A Roast on Sunday

by Robinson, Tammy

  “Dare I ask?”

  “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  “Sounds intriguing.” He ran his hands through his hair again. “Um, sure, some help would be great, but only if there’s nowhere else you need to be?”

  “Nope, I’m all yours,” she said, and then blushed when she realised what she’d said.

  “I like the sound of that.”

  She blushed even deeper. “Shut up.”

  “I’m still waiting for you to make me.”

  “Do you want my help or not?”

  “I do.”

  “Then stop making me blush.”

  “You do that all by yourself.”He stepped to the side and held open the door. “After you.”

  She stepped past him, acutely aware of the close proximity of their bodies. As she watched him lock the door she remembered how much closer they had been, and the memory of how incredible it had felt made her bite her lower lip hard to suppress her longing. It was either that or lunge and bite him, but it sounded like he’d had enough of that from his patients. She grinned at the thought.

  “That’s a slightly evil grin. Should I be worried?”

  “Not at all,” she said innocently, but she wondered what he’d say if he knew the true direction her thoughts had taken.

  “Follow me.” He led her behind the counter and through the door from where he’d emerged earlier. She admired his body as she followed him down the corridor, her eyes running along his wide shoulders, down the contours of his arms and across to his back, broad at the top but narrower at the waist. A memory of her legs wrapped around that waist flashed across her mind and she stumbled slightly before catching her balance.

  “You ok?” he asked, turning when he heard her hand slap against the wall to steady herself.

  “Fine, just tripped on the rug.”

  “There is no rug, just lino.”

  “Then obviously I tripped on the lino.”

  “You tripped on the smooth, flat lino?”

  “What are you - the tripping police?”

  “You’re acting weird. Something on your mind?”

  “If you only knew.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Nothing. Are we going to do some work or not?”

  “Calm down stroppy,” he held his hands in front of them palms facing out as if she were a wild horse in need of soothing. “What is it about you Maggie Tanner?”

  She sighed exaggeratedly, “We’ve been here, done this” she said. “And you came up with no answer then either.”

  “One day I will figure you out. Mark my words.”

  “We’ll see.”

  They heard a high pitched howl and then a fierce spitting from a room just ahead. Maggie gulped. “That’s the culprit?” she gestured towards his injured hand.

  “That’s him.”

  “You sure he’s just a cat and not actually a wild animal?”

  “Oh he’s definitely your typical, run of the mill, domesticated tabby. He’s just not a very happy one right now. In fact, he’s pretty pissed off.”

  “And you expect me to hold him?”

  “You volunteered.”

  “Is it too late to back out?”

  “Oh, it’s much too late for that,” he said, “there’s no going back now.” And again she felt there was a second meaning behind his words. It turned out Maggie had a knack for soothing distressed animals. When she stepped into the room behind Jack, hesitant and ready to flee at the first hint of a massacre, the cat leapt off the table and into her arms. She screamed, thinking he was attacking but instead he’d burrowed into her arms and shivered in fear, looking up at her through terrified eyes.

  ‘Shush now baby,” she comforted him. “You’re ok now, I’m here to protect you from the big nasty man.”

  “Well I’ll be,” Jack marvelled. “You’ve tamed the poor guy. Is no man immune to your charms?”

  Maggie smiled smugly and rubbed the cat behind the ears while he purred. “What’s his name?”

  “Bruno.”

  She scrunched up a nose. “I see his owner shares your appalling talent for pet naming.”

  “Hey,” he flicked her with one of the latex gloves he was in the process of pulling onto his hands. “I told you Rufus wasn’t my choice. Ok, hold him steady on the table and be wary of his teeth.”

  She did as told but he needn’t have worried. Bruno was putty in her hands, and she cooed and told him what a handsome little fella he was while Jack shaved a small section of fur off his paw and gave him the necessary injection. He didn’t even flinch when the needle went in.

  “What’s he in for?” she asked.

  “Same thing he’s in for every month – an infection from fighting. Bruno here thinks he owns half the town and spends his nights defending his territory. I can’t tell you how many claws I’ve pulled out of his head in the short time I’ve been here.”

  Maggie bent down until she was level with Bruno’s eyes. “Now listen you,” she said sternly, “I want you to stop all this nonsense. Fighting is for bullies, and you are much too cute to be a bully.”

  Bruno looked suitably shamefaced while Jack snorted. She elbowed him.

  “Well?” he protested. “How can you say he’s cute? Look at the ugly mug on him.”

  They both looked at the downcast Bruno. Both ears were missing their tips and he had a large pink scar running across the top of one eye. A fresh nick out of his nose from the latest brawl completed the look.

  “I think he’s adorable,” Maggie declared, kissing Bruno on the head. The cat looked at Jack with what could only be described as triumph.

  “Lucky bastard.”

  “Now now,” she tutted, “jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

  Over the next few hours Maggie helped Jack tend to a Labrador with an infected tooth, a parrot with flu, a spaniel with a fractured toe and a cat with a hairball issue. The last patient of the day was a poodle who needed her claws clipped.

  “This is an emergency?”

