Vets of the Heart

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘I don’t think you can accuse me of not caring. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m sure you do care. It’s just that the way you race through the consults and ops makes it seem as if you don’t.’

  ‘You’re probably right.’

  ‘I am right.’

  ‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry for what I said about you knocking the instruments onto the floor the other day, and I know it’s difficult to unsay something when you’ve already said it, but I was hoping you’d be able to accept my apology in the spirit it was intended.’

  ‘You described me as “dopy”’.

  ‘I don’t think you’re dopy, far from it. I said it was a dopy thing to do. And you wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been stressy with you about the gloves.’ He pauses, gazing at me, his expression gentle.

  ‘Okay, apology accepted,’ I say grudgingly.

  ‘That’s good. I’m glad,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry too because I realise it’s no excuse, but I’ve felt under pressure. The local bobby stopped me for speeding on the road from the manor on the way to work this morning.’

  ‘I’ve no sympathy,’ say coolly.

  ‘I wasn’t concentrating. Maz gave me a lecture on client and nurse relations last night; I had a phone call before breakfast – my ex turning the emotional screw – and then there’s the stress of starting a new job, wanting to make the right impression and getting it totally wrong. When Maz offered me accommodation, I thought it would be ideal, but my room is damp, the water’s always cold, and there are dog hairs everywhere, and I can hardly sleep for the barking. But none of that is reason to be rude to you, and I’m very sorry. I know you’re just doing your job.’ He pauses. ‘I’ve been a dick, haven’t I?’

  ‘You said it. You know, it would have been easier to admit Nero rather than trying to hold him down.’

  ‘I don’t think Mrs Dyer would have left him here for the day without a fight, do you? I’ve read the notes’. He gazes into my eyes, his expression filled with compassion. ‘Were you here when she lost her last dog?’

  I nod. ‘I was there.’ It was a black day for the dog, for the Dyers and for Otter House, and I remember it as if it was yesterday. ‘It was the locum,’ I say, my throat running dry. ‘Drew . . .’ There, I can say his name. ‘The dog had cancer and the only chance of saving him was surgery to amputate his leg. Drew carried out the op and I was in theatre with him.’

  ‘That must have been a dreadful experience.’

  ‘He was in a rush – that’s why I’m nervous about vets who are in a hurry – and I hadn’t been nursing for long. It wasn’t until he’d finished that he realised he’d taken off the wrong leg, and then, instead of admitting it, he asked me to help dress the wound and put the dog back in his kennel. He was too scared to admit what he’d done and it wasn’t until the next day that Maz found out. Brutus had to be put down. Maz was devastated. We all were.’

  ‘I know they shouldn’t, but these things do happen.’

  ‘I should have been more careful – I never let a vet operate on anything without double checking that they’re working on the right leg, or lump, or whatever part of the patient. And Drew was careless, slapdash . . . and a coward,’ I add, unable to disguise the bitterness in my voice. ‘He ran out on us, left the country.’

  ‘That sounds a bit drastic.’

  ‘That’s what he was like.’

  Ross picks a piece of sticky ear wax from his scrub top.

  ‘You’ve got some more in your hair,’ I point out, half smiling at his discomfort. ‘I think you came off worse.’

  He tips his head forwards and ruffles his curls. ‘That’s disgusting.’ He peers up through his fringe and grins, and he looks so cute that I can’t help grinning back. ‘We’re not getting anywhere standing here. Who’s next?’

  ‘Don’t you want to change your top first? I’ll fetch you a clean one.’

  ‘I can get it.’

  ‘You’ll never find it.’ I leave him and return with a freshly laundered tunic. As I open the door, I find him waiting, stripped down and bare-chested – I say ‘bare’, but you can’t miss the V of dark curly hair running across his chest and narrowing down towards his taut, muscled belly, and the tattoo across his left side, an eagle with its wings spread, reaching around to his loin, its tail feathers disappearing beneath the waist of his trousers. It looks so real, I want to reach out and touch it . . .

  ‘What took you so long?’ he says.

