Vets of the Heart

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘I think the drink’s gone to yours.’ He follows me out of the pub and down through the gardens to the river, where we wander back along the path where bats dart and swoop through the twilight. Something splashes in the water. An owl and its mate call back and forth from the trees.

  ‘We were supposed to be out for a few drinks. It isn’t my fault that you’re stone-cold sober,’ I say, to excuse myself for having drunk at least one too many.

  ‘I don’t mind. I couldn’t face it tonight, not after the news about Heidi’s mum.’

  ‘Was it down to alcohol then?’

  ‘She’s been an addict for years.’

  I stumble on ahead, worried that I appear insensitive, even though I didn’t put two and two together earlier on when he first mentioned Heidi’s mother.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He catches up with me again. ‘I’m not saying that I disapprove. You know me. I like a few drinks as much as the next person. It’s just that this evening, I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘You’re upset for Heidi. You still miss her.’ I reach the kissing gate that stands across the path on the way into the next meadow. We’re almost home and I’m nowhere nearer telling him how I feel. I turn to face him, with my hand on the lever on the latch.

  ‘I don’t miss her as such. I miss being in a relationship. I miss the little things like holding hands, saying I love you and buying gifts – silly ones, like solar-powered dancing flowers, the things you didn’t know you needed that you find at the garage when you’re filling up with fuel – and—’

  ‘Kissing?’ I add hopefully. Steadying myself, I lean towards him and kiss him hard on the mouth before withdrawing slightly, closing my eyes and waiting for him to return the contact, my heart pounding with desire and anticipation. How long have we been waiting for this? How long have we been holding back? And for what?

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I murmur, opening my eyes once more as he takes a half-step back. His face is pale in the moonlight, his expression taut. ‘I don’t understand. I thought you liked me. Oh-mi-god.’ I turn away, confused and embarrassed at having misread the situation.

  He catches my arm and moves around to face me. ‘I’ve told you before – you’re beautiful.’

  ‘That isn’t the same as finding someone attractive . . .’

  ‘I find you attractive all right. You don’t realise how hard it’s been, living and working with you, and having to pretend I don’t feel anything for you.’ A light flashes across the river – a torch, or the headlights on a car, I’m not sure. ‘It might surprise you, but I think I know how you feel. I knew as soon as we moved in that I’d made a mistake in assuming we could be “just friends”.’

  I take hold of his shirt and pull him towards me. He grasps my wrists and holds me back.

  ‘But,’ he adds, ‘I’m not going to take advantage of you while you’re drunk.’

  ‘It’s all right. I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘I don’t want to wreck everything for one night of drunken lust.’

  ‘Ross, you’re so boring. Where’s your sense of adventure?’ I can feel his leg against mine as I try to pull him closer with my arms around his neck. ‘I thought we were out to have some fun.’

  He humours me, resting his hands on my waist.

  ‘You are so pissed,’ he groans.

  ‘You’re swaying,’ I say, tripping against him.

  ‘It’s you, not me! Come on. Let’s get some coffee inside you.’

  ‘I’d rather have something else,’ I mutter. ‘Inside me . . .’

  ‘That’s outrageous.’ He’s laughing now as he takes my hand and leads me through the gate and up the hill to where the path joins the lane to Talyford. We walk along the verge to the ford where he picks me up and carries me across.

  ‘What are you doing? There’s no water,’ I giggle, clasping my arms around his neck and looking down. ‘I can get home under my own self-esteem.’

  ‘I doubt it when you can hardly speak, let alone put one foot in front of the other.’

  ‘Will you carry me up to bed too?’ I press my mouth to his cheek.

  ‘I’ll carry you as far as the front door,’ he says, sounding slightly breathless. ‘There’s nothing more I want than to take you to bed and make love to you all night long, but you’re in no fit state to make that decision.’

  I start to protest, but he frowns at me, and adds hoarsely, ‘You’ll thank me for this tomorrow.’

  ‘I can’t see why . . .’ He lowers me to the ground and lets us both into the house. The hallway is spinning, but it isn’t just down to the alcohol. It’s how Ross makes me feel, giddy with desire.

