Vets in Love

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘I haven’t really planned anything beyond this moment,’ she says ominously, and any hope I have that she is en route to a B&B or hotel or an old friend’s house for the night is dashed.

  ‘That’s so typical of you.’ My sister is impulsive, reckless even. ‘You never think ahead. What if I hadn’t been here? What would you have done if you’d found I was on holiday or something?’

  ‘You are here,’ she says, frowning, ‘so it isn’t an issue.’

  ‘Don’t you dare go anywhere,’ I say, exasperated with her already and concerned that she might move on as soon as she’s arrived, whether or not she has anywhere to go. ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise,’ she says.

  ‘Good. We’ll continue this conversation later.’

  ‘Have you got a hot date, or something?’

  ‘I’ll reveal all, I promise. Give me five.’ I rush upstairs, grab my dressing gown and turn the water on in the shower. It runs for a while before I realise that it’s freezing. There is no hot water. On further inspection of the room, I discover that my towel is on the floor, covered in dark handprints. Cursing under my breath, I throw on some clean clothes, jeans and a white vest top, not the ones I was planning to wear later for my date with Matt. My sister and her kids have used all the hot water.

  I run back downstairs.

  ‘Cheska, we need to talk.’ At the same time, there’s a knock at the door. ‘I’ll go,’ I say. It’s Matt.

  ‘I’m early – I hope you don’t mind.’ He smiles. ‘My last patient came out of recovery sooner than expected, so I thought why not surprise you?’

  This is the least of the surprises today. I’m pleased to see him, but wish I’d had time to have the conversation with my sister about where she’s spending the evening while I’m spending it with Matt.

  ‘Didn’t you get my message?’ I ask.

  ‘My mobile’s out of battery.’ He steps up close so I can see the pulse at the base of his neck and the hint of dark stubble on his chin. ‘To be honest, I couldn’t wait to see you, Nicci.’ He hesitates. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

  ‘Come on in,’ I say, smiling, and he walks into the hallway, handing me a huge bouquet of flowers from Petals, wrapped and tied with a bow, and with the same pale blue and purple theme as my cross-country colours.

  ‘For you,’ he says, kissing my cheek.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, touched. I can’t remember the last time anyone but a patient gave me flowers. I catch hold of Matt’s arm and lean up to kiss him full on the lips.

  ‘Something smells good,’ he observes when I draw away, my heart pounding and heat flooding through my body. ‘You’ve been cooking.’

  ‘Ah yes, the food … There’s been a bit of a hitch.’

  ‘There was some food in the kitchen and we’ve eaten it all up,’ Sage pipes up from behind us. ‘It was very nice. On the packet it said, “made in Talyton by the WI”.’

  I groan inwardly. ‘Thanks for that.’

  ‘That’s all right.’

  Matt chuckles. ‘I thought you women valued honesty in a relationship.’

  ‘I wanted to impress you.’

  He takes my hand and squeezes it. ‘You come across as the perfect woman with the perfect life, but I’m very relieved to find out that you are human after all.’

  ‘Is that your boyfriend?’ Sage goes on.

  ‘I hope you’re going to answer that,’ Matt says, raising his eyebrows at me as if to say, what on earth’s going on?

  ‘Yes, I suppose he is.’

  ‘I didn’t know you—’ he goes on, staring at Sage as if she’s a ghost.

  ‘I don’t. This is Sage, my niece.’

  ‘Hello, Sage. Nice to meet you,’ Matt says politely.

  ‘Niece to meet you.’ Sage bursts out into peals of laughter.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Matt.’ I usher him through to the kitchen and out of the back door. ‘Sit down. I’ll get you a drink, then I’ll explain. Wine?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ he says, bemused.

  ‘I don’t know whether the wine is any good, but I spent a while choosing it with old Mr Lacey in Lacey’s Fine Wines, and it came at a rather fine price, so it should be drinkable at least.’ I fetch the bottle and a glass from the kitchen.

  ‘We’ll go,’ Cheska says, standing up. ‘I can see we’re in your way.’

  ‘But where will we go, Mummy?’ says Sage, her voice tremulous. Poor girl. She’s exhausted – and scared. ‘You said, we haven’t got anywhere, except Nicci’s house.’