  ‘Frances ambushed me with a query about a sick rat.’ I try not to catch his eye, but it’s difficult to know where else to look. He’s even more attractive without his clothes on.

  He clears his throat and holds out his hand, and I give him the clean top.

  He slips it on and fastens the poppers at the neck. ‘Does that meet with your approval?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ For a moment I wonder what he means, then I realise he’s asking me if he looks better without the ear wax. At least I think he is. ‘Yes, it does,’ I confirm.

  ‘Good. Let’s crack on then.’

  We see the two clients who have been waiting for a while, after which I call in the next one, but they haven’t turned up yet.

  ‘Where are they?’ Ross asks.

  ‘I don’t know. Frances is the oracle. Ask her.’

  He pops his head through the consulting room door. ‘Has the next one called in to say they’ll be late, or are they a no-show?’

  ‘It’s Ally bringing one of her boys’ pet rats in,’ Frances replies. ‘She’s always late. She has to shut up shop, you see. The boys usually help her out behind the counter, but they’ll be at school. Don’t worry, she’ll be here in her own time.’

  ‘What about my time?’ Ross scowls. ‘That’s so annoying. I hate falling behind. It wrecks the whole day—’

  ‘Hey, chill, remember,’ I interrupt. ‘You’ll have a heart attack before you’re thirty.’

  ‘I didn’t think you cared.’ His eyes flash with humour. ‘Don’t say anything,’ he adds quickly. ‘I’d prefer to labour on under the illusion that you merely hate my guts, rather than want to kill me.’

  ‘I thought we were getting somewhere with the ear-wax breakthrough,’ I say.

  ‘Shannon doesn’t hate anyone,’ Frances cuts in. ‘She’s a pacifier.’

  ‘You mean a pacifist,’ Ross corrects her.

  ‘There’s no need to be picky with me,’ Frances says. ‘You know, Shannon, I reckon our new vet could do with signing up for your puppy parties to learn some manners.’

  ‘I’ve been wondering if he’s been properly socialised,’ I say lightly, and I’m relieved to see that he takes my joke in good spirit. ‘Where is DJ?’ I ask, noticing that his truck is no longer in the car park.

  ‘Oh, he’s gone,’ Frances says. ‘They took their supplies up to the flat and left. I’m surprised that he isn’t trying harder to impress Maz – you know how he flirts with her, winking at her all the time. Mind you, she doesn’t believe me. She puts it down to a nervous tic.’

  He has no chance with my boss, I think, smiling as Ally Jackson arrives with a rat peeping out from the collar of her pale blue lace jacket, which she wears over cropped trousers. She’s in her late thirties, early forties, I think, and one of those women who has appeared to grow younger over the years. She’s gone from wearing tight suits to clothes that my friend Taylor might choose; she wears subtle make-up and has her hair coloured.

  ‘Good morning.’ Frances keeps well back behind the desk as she clicks the mouse to change the status of the appointment to ‘waiting’. ‘We missed you at WI the other night. You are still available to judge the creative writing competition next week?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m up to that.’ Ally bends her neck and kisses the rat on the nose.

  ‘You were very creative when you used to write those articles for the Chronicle.’

  ‘Was I?’ Ally feigns seriousness, then breaks into a smile. ‘I did have an awful lot of pages
to fill.’

  ‘Ally’s in newspapers. She took over the newsagent’s a while ago,’ Frances says in an aside to Ross before turning back to her. ‘So you will do it?’

  ‘If there’s cake involved, then yes, all right.’ Ally’s a single mum with teenage children, and has lived in Talyton St George for as long as I can remember.

  Ross shows her into the consulting room and I follow, shutting the door behind us.

  ‘This is Electra, my middle son’s pet.’ She extracts the rat from where it’s dived into her cleavage and under her blouse. ‘She hasn’t eaten for two days and I’m wondering if it’s her teeth. Oops, I’m sorry, I’m flashing.’ She places the rat – a hooded creature with brown eyes and a long scaly tail on the table – before refastening her buttons.

  I stay back to let Ross pick the rat up.

