Vets of the Heart

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘I haven’t bought you anything . . .’ I wish I had now.

  ‘I didn’t expect you to.’

  Reluctantly, I take it from his trembling fingers and open it. Inside is a necklace, a silver hare on a chain.

  ‘It’s the closest I could get to a rabbit,’ he says softly.

  ‘It’s beautiful, thank you, but . . .’ My voice falters. ‘I can’t accept it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because.’ I look up at him, at the lock of dark curls that falls across his cheek. I want to push it back and ran my hands through his hair. I want to throw my arms around his neck and cover him with kisses. I want him to make love to me all day and all night for the rest of my life. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘It was, but not any more. It’s time we were honest with each other.’ I read the pain in his expression, and the thought that I’m hurting him by rejecting his gift cuts through me like a knife. ‘Shannon, we need to talk. Sit down.’

  We settle down side by side. I can feel my pulse racing as he begins.

  ‘I need to make it clear where I stand,’ he says. ‘I’ve tried so hard to prove to you how much I love you. I’ve done my best to be there for you, even when you made it clear you didn’t want me around, and I don’t know what else I can humanly do or say to convince you of the depth of my feelings. I’ve known for a long time that you are the woman for me. When I fall asleep, when I wake, the first thing in my mind is you.’

  ‘Oh Ross,’ I exclaim.

  ‘Sh, let me finish. Perhaps I will never be able to convince you because you don’t feel the same way about me. If that’s how it is, I’d prefer it if you put me out of my misery. Well, I wouldn’t. I’ll be gutted and miserable for months, years. . .’ His voice cracks with emotion. ‘I know I’ll survive. I’ll be all right eventually, but there’ll always be a small part of my heart that belongs to you. I will always love you.’

  ‘Stop! Please.’ I can’t bear to see him like this. ‘I haven’t said that I don’t want you.’

  ‘Haven’t you?’ he says, his eyes wide with wonder.

  ‘I’ve been really stupid. I didn’t want you to feel you had to be kind to me out of guilt.’

  ‘I’ll always feel guilty about what Bart did to you. I don’t think you understand how difficult it’s been to see you, knowing that I’d allowed it to happen, but I had to because I couldn’t bear to let you go without a fight. Think about it. If I didn’t have feelings for you, I could have walked away and found someone else, but I haven’t.’

  ‘I know, and I’m grateful. You’re a great guy and I’m very . . . fond of you.’

  ‘That sounds like you’re fobbing me off,’ he says.

  I stare straight at him. ‘I’m giving you one last chance to escape. You could have any woman in the world.’

  ‘I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,’ he cuts in with a small smile.

  ‘Why would you want me and my scars when you could go out with someone like Heidi who’s flawless,’ I go on, stubbornly. ‘I don’t want you choosing me because you’re afraid no one else will look at me now, and you want to make up for what happened.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous, and quite hurtful. I haven’t seen Heidi since she came to say goodbye to Bart. You were right. It wasn’t healthy, keeping in contact. It gave her false hope. I was never interested. I wasn’t interested in anyone else after I met you.’

  ‘I don’t understand why not – she’s bubbly, attractive and very bright.’

  ‘But she has a side to her. She’s manipulative and good at putting on a show. You’re worth ten of her.’ He hesitates. ‘I can’t go on like this. If you really don’t want me around, if you can’t bear the sight of me, then tell me and I’ll make plans to move on.’

  ‘You mean it?’ I say, shocked.

  He nods. ‘I couldn’t stay here. Even after a few short months, there are too many memories. When I’m in the house, I hear your voice and see you all the time.’ He holds my gaze, his dark eyes filled with desire and gentle recrimination. ‘You have no idea how much I love you. If you could love me just half as much, I’d be a very happy man.’ He takes the box from my hands and removes the necklace. ‘What’s it to be, Shannon?

  ‘I want you to stay,’ I say, biting back tears. ‘I’m sorry if I haven’t shown it – I do love you very much.’

  ‘That’s all I wanted to hear,’ he says softly. He holds the ends of the necklace between his fingers. ‘When I look at you, I don’t see the scar. I see you, this amazing and beautiful woman . . .’

