Vets of the Heart

by Cathy Woodman

  Wednesday and Thursday pass without incident, and the next day I have that Friday feeling. Just evening surgery and some babysitting to get through, and then I have another long weekend off: three whole days to catch up with friends, take Seven out for walks, swim, maybe hit the shops with Taylor; anything to avoid lolling around the house with Mum and Godfrey, I think ruefully. It occurs to me, not for the first time, that I should buy a motorbike and disappear for days out like Ross does, touring the countryside and stopping off wherever he likes.

  At eight thirty in the morning, Fifi Green is standing at reception with her hair set in immaculate waves of copper and gold highlights, and a handbag which coordinates with her teal jacket and skirt. She leans across the desk and I can’t help staring at her neck, where her skin is stretched remarkably smooth for a woman of her age.

  ‘It’s rather good, isn’t it?’ she says quietly. ‘Just don’t breathe a word to a soul. Our secret.’

  ‘Oh? Yes, of course.’

  ‘I can give you his card.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘For my surgeon. It wouldn’t hurt you to invest in a little help for those frown lines.’

  ‘There’s no way I’d consider it – Botox is a poison.’

  ‘I’d rather die with it than without. You’ll change your mind one day, you’ll see. Now, where is Ross?’

  ‘I’m afraid he isn’t in yet. Can I take a message?’

  ‘I’d prefer to speak to him in person.’

  ‘You can wait if you like – he should be here soon – unless you’re in a hurry.’

  ‘I’m in no rush.’ She sits down to wait until he turns up, parking his motorbike before striding in with his helmet under his arm.

  ‘Hello,’ she says, intercepting him.

  He hesitates, looking at me as if he’s expecting me to take over.

  ‘Fifi wants a word with you,’ I say as Frances joins us in reception. I move aside to let her take up her place behind the counter.

  ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to be quick,’ he says lightly. ‘I’m a busy man.’

  ‘Aren’t we all?’ Fifi hands him a business card. ‘I wanted to thank you again for saving the day last weekend – and, while I’m here, I’ve brought you the number for the barber. I couldn’t help noticing that you’re a little overdue for a haircut.’

  Ross appears completely bemused.

  ‘You mean, you want me to conform?’ I can hear laughter bubbling up in his voice. ‘Don’t you like my style?’ He places one hand on his hip, coils a lock of hair around his fingers and casts her a sideways glance, fluttering his eyelashes.

  ‘You’re a very handsome young man.’ She mirrors his body language – I’m not sure if it’s deliberate or not – resting one hand on her hip and playing with her hair, tucking a wave behind her ear. ‘If I were twenty years younger—’

  ‘Oh come on, Fifi,’ Frances interrupts, ‘thirty years at least.’

  Fifi glares at her. They haven’t always seen eye to eye in the past.

  ‘Twenty-five then,’ she accedes.

  ‘And not married,’ Frances adds sharply, a reference to Fifi’s fondness for the male species. There have always been rumours that she hasn’t been entirely faithful to her husband throughout their marriage.

  ‘Well, thanks for thinking of me,’ Ross says, tucking the card into his pocket.

  ‘The pleasure is all mine,’ Fifi says.

  ‘I really must be getting on,’ Ross says. ‘Shannon, you’re with me.’

  Smiling, I follow him into the consulting room and close the door behind us.

  ‘I think you’ve got yourself a stalker,’ Isay in a low voice.

  ‘I’ll go and change,’ he says, and he returns a few minutes later in his tunic. ‘Has she gone?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes, I checked. Penny’s waiting for you with Trevor.’ I open the door to let them in, and Penny reverses the wheelchair into the corner so that Ross has space to lift the dog onto the table. Trevor’s cast is looking a little the worse for wear. He jumps up and head-butts Ross on the mouth and wees at the same time. I clear up and wash my hands, but when I turn back, Ross has his fingers pressed to his lower lip.

  ‘You’re bleeding.’ I hand him a swab from the tray on the worktop.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Penny says.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he mutters. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Let me see,’ I say, moving up to have a closer look.