  ‘Is she friendly?’ he asks, diving straight in.

  ‘Oh, she’s beautiful,’ Ally says, but Electra twists her head around and nips him on the finger.

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be much wrong with her teeth.’

  ‘How embarrassing.’ Ally takes over. ‘Let me hold her for you. You scared her, rushing in like that without making friends first.’

  Ross makes the sensible decision to admit Electra for sedation and a thorough examination. Ally is distraught, which is quite normal for her. I remember her crying her eyes out almost every time she brought her hamster to see us.

  At the end of morning surgery, I help Ross with the rat. Her teeth are growing overlong at the back so he trims them down, making sure there are no rough edges. Looking at a rat’s molars isn’t the easiest task in the world.

  ‘That should do the trick,’ he says eventually. ‘What’s next?’

  ‘That’s it until this afternoon,’ I say, assuming he’s going to rush off somewhere. ‘I’ll wait for her to come round.’ I nod towards Electra, who’s asleep on a heated pad.

  He takes off his gown and drops it on the bench before tapping his notes into the computer and chatting.

  ‘Here’s a photo of Bart.’ He shows me on his mobile.

  ‘He’s a handsome dog.’ I study the picture of a muscular, sandy-coloured dog with heavy jowls like a bull mastiff. ‘Don’t you miss him? I mean, he isn’t with you . . .’

  ‘I do, but I saw him this weekend and I’ll be seeing him again soon. He lives with my ex during the week and spends some weekends and holidays with me.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a little unusual.’

  ‘It works for us. We rescued him from the local dogs’ home – he was on death row because he’d been there for months. He’s a lovely dog, friendly and fun to be with, but people couldn’t see past the fact that he kennel-guards. Whenever anyone went to look at him, he’d growl and throw himself at the bars to try and get out, which is understandable when his previous owners kept him in a cage all the time when he was a puppy. Oh, and he isn’t great with cats, apparently. He did pass the child test with flying colours.’

  ‘I can’t imagine how anyone would allow their baby to be used to check a dog’s temperament.’

  ‘It’s done under controlled conditions.’

  ‘I know that, but I still can’t understand it.’

  ‘Anyway, we bonded straight away so we took him on. He’s my running buddy and Heidi’s baby, and when it came to the split, neither of us was willing to give him up.’

  ‘I see.’ Now there are some people who would say that it’s only a dog and you can go and get another one, but I know that dogs are individuals and you can’t just replace one with another in your heart. ‘I’m surprised that you’re so soft on him,’ I say quietly.

  ‘I finished the relationship and she found it difficult to accept that it was over at first. I was afraid I was going to lose all contact with Bart, but then she suggested the dog share and I jumped at it.’

  ‘Joint custody? How does that work exactly?’

  ‘I have Bart one weekend in four, and for holidays, or if she’s away.’

  ‘So you see your ex quite a lot?’

  ‘Which is different from seeing quite a lot of her. Yes, we still have contact.’ He bites his lip. ‘A clean break would have been easier all round, but luckily we didn’t get married or have a baby which would have made it even more complicated.’ He gazes at me. ‘We’d been together for seven years. I loved her, but I wasn’t in love with her.’

  ‘That sounds like a cop-out to me.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right.’ He smiles ruefully. ‘I didn’t feel the same about her any more and it wasn’t fair to lead her on. I should have questioned my relationship with her before, but I was too busy having fun and living in the fast lane to think too deeply about anything much, until something happened to make me stop and reflect on where my life was going. I’m sorry, I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this. I just don’t want you to think I’m a complete bastard. Although I wouldn’t blame you after the way I’ve behaved recently.’

  ‘It’s all right. I can forgive you.’ I’ve been there. I’ve had my heart broken. I’ve been led on and let down before.

  ‘It would have been so much worse to have carried on and let her down later, and although Bart is confused, coming from a broken home, it’s much better for him with us not being at each other’s throats all the time.’ Ross hesitates. ‘Maybe I’ve said too much. I’m sorry to have gone on. That’s enough about me. How about you? How was your weekend?’