  I let him place the chain around my neck. He fumbles as he fastens it, his fingers brushing my skin. I touch the silver hare.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry for wavering, for blowing hot and cold and for pushing you away. I wish I’d been stronger.’

  ‘You are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.’ His hand cups my chin as he moves in and brushes his lips across my scar. ‘I adore you, Shannon. I want us to be a couple, if you’ll have me. Will you have me?’

  ‘Yes,’ I whisper. I can hear a heartbeat in my ears – mine or his, I’m not sure. I can smell his scent of fresh sweat and surgical scrub. His gaze locks onto mine and he leans closer, until I feel the heat of his breath on my mouth and we’re kissing and my head is swimming and all I can do is give in, reaching awkwardly with one hand to grab at his top and pull him closer . . . and his mobile rings from his jacket pocket.

  With a groan of frustration, he grabs it and answers. It’s Jennie to say that Lucky has tom one of his claws, chasing rabbits. It’s bleeding, so he advises her to bring him straight over. He cuts the call and runs his hand down my back, resting it on the curve of my waist.

  ‘We’ll carry on from where we left off later on,’ he murmurs.

  ‘From here?’ I say, kissing him full on the lips. ‘Or here?’ I kiss him again, deepening the contact as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close.

  ‘Or here?’ he says, and we don’t stop until the sound of a car rolling up outside interrupts us. Having checked on Trevor and Ronnie, and picked up a few bits and pieces that we might need for Lucky, I catch up with Ross in the consulting room. I can’t stop smiling.

  Thank you, Father Christmas, I think to myself. I must have been a very good girl this year.

  Later the same day, I pop back to Petals to collect some clothes and personal items. I’m in the shop saying a quick goodbye to Seven, having given him a biscuit from his Christmas stocking, when Mum and Godfrey return from visiting his relatives. I wish them a happy Christmas and give Mum a hug before picking up my bag.

  ‘I’m sorry we missed lunch,’ I say. ‘We were busy.’

  ‘Are you off somewhere now?’ Mum asks.

  ‘Yes, actually, I’m going to Talyford with Ross.’

  ‘Oh? That’s a bit of a surprise.’

  ‘Hardly,’ Godfrey says. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll be back tonight?’

  ‘Um, I’ll probably stay over – we’re on call.’

  ‘That’ll be it then,’ he says with a touch of sarcasm. ‘He’s a good man, Shannon. He’s stuck by you even when you didn’t want him around.’

  Mum grins as if she’s just worked out what’s going on.

  ‘You can drop by with the rent for the past few months any time,’ she says, and when I frown, she laughs. ‘I’m joking. You’ve been very welcome and I haven’t paid you for any of the work you’ve done in the shop while you’ve been back, so I reckon we’re evens.’

  ‘Thanks, both of you,’ I say, as a horn sounds outside. ‘That’ll be Ross. I’d better go. I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘There’s no hurry,’ Godfrey chuckles. ‘We know what you’ll be doing, don’t we, my love?’ He pinches my mother’s bottom, making her giggle. I turn and flee, joining Ross in the ambulance. He leans across and kisses me.

  ‘Let’s pray that that phone doesn’t ring. I’m taking you home.’ He grins under the light of the streetlamp that shines in through the windscr
een. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for dessert.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Paws through the Door

  We don’t waste any more time. We are almost inseparable. On the last day of December, on a cold and sunny afternoon, I help Ross start packing in readiness for him to move out of the house in Talyford. Although we originally had a year lease, the owner is returning earlier than expected from their foray abroad, so it was decided by mutual agreement that they could have the house back as soon as the flat above the branch surgery was ready. DJ and his band of builders completed the building work, fitting and decorating just before Christmas.

  We move some boxes and bags into the hall before getting ready to go out. Ross is dropping me off at the leisure centre for my first swim since I ended up in hospital, and it’s also my first ride on a motorbike, for which he’s bought me a helmet, jacket and trousers.

  ‘You look hot,’ he says as I check my new outfit in the mirror in the hall.

  ‘Can we go fast?’ I ask lightly.

  ‘I have no intention of scaring you first time out.’ He hands me a pair of gloves. ‘And besides, I wouldn’t risk breaking the speed limit. I have my good name to think about.’