  Jack sighed. “No, but her owner is apparently one of my biggest donators so,” he switched to a baby sing song voice, “if Pookie here needs her nails to look their best for the family Christmas photos, then that’s what Pookie wookie will get.”

  Maggie laughed. She watched as he worked and she felt tenderness towards him. Seeing him like this in his place of work, tending to these animals with care and affection, showed her more than ever that she had been wrong in her initial judgment of him. She might find him intensely annoying at times, but he was also decent and he was kind.

  “Right,” he finished off the last paw and let it gently back down onto the table. “We’re done.” He smiled warmly at Maggie, “thank you for all your help today.”

  “Hey I pretty much just stood around feeling useless, I don’t think I was much help at all.”

  “That’s true, you weren’t.”

  “You’re not supposed to agree with me!”

  “You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say that you might not have been much help, but your company was very welcome.”

  “That’s ok then. I forgive you.”

  “Phew. I don’t think I could have slept tonight otherwise.”

  She remembered how he had looked, lounging in her bed and her breath caught in the back of her throat. She wanted him. She wanted him right then and there, and whenever and wherever she could get him. Christ, she thought, I’m turning into bloody sex obsessed Harper. But she knew that it wasn’t just sex she was after, it was Jack.

  “Thank you, again, for today,” he said quietly. “It was nice to spend some time together.”

  “I enjoyed it.”

  He checked his watch. “I’d better get Pookie back to her owner before she sends out a search party.”

  “You deliver the animal home as well? My my, Mr Cartwright, that’s quite some service you offer.”

  He grinned, “Damn straight. No one has ever had cause to complain about my service I assure you.”

  Sh
e groaned. “You just don’t stop.”

  His face was the picture of innocence. “What?”

  “Are you doing anything afterwards?”

  “Mrs McNeal has asked me to stay for dinner. I think she’s trying to set me up with her daughter.”

  Maggie searched her memory. “Vicky McNeal?” she asked as a connection was made.

  He winced. “That’s the one.”

  Maggie suppressed a grin. Vicky McNeal was nice enough, and her cats thought so too, all twenty of them. She wore long skirts and socks with sandals, and the last time a hairdresser had been near her hair she had been wearing a diaper. It was brown and thick and curled past her bottom, and when she sat she had to push it to one side so she didn’t sit on it. She campaigned furiously at council meetings on behalf of the ducks at the lakefront and their rights to swim undisturbed by boats, water-skiers and even swimmers. She behaved eccentrically as only those truly coming from wealth can.

  “Well do let me know how that works out,” Maggie said. “Oh and of course I shall expect an invitation to the wedding.” Then she burst into laughter at the horrified expression on Jack’s face.

  “You evil wench,” he said, and for a moment it looked like he might grab her and kiss her as punishment. Or maybe that was simply in her imagination, as he kept his hands firmly at his sides.

  “I’d better let you go then,” she said, disappointed.

  “Thanks again Maggie, for today.”

  “No problem.” She went out through the door he was holding open, then remembered why she had come in the first place and turned back. “Wait, I forgot I came here for a reason.”

  “Which was?”

  “To invite you to our house for Christmas day, that’s if you have no other plans?” His face didn’t light up with gratitude or pleasure as she’d imagined it would.

  “That’s a really nice offer Maggie, really. And I’m touched that you’d want me to share the day with you and your family.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, like the next words were hard to say. “But I think that it’s probably not the best idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well you know, with everything that’s happened between us I just think maybe we should both take a step backwards. Let things clear a little, just so there’s no confusion.”

  “Confusion?”

  He looked at her like she was being dense on purpose. “Yes, confusion. Between us. And for Willow and your parents and other people in this town.”

  “I’m inviting you to Christmas dinner, not to make out with me in front of everyone.”

  “I know that. I just think it’ll be better if I don’t come. Less, um, what’s the word –”

  “Confusion?” she offered, hands on her hips and head cocked to one side.

  “Yes, confusion. I already said that though didn’t I.”

  “You did.”

  “You understand where I’m coming from though, right?”

  “Oh I understand perfectly,” she nodded.

  “Good,” he smiled with relief. “I’m not always the best at explaining what I mean.”

  “What I understand, is that you are the most frustrating, fickle and aggravating man I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”

  “Fickle?”

  “Yes, fickle. You know, flighty, indecisive. If you don’t know what it means then look it up in a dictionary.” In her anger she borrowed a turn of phrase from her daughter.

  Now it was his turn for confusion. “Did I miss something?”

  “One minute you’re all over me and I’m practically tripping over you every time I turn around. Then the next minute, conveniently after you’ve got me into bed by the way, you’re backing off, saying we need to ‘take a step backwards’. Am I correct?”

  “Now hang on a minute, that’s not what –”

  “Oh you’re a smooth player alright Jack Cartwright. Thrilled by the chase and then bored with the conquest. Yet you don’t have the guts to tell me you’re no longer interested, oh no, instead you flirt shamelessly with me all day –”

  “Hey you were flirting too -”

  “Then you tell me you don’t want to confuse everyone.”

