‘Emma’s rather taken up with this treatment she’s having,’ Frances says.
‘I know.’ I call her.
‘I’m sorry, Maz,’ she says. ‘I’m not feeling up to it. Can’t Drew see my appointments and do the visits later?’
‘We’ve got a lot on. I’d really appreciate you coming in, even if it’s for an hour or two.’
‘I’m sore where Ben’s been injecting me and I’ve got a muzzy head. In fact, I feel like an enormous egg.’ Emma pauses. ‘Talk to Drew – it’s what he’s here for.’
‘I don’t like leaving him to his own devices,’ I say, but she’s completely self-absorbed, chattering on about her IVF. The results of the clinic’s investigations were promising. According to Emma, she had to go through blood tests, physical examinations and a laparoscopy, and Ben had to do his part with a plastic pot and lads’ mags. There was no obvious abnormality detected, nothing to stop Emma conceiving naturally, but they decided to go ahead with IVF to help things along.
‘You’d have thought my husband would be good at injections, being a doctor. My bum’s a big enough target.’
‘Emma, don’t be ridiculous.’ Emma’s always been a bit sensitive about her curves, whereas I rather envy them. ‘I’ll do the injections for you, if you like.’
‘Ben would be mortally offended.’ Emma hesitates. ‘Actually, Maz, I’d forgotten about your scan. I feel really bad.’ Then she forces a laugh. ‘I blame it on all those extra hormones I’m having. Something must be working …’ I can hear the desperation in her voice. ‘Mustn’t it?’
I can’t answer that. I don’t see why she can’t come in for an hour or two. Without her input, I’ll be rushed off my feet tomorrow, playing catch-up with the appointments.
‘So, I’ll let you know when I feel up to coming in,’ Emma goes on. ‘Thanks for being so understanding, Maz. I can always rely on you.’
‘I do what I can,’ I begin, ‘but there is a point where it feels you’re not merely relying on me – you’re taking advantage. It seems unfair that you aren’t prepared to compromise just a bit.’
There’s silence, then Emma comes back.
‘I didn’t realise you felt like that.’ Her voice turns to vinegar. ‘You’ve not said anything before.’
‘I didn’t want to upset you because I know how much it means to you, but I’m finding it tough, running the practice on my own.’
‘You aren’t running it on your own. You’ve got Drew and I haven’t abandoned you completely. I’ve kept up with the admin – I notice you didn’t deal with much of that.’
It’s true. I can’t deny it.
‘And when I am at Otter House, you treat me as if I’m not there,’ she continues. ‘You’re always doing things like arranging Izzy’s pay rise behind my back.’
‘You weren’t there,’ I say indignantly.
‘Well, I think you’re being incredibly selfish.’
I picture her dark eyes flashing, red spots spreading across her cheeks. She’s been livid on my behalf before – over one particular ex of mine when he left me for another woman – but not at me like this.
‘What about you?’ Why should I back down when she’s being so unreasonable? ‘All I’m asking you is to cover for me while I have this scan.’ I wasn’t all that worried about having a second scan before Lucie’s comments about me having half a baby. Now I just want to put my mind at rest that the baby’s developing normally. ‘I’m not going to cancel.’
‘And I’m not going to come in.’
For a moment I try to recall what we had written into our partnership agreement about how we’re supposed to resolve arguments. At the time I thought the whole idea of a pre-nup was completely unnecessary, but now I’m not so sure. Emma’s working half-time, yet she’s still taking a full-time salary.
‘So when are you going to come in? Next month? Next year?’
‘Oh, don’t be facetious, Maz.’ Do I detect a wobble in Emma’s voice as she goes on, ‘I can’t cope with seeing anyone today. I can’t concentrate on anything.’ With that, the phone cuts off. Conversation over.
On my way to the hospital, I calm down. I was right to stand up for myself – Emma’s got to realise I’m stressed out too – but I could have handled it better.
My renewed sense of calm remains until I’ve parked and discovered Alex is nowhere to be seen. Grumbling to myself, I go on into the maternity unit, the baby trampolining on my bladder. I’m lying on the bed with my top pulled up, my tattoo – an apple with an arrow through the middle – stretched unevenly across the swell of my belly, looking more like a cartoon than a tasteful piece of body art, when Alex bursts into the room.