  ‘Since when have you worried about your reputation?’ I put the gloves on to stop myself popping the joints in my fingers. The truth is that I’m a little nervous about placing my life in his hands.

  ‘I’ve learned during the past few months that Fifi might be right about one thing. A sense of community is very important, and with that comes responsibility, and as I’m going to be in sole charge of the branch surgery very soon, I need to demonstrate that I’m the right person for that position. I mean, who’s going to choose a nutter who races around out of control on a noisy motorbike as their vet when they can drive to Otter House to see Maz or Emma? What’s more, I need to spend time with our clients, not hassle them out of the consulting room because I’m in a hurry.’ He pauses. ‘I’m going to that party at the manor tonight to prove that I’m one of them. Are you coming?’

  I wasn’t planning to go, but with him at my side I feel as if I can face anyone and everyone, scar or no scar.

  ‘You bet,’ I say, as he takes my sports bag to stow away on the bike, and within a few minutes, I’m on the back, clinging on for grim death as the trees and hedges – and my life – flash by. I can see the speedometer – we aren’t going that fast, but it’s still scary and, I have to admit exhilarating. We reach the leisure centre, having made a quick detour past the new branch surgery, and I take my bag. I lean towards Ross, my knees trembling, to give him a kiss, but our helmets are in the way. I blow him a kiss instead.

  ‘See you in an hour,’ he mouths, before turning and roaring away across the car park and onto the street, in front of the terrace of Regency houses that are painted various shades of white. The road runs along the base of the red sandstone cliffs from the east side of the bay, and I watch him until he disappears.

  I jog into the leisure centre and change, putting my belongings away in one of the lockers, before heading for the pool. On the way, as always, I catch sight of my reflection in the glass. No make-up. I decided not to cover myself up any more. I stand straight. No more hiding. This is me and I’m proud of who I am.

  I walk across the cool tiles into the poolside area, which smells of warm chlorine. There are a couple of families with small children splashing about in the shallow end, two of the over-sixties’ group women pounding through the water side by side, making waves, and there’s Mitch, sitting on the lifeguard’s chair, chatting to Gemma.

  I haven’t seen him for a while and I feel a little embarrassed for not having kept in touch, especially when he looks up, catches my eye and waves. He leans down and slides his arm around Gemma’s shoulder, whispers in her ear and makes a show of kissing her on the cheek. I don’t mind this blatant PDA. In fact, I’m happy for them.

  I skirt the edge of the pool to say hi.

  ‘I thought you’d given up,’ Mitch says.

  ‘I thought you were working mornings.’

  ‘I reverted to tie back in with Gemma.’

  ‘Hi, Shannon,’ she says shyly.

  ‘I wasn’t allowed to swim for a while. How are you? Did you have a good Christmas?’

  ‘It was great,’ Mitch says. ‘How about you?’

  ‘I was on call, but it was still good fun.’

  ‘Are you and Ross . . . ?’

  I nod. ‘We are.’

  ‘Nice one. Are you coming out tonight? Gemma’s having a party – everyone’s invited.’

  I glance at her face, looking for her reaction, but she’s cool. I don’t know how much she knows about me and Mitch, but she doesn’t seem concerned that he’s asking me to her party.

  ‘We’re going to Talyton Manor,’ I say.

  ‘Oh? What are you doing, getting down with the olds?’ Mitch says. ‘My brother’s band are playing, there’ll be beer and shots, and lots of people you know.’

  ‘It’s all right, thanks. We’ll catch up another time,’ I say, realising that we probably won’t, because our lives are going in different directions. ‘We’ll have a drink after swimming one night. Perhaps Taylor will join us.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘The last time I saw her she was dressed as one of Santa’s elves. She’s going out with the chef at the garden centre. Happy New Year,’ I add, before testing the water with my toes and diving into the deep end. I swim a couple of lengths before looking up in Mitch’s direction; the duty lifeguard is too busy flirting to notice if anyone was drowning. I kick off from the side of the pool, sliding through the water like an arrow from a bow before surfacing and doing a few strokes of butterfly. I remember how much I love swimming and an idea begins to form in my mind.