  ‘Coffee, in this case, means just that: coffee,’ he says firmly, and he makes us both a hot drink at the same time as preparing the kittens’ milk. Sipping my coffee, I watch him feeding them as we sit side by side on the sofa. Although a strong dose of caffeine sobers me up a touch, it does nothing to restore my inhibitions. When he’s put the kittens to bed in their temporary pen in the kitchen, he returns and sits back down, caressing my hand as he relieves me of my empty mug and places it on the floor.

  ‘Time for bed,’ he says, his voice trailing off as I turn and look him straight in the eye.

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ I murmur. I reach out and rest my hand on his thigh, feeling the tremor in the hot hard muscle beneath, and hearing the catch of his breath. My head is clear and my heart pounding when I lean closer and pause, my senses alert, my skin on fire for his touch.

  ‘Shannon, are you sure?’ he growls softly.

  ‘I’m sure. I do know what I’m doing.’ I nod and wait for him to decide. The tension is painful. I know he wants me as much as I want him, but will his conscience win? Very slowly, he tilts his face towards mine, until our lips are just touching. He groans and presses his mouth to mine, and it’s better, more intense, more exciting than I ever imagined a kiss could be. Eventually, he pulls away and takes my hand.

  ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ he says, his voice tremulous.

  ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ I whisper.

  The next morning, I wake with a thumping headache. I shift in my bed, listening to the birds singing outside as the morning light sears the backs of my eyes. As I pull on the duvet, I hear a low moan. What the . . . ? There’s a damp warmth at the back of my neck and a naked arm covered with dark hair lying across me. I turn my head very slowly to find Ross’s face close to mine. He opens one eye and smiles.

  ‘Hi gorgeous,’ he murmurs.

  ‘What happened? Did we . . . ?’ I roll onto my back and press my hand to my forehead, as if the contact will activate my brain. The memories of last night come flooding back: drinks at the pub, the walk home and the kissing gate, me throwing myself at him . . .

  Ross raises himself, leaning on his elbow, and looks at me with an appreciative expression.

  ‘I think you know very well what happened. You seduced me.’

  I remember it clearly now. He led me by the hand to the bedroom and kissed me some more before we made love. It was awkward at first, then passionate. He made me feel like I’ve never felt before.

  He reaches across to kiss me on the cheek. ‘I’m sorry, I tried to be a gentleman, but in the end, I couldn’t resist,’ he says with a wicked gleam in his eye. ‘I’ve been fighting the urge to pick you up and carry you to bed for a while now.’ He hesitates. ‘You are lovely, Shannon, and if . . .’ He falters. ‘I’m not sure how to put this. There’s nothing I’d like more than to change our housemate status to something more than friends. What do you think?’

  ‘You mean lovers?’ I say cautiously.

  ‘I prefer boyfriend-girlfriend. It sounds more committed. I associate the concept of being lovers with infidelity – because of my father, I suppose. And I don’t like the idea of being a couple of mates who go on dates. Again, it suggests that there could be a lack of exclusivity, and I’m just not into casual relationships.’

  I want to say that I feel the same, but that would be a
little hypocritical of me, considering how Mitch and I did casual for a while after we broke up. This isn’t the time or the place. I gaze at Ross as the rays of the sun stream through the window and caress his face. In spite of the hangover, I’m smiling. Isn’t this what I’ve been yearning for?

  ‘I’d love to go out with you,’ I say, as his hand moves across my belly and strokes the curve of my waist.

  He grins and kisses me again before pulling away abruptly.

  ‘That’s great. We’ll talk later. I reckon we’re going to be late for work.’

  I struggle to get out of bed and grab my dress from where it’s strewn across the floor, trying to cover myself up before I find some clean clothes from the wardrobe. Ross stands behind me with the duvet wrapped around his shoulders. He picks up my mobile from the bedside table.

  ‘It’s eight o’clock,’ he says.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ I bite my lip. ‘I should be looking after the inpatients. Izzy will kill me.’

  ‘What you’re going to do,’ he says, taking my shoulder with one hand and holding the duvet at his neck with the other, ‘is throw your scrubs on while I make you a coffee. You can take it with you.’