  “Yes but I just meant after –”

  “Well screw you Jack. I should have trusted my first instincts and run a mile when I first saw you.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong, Maggie.”

  “I don’t think so. Enjoy Christmas on your own Jack. Unless, that is, you’ve already got your next conquest all lined up.”

  “Now that’s not fair,” he said angrily. “You won’t even let me get a word in edgeways so how can I defend or explain –”

  “Yoo hoo!” a voice cooed at the door, startling them both as neither of them had heard the door open. It was Vicky McNeal and she stopped when she saw them. “Phew,” she said, fanning her face. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”

  “Vicky, welcome,” Jack said in a low voice, his eyes never leaving Maggie’s face. “I thought I was returning Pookie to your house?”

  “Oh you are,” Vicky said, laughing nervously. She could tell she had interrupted something. “I was just in town for other business and thought I would pop in and make sure everything had gone ok.”

  “Everything went fine, it was a routine nail clipping.”

  ‘Oh of course, silly me,” she laughed again. “Only would it be ok if I caught a ride home with you? The car was making a funny noise so I’ve left it at the mechanics.”

  “Of course,” Jack said, his eyes finally breaking from Maggie to flash a tight smile in Vicky’s direction. “I just need a minute with Maggie.”

  “No need,” Maggie said firmly, wondering whether Vicky’s excuse was genuine. Whether it was or wasn’t, it didn’t concern her anymore. “I was just leaving.”

  “We need to finish this conversation.”

  ‘No I think we’ve said everything we need to say.”

  “Come on Maggie, give me a chance to explain what I meant.”

  “Like I said, no need. I understand perfectly.”

  “Maggie –”

  “Goodbye Jack. Nice to see you again Vicky.”

  “Oh I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

  Maggie didn’t even bother to answer. The tingle in her shoulders as she walked away told her Jack was watching her, but she wasn’t going to let him see the tears that had sprung up in her eyes. As she climbed into her car she had to squeeze her eyelids tight to stop the tears from falling because she had a horrible suspicion that if she let them start, they might never stop.

  Chapter twenty three

  Maggie could see that a summer storm was brewing as she drove home, and it matched her mood perfectly. The sky was ominously grey and the air was quiet and still. She thought of Willow and her mother in the cave and hoped it was as weather proof as she remembered. If Willow got sick from exposure to the elements she would be furious with her mother.

  Back home, it didn’t take long for Ray to feel her wrath. He could tell as soon as she entered the house that something had upset her; the grey cloud hovering above her head was his first clue. Unfortunately, Ray had never been known for his sensitivity with such matters.

  “What’s got up your nose?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she opened cupboard doors and banged pots. He watched her for a few minutes, but as far as he could tell she wasn’t actually planning on cooking anything, just banging and clattering to relieve her mood.

  “What has he done now?” he sighed.

  “Who?”

  “You know who, that nice fella you’ve been seeing, Jack.”

  She whirled around and he backed away from the fury on her face.

  “What are you talking about?” she said. “Jack is not my ‘fella’, never has been and never will be.”

  “But didn’t you and he -?”

  “Think carefully before you finish that sentence dad. Do you really want to go there?”

  He shut his mouth. He’d
never been good at talking about the romance stuff with Maggie; that was generally Dot’s job and he preferred to stay well out of it. But he hated seeing her upset like this and Dot wasn’t here, so he felt he ought to say something.

  “Do you want me to go and have a word to him?” he asked.

  “Of course I don’t! What possible good could that do?”

  He shrugged. “It just sounds like something fathers do, you know, on the telly.”

  “Dad, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He sniffed, hurt. “I was only trying to help.”

  She softened. “I know.”

  “Maybe if you weren’t so stroppy all the time you might not be having this problem?”

  She stiffened again. “Stroppy? Me?”

  He immediately regretted his choice of words.

  “Well you know, sometimes you can just be a little bit touchy,” he said, inching away from her. “It scares men away. Certainly scaring me right now.”

  “Oh well excuse me, I’m sorry I’m such a horrible person to live with.”

  “Come now, I didn’t say that.”

  “As good as. Way to kick me when I’m down, really make me feel better about myself.” She went back to taking pots out of the cupboard, finding the matching lids and then shoving them back in.

  “Maybe it’s your hormones love. Fred says when his wife went through the ‘change’ it was like living with a murderous demon. He slept with one eye open for months until she finally slapped the butcher for cutting her chops the wrong size and her doctor prescribed her some kind of hormonal patches. He reckons she’s bearable again.”

  “For one thing, I’m far too young to be going through the change, thank you very much. And for another thing, if I had to sleep next to Fred every night I’d probably want to kill him too.”

  “There’s no call for that.”

  “Just drop it dad, ok. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “I just want you to be happy love. And if that Jack lad has done something to upset you I want to know about it. Me and the boys will sort him out for you.”

  That brought a smile to Maggie’s face, the image of her father and the other old men fronting up to Jack to defend her. “Thanks dad,” she put all the pots back into the cupboard, quieter this time. Then she got up off the floor and kissed him on one lined and stubbly cheek.