoned by his family after his mother had died at the cruelly young age of twenty-two?
Just like his dog had been abandoned by her first owners.
Now Georgie understood just how deeply Ryan identified with his Labrador. No wonder he considered the dog his only family. They were two of a kind.
There were no words. So she just kept holding his hand and giving him the space to talk. He wasn’t looking at her; she didn’t think his gaze was focused on anything, because his expression was so far away.
‘I was an angry six-year-old. I missed my mum and I didn’t understand why the hospital couldn’t make her better, why she’d died. I couldn’t settle anywhere. I wet the bed. I kicked doors and walls. I threw things. I stole. I smashed things up.’
A small, frightened child’s equivalent of Truffle and her anxious chewing, Georgie thought.
‘So the foster parents didn’t tend to keep me for very long. I went through a few sets and then I ended up in a children’s home.’
‘Your grandparents never changed their minds?’
‘No.’
She still couldn’t get her head round this. ‘And your mum was their only child?’
‘Aye.’
How sad. Georgie couldn’t understand why any parent would throw their only child onto the street like that. Her parents had been there for Joshua after his wife had died and they’d even offered to come back to London to help, despite the fact they loved their retirement in Norfolk. Just as they’d been there for her after Charlie had been killed, given her a space to stay and to grieve.
If Georgie had fallen pregnant at sixteen, maybe her parents would’ve been disappointed that her options were narrower than they wanted for her, but they would’ve supported any decision she made. And they would’ve helped out with childcare, so she could go on to study and have the career she’d always wanted as well as a baby. And if anything had happened to her, she knew without a doubt that they would’ve stepped straight in to give her child a home and make sure the child felt loved and wanted. Her elder brother Joshua would’ve helped, too.
Ryan hadn’t had any of that support. He’d made it to where he was completely on his own.
Since his divorce and Clara doing the job swap, all he had was his dog.
‘I’m not pitying you,’ she said. ‘But right now I’m pretty angry on your beha
lf. And your mum’s.’
‘There’s no need. The McGregors don’t deserve any emotion from you,’ he said. ‘They’ll face a lonely old age, instead of having their daughter and their grandson to look in on them and brighten their day with a visit. They were very keen to tell my mother that “as ye sow, so shall ye reap”—the letter they wrote her was in the box of stuff that social services kept for me for when I was old enough. And now they’ll perhaps learn the truth of that themselves. I’ve thought about facing them, but I decided they’re not worth it. The best revenge is living well.’
‘That’s true,’ she said. ‘And, just so you know, everything you’ve just told me is going nowhere.’
He looked at her then. ‘Thank you.’
‘Does Clara know?’
‘Yes. She was the one who suggested I get a dog in the first place, when I split up with Zoe.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘She said much the same as you. She also said I should try to find my father. So did Zoe. But, as my mother refused to name him, there isn’t anyone left to ask.’
‘Maybe your mum’s best friend from school?’ she suggested.
‘That’s what they suggested,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know who she was. And, even supposing I found someone who was at school with her, someone who remembered her and might help trace her best friend, what if Mum never told anyone at all? And if she did...’ He shook his head. ‘If my father didn’t want to know when she was pregnant or when I was born, he certainly won’t want to know thirty-six years later. And I don’t want another person in my life who’d let me down.’
So he expected nothing from relationships. Nothing at all.
It was a warning.
And, at the same time, it made her want to weep for the sad, lonely, abandoned little boy he’d been. The lonely, abandoned man he was right now.
It didn’t have to stay that way.
But he gently disentangled his fingers from hers, as if to make the point that he was absolutely fine on his own and he’d prefer to keep it that way.
Well, she’d wait with him anyway.
Carol on the reception desk insisted on making them both a mug of tea. And then finally Linda reappeared. ‘Do you want the good news, or the good news?’ she asked with a smile.
‘She’s going to be all right?’ Ryan asked, sitting up straight.
Linda nodded. ‘I’ve fixed the sprain. She’s got a splint and she’ll need painkillers, and a strict regime of rest. Walks only on a short leash, and that includes going out to the loo. No running, no jumping, no rough-house playing. And when she’s not with you she’ll need a cone on.’
‘She’s going to be bored out of her mind,’ Ryan said.
‘Get some different puzzle boxes,’ Linda said. ‘And do lots of mental training with her—stay, nose-touch, and low-activity “find it” games, that sort of thing. And give her toys stuffed with food so she has to work for it—it’ll help to keep her occupied.’
‘Got it,’ Ryan said. ‘What’s the other good news?’
‘She’s come round from her op. She’s a little bit woozy and a little bit sorry for herself, but you can take her home.’
‘Thank you.’ Ryan actually hugged Linda, to Georgie’s surprise. ‘Thank you for making my dog better.’
‘Bring her back to see me in a week. Or before that if you think she’s got an infection and she’s running a temperature, or you’re worried about anything at all,’ Linda said.
Georgie waited for Ryan to go and collect the dog, and Ryan’s eyelashes were suspiciously damp when he carried Truffle back into the waiting room.
‘Let’s go home,’ she said softly.