‘I’m not too late, am I?’ He comes over and takes my hand, then flashes a smile at the sonographer, who squeezes one of those chilly blobs of gel onto my skin.
‘I’ve just finished scanning a couple of mares,’ Alex says.
‘I should let you do this yourself, then.’ The sonographer’s probe dents my belly. ‘How many weeks?’
‘Twenty,’ Alex says.
‘Twenty-one,’ I say, correcting him.
He grins, and I realise he was testing me out. There’s an odd smell of farmyard cutting cuts through the clinical scent of the hospital. When I glance down, I notice he’s in his socks.
‘It looks like you,’ Alex says, his eyes on the screen.
‘How can you tell?’ I say, ascertaining quickly and with unexpected relief that the baby still has a head, body, arms and legs.
‘I doubt we’re going to find out if it’s a boy or a girl,’ says the sonographer, a different one from the last time. ‘Baby’s being very modest.’
‘I don’t mind,’ says Alex. ‘I like surprises.’
I’m disappointed, not about not knowing the baby’s sex, but because I don’t get that rush of maternal feeling Frances talked about. I don’t feel any different.
‘Baby looks fine,’ the sonographer says. ‘I’ll just take some measurements to be certain.’
I let Alex do the talking. He smiles, jokes and interrogates the sonographer on the result of every measurement when all I really want to know, after Old Fox-Gifford’s comments about my boyish hips, is how big its head is. The sonographer reassures me that it’s within normal limits and I have nothing to worry about.
‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’ Alex says as we leave the hospital arm in arm, the scan photos in my hand.
‘It does make it all the more real,’ I say to hide my true feelings. There is a lot of truth in the saying ‘out of sight, out of mind’. I stop by my car, blinking in the bright sunlight.
‘You can have these.’ I thrust the photos at Alex.
‘You have them this time. You’ll want to share them with everyone at work. They’re bound to ask …’ He clears his throat. ‘Have you got a spare hour or so?’
‘What now?’ I shake my head. ‘Emma’s let me down – I’ve got to get back.’
‘Pity. I thought we’d go and look for a new car.’
‘I like my car,’ I protest.
‘You can’t get a pushchair in the back, and you’ll want to take the baby out and about to Bumps and Babes, and coffee mornings.’ Alex laughs and I give him a friendly shove. ‘Maz, you can’t just leave the baby in a kennel. It’s like having a puppy – it needs to be socialised.’
‘Yes, but I’m not going to waste my time at coffee mornings, making small talk with people with whom I have nothing in common.’
‘You’ll be able to talk babies.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Alex.’ He might be teasing, but he’s hit a nerve. ‘If I want a car, I’ll buy it myself, thank you. There’s no need for you to take over.’
‘Is everything all right?’ He stares at me. ‘You seem a bit tense.’
‘Emma and I had a bit of a falling-out.’
‘All partners fall out now and again.’
‘It’s a bit more serious than that. I don’t think she cares what happens to the practice an
y more.’ I shade my eyes, looking up at Alex’s face. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘It’ll pass,’ he says. ‘Can’t you imagine what it’s like, putting yourself through fertility treatment? You’d be on edge at every stage of the process.’
‘What makes you such an expert?’
‘I did a course on embryo transfer in the horse – it was a long time ago, when I thought I’d be able to specialise in horses and leave Father to the cattle and sheep. It didn’t work out, of course. I did one year in equine practice before coming back to the Manor to settle down. Father didn’t want me to make my first mistakes on home turf.’ Alex rests his hands on my shoulders. ‘Hang in there, Maz. It’ll blow over.’
I wish I could be so sure.
‘It isn’t what I envisaged when we went into partnership together,’ I say.
‘Hey, stop worrying. The baby will be born with a scowl on its face if you go on like this.’ Alex smiles. ‘Are you free tonight?’
‘I’m on call.’