  ‘Am I going to live?’ he says with mock concern.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I tease. ‘I’m only a nurse, remember. I haven’t got the benefit of your superior knowledge.’

  ‘You look like you’ve been in a bit of a scrap,’ Penny says worriedly. ‘I don’t know what to do. I really need to talk to you about Trevor.’

  ‘He’s all right,’ he says. ‘It’s just youthful enthusiasm. Some dogs never grow up.’

  Like some vets, I think to myself.

  ‘That’s hardly reassuring,’ Penny says, but although I suspect she wants to say more on the subject of Trevor’s behaviour, Ross seems keen to keep to the schedule so we don’t fall behind with the appointments. He checks the nibbled top of the cast and covers it with a new bandage, the camouflage version in green this time.

  ‘He wears the cone of shame when he’s alone, like at night, but I keep finding Declan has taken it off because he says Trevor doesn’t like it.’

  ‘He won’t have to wear it for much longer. Book him in for a day in three or four weeks’ time and we’ll sedate him to repeat the X-ray. If, as I’d expect, the break’s completely healed, we’ll remove the cast.’

  ‘Will he be back to normal after that? Will we be able to take him for walks?’

  ‘As long as you build up the exercise slowly and don’t let him do too much at first.’

  ‘Thank goodness. He’s driving us mad.’ There’s an edge of desperation in her voice, reminding me of when Seven was about Trevor’s age, constantly pestering me to play with him and take him out. ‘He has far too much energy.’

  ‘He’ll be able to run it off soon enough.’ Ross steps aside to type some notes onto the computer.

  I’m not sure any time will be soon enough for Penny. Call it a nurse’s instinct, but I don’t think Ross is getting the message. He doesn’t mean to be insensitive. He’s too focused on the veterinary aspects of the case, not looking at the broader situation, the relationship between owner and pet. Pets are very much like people: you can love them with all your heart, but not like them very much at times.

  ‘I’ll see you in a couple of weeks,’ he adds.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ Penny struggles to get out of the door as Trevor leaps up and down and runs around the chair, his lead tangling with the wheels. I accompany her, taking hold of the Labrador’s collar, and telling him to sit while I retrieve the lead. I have to ask him three times before he plonks himself on my feet, looking up with his tongue hanging out and an ‘I’m such a good boy, aren’t I?’ expression on his face, the kind of expression that makes you smile even though you know you shouldn’t.

  ‘How do you do that? You’re like a proper dog whisperer. I have to shout to get him to listen to me.’ To my horror, Penny’s lips start to tremble and her eyes brim with tears. ‘Oh, this is so silly. I feel like a complete failure.’

  ‘Let’s have a chat.’ I grab the box of tissues from reception, looking towards Frances, who nods as if reading my mind.

  ‘Ross has one more to see and then the consulting room will be free,’ she says. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘Thank you, but I don’t want to hold you up.’

  ‘You said you needed to talk about Trevor,’ I say firmly, ‘so that’s what we’re going to do. The floors can wait.’

  Ten minutes later, Trevor is pottering around the consulting room. He cocks his leg against the bin, but I don’t think Penny notices. Her hands shake as she sips at the tea. I can’t drink mine – it’s as if Frances has used the sugar content of
the brew to represent the seriousness of the situation.

  I let Penny speak.

  ‘You remember Sally?’ she begins.

  ‘Of course I do.’ She was her first assistance dog, a golden retriever who loved her work so much that she got herself a reputation as a serial shoplifter, although the items she picked off the shelves were always returned undamaged and unopened.

  ‘She had her foibles, but she was sweet and well meaning, and a good worker. She saved my life, too, when she kept worrying at that mole on my leg that turned out to be a melanoma.’ She bites her lip. ‘I miss her very much and I know you shouldn’t compare, but when I look at Trevor . . .’

  ‘He’s still a baby,’ I say softly. I’m quite fond of him.

  ‘It isn’t that. I’m not a pushy parent, as such. I haven’t got high expectations. He doesn’t have to be a genius, or even particularly clever, but I really don’t think he’s going to be able to carry out the simplest of tasks. The other day, I found him pulling the washing out of the basket and ripping it up. I’m not saying he’s stupid. He’s just very impulsive.’