Then she realised what she’d said. Home. Since when had she thought of Hayloft Cottage as home? But she realised it was true. Despite growing up in London and studying and working there ever since, she’d started to think of the wilds of Scotland as home.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RYAN SAT IN the back of his car with Truffle, who seemed woozy and exhausted. There was a patch of shaven skin on her paw where she’d been anaesthetised, her leg had a dressing on it and Ryan had a plastic cone to attach to her collar when he wasn’t supervising her, to stop her being able to chew the dressing or nibble at her stitches.
Georgie didn’t push him to make conversation; she had a feeling that he was already regretting spilling his heart out to her. Now she knew why his dog was so important to him, it made her feel even worse.
Back at the cottage, she opened doors for him while he carried the dog inside. He set Truffle down on her bed, and the dog’s head flopped down between her paws. For a moment, before he masked it, Ryan’s face was full of anguish.
And there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say, to make things better.
She fell back on practicalities. ‘I’ll cook dinner. I bought salmon yesterday.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ he said.
‘Tough. You’re eating. You’re not going to be any good to Truffle if you keel over. You need food.’
She took his silence as consent and chopped vegetables ready to stir-fry them; she also pan-fried the salmon and put a packet of rice into the microwave.
Ryan looked reluctant to leave the dog when Georgie put their plates on the table.
‘She’ll be fine. Sit down and eat,’ she said.
He made a noncommittal noise but at least he joined her, though he pushed the food around his plate. He ate about half the salmon and rice, and let the rest cool on his plate before going to sit on the floor next to Truffle, hand-feeding the dog some flakes of fish and rice.
Georgie wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be all right, but she thought he’d probably push her away. So she busied herself doing the washing up and pottered round in the kitchen, while the silence stretched out further and further between them.
Eventually she put the kettle on, made them both a mug of tea, and collected his empty plate.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘And thanks.’
‘No problem. Is there anything else I can get you?’
‘No.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to stay downstairs with her tonight in case she has a delayed reaction to the anaesthetic.’
Oh, no. Georgie hadn’t even thought of that, and the idea made her feel sick. Of course they weren’t out of the woods yet. The operation was just the first stage. ‘Then I’ll stay with you to keep you company.’
‘There’s no need,’ Ryan said. ‘You’ve got work tomorrow. I swapped my shift so I’ve got a day off.’
‘I’m still staying with you,’ she said. ‘Apart from the fact it’s my fault Truffle escaped into the hills, two bodies are better than one when it comes to looking after someone who’s sick. So I’m going to change into my pyjamas and bring my pillow and duvet down here. And I’ll sit with her while you do the same.’
Eventually, he nodded. ‘All right. Thanks.’
Once she was downstairs, he went up to change and collect his bedding, and meanwhile Georgie sat talking to Truffle, resting her hand lightly on the dog’s side for comfort. ‘You’re going to be all right, girl,’ she promised softly.
When Ryan came downstairs, he put his duvet and pillow on the other side of Truffle. It reminded Georgie of sleepovers as a child, when a whole bunch of them would sleep in a room and chatter until the small hours. Though Ryan didn’t talk. He just lay there, looking worried, and Georgie didn’t want to babble platitudes and make things worse for him.
If only she’d double-checked the door.
And, if Truffle developed complications after the operation and the worst happened, Georgie would never forgive herself for taking away the thing that meant most in the world to Ryan.
Eventually, after Ryan had fitted the cone to Truffle’s collar, Georgie fell asleep; the next morning, the alarm on her watch woke her, and for a moment she was disorientate
d. She wasn’t in bed: she was lying on the floor. And somehow, during the night, Truffle had moved. The gap between Georgie and Ryan was no longer there: instead, they were lying wrapped in each other’s arms.
She kept her eyes tightly shut.
What did she do now?
She hadn’t woken in someone’s arms since Charlie’s death. She was willing to bet it was the same for Ryan, since his divorce.
This closeness had happened while they were asleep. Neither of them had planned this.
Like that kiss in the garden, under the Northern Lights.
If she wriggled out of his arms, the movement would wake him and she’d have to face the embarrassment and awkwardness. If she stayed where she was, she’d have to pretend to be asleep after he woke; given that her breathing was shallow, he’d know that she was awake. And that would lead to awkwardness, too.
There was no easy way out of this.
And then Ryan stirred, and gently disentangled himself from her arms.
OK. He was awake and he’d decided to move first. She’d take her lead from him. She opened her eyes, though she didn’t quite dare look him in the eye. ‘Morning.’
‘Morning,’ he said.
But he didn’t comment about the way they’d woken up. That was good. He clearly wanted to avoid the awkwardness, too. ‘How’s Truffle?’ she asked.
The dog’s tail thumped on the floor as she responded to her name.
‘She looks OK,’ Ryan said, and took the cone off. ‘Want to go out, girl? I’m afraid it’ll have to be on the lead. I can’t risk you rushing about and knocking your leg.’
Georgie sneaked a tiny glance while he took Truffle to the kitchen door and pulled on his boots and a coat over his pyjamas. Dishevelled from sleep, he was utterly gorgeous. And it made all her senses hum with longing. But right now they still had fences to mend between them so she needed to put a lid on that reaction.
She got to her feet. Keeping busy was the way she usually dealt with things.
By the time he came back in with the dog, she’d made coffee and laid the table for breakfast.