  Afterwards, Ross drops me off at Petals.

  ‘I’ll come and pick you up in the car at about eight thirty,’ I say.

  ‘No, I’ve booked a taxi both ways.’ He smiles. ‘Maz says there’s champagne. I thought we’d make the most of it although, as she says, you’ve sampled plenty of it before.’

  ‘Stop it,’ I giggle. ‘That was a very long time ago. I’ll see you later.’

  He blows me another kiss and rides off on the motorbike into the late afternoon sunshine and shadows, and I go inside to greet Seven and get ready for the party. I put my hair up, and apply full camouflage make-up, with glittery eye shadow and false lashes to emphasise my eyes as opposed to my mouth. I wear a long navy, figure-hugging dress and, underneath it, my trusty Doc Marten’s. I complete the look with Ross’s present, the silver hare.

  Mum and Godfrey make their own way to Talyton Manor a few minutes before Ross arrives and helps me into the taxi.

  ‘You look gorgeous,’ he whispers as he slides into the seat beside me.

  ‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’

  He’s dressed in a black jacket over a grey T-shirt and smells of shower gel and toothpaste. I reach out to touch his face – he turns and gently bites my fingers.

  ‘I want to eat you up,’ he grins.

  The driver clears his throat to remind us of his presence.

  ‘You’re going to the manor,’ he says, pulling away from the pavement. I recognise him as one of the mechanics from the local garage. ‘It’s the place to be tonight. I didn’t think the Fox-Giffords would hold another party up there after the old guy died, but there’s been one every year since. They don’t give up easily.’

  Someone has placed tea-lights along each side of the drive up to the big house, adding to the party spirit, and there are cars double parked and a tractor and trailer outside, presumably to take some of the guests home.

  ‘I’m glad you felt you could come along,’ Ross says quietly when the driver’s dropped us off, and we’re approaching the front door. He takes my hand. ‘I was afraid you might duck out at the last minute.’

  I shiver at the sudden cold. The stars are sparkling from the clear night sky, and there’s the beginn
ings of a frost twinkling from the lawn and overgrown flowerbeds.

  ‘Let’s get inside,’ I say, my pulse quickening at the thought of all those people.

  Members of the Pony Club are taking coats and holding out trays of buck’s fizz and champagne on the way in while Sophia, Maz’s horsey mother-in-law dressed in a pale grey ball gown and a moth-eaten fox fur with glassy eyes, and Alex Fox-Gifford wearing dark trousers, a white shirt and scarlet bow tie, are in the centre of the grand hallway, meeting their guests and showing them through to the drawing room.

  Alex shakes Ross’s hand and kisses my cheek.

  ‘You might want to hide,’ he says. ‘The twins are on the prowl with that book of fairytales, and George is looking for anyone who’s willing to play crocodiles.’ His warning comes too late because the kids who have been sitting at the bottom of the oak staircase, lying in wait, jump out and come running across to see us.

  ‘Someone’s popular,’ Ross says, as I whisk Elena into my arms and spill my drink on George, who’s intercepted us with a plastic sword in one hand and the giant green crocodile in the other. The Fox-Giffords are worryingly warlike, I think, glancing up at the array of real swords displayed on the wall in the corridor on the way to the drawing room. Lydia tugs at my dress as Ross rescues my glass.

  ‘Read me a story,’ she begs.

  ‘What’s the magic word?’ I ask, taking her hand.

  ‘Story,’ she says. ‘No, it’s per-lease. Per-lease tell me a story, thank you.’

  ‘As you’ve asked so nicely . . .’ I glance at Ross. ‘Just the one, mind you.’

  ‘I think I’ve heard this one before, so I’ll mingle,’ he says. ‘Catch you shortly. I’ll bring you another glass of fizz.’

  I thank him and settle down on a footstool behind one of the shabby sofas in the drawing room, where a huge fire sputters and spits pieces of burning wood onto the Axminster carpet. The Fox-Gifford’s pack of dogs is lying in a heap enjoying the warmth. Every so often, there’s a yelp and one of them gets up and moves away from the fireplace, and the sulphurous scent of singed fur mixes with the smell of smoke.