  ‘It was great, thanks. We had a few drinks for my friend Taylor’s birthday. I’ve been swimming and walking the dog, and listening to my mum going on about her new man.’

  ‘You get along well with your mother?’

  ‘Most of the time – I live with her.’

  ‘At the flower shop?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘She doesn’t expect you to carry on the family business then?’

  ‘She’s never tried to push me into floristry – she knows it isn’t my thing. How about you?’ I’ve asked him this question before. ‘Why aren’t you working for your father?’

  ‘He doesn’t approve of the way I’ve chosen to live my life. He was furious when I broke up with Heidi – I rather think he fancied her himself. He’s very controlling. When I went to India to volunteer with a rabies charity there, catching and vaccinating stray dogs, I had to beg him for a few weeks of unpaid leave. The practice comes first. In fact, that’s all there is, in his opinion. As for me, I’ve always been a rebel.’

  I like the idea of him being a rebel. I smile to myself. Maybe we do have something in common, after all.

  During afternoon and evening surgery, he can’t stop himself rushing, speaking so quickly at times that I have to interpret and repeat what he’s said to clients when I show them back out to reception, which then delays me from helping him with the next one. When I return to the consulting room after our last patient, he logs off from the computer.

  ‘Was that better for you?’ he says with a cheeky smile.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ If he was grumpy and short-tempered about it, he managed to hide it well. I find myself warming to him a little and wondering if I’d feel quite differently about him if we didn’t have to work together.

  Chapter Five

  It Shouldn’t Happen to an Estate Agent

  Since when has my mother been buying underwear that is smaller, skimpier and prettier than mine? I tuck the bra – made of the lightest tulle with magenta pink embroidery and bows – back into the basket of clean laundry and run to get changed into my uniform. I grab my bag and say goodbye as I pass through the shop where Mum is typing a text on her phone.

  ‘I’m off,’ say as she puts her mobile down.

  ‘Oh, just a moment. Are you free to meet Godfrey this evening, only he’s offered to take us out for dinner?’

  My fingers tighten on the strap over my shoulder. ‘I’m not sure. I’d feel really awkward.’

  ‘You mustn’t worry about being a gooseberry,’ she says, snipping lengths of ftoristry w
ire from a reel.

  I smile. ‘It’s called a third wheel nowadays.’

  ‘I’d love you to meet him.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll join you. Thank you.’

  ‘You seem more cheerful. Has everything settled down at work?’

  ‘It’s better than it was. I think it’s safe to say that Ross and I have come to an understanding. We actually got to talk yesterday and have a proper conversation.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ She swaps her wire cutters for her mobile again, her face lighting up as a message comes in from Godfrey, I assume. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Have a good day,’ say, but she’s reading her texts, like a distracted seventeen year old, and I can’t help thinking that she’s fallen for this man far too quickly. I only hope he’s worth it.

  On the way to the practice I receive a text message from Mitch who’s at the pool.

  How about drinks tonight? xx

  Four words and Mitch’s customary sign-off that mean so much more than meeting for drinks. What he means is, how about we catch up for a kiss and cuddle, and more? I text back.

  Not tonight. Meeting Mum’s new man-friend x

  Tomorrow? xx

  I’m on call. Sorreeeee! Another time. X

  Another time? As soon as I’ve pressed ‘send’, I regret it. It’s a cop-out because I’m beginning to realise that, for me, there won’t be ‘another time’. I thought I could deal with our current arrangement, but it’s beginning to make me feel cheap.

  xx comes back, and then nothing, no friendly banter or gossip about what’s going on at the pool. I make to send him another text, but change my mind. We need to talk face to face.

  I reach Otter House, unlock the door and switch on the computer at reception before going through to the back where Tripod greets me with a loud meow. He stands up and strolls towards me. I pick him up and carry him through to Kennels where I warm some of his special kidney diet in the microwave and feed him by hand.

  DJ and his team turn up and stay for several hours, spending much of the time sitting in the truck, eating sandwiches and drinking coffee, and the rest of the day runs pretty smoothly.