by Ford, Holly
It was like watching a shutter come down. One second Mitch was there with her, and the next he was gone. There might as well be a steel wall between them. His shoulders were rigid, his face impossible to read as his eyes moved over the screen.
‘Is it him?’ she asked quietly.
Mitch blinked, the man she was starting to feel like she knew coming back. ‘It’s him.’ His voice was ragged, raw. ‘It’s Chase.’
The dog had been photographed in the corner of a run, huddled on the concrete. He really was a lot like Pesh. A gaunt, scarred, bewildered-looking Pesh.
‘How?’ Mitch dragged his gaze away from the screen to stare at Lennie. ‘How did you…?’
‘I remembered I’d read a thing a while back about some work being done with dogs in Afghanistan,’ Lennie said. ‘I had a look, found some charities, some shelters. A place near Kandahar, then this one in Kabul. There he was.’ Under C for Chase on page six.
Mitch was looking bewildered himself. There was a touch of desperation in his eyes, like a man who’d just been thrown something explosive and didn’t know what he should do with it next.
‘He’s safe,’ Lennie said gently.
‘Six years?’ Mitch was reading the webpage again. ‘He’s been in there all that time?’
‘He’s being looked after.’
‘I was sure he’d be dead.’ He glanced down at Pesh, who had plastered herself to his leg. ‘Shot by the camp guards, if he was lucky.’ Mitch put his hand to Pesh’s head, stroking a shaggy white ear. For a moment or two he was silent. ‘Things happen to dogs over there,’ he said.
Lennie nodded. She’d spent ten days reading rescue stories. Some of them had made sleep pretty hard to come by.
‘Chase is in a good place,’ she said. ‘He’s getting two meals a day. Vaccinations. Proper veterinary care.’ Some kindness, she hoped. ‘I thought you might want to know.’
Mitch looked up again. ‘Thank you.’ He held Lennie’s eyes. For a second, she thought he was going to touch her.
‘I should go,’ he said.
‘You don’t have to,’ she found herself saying. Shit. Where had that come from?
Mitch shook his head. ‘I should go.’ If his face had emptied of emotion at his first sight of Chase, it was overcrowded now. He got to his feet. ‘I’m making you late for your meeting.’
Lennie opened her mouth, but he was gone before she could even walk him out. As the door shut behind him, she leaned forward, bracing her arms against the bench. In front of her, Mitch’s glass of wine sat untouched. Her phone beeped. Lennie picked it up.
The delayed text from Mitch stared back at her from the screen. Okay to drop by in an hour?
Thinking of him driving home alone, she felt suddenly close to tears. Who the hell was she to have thought she could offer him closure?
•
‘Hi Lennie,’ the waitress beamed, as Lennie walked into The Hard Yard for the second time that day. ‘Where’s your other half?’
‘She’s looking after the house tonight.’ Since The Hard Yard had become Lennie’s mid-morning coffee stop, Fifi and the rest of the staff—when there were any—had pretty much adopted Pesh.
‘Benji’s out back waiting for you,’ Fifi said, with a conspiratorial look. ‘They all are.’
In the café’s back room, the four men rose from their chairs as Lennie approached the table.
‘Hey,’ Benji said, with a smile that almost completely wiped Lennie’s mind of the introductions he was making. In the low light of the hurricane lamp on the table, he seemed particularly golden.
‘Dave,’ she remembered to say, ‘Roger, good to meet you both.’ She turned to her grandfather’s partner. ‘Hi Paul.’
‘You’re looking very…’ Benji’s eyes moved over Lennie’s outfit again, confirming his verdict. ‘…proper tonight.’
Lennie gave in to his grin. In what little time she’d had left after Mitch had gone, she’d thrown on a high-buttoned blouse and, for good measure, a round-necked jumper. Now that she thought about it, it did look like something Lois would wear.
‘You’re totally going to make Head Girl this year,’ he added, his voice low enough to reach her ears alone as he leaned over to pull out her chair. Narrowing her eyes at him, Lennie settled in beside Paul at the table.
