Trust Me, I'm a Vet: The Otter House Vets Series

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘Mike, you mean?’ I cut in, suddenly realising that I no longer wince when I say his name, which has a lot to do with the man standing in front of me.

  ‘Izzy told me a bit about him – when I was up at Chris’s. She was afraid she’d ruined the course of true love with her revelation, but I told her I already knew.’ Alex moves a little closer. ‘Idle gossip is rife in Talyton, but it does have its uses.’

  Alex is so close now I can feel his breath, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. If he should take my hand and lead me up the stairs to the gallery, I wouldn’t resist . . .

  ‘I’ll get the coffee on,’ he says, breaking the spell.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ I say, but he insists.

  ‘You look tired,’ he says, gazing at me. ‘I’m fine – I’ve been in bed for days. Go and sit down.’

  His hands are on my shoulders, turning me towards the sofa closest to the long window where a shaft of sunlight slants through, illuminating a child’s plastic trike and an abandoned My Little Pony toy in the corner. I long for Alex to sit down with me, never to take his hands off me, but instead he wanders over to the kitchen area at the far end of the barn.

  I’m not tired, but I tip my head back and close my eyes, feeling the heat from the sun on my face and listening to the sounds of Alex preparing coffee, of the pigeons cooing outside and of the horses whickering and banging at their stable doors.

  I wake to the sensation of something warm and heavy leaning against me. The leather squeaks as the weight shifts further towards me. There’s the briefest touch of something against my lips, the scent of coffee and mint. It isn’t unpleasant. In fact – the contact returns for longer this time – it’s amazing and reassuringly familiar. I open my eyes. Alex’s gorgeous, smoky-blue eyes smoulder at me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

  ‘Don’t be,’ I say softly, reaching out and resting my hand on his shoulder.

  ‘I couldn’t resist,’ he whispers, touching the side of my face with his fingertips. ‘Sleeping Beauty.’

  ‘I’m supposed to be watching out for you . . .’ I catch the edge of Alex’s collar and pull him towards me, my pulse beating a chaotic rhythm of will I, won’t I? Should we, shouldn’t we?

  Alex answers, pressing his lips to mine, his breathing ragged and matching mine, and I’m just about to lose my mind with desire when he pulls away.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ I murmur brazenly.

  ‘I’m so happy,’ he says. ‘I’m so glad you’ve decided to stay here.’

  ‘Stay? To look after you, yes.’

  He frowns. ‘I meant in Talyton.’

  ‘I’m not,’ I say, unsure what I’ve said or done to give him that impression.

  ‘I thought you’d decided to stay on at Otter House?’ His eyes are dark with disappointment and my heart aches because I feel as if I’ve let him down. ‘Perhaps I dreamed it,’ he goes on. ‘There have been some funny things going on in my head since, you know’ – his voice grows husky – ‘the fire . . .’

  Even as he mentions it, I can hear the terrifying roar of the flames and rumble of tumbling masonry all over again, and my heart beats even faster and I want him to hold me, to make love to me and obliterate those memories, and start all over again with new and happier memories of our own.

  I begin to unfasten the buttons on my blouse as his fingers trace the curve of my jaw, down the side of my neck and along the ridge of my collarbone, then hesitate.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, aware that he’s looking past me, over the back of the sofa, towards – I turn to look – the shelf on the wall behind us. Two children – Alex’s children – gaze back from silver-framed photographs: Lucie from the back of a Shetland Pony, grinning from ear to ear, beneath a riding hat which appears far too big; Sebastian with a mop of curly hair cuddling a big old black Lab. I turn back to Alex and watch his pupils shrink as he withdraws, doing up my buttons as fast as I can unfasten them.

  ‘No’ – he tangles his fingers with mine – ‘stop. Maz, this is wrong.’

  I don’t understand. ‘It feels right to me . . .’ Confused and frustrated, I try to bring him back to me, but it’s as if he’s shut the door on his emotions and trapped them inside. ‘Alex, I’m —’

  ‘Please don’t say it,’ he cuts in, pressing his fingers to my lips. ‘Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.’ He pulls away and sits beside me, not touching. I grab a cushion and clutch it to my chest to cover what feels like a gaping hole, a crushing pain where he’s as good as ripped my heart out. I think I love him, but he doesn’t love me back.