  ‘Cheska,’ I say wearily, ‘sit down. You and the kids aren’t going anywhere tonight. Give me a few minutes. I’ll sort this. Sage, I promise that you, Gabriel and your mum are not in my way. Everything is going to be fine. Just stay where you are.’ I run my hands through my hair. ‘Please!’

  In the garden, I pour Matt a glass of wine and sit on the chair opposite him at the table. I explain about Fifi and the police and it all comes out in a jumble, and to my chagrin I find myself close to tears. In response, Matt moves his chair next to me, slides his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close.

  ‘Hey, it doesn’t matter about tonight. I’m cool with it.’ He touches my nose, his glass still in his hand. ‘Why don’t I take you out instead? My treat?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ I say, ‘but I can’t. Not tonight.’

  ‘All right, I understand,’ he says mournfully.

  ‘I haven’t seen my sister for a very long time, over a year, and she’s turned up not merely on my doorstep but inside my house and I need to find out why.’ I’m torn between catching up with my sister, who is clearly in a bit of a state, and a romantic evening with Matt.

  ‘Family is family,’ Matt says. ‘We’ll get together again soon. How about tomorrow? Oh no, I’m giving a presentation to some other equine vets at an area meeting. It’s just an update on my research, but I don’t think I can cancel. I’m on call on Sunday. How about Monday?’

  ‘I’ve got a cross-country clinic with Shane.’

  ‘Shane again? Is there anything I should know about you and him? You’re always with him …’

  I can’t help laughing.

  ‘He’s very familiar with you. In fact, I keep meaning to ask you, why does he call you Phoebe? Delphi says he calls you Phoebe,’ Matt goes on as I’m trying to work out what he’s talking about.

  ‘You mean VB. It’s short for Velcro Bum because I stick to the saddle, most of the time anyway.’

  Matt grins. ‘Okay, that’s weird, but I can deal with it. How about Tuesday night? Don’t tell me – it’s dressage night.’

  ‘It’s a late night surgery,’ I smile.

  ‘We’re going to have to co-ordinate our diaries, otherwise we’ll never see each other.’ Matt looks disconsolate.

  I can empathise with him. It’s frustrating.

  ‘Come over to my house next Saturday after morning surgery. I’ll show you around.’ He grins. ‘I’m not expecting visitors.’

  ‘That’s the point. Neither was I.’

  ‘Hey, no one’s looking,’ Matt says, glancing towards the house. ‘Kiss?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say no …’ I don’t say no. I lean into him as he holds me close, and touches his mouth to mine, sending shocks of electricity darting up my spine. The kiss deepens. He tastes of hot coffee and mint. My pulse thrills. I reach out, one arm behind his back, my other hand spread across his thigh, feeling the taut spring of his muscles beneath my fingertips. Matt stills.

  ‘Now, we’re being watched,’ he murmurs.

  I groan with frustration as we pull apart and sit up.

  Sage is peering out of the kitchen, half hidden by the partially open back door, and in spite of hearing my sister telling her to leave us alone, it’s somehow stolen the moment.

  ‘Everything else I want to do with you, girlfriend, needs to be done in private,’ Matt says, his cheeks flushed with colour, as he stands and holds out his hand to help me up. ‘I’m sorely tempted to kiss you again, b
ut we’ll wait. It’s going to seem a very long time until Saturday.’ He squeezes my hand. ‘I hope all goes well with your sister. She seems to be in a bit of a state.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I repeat.

  ‘Don’t be. These things happen.’ He tips his head to one side. ‘The Bobster dog will be pleased. I shall go and spend the rest of the evening with her.’

  I see Matt out, only to find Frances from next door ringing the bell. She uses her free hand to put her specs on – the frames are elaborate, like bejewelled butterflies – and readjust her hair. I believe she wears a wig because the colour changes from day to day. Tonight it appears the colour of pink grapefruit and clashes with her blue Paisley print tunic.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ she says, addressing Matt rather than me.

  ‘I’ll be off.’ He rolls his eyes at me as he sidles past her. ‘I’ll text you.’

  ‘Make it soon,’ I say, fending off Frances’s attempted invasion of the house by blocking her way. ‘Hi, Frances. Before you ask, everything’s fine.’