Benji was giving her the flirty little look that had always gone before an invitation to come over to his place after school and help him with his homework. God, it used to make her pulse race. Lennie felt the tension in her head begin to drain. It was a relief to be looking at someone who wasn’t hurting. Someone she wasn’t worried about. There wouldn’t be any damage—collateral or otherwise—if she got Benji wrong. The heaviest thing on his mind was probably whether he could do enough over dinner tonight to secure his performance bonus.
Lennie turned to the men seated across from her, returning the smiles of the VETSouth partners as she struggled to shift her full attention to them too. Not to wonder where Mitch was right now, and what he was feeling. Focus, she told herself. Pretend you’re in theatre. Everything else you leave at the door. It was Jim’s practice they were about to slice into right now.
Benji had occupied the middle ground at the head of the table. ‘Wine?’ he suggested. ‘Paul, what will you have?’
Unlike the last time she’d met Benji at The Hard Yard, it wasn’t long before the conversation got down to business.
‘The thing about an organisation our size is the systems we can afford,’ Benji’s boss, Dave, was saying, before Lennie was halfway down her first glass of wine. ‘It’s all about economies of scale.’
‘We’ve got twenty technicians on staff,’ Roger said. ‘You don’t need six years of training to TB test a herd.’
‘Ten years’—Dave looked at Lennie—‘in your case. Specialist training, right? You have a very impressive CV.’
They’d seen her CV? Lennie shot a sideways look at Paul.
‘I forwarded it to Benji when we knew you were coming on board,’ Paul said. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind. It seemed the best way to introduce you.’
Lennie let it go.
‘It doesn’t make sense to have somebody like you in a paddock taking bloods,’ Dave went on.
‘With our business model,’ Roger said, ‘you’d be freed up to do what you do best. Companion animal work. The smart stuff.’
‘The herd management apps they’re developing now are going to revolutionise the industry.’ Dave nodded seriously. ‘In another few years, you’ll be diagnosing animals without ever setting foot outside the clinic.’
Lennie hid a smile. They weren’t telling her anything she didn’t already know, but if this was the approach VETSouth had been trying with Jim, it wasn’t surprising they hadn’t got very far.
‘No more Brucella ovis testing,’ Benji put in, with a quick smile at her.
‘We owe it to our clients,’ Roger said, ‘to be as efficient as we possibly can. Industry to industry. Let’s face it, no farmer wants to see a vet on his farm.’
‘Actually, there might be one or two exceptions to that around here since Lennie hit town,’ Benji joked.
All four men laughed before realising—too obviously—that perhaps they shouldn’t. Lennie felt a stab of annoyance.
She looked at Benji. ‘I’m sure there’s the odd one who gets a kick out of seeing you too.’
The men laughed again.
‘Anything I can do for the client.’ Under the table, a foot nudged hers. Come on, Benji’s grin said, lighten up.
VETSouth’s pitch continued right through to dessert, which, somewhat to Lennie’s disappointment, Paul decided he’d have. She couldn’t fault what they were saying, but something about the tone they were saying it in was making her want to dig in her heels. They were like a big, sleek goldfish trying to talk a little fish into giving its permission to be swallowed.
Having excused herself to go to the bathroom, Lennie came out to find Benji at the bar taking care of the cheque. He t
urned towards her, giving her a considering look.
‘You’re pissed off with me,’ he said.
Lennie shook her head. ‘I’m tired, that’s all.’
‘We’ve been boring you.’
Shit. ‘No,’ she lied, not wanting to sound ungrateful. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Thank you. It was a nice dinner. A nice night.’
‘It would have been nicer,’ Benji said, still looking at her, ‘with fewer people around.’
What did that mean? Jesus, Benji…Lennie found she didn’t have the energy to even try and work it out. Her gaze wandered to the deserted streets on the other side of the glass doors. Nothing was moving out there. They’d been the only customers in The Hard Yard tonight. Everybody else in Kimpton had somewhere they’d rather be. Lennie tried not to think of the Broken Creek road.
‘You know,’ Benji said, ‘if I’d had to put a bet on Magdalena O’Donnell ever coming back to live in Kimpton, I wouldn’t be buying dinner tonight.’
Lennie looked back at him sharply. What was he saying? She didn’t belong here?