  ‘I know how you feel, Maz,’ he begins gruffly.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ I say sharply.

  ‘I think I do . . .’

  ‘It’s all right anyway.’ I make to stand up. ‘I made a mistake. I read too much into . . . whatever it was we had.’

  ‘Sit down,’ he says firmly.

  There’s something in the tone of his voice which makes me settle back on the sofa, putting the cushion between us, like a barrier.

  ‘I do like you, Maz. In fact, I’m very fond of you, but despite my reputation – due in part to my misspent youth, chasing girls around the countryside with Stewart – I don’t go for one-night stands. In my experience, someone always gets hurt.’ He lowers his voice and adds softly, ‘I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.’

  You’ve just hurt me by rejecting me, I think, but the expression in his eyes is tender, as he continues, ‘We’d both get in too deep.’

  ‘Oh, Alex . . .’ His name catches in my throat as he reaches out and strokes my hand. He’s right. There are so many reasons why we shouldn’t take our friendship any further.

  ‘I wish you weren’t leaving Talyton,’ he says, and I almost say, ‘So do I . . .’ This has to be the worst day of my life. I’ve fallen in with love with this man and now I’m walking out on him for good, and why?

  But I know why. I’d never be happy in Talyton. It would never feel like home to me. I messed up with Cadbury, and I’ll never be allowed to forget.

  The horses start neighing and banging at their doors, and a car comes scrunching across the gravel to park alongside mine.

  ‘That’s the parents,’ Alex sighs.

  ‘I should go.’ I stand up again. Alex won’t let go of my hand.

  ‘Don’t leave Talyton without saying goodbye, will you?’ His voice sounds small as if it’s taken all his effort to speak. ‘Promise me, Maz.’

  ‘I promise,’ I mutter, tearing myself away from the intensity of his eyes, and his grasp, and under my breath, I add, ‘Goodbye, Alex,’ so I don’t have to break my promise in the future, and have him break my heart all over again.

  When I let myself back into the practice later, Tripod comes prup-prupping up on his three legs. He hops up the stairs with me, holding his tail at an angle to aid his balance, and then jumps up onto the bed. ‘Push off,’ I say companionably. He takes no notice, of course.

  I sink down on the edge of the bed, and he treads across the duvet and insinuates himself on my lap, butting his head against my chin and purring, as if to say, ‘It can’t be as bad as you’re making out.’ I put my arms around him. Sometimes I wish I was a cat.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Horses for Courses

  ‘The country air suits you, Maz. You’re positively glowing, unlike my briquettes.’ Ben holds his palms towards me as I approach. ‘I wonder who’s been lighting your fire. I could use him to get the barbie going.’

  Ben and Emma invited me for an early evening meal and we’re in the garden at the back of Ben and Emma’s house. I’d expected them to settle for a place with history, like Otter House, but this is a new-build on the housing estate Old Fox-Gifford considered to be beneath his dogs, if I remember correctly.

  The house is a good size, but the garden is what estate agents describe as ‘manageable’. There’s a patio, on which stands a hot tub, and an area of freshly turfed lawn. Ben, dressed in
T-shirt, shorts which don’t suit him because he has what I call Popeye legs – bulging with muscle and covered with a wiry fuzz – and an apron with ‘Come and Get It’ on the front, is tinkering with his barbecue on the decking at the far end, which overlooks a field of young maize plants. Miff, who was actually pleased to see me, sits in the flowerbed, playing a game of risk with a bee.

  Emma, looking cool in a long navy skirt and white vest top, hands me a glass of Pimms and lemonade, mixed with crushed ice and slices of cucumber and orange, the way we always made it in Cambridge.

  ‘Cheers,’ she says, clashing a glass of what looks like lemonade against mine.

  ‘Cheers,’ I say in return.

  ‘Perhaps it’s Alex Fox-Gifford,’ Ben says.

  ‘Hardly, Ben. Honestly, you’re a hoot.’ Laughing, Emma turns to me. ‘I don’t know why you’ve been doing him all these favours though. If it wasn’t for Alex and his precious horse, you wouldn’t have been anywhere near Buttercross Cottage on the night of the fire.’

  Suddenly, I find my loyalties torn between my best friend and a Fox-Gifford.