‘I’ll bring dinner.’ He kisses me on the cheek and I watch him go before I take a couple of minutes out, sitting in my car with the scan photos resting on the steering wheel. My heart is heavy, my mind dull with suppressed panic. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I bond with my baby? The fact Emma wouldn’t be feeling this way, if she were in the same position, makes me feel doubly guilty.
I drive back to Talyton, taking a detour on the way to avoid a traffic jam. (According to the radio, there’s been an accident on the main road.) I end up on a narrow, twisting lane with hedgerows filled with wildflowers pressing in on either side and grass growing up the middle. I take a right turn and end up in an even narrower lane, which peters out into a rutted farm track. I turn back and try the other direction. It reminds me of when I first arrived in the area. I was always getting lost, and now – I think of the baby, and Emma – I feel as if I’m losing my way again.
*
It’s a relief to get back to Otter House, where I find Frances talking to Mrs Dyer, who’s got Brutus with her in Reception.
‘Maz, Mrs Dyer says Emma booked Brutus in for X-rays today,’ Frances says.
‘She said I could come in this afternoon as a special favour,’ Mrs Dyer says.
‘I can’t find it in the diary, though. What do you want me to do with her?’ Frances adds as an aside.
‘With her, or to her?’ I say, under my breath. I take over, and explain the situation to Mrs Dyer as Brutus limps around on the end of his lead, whipping my thighs with his long tail. Fortunately, she’s understanding.
‘I’ll rebook. It’s only a little limp. Come on, Brutus. You’ll be able to have your tea and biscuits after all.’
‘I thought he was on a diet.’
‘He is, but he’s allowed the occasional treat. A little of what you fancy –’
‘Makes you fat,’ I finish for her.
‘He only has two sugars in his tea now. He used to have three.’
However, Brutus has other ideas. He parks himself in front of the shelves, his nose on a bag of prescription diet food, and won’t budge until I’ve given him a low-calorie treat, when he limps off happily out of the practice. His limp doesn’t look so insignificant now, and I wonder whether I should have insisted on admitting him.
‘Don’t let it get to you, Maz,’ Frances observes from the desk behind me. ‘She lost a dog, another Great Dane like Brutus, under anaesthetic before, when I was working at the Talyton Manor Vets. It was a few years ago now. It was terribly sad.’
‘I didn’t know.’ It explains why she’s so fussy about which vet she sees.
‘It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It reacted to one of the drugs,’ Frances goes on. ‘Come on, Maz. Let’s see these pictures.’
‘Oh, isn’t he gorgeous,’ she coos, when I show her. ‘It is a boy, isn’t it?’
‘Well, we don’t know,’ I say, but she doesn’t take any notice.
‘You and Alexander must be so proud.’ She insists on showing the photos to Izzy, who comes into Reception to collect the new practice stationery we ordered.
Izzy pauses and looks over Frances’s shoulder.
‘Looks like there’s been a mix-up,’ she says in that dry way of hers. ‘It isn’t holding a stethoscope.’ She walks off with the stationery, and Frances reluctantly hands back the photos. I think she’d put them up on the noticeboard, given half a chance.
‘Er, Maz, you remember that conversation we had about protecting the innocent young girls of Talyton,’ Frances says, conspiratorially. ‘I caught Drew talking on the phone – and it definitely wasn’t to his mother. I asked him who it was, and he said, “Just a friend, a friend in need,” and I said, “In need of what?” and he blushed and offered to pay the cost of the call.’
‘And? Go on, Frances.’
‘He has a fiancée in Australia.’
‘The rotten bastard!’ I pause. ‘Have you told Shannon?’
‘I thought it would be better coming from you. She thinks I’m a silly old fool.’ Frances sighs. ‘Whereas she’s got a lot of respect for you, Maz.’
Is it any of my business, though? Life was a whole lot more straightforward when we didn’t have so many staff.
I ambush Shannon later the same afternoon when she emerges from the cloakroom, having refreshed her make-up.
‘Shannon, let’s get hold of Ginge and see if we can work out why he’s bumping into things. The back of a cat’s eye is rather beautiful.’
‘This isn’t another of Nature’s spectacles,’ she says suspiciously, ‘like the bitch spay.’