  ‘What about you though? You’re on ops.’

  ‘I know – I’ll catch you up. It’s all right. I won’t break any speed limits this time.’

  ‘I’ll have to give Tilly and Kit their breakfast at work.’ I feel sick and a little apprehensive. What an idiot. I never have more than a couple of glasses of wine when I’m working the next day.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asks gently. ‘I mean about what happened last night. You aren’t having second thoughts, because I’m not? I don’t regret a minute of it.’ He leans towards me and kisses my cheek. ‘Go on, go and get dressed.’

  Maz takes me to task when I arrive over half an hour late.

  ‘What time do you call this?’ she says, when I find her in Kennels feeding Tripod. ‘Where’s Ross?’

  ‘He’s on his way.’ I cringe – I’ve never seen my boss so angry. ‘I’m really sorry,’ I grovel.

  ‘I bet you are.’ Suddenly, she grins. ‘I’m pulling your leg. You look like death warmed up – maybe not a good analogy after what happened to poor Bear yesterday. A good night, was it?’

  Honesty is the best policy, because she’ll find out one way or another. ‘I had a couple of drinks at the pub.’

  ‘And some, I should imagine. I realise you and Ross had a bad day, so I’m not going to say any more. I think, from the look of you, the hangover is punishment enough. Just don’t let it happen again.’

  ‘I won’t. I’ll never drink again.’

  ‘That’s what we all say . . .’

  Ross arrives a few minutes later – at least, I hear the sound of his motorbike as he turns up at the practice. But I don’t see him for another hour or so, when he appears at the door into theatre, which is useful because it means I have time to feed the kittens before we start.

  ‘Where have you been?’ I ask as I top up the vaporiser for the anaesthetic.

  ‘Are you trying to poison me?’ he asks, half joking.

  ‘I’m sorry. I forgot to do it last night.’

  ‘Breaking the rules again, I don’t know,’ he sighs.

  He’s right. I should have given time for any escaping fumes to disperse.

  ‘I’ll turn the fan up.’

  ‘Maz has been reading me the riot act. Apparently, I shouldn’t be leading you astray.’ A small smile crosses his lips. ‘I told her it was the other way round.’

  ‘You what?’ I exclaim.

  ‘I didn’t drop you in it. I wouldn’t.’ He hesitates. ‘Have you seen what we have on this morning?’

  I nod, and wish I’d kept my head still, as my brain is knocking around inside my skull like a loose walnut. There are six patients on the list – a lot to get through at the best of times. We make a start on the ops, not stopping for coffee, deciding that it would be best to make up the lost hour at the beginning of the day, but we do take ten minutes outside in the fresh air. I sit opposite Ross at the table on the patio where Tripod is chasing butterflies.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asks quietly.

  I blush, recalling the pressure of my lips on his and the heat in my blood, and how I felt lying in his arms. I pick at my nails and pop my finger joints. ‘I was wondering if I should move out.’

  ‘Why on earth would you do that?’ He moves towards me. His scent, the warm musk of his body, is almost irresistible. ‘Have you changed your mind?’

  ‘I am fond of you,’ I stammer.

  ‘Fond? That’s a pretty non-committal word.’ He tips his head to one side. ‘I’m confused. You don’t want to go out with me?’ His eyes are filled with pain, like a chastised puppy unsure what he’s being told off for.

  ‘No, I do,’ I exclaim.

  ‘But you don’t want to live with me any more?’

  ‘It isn’t that. It’s just that . . . what if it goes wrong?’

  ‘Oh, Shannon,’ he sighs. He reaches his hand across the table and touches his fingertips to mine. A molten ball of longing forms in my stomach. ‘I understand where you’re coming from and why you feel insecure, but I’m not a bad man. I have no intention of letting you down. I promise I’ll always be honest with you.’

  ‘It feels like we’ve done things the wrong way round – moving in together before dating.’

  ‘How about we go on some dates? I’d like to take you out, spoil you and do all the things we’d do if we were just getting to know each other. I’ve wanted you for a long time, but I didn’t want to make a move on you while we were living together. I didn’t want you to think I was sleazy and I’d engineered it so I could get closer to you. I vowed to wait to see how we felt when the lease on the house came to an end.’