  ‘If it wasn’t for Alex,’ I say quietly, ‘I wouldn’t be here now.’

  ‘So that’s it.’ I can hear the relief in Emma’s voice. ‘You’ve been looking after him because you feel somehow responsible for what happened?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s that at all,’ Ben cuts in. ‘Can’t you see? She’s in love with him.’

  ‘Darling, do stop pulling poor Maz’s leg,’ Emma says, and I turn aside to face the sun, which hangs like an orange fireball over the hills to the west, hoping she won’t notice my burning cheeks. ‘That’s ridiculous. He’s a complete boor.’

  There was a time when I would have agreed with her, but I know differently now. I want to tell her how kind, sensitive and thoughtful he is, but there’s no point.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll see him again.’

  ‘What about Gloria’s funeral?’

  I shrug. I assume he’ll be there, but he hasn’t been in touch about wanting a lift. I guess he’s avoiding me. I mean, he did try to let me down gently when I threw myself at him like some old slapper, like my mother does at anything in possession of an X and Y chromosome.

  ‘Well, I’m more than happy for you to go as one of Otter House’s representatives. I expect Izzy will go, and Frances wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Emma says. ‘I’ll hold the fort.’

  ‘I’ll be going,’ says Ben. ‘Gloria was one of my patients.’

  Emma puts her glass down on the table on the patio, walks up to me and links her arm through mine. ‘Come inside and give me a hand with the salad.’

  In the kitchen, we chop tomatoes and cucumber. I don’t get to do much cooking, and it’s actually quite therapeutic.

  ‘I have a confession to make,’ Emma begins as she starts mixing the dressing. ‘I’m not ill – I’m pregnant.’

  ‘You’re what?’ The sharp scent of balsamic vinegar hits my throat. ‘I thought you said . . . Oh, that’s wonderful news!’ I put the paring knife down and give her a hug.

  ‘We kind of stopped trying so hard, knowing that we were coming back to visit the fertility clinic for tests, and it just happened. Life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?’ Emma says, her eyes shining brightly.

  ‘When’s the baby due?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s very early days yet,’ Emma says, sobering up. ‘It’s a souvenir from our holiday.’

  ‘Ben must be delighted,’ I say, watching him blowing onto the barbecue, tiny flames licking up through the rack.

  ‘He’s over the moon,’ Emma says softly. ‘We both are.’ Smiling, she touches her stomach, and I feel an unexpected tick of my biological clock. ‘So, we’ve been talking things over and we’ve decided I should take on another vet on a permanent basis. And now you must be able to guess what I’m going to say, Maz. I want that vet to be you.’

  ‘M-m-me?’ I stammer.

  ‘I’m offering you an equal partnership in the business,’ she says, beaming at me like an over-enthusiastic puppy. ‘Well? I wasn’t expecting stunned silence.’

  ‘I thought you were thinking of closing the practice down.’

  ‘Ben wouldn’t hear of it. He’s still sure that we can make a go of it.’ She pauses as if collecting herself. ‘It’s what Mum would have wanted. Maz, it isn’t just about money. I’ve known some of my clients for years. Some of them have known me since I was a baby. I’d like to be able to carry on looking after their pets.’

  My instinct is to say no, but why not? My thoughts meander back to our cosy chats at vet school, our plans to work together. A permanent job with my best friend. All small animals. No sheep. And a coffee machine. It’s all falling into place.

  I gaze at Emma, at the disappointment which clouds her face when I don’t respond.

  ‘I’ve waited so long for this baby,’ she says, ‘I want to spend as much time as I can with him, or her. I’d like to be able to take maternity leave, knowing the practice is in safe hands. Please, Maz.’

  ‘It’s all a bit of a surprise. I’m not sure . . .’ I glance down at my ‘not-so-safe’ hands and the bandages – lighter ones now – on my arms. Am I up to the job? Look at what happened to the practice when Emma left me in charge the last time.

  ‘We’ll have to go house hunting. You’ll need somewhere to live – you don’t want to stay above the shop for the rest of your life.’ She pauses. ‘Maz, cheer up. You look as if I’ve just condemned you to death. Aren’t you pleased?’

  ‘I’m really pleased that you asked me . . .’

  ‘What’s the problem then?’