  I gaze at him – he’s calmer now, looking at us with his soft eyes, all innocence, a young dog barely out of puppyhood who’s just having fun. I wonder if it’s a case of him being the wrong dog for Penny. Like humans, dogs have personalities and sometimes they clash, although I’ve always found her to be pretty laid back.

  ‘When’s he due to go off to the centre for training?’

  ‘In four months’ time, but Declan’s worried that he’ll have hurt me by then – not deliberately, but by accident. I have bruises all over my legs where he’s knocked into me.’ She lifts one trouser leg to show me her mottled shins. They are black and blue.

  ‘Oh, that looks painful.’

  ‘He wants me to give him up, but that would break my heart.’ She shakes her head. ‘I’m at the end of my tether, I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘I’m no expert. You can speak to one of the vets and have him referred to a behaviourist, or if you’re prepared to wait until after his cast comes off, I could do some work with him.’

  ‘Would you?’ She brightens. ‘I’d pay you for your time.’

  ‘I’m not a qualified trainer,’ I point out.

  ‘He likes you and I know you wouldn’t be mean to him. I’d be very grateful.’

  ‘What about Declan?’

  ‘I think as long as he knows that I’m giving Trevor this one last chance, he’ll go along with it. I’ll just have to wear lots of padding for a while.’ She smiles. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m flattered that she asked me, and worried that she’s expecting too much,’ say to Ross later when I find him in Kennels, having a moment with Tripod. I have my trusty mop and bucket filled with hot suds. ‘Why are you still here anyway? I thought you’d gone.’

  ‘I’m in no rush.’ Tripod purrs in his arms as he reverts to the subject of Trevor. ‘When you lose an old dog, it can be a bit of a shock to the system taking on a puppy. I’ve seen it before.’ He pauses and clears his throat. ‘I was wondering if you fancied going out somewhere tonight, if you’re at a loose end, that is.’

  He seems uncharacteristically awkward, hesitant, but it’s no big deal – my fantasies of falling into his arms remain just that, especially with his ex apparently still in the picture, and we’ve already agreed, albeit tentatively, that there’ll be no dating, no relationship . . . yet my pulse beats a little faster and my bucket seems lighter in my hand.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy,’ I say, disappointed.

  ‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter.’ He shrugs. ‘I forget that you have a social life.’

  ‘It isn’t that. I’ve promised Maz and Emma that I’d babysit.’

  ‘Of course. They’re going to a party. That’s why they swapped the rota about. I’m on call with Izzy, but we could still have gone to the local, the Dog and Duck.’

  ‘The Talymill Inn’s a better class of hostelry,’ say brightly.

  ‘I like a traditional pub where you can almost smell the sawdust on the floor. Anyway, you can’t go, so that’s that. Another time.’

  I gaze at him. He looks downcast and I wonder if he’s lonely. I almost suggest he joins the WI as a joke, but decide against it. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for jokes.

  ‘How about popping over for a drink as you’re only next door? You can help me out. In fact, you can entertain George while I read to the twins, or vice versa. Or you can look after Henry and baby Olivia if they wake up.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ he says, looking more cheerful.

  ‘Drop round any time after eight.’

  ‘I will do, unless I’m called out. Thanks.’

  ‘You might not be thanking me later. They’re quite a handful.’ I notice the way Tripod nuzzles up against his shoulder and smile to myself at my reaction, giving myself a stern telling-off for being jealous of a cat. Ross lets him down onto the floor and straightens up.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ he says with a smile.

  Having checked with Maz that it’s all right for him to help out with the babysitting, I return home to shower and change before I drive to Talyton Manor, leaving Mum preparing for a wedding the next day. Godfrey is supervising, wearing the apron he uses when making coffee, because he says it makes him feel like a barista. As I close the shop door, the bell jangling discordantly behind me, I feel as Ross must sometimes do: excluded. Godfrey has taken my place, helping my mum when she’s under pressure from a deadline. I expect she’ll be up all night — as I could be, I muse, depending on how the children behave and what time Maz and Emma get back.