  He grasps my hand tight. ‘I’ve spent weeks in a state of pent-up frustration. Watching you wander about in your pyjamas – that vest and tiny shorts – and sharing the sofa with you in the evenings, pretending that my feelings are entirely friendly, has been hard. Very hard,’ he reiterates with a chuckle.

  ‘You cheeky . . .’ I can’t help laughing.

  ‘I don’t know how many times I’ve had to pick up one of the cushions and place it strategically across my lap.’

  ‘I had noticed. I had to cuddle a cushion to keep my hands off you . . .’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

  ‘I couldn’t because of the rules, my self-imposed rules. It was about self-preservation. I was scared of being hurt. I was afraid you’d let me down, especially when I thought you might still be involved with your ex, but I know now that I was wrong.’

  ‘You do trust me?’

  I nod. ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘So where do we go from here?’ He hesitates. ‘How about I take you for dinner tonight?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be going swimming with Taylor and I bombed her out yesterday so I don’t feel like I can do it again. I’m free tomorrow,’ I add hastily.

  ‘There’s no hurry – we’ve waited this long. Another day won’t kill us. I’ll book us a table.’

  We sit staring at each other.

  ‘Is that it?’ I say.

  Ross grins. ‘I think you’ve just agreed to go out on a date.’

  I smile back. I might be hungover and tired, but there are fireworks going off in my head as we head back to the prep room, where we set our personal lives aside and get on with the rest of the list.

  We anaesthetise a cat which has a collar injury, having become hooked up on a branch while climbing a tree in the churchyard. Ross scrubs up and puts on a sterile gown.

  ‘Would you mind doing me up?’ he asks.

  ‘I’d love to.’ I fasten the gown at the back, making the most of being able to touch him.

  He tips his head back and leans into my hands. ‘That feels good,’ he breathes.

  ‘Concentrate,’ I say teasingly.

  ‘Are you ready?’


  ‘I think so. How is the patient?’

  ‘She’s good to go.’ I check and recheck the cat’s breathing and reflexes as she lies on the operating table and Ross starts to operate.

  In spite of my lingering headache, I can’t stop smiling. A date with Ross. I’ve never felt better, but apparently I still look a little out of sorts when I meet Taylor at the leisure centre after work.

  ‘You look rough,’ she observes as We walk along the corridor on the way into the changing rooms at the pool. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘I’ve had a long day – and too much to drink last night.’

  ‘You went out? You mean, you put a man before your mate?’

  ‘I told you – we had a bad day at work. We lost a patient.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know how you cope. I couldn’t.’

  ‘Anyway, we went out to try to forget about it, and now we’re going out on a date.’ I lock myself into a cubicle and fling my towel over the door.

  ‘Whose idea was that?’

  ‘It was a mutual decision. It turns out that he’s been holding back too.’

  ‘I told you that two people of the opposite sex can’t live together in a purely platonic relationship. I knew he had an ulterior motive for suggesting you moved in with him,’ Taylor says from the cubicle next door, ‘but I don’t understand why it’s taken him so long.’

  I can hear water running in the showers opposite as she continues, ‘Have you, you know . . . yet?’

  ‘Do let us know. We’re all ears,’ a voice cuts in.

  ‘Indeed we are, aren’t we, Dot? I can’t remember when I last, you know . . .’

  Taylor giggles. ‘I’d forgotten there were other people about.’

  I know who they are – the ladies from the over-sixties swimming club. Mitch swears they deliberately get themselves into trouble in the deep end so he has to rescue them.

  We continue our conversation on our way to the pool.

  ‘So you haven’t . . . ?’ she whispers. I nod. ‘Oh-mi-god, you have . . . Shannon, you’re mad.’

  ‘But it could work. We know each other well already. He’s seen me looking wrecked and he still wants to go out with me. In fact, he’s really sweet and thoughtful.’ I think back to our conversation in the bedroom this morning when he made it clear he intended to commit to me. ‘He won’t let me down.’