‘You two want another drink?’ Fifi delivered Benji’s receipt. ‘I need somebody to practise my cocktails on.’
‘The other guys are heading off,’ Benji said. ‘You feel like a nightcap?’
‘I’m driving,’ Lennie reminded him.
‘I’ve only had one glass of wine.’ His voice was unusually serious. ‘I can drive you home.’
She smiled. Benji Cooper driving her home—what she wouldn’t have given for that, back in the day.
He leaned his head to one side. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing.’ Lennie straightened her face. ‘Thanks for the thought. But I’ve got surgery in the morning.’
Walking out with the others ten minutes later, she shivered. There was a little river mist wreathing the trees and hazing the lights in the car park, and the night was still enough to hear a leaf drop.
‘Looks like we’ll be getting that frost alright,’ Roger said, sliding into his car.
‘Yep,’ Dave agreed, getting in the other door.
Winding down his window, Paul waved a hand at Lennie as his ute pulled out into the road. ‘See you at work tomorrow.’
‘Thanks for coming tonight.’ Benji put his hands to her shoulders, leaning in casually. As Lennie turned her head away slightly, his kiss met her cheek. Which was probably, she told herself, closing the door of the truck, all he’d ever intended it to do.
Through the window, she could see him standing there waiting for her to drive off. Lennie started the ute. Benji’s headlights followed her into the street before heading off in the opposite direction out of Kimpton. When his car had vanished from her mirrors, Lennie pulled over under the chestnut trees that flanked Kimpton Park and got out her phone.
For a second, she sat staring at Mitch’s number on her screen. He should be home by now. Lennie hesitated a second more. Then she typed in the question that had been filling her mind all night.
Are you okay?
Twelve
Buttering her toast the next morning, Lennie looked up as Jim, back from giving Alice her breakfast, shed his gumboots with a thump beside the kitchen door. Outside, the lawn was frosted white, every blade of tussock along the fence line picked out. Her grandfather entered rubbing his palms.
‘Coffee?’ Lennie suggested, pouring him a mug.
He closed his hands around it. ‘Thanks.’
‘There’s more toast in the toaster.’ She inclined her head towards the pantry, hoping it might buy her some time before Jim got down to business. What had she thought of the VETSouth partners last night? The truth was that she’d barely thought about them at all. From the moment she’d left The Hard Yard, Mitch had been taking up all of her mind. The look on his face when she’d shown him Chase. The tension she’d seen in his body—the same tension she’d felt in his arms that night in the Glenmore Hotel. Instant lockdown. And again, he’d walked out. To do what? Go where? There’d been no reply to her text. Just how big a crisis had she triggered?
In front of her, Jim hadn’t budged. ‘Len, is something going on with you and Mitch Stuart?’
‘No,’ Lennie found herself startled into saying—a little too strongly, perhaps.
‘Good,’ Jim said.
What the hell? She stared at her grandfather. ‘You don’t like Mitch?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not that I don’t like him.’ The creases on Jim’s forehead were getting deeper. ‘He’s a good man. A good man to have around when you’re in a tough spot.’
Lennie waited. ‘But?’ she prompted.
‘Mitch is…Well…’ She watched her grandfather choose his words carefully. ‘Mitch is a complex guy.’ Jim looked at her. ‘Sometimes it’s better to keep things simple.’
She looked away, wishing she didn’t know what he meant. That a similar thought hadn’t crossed her own mind last night when she’d looked at golden, gorgeous, easy Benji Cooper.
‘Like Benji Cooper,’ Jim said.
What? ‘You don’t even like Benji,’ Lennie reminded him sharply.
‘But you do.’ Her grandfather paused, an expression she couldn’t read on his face. ‘And if you like what you see…Well, with a man like Benji, that’s what you get. No hidden depths. No rocks, either. No monsters of the deep.’ Jim nodded at his coffee mug. ‘There’s no shame in sticking to charted waters. Take it easy on yourself. That’s all I’m saying.’
•
Upstairs in her room on Friday evening, Lennie shut down her laptop. It had been two days since she’d actually looked at the photograph, but the image of Chase in the shelter still seemed burned into her screen. Beside her, stretched out on the floor, Pesh growled a little in her sleep, and Lennie reached down to sink her fingers into the dog’s fur.