  When I reach the manor, I park in front of the stables, at which a pack of gun dogs, Labradors and spaniels, ambush my car, barking and jumping up. One runs across the bonnet as a nearly new four-by-four pulls up beside me and a man jumps out. He yells at them and shoos them away, at which they come running in to welcome him. It makes me chuckle. Why is it that vets have no control over their dogs?

  Alex, dressed in mucky overalls and wellies, opens my door.

  ‘Hi, how are you?’ he asks as I get out. He’s tall, and his hair is short and wavy, dark, yet turning to silver. He’s handsome and pretty fit for his age, and I can see why Maz fell for him.

  ‘Good, thank you.’ I know he’s a nice guy, but I still feel unnerved by him – a throwback, I think, from the way almost everyone used to treat the Fox-Gifford family with awe. They own half of the land around Talyton St George, have their own burial crypt in the church, and it would be an understatement to say that Alex’s father was a difficult man.

  ‘I hope you’ll still be in one piece after an evening with our little monsters.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine,’ I say as he growls at the dog that’s taking a second run across the bonnet of my car.

  ‘Off, Flossie.’ She jumps down and promptly jumps back up again, but he doesn’t apologise. ‘You can see why they’re called springers,’ he grins. ‘Come on in.’

  I follow him across the yard, past a row of stables and a horsebox to the converted barn where he lives with his family. Inside, Maz looks up across the open-plan living area, from where she’s loading the dishwasher in her party dress, and George comes running over and throws himself into his father’s arms, oblivious to the odour of cow that emanates from Alex’s clothing.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy!’ he cries.

  ‘I wish you’d leave your boots at the door,’ Maz says. ‘Emma will be here any minute and you know what she’s like about the twins and germs.’

  ‘A few friendly bacteria won’t hurt them,’ Alex laughs, but I notice that he returns to the front door and removes his overalls and wellies, before giving George a piggyback.

  ‘Where have you been anyway?’ Maz continues. ‘We’re going to be late as usual.’

  ‘I was up at Barton Farm, helping Leo out with a calving.’

  ‘Does he really need your assistance?’

  ‘Lynsey offered us afternoon tea. It
would have been rude to refuse.’

  ‘Oh really, Alex. Here I am rushing around trying to get the children ready, tidy up and change, while you’ve been gossiping and eating cake.’

  ‘And cottage pie.’ He grins again as he lowers George to the floor, walks across to his wife and wraps his arms around her.

  ‘Ugh, you stink,’ she complains, but I notice she doesn’t push him away, and I can tell he’s forgiven. According to Frances, every woman over thirty has been in love with Alex at one time or another. Having divorced his first wife when she left him for a footballer, he fell for Maz when she moved here from London. They’ve been together ever since through various ups and downs, and I think it’s very romantic that they’re still so obviously in love.

  ‘Let me have a quick shower,’ Alex says, kissing her.

  ‘Do hurry.’ She glances past his shoulder out of the window. ‘Emma’s here and we’re supposed to be at Matt and Nicci’s for eight.’

  ‘They’re both medical. They understand.’ Alex steps away and disappears off upstairs.

  Maz looks at me with a rueful smile. ‘He’ll be asleep by nine, no doubt. Never marry a vet. They’re too much trouble. I should have gone for an accountant, or a builder.’

  ‘A builder!’ I exclaim, thinking of DJ and his motley crew.

  ‘Imagine having a husband who starts work at eight and finishes by four, or more often than not by midday. Anyway, thank you for agreeing to babysit. I don’t like to leave them all with Sophia. She’d love to have them, but they’re too much for her. Here are the instructions and the number for Nicci’s landline in case there’s no mobile signal.’

  Emma brings the twins indoors, leaving her husband in the car. Lydia and Elena are wearing matching floral dresses, frilly socks and sandals. Lydia is clutching a book.

  ‘I wonder if I can guess what we’re going to be doing,’ I say, greeting them.