  ‘I never planned to live in the country,’ I say. ‘It’s too quiet for me.’ I think of how long it takes to buy a newspaper, of the mud and muck, of the gossip, of how the people of Talyton St George don’t like me . . . Well, a lot of them don’t. They might be rallying round to help with the rescues, but they don’t respect me as a vet. What about Izzy? I’d be her boss, yet she doesn’t trust me. And then I think of Alex . . . ‘Emma, I need time to think it over.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ Emma gazes at me as if she’s searching for clues as to which way I’ll decide. ‘Take all the time you need.’

  I pick up my glass and follow her back out to the garden where Ben is arranging food on the barbecue, carefully tweaking the positions of the steaks and burgers so they’re equal distances apart. I smile to myself. He’s going to have to change when he becomes a dad – there won’t be time for such precision. I congratulate him on the baby.

  ‘I’ve popped the question, Ben,’ Emma says, ‘and Maz says she isn’t sure.’

  ‘I told you it was a bit much to expect an instant answer, darling,’ Ben says, turning fondly to his wife. ‘It’s a huge decision.’

  ‘I know,’ Emma says, her eyes downcast.

  ‘It’s a lovely place to live, Maz,’ Ben says, waving his spatula towards the vista of green hills beyond the garden. ‘Look at that view.’

  He’s right, I think. It is beautiful, but could I really put down roots in Talyton St George? I know that if I don’t, I’m back on the road, not knowing where life’s journey will take me next.

  As I’m watching the seagulls sweep across the sky, I notice a tiny plume of smoke rising up from the barbecue behind Ben.

  ‘Ben, something’s burning,’ I say quickly.

  ‘Oops,’ he says, turning back to salvage the food while Emma pops indoors and returns with a packet of nut cutlets.

  ‘Don’t burn those,’ she says, smiling, as she gives them to Ben. ‘They’re the only ones we’ve got.’ Emma returns to my side. ‘Now, Maz, why don’t we talk this through? What’s getting in the way?’

  ‘There’s Talyton Manor Vets?’ I say after a pause. I can imagine Old Fox-Gifford’s reaction if I should decide to stay.

  ‘Yeah . . .’ Emma looks at me through narrowed eyes. ‘They got to you too, didn’t they?’

  They did, I think,
flushing slightly, but not in the way she’s thinking of. I touch the cool glass in my hand briefly to my face.

  ‘Damn them.’ Emma kicks at a clod of earth. ‘They’re the bane of my life. They still want to ruin everything for me.’

  ‘Emma, they aren’t all that bad. Large animal work’s in decline. Otter House and Talyton Manor Vets are after the same thing.’

  ‘Anyone would think you were on their side, Maz,’ Emma says dismissively. ‘Look, I’ve asked Frances to stay on. Is that part of the problem?’

  ‘No, Frances isn’t so bad when you get to know her.’ It’s actually Izzy, I think, but I don’t feel able to tell Emma about how I sometimes feel uncomfortable working with her. She doesn’t trust me after what happened with Blueboy and Cadbury, and I don’t see what I can do to regain her trust.

  ‘Is it the money? I realise joining Otter House Vets as a partner doesn’t look like the most attractive prospect at the moment, but that’s my fault. I wanted the practice to be perfect when I set it up, and I spent too much on it, but I’m sure we can get the finances back on track.’

  ‘You don’t seem to have enough clients to make it work,’ I say.

  ‘They’re coming back,’ she says, ‘and there are more families moving in to Talyton all the time.’

  ‘They’re coming back because of you, Em. They prefer to see you, because they don’t trust me.’

  ‘What about Ally and Mr Brown? I haven’t heard them complaining.’

  ‘I know, but . . .’ I tail off as Emma finishes my sentence for me.

  ‘The people who live here are perfectly capable of making up their own minds. They know you went overboard with Cheryl’s cat, but they also know that Cheryl can be a spiteful gossip. They know Cadbury died after you operated on him, but they also understand that things can, and do, go wrong. They’re also very forgiving, and I wish you’d stop wallowing and start looking on the positive side. You helped Clive Taylor through a tough time with Robbie, and rescued Gloria’s animals . . .’ Emma falters, then glances at me, a spark of amusement in her eyes. ‘I’d better not start bossing you around, had I? Otherwise I’ll have no chance of persuading you to work with me.’