Mitch still hadn’t replied to her text, or the voicemail she’d left yesterday, and she hadn’t been able to stop wondering if she’d done the right thing. Okay, Chase was alive, and safe. He had shelter, he had food, and as secure a future as any of the people around him could claim. But the dog had spent the last six years in a well-meaning prison, and he was going to be there for whatever life he had left. Was that really what Mitch had needed to see?
Lennie picked up her phone. As it had been doing ever since Thursday morning, Mitch’s number went straight to voicemail. She ended the call before the gruff greeting had run. It was bad enough that she kept calling, without leaving another message as well. But somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Mitch wasn’t where he was supposed to be. It was stupid, she knew it was—if something had happened to him, she would have heard about it by now. And if he wanted to talk to her, he’d call. Wouldn’t he?
Dropping the phone on the duvet, Lennie rubbed her hands over her eyes. Yeah, right. Because Mitch was such a reach-out-for-help kind of guy.
Grabbing the phone again, she brought up Stan’s home number. It was only five o’clock, and he wasn’t to know she’d only worked a half-day. She could still be at the clinic. She’d call to check on Peg, and in the process she could ask, very casually, how Mitch was. At least that way she’d know he’d got home okay.
The call was picked up on the fifth ring. ‘Hello?’
Oh shit, it was Nate. Did Stan live with them? Lennie squeezed her eyes shut.
‘Hi,’ she said, ‘it’s Lennie. Lennie O’Donnell from Central Vets.’
‘Lennie,’ Nate said, sounding a little bemused. ‘How are you?’
‘I was just calling to…’ Oh, bloody hell. She gave up the charade. ‘Look, have you seen Mitch? I’ve been trying to get hold of him since yesterday. His phone just goes straight to voicemail. I left a message, but he hasn’t called back.’
There was a longish pause. ‘He won’t have got it,’ Nate said. ‘There’s no cell phone signal up here.’
Ugh, of course there wasn’t. She should have known that.
‘So,’ Lennie said, ‘he is there. On the station, I mean.’
‘Yeah,’ Nate said. ‘He’s here.’
She let out her breath. ‘I just…I haven’t been able to get hold of him since he left here on Wednesday night, and—’
Nate cut her off. ‘Mitch was with you on Wednesday?’ The accusation in his voice was hard to miss.
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘Is he okay?’
‘You tell me,’ Nate said.
Lennie’s stomach lurched. The silence rolled on as she tried to formulate some kind of answer.
‘You want to tell me what happened?’ Nate’s tone was kinder.
I showed him a picture of a dog he knew six years ago. Lennie could hear how crazy it sounded. And besides, it wasn’t her story to tell. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Nothing happened. I…I just wanted to make sure he got home okay, that’s all.’
Nate was silent again.
‘Does he…’ Lennie screwed up her face along with her courage. ‘Does he have a landline? Maybe I can try him at home.’
There was another pause. ‘You won’t get him there either,’ Nate said. ‘Mitch is away for a while.’
‘But I thought you said…’ She blinked. Was Mitch at Broken Creek or not?
‘He’s up at one of the huts.’ Nate sounded defensive.
‘When will he be back?’
‘A couple of days, maybe. I don’t know.’
‘Oh.’ So Mitch was just avoiding her. Things were starting to get clearer. In the background, Lennie could hear Tess saying something to Nate.
Nate sighed. ‘Look, sometimes Mitch just needs a bit of time out,’ he said. ‘He heads up-country for a day or two. We’ll see him again when he’s ready.’
‘Right,’ Lennie said.
‘His number’s in the book,’ Nate said, ‘if you want to call him next week.’
The phone book? Yeah, like people still had those. Lennie recognised a brush-off when she heard one. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’
Having ended the call, she threw the phone back on the bed and hugged her knees. So Nate thought she was a bitch who’d hurt his best friend, or a stalker, or quite possibly both, and she’d just made a total fool of herself. An excellent night’s work. Lennie managed a small laugh at her own stupidity. Well, at least she’d found out where Mitch was.