  ‘I know. Fifi dropped by to tell me when I was at work. Is there anything I can do, anything you need for your unexpected visitors? I have blankets, pillows and spare towels.’

  ‘Thank you, but I think they’ve found everything they could possibly need,’ I say wryly.

  ‘Oh? All right then. I’ll leave you in peace.’ She pauses. ‘By the way, I brought you this.’ She holds out a plastic tub. ‘I imagine you’re ready to make another friendship cake by now.’

  ‘Oh no, Frances, I haven’t the time.’

  ‘Of course you have, dear. Besides, I’d be most grateful if you could take this one on, only I’ve exhausted my friends at the practice and the WI, and it isn’t right to let the yeast die. This very same yeast has been making the rounds of Talyton St George for the past three years – to break the chain would be a bad omen, like neglecting to deal with a chain letter.’

  Thanking her again, I take it from her. She’s given me two tubs of the stuff before, but anything for peace and quiet, I think, both of which are distinctly lacking when I return to the kitchen, having made sure the front door is securely shut.

  ‘Will we see Granma while we’re here?’ Sage asks.

  ‘I hope so,’ I say at the same time as Cheska says, ‘No.’

  ‘I remember Granma,’ says Sage, but Gabriel has never met her, although he claims to have done.

  ‘Describe her then.’ Sage, now half dressed in a vest and pyjama bottoms, challenges her brother. ‘What colour is her hair?’

  ‘Black,’ says Gabriel. ‘She looks like a witch.’ He cackles with laughter.

  ‘No, she doesn’t.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Cheska says, breaking them up before World War Three erupts. ‘I don’t want to hear any more about Granma.’

  ‘Auntie Nicci, I was wondering where we’re all going to sleep,’ Sage says, changing the subject.

  ‘Let me think,’ I say, my mind drifting back to the kiss. It’s hard to concentrate on anything, but eventually, I sort out the sleeping arrangements. Cheska and Gabriel are to share my double bed, while Sage has the single bed in the spare room and I have the futon in the attic. I imagined that Sage and Gabriel would play up about going to bed in a strange place, but they are both sound asleep within ten minutes of Cheska tucking them in.

  My sister rejoins me in the kitchen where I’ve made myself a tuna sandwich, not quite what I was planning for dinner.

  ‘I would say make yourself at home, but it seems you already have.’ I put the kettle on. ‘More tea?’

  ‘I could do with something stronger.’

  I fetch the rest of the bottle of wine. She drinks the first glass in one go.

  ‘Cheska, aren’t you going to tell me what you’re doing here? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for ages, I hardly ever manage to speak to you and suddenly you turn up at my house.’

  ‘I thought we’d come and see you, Sis,’ she says.

  ‘You could have called, or even texted me to let me know you were coming.’

  ‘Don’t you want us here?’

  ‘Of course I do. You’re always welcome. How many times have I told you that?’ I say, dropping a dirty knife into the dishwasher and slamming the door shut with some annoyance at my sister’s inability to see my point of view.

  ‘You could have fooled me,’ she says. ‘You’ve been a little off with me since we arrived.’

  ‘That’s unfair. I had to leave work early because the police were outside my house with a suspected burglar inside.’

  ‘I’ve told you, we let ourselves in. The door was open.’

  ‘You should have come round to the surgery first.’ I’m aware that Cheska is staring at me the way she used to when we were children.

  ‘Should have, could have, would have,’ she says, tipping her head to one side. ‘You’re as bossy as ever.’

  ‘It’s a big sister’s prerogative,’ I say, smiling as my mind fills with memories of how we used to spend time together and how I imposed my wish to play horses on her.

  ‘That’s your opinion,’ she says, her expression softening. ‘I suppose it wasn’t all that convenient us turning up this evening. The boyfriend seems nice.’

  ‘Hands off,’ I say, more cheerfully. ‘How’s Alan?’ Alan is Gabriel’s father. Sage calls Alan her dad, although her real father isn’t around any more. He left my sister when Sage was small.

  ‘Oh, we’re on a break.’

  ‘I should have guessed. I’m so sorry …’ I try to get my sister to look on the bright side. ‘If you’re on a break, it isn’t irretrievable.’