‘It is indeed.’ I should have looked at Ginge’s eyes before, but what with one thing and another … Okay, it’s a pathetic excuse, but he doesn’t seem concerned about his lack of vision, and the last thing I want to do after a long day seeing patients is upset him. He hates being prodded about.
Shannon and I stand in the dark in the consulting room with Ginge on the table, one eye illuminated by the narrow beam from the ophthalmoscope. It isn’t such a pretty sight after all. The back of the eye is draped with salmon-pink curtains where the retina has detached and fallen away. I don’t think there’s any hope of restoring his vision.
‘How will he cope?’ Shannon asks.
‘He’s already adjusted to a certain extent. He doesn’t bump into things if he knows they’re there. The problem comes when one of us has moved something – a piece of furniture, a laundry basket.’ I hesitate. ‘It’s funny, though, isn’t it, when you’ve got perfect vision, how you can’t always see something right in front of your face?’ I switch the ophthalmoscope off and the light on. ‘People aren’t always what they seem,’ I blunder on, but Shannon changes the subject.
‘Maz, can I make a time with you to give Seven his first injection?’ she asks. ‘Aurora brought the other puppies in today, all twelve of them. They’re so cute, all scrambling in and out of a big box. Drew had to dab the ones he’d injected with Tippex so we knew which was which.’ Shannon smiles. ‘Aurora’s changed her mind about keeping them all – she can’t wait to get shot of them since they chewed her favourite designer handbag. She’s sold every single one – at a thousand pounds each – but she says it’s going to cost her at least that to repair the damage they’ve done to her garden.’
‘Shannon, that’s enough about puppies,’ I say. ‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that Drew might have a girlfriend or fiancée somewhere? Like, back in Australia?’
‘He has me,’ Shannon says, frowning. ‘He wouldn’t lie to me, Maz, and anyway, I don’t wanna talk about personal stuff.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news – Drew has a fiancée back home.’
Shannon gasps. ‘That’s impossible! He would have told me.’
‘Frances overheard him talking on the phone.’
‘The old bat!’ Shannon exclaims. ‘That’s illegal. That’s against his human rights.’
‘That’s enough, Shannon. I don’t want to hear you calling people nam
es. How Frances came by the information is irrelevant. The fact remains that Drew hasn’t been entirely straight with you.’
‘Whatever.’ Shannon’s eyes flash with anger. ‘You know, you and Emma shouldn’t pick on Drew just because he’s the best vet.’
‘Says who?’
‘Drew.’
And because I’m annoyed at Shannon for refusing to take any notice, for continuing to believe the sun shines out of Drew’s behind, I give her a whole chapter of the vet nursing book to read, and tell her I’ll test her on it the following day.
She stares at me, arms crossed and chin jutting out. Ginge butts his head against my arm to remind me he’s still here and needs a lift down. Shannon isn’t going to change her mind. Love really is blind.
‘You’re going greyer than ever,’ I say, noticing fresh flecks of silver in Alex’s hair when he’s with me later, sharing the sofa in the flat.
‘Don’t sound so surprised. I call it the Maz effect.’
‘I should be the one getting grey hairs. Izzy’s confirmed the dates for her honeymoon. She’s away for a whole month. I don’t know how we’ll cope.’ I stroke my chin, finding a bulging spot, another unwanted side effect of pregnancy.
‘What about Emma? What does she think about it?’
‘I’m not sure I can bring myself to talk to her after how she spoke to me today.’ I stand up. ‘I fancy a hot lemon. Would you like another tea?’
‘Please.’ Alex gets up too. ‘Let me get it.’
‘I’ll do it.’
Alex follows me to the sink.
‘I’m sorry,’ I sigh.
‘What for?’
‘For being ratty. I shouldn’t take everything out on you.’
‘Why don’t you move in with me?’ Alex says.
‘What did you say?’ I turn to face him, the tap running and kettle overflowing. Alex reaches past me and turns the water off. I put the kettle down on its base and switch it on.
‘Why don’t you move in with me?’ Alex repeats, his hands on my waist.
‘Can you imagine the chaos?’ I say lightly. ‘We’d never be able to find anything.’
Must Be Love Page 24