  Cheska stares into her wineglass. Her lip trembles and a tear rolls down her cheek. She puts her shades on, but I tell her to take them off because she doesn’t have to hide anything from me. She’s always been like this, either upbeat and positive, or down in the depths of despair. The problem with my sister is that she feels far too much.

  ‘I love him, but it isn’t working,’ she sobs. ‘We’re at each other’s throats all the time. There’s no one else. It’s all about money, or the lack of it.’

  ‘Are you in debt again?’

  ‘Who isn’t?’

  ‘How much?’ I ask, but, like a chancellor struggling to stay in power, she isn’t going to reveal the extent of the deficit. ‘You should have told me this sooner. I can pay off your debts and you can repay me when you’re in a position to do so.’

  ‘Nicci, I can’t keep running to you for help. I have to do this on my own.’ She grabs a piece of kitchen roll and blows her nose.

  ‘You don’t have to though,’ I say, reaching out for her shoulder and giving her the slightest shake. ‘We’re always here for you.’

  ‘We?’ she says, her voice suddenly laced with suspicion.

  ‘Me—’ I hesitate before going on ‘—and Mum.’

  Cheska falls silent.

  ‘Does she know you’re here?’ I lean closer. ‘Haven’t you told her?’

  ‘Why should I? She hates me.’

  ‘She doesn’t. I’ve seen her in tears, devastated because she doesn’t know if you’re safe.’

  ‘If her grandchildren are safe, you mean? She doesn’t care about me. You were always the golden daughter.’

  ‘What happened is in the past.’ It’s almost fourteen years ago now since Cheska disappeared for the first time.

  ‘Try telling her that. I’ll never forgive her for the way she treated me.’

  ‘You weren’t very kind to her, running away from home like that, pregnant and with a complete stranger.’

  ‘He wasn’t a complete stranger. He was Sage’s father.’

  ‘He was old enough to know better than to take advantage of a sixteen-year-old girl and isolate her from her family.’

  ‘What family?’ Cheska growls. ‘You were away at uni, Dad had moved in with the scarlet harlot – and I don’t know how you can go on about the age gap between me and Ewan when that woman was less than half Dad’s age.’<
br />
  ‘What about Mum?’ I cut in. ‘She was there for you.’

  ‘She treated me like I was six. She followed me when I went out. She even locked me in once.’

  ‘Because she was petrified you were going to get yourself into some kind of trouble, which you did.’

  ‘She hated Ewan. She wouldn’t let him anywhere near the house.’

  ‘Because he was a thief.’

  ‘That’s what she thought. He wasn’t a thief, Nicci.’

  ‘Why did he end up in prison then?’

  ‘That was after. He was set up.’

  I take a deep breath. I don’t want to argue but, ‘I’m going to have to tell her,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t, because she’ll be straight round. Nicci, give me a chance to get myself together. I’m not up to a fight right now.’

  She’s very calm now and I can see I’m not going to get through to her tonight. I pour her a second and then a third glass of the wine I bought for Matt. By midnight, the bottle is drained and so am I.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ I say eventually. ‘I have a riding

  lesson in the morning, so I might not see you before I go.’

  ‘The kids will be up at the crack of dawn. Gabriel is an early bird, not a night owl.’ Cheska smiles weakly. ‘I hope we don’t disturb you.’ She is grateful and contrite. We hug.

  ‘Everything will be all right,’ I tell her.

  I retire to the futon, which is so lumpy it makes me feel like the girl in ‘The Princess and the Pea.’ I check my mobile and find that I’ve missed a text from Matt. ‘Hope all well XXX.’ I text him back. ‘XXXX.’

  Chapter Eight

  Only the Horses

  ‘HELLO, NICCI. CUP of tea for you.’ The early dawn light sears the back of my eyes – there are no blinds on the attic windows – and the figure of my niece gradually forms in front of me, a good fairy in tatty blue pyjamas, holding out a mug.

  ‘What time is it?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t know. Mummy said you had to get up early because it’s Monday morning. It’s early.’

  I look for the alarm clock, but remember I’m in the wrong room. I squint at my mobile. Five a.m.

  ‘Please don’t be cross.’