by Ford, Holly
‘Because of tonight?’ Benji was sounding deeply confused. Lennie couldn’t blame him. ‘Because of me?’
‘No.’ She almost laughed. ‘Not because of you.’
‘What, then?’
‘Because I shouldn’t be here.’ Scrambling to her feet, Lennie handed Benji back his coat and stood looking down at the car. ‘There’s too much damage.’
Twenty-two
The frost had almost gone from the Kimpton Valley when Lennie made it out of bed the following morning. Curled up with a coffee on the sofa in the conservatory, she angled her laptop screen against the sun, the fingers of one hand moving in Pesh’s coat as she browsed houses to rent in Sydney with the other. She’d email the Royal on Monday. In the meantime, it felt good to be doing something. To be moving forward. Moving on.
On the cushion beside her feet, her phone blipped with incoming mail. Without thinking, she leaned forward to pick it up. Ow, bloody hell. Bracing her stiff neck with her hand, she leaned back again, remembering to use her stomach muscles this time. Easier just to look at it on the laptop.
Lennie brought up her inbox. She felt another jolt at the sight of Mitch’s name.
I thought you might like to see this, he’d written.
Oh god, hearing from him actually made her heart hurt. As the attachment opened, Lennie’s eyes began to fill. It was a photo of Chase. The dog was standing at the edge of a wood, long, green meadow grass under his paws. In wide open space. Lennie sniffed, wiping her cheeks. Chase’s white ears were pricked, his eyes intent on something out of shot. He looked like he’d just been running. His tongue was hanging sideways, caught up over his teeth, his lips pulled back in a big, wolfy grin very like the one Pesh sometimes got when she was hugely pleased with herself. Lennie didn’t think she’d ever seen a happier looking dog.
‘One good thing,’ Lennie said, aloud. On the floor beside her, Pesh opened an eye. ‘I did one good thing.’
Emily’s face in the photograph on Mitch’s bedside table—the only image Lennie would ever have of her—rose in her mind. She used to say it was one decent thing she could do… Lennie felt, for a second, almost as if she might catch her, put a hand to Emily’s elbow, snatch a word before she turned the corner into the past. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see this, Lennie told the picture in her head. But it was done. The thing Emily had wanted to do was done.
‘Shhh,’ she said, as Pesh began to struggle up, ‘it’s alright, I’m okay.’ Lennie managed something between a laugh and a sob as Pesh gave her a doubtful look. ‘I promise. These are good tears.’ She wiped her eyes again. ‘Ugh, I need a tissue.’ Manoeuvring herself into a sitting position, she found herself unwilling to let go of the picture on her screen. ‘You know what?’ she told Pesh. ‘I think we should keep this around.’ She hit print.
By the time Lennie had blown her nose, the printer in her grandfather’s office was starting to whirr. Walking in, she picked up the sheet of A4 from the tray, returning Chase’s smile as she looked down at the enlargement.
‘You’re halfway home,’ she told him. ‘You’re going to love it here.’
Stuffing the tissue into her dressing-gown pocket, she carried the picture into the kitchen and attached it firmly to the fridge. Pesh followed, keeping her under close scrutiny.
‘Sorry,’ Lennie said, ‘but you need to go back in your crate so you don’t hurt yourself saying hello to Grandma when she gets home.’ She checked the oven clock. ‘I’m going to have a shower.’
After that, she should probably ice her neck again. Having shut Pesh away, Lennie wandered upstairs. On the landing, her phone buzzed. She checked the text.
Hope you’re okay this morning. Lennie winced at the photo of the Commodore leaving the ditch on the winch of a tow truck. Ouch. Poor Benji.
Better than that looks, she texted back. You?
Hey, the reply came back, it’s a beautiful day. Tell Lois thanks for the lift last night.
Will do. Chucking the phone on her bed, Lennie headed for the bathroom.
When she emerged half an hour later, the radio was on downstairs. Pulling on jeans and a jumper, she went down to reassure her grandmother that she was still alive. It had been a pretty shaken-up Lois who had arrived to rescue them from Snake Gully last night.
‘Grandpa.’ Walking into the kitchen, Lennie ground to a halt. ‘You’re back.’
‘Hello, Dak.’ He was sitting at the bench, a newspaper open in front of him, a coffee mug beside his hand, just as if he’d never left. Except that—Lennie stared at him. He looked awful. Seemingly he hadn’t bothered to shave for the entire time he’d been gone, and what she could see of his face above the rough and very white beard that had overtaken it looked thin, the cheeks sunken, the skin below his eyes dark. For the first time, it struck her that he’d got old.
‘Are you alright?’ Lennie found herself asking. One thing she couldn’t see any sign of was a back injury.
‘Fine,’ Jim said brusquely. ‘How’s Pesh?’ There was an expression in his eyes she’d never seen before—Lennie had no idea what to call it.
‘Good. She’s right there.’ Lennie waved a hand at the crate three metres from her grandfather’s knee. ‘Haven’t you seen her?’
Jim acted as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Who’s that on the fridge?’
She followed his gaze. ‘That’s going to be Mitch’s new dog. His name’s Chase.’
‘Mitch Stuart?’
‘Mitch Stuart, Grandpa, yes.’
‘Have you been seeing him?’
Seriously? Lennie was starting to see the first shades of red. ‘And what if I have been, Grandpa? What possible business is that of yours? You haven’t even been here.’ She made a supreme effort to stop while she still could.
‘Lennie…’ Jim’s voice was softer, conciliatory. ‘You know, you don’t have to try and heal every broken thing you find.’
This from a man she’d once watched hand-rear a black-backed gull. Lennie raised her chin. ‘Mitch isn’t broken.’
‘Dak, listen to me. Don’t tie yourself to a stone. You deserve to be happy. Choose a man who can give you the things you deserve.’
‘You know what, Grandpa? I’m not tying myself to anything. I’m leaving. I quit.’ Jim’s mouth was opening, but Lennie ploughed on. ‘Sell the practice to VETSouth. Not that you seem to give a shit anymore, but it’s a good deal. And now that you’re back, I’m sure you won’t mind if I take off. I’m not intending to work out my notice.’
‘No,’ Jim said. ‘You can’t go. I need you here.’
‘I needed you here, Grandpa. Did you stay? No!’
‘Paul can’t handle everything alone.’
‘Oh, now you care?’ Lennie took a breath. ‘Look, you’re back now. The two of you will be fine. You always were.’
Jim stared at her. ‘I can’t treat patients.’
‘Grandpa, there’s nothing wrong with you!’ Lennie turned away, swearing under her breath.
‘Magdalena,’ he snapped.
The name brought her up short. Slowly, she turned back to face him.
‘I’ve got dementia,’ he said.
‘You’ve got what?’
‘Alzheimer’s most likely.’ There was only the slightest tremor in her grandfather’s voice. ‘The tests didn’t show up anything else it could be.’
‘No.’ Lennie felt like her brain and her body had parted company, drifting past each other in zero gravity. ‘You can’t have. You’re fine. I would have noticed.’
‘After I got that kick in the head from the Wilsons’ pony, I started getting headaches,’ Jim said. ‘Keith sent me in for a head CT. They found deterioration of the cortex.’ He paused. ‘It’s pretty clear to see.’
Abruptly, Lennie’s brain and body crashed back together again. ‘You haven’t told Grandma, have you?’
He rubbed his forehead. ‘Your grandmother’s been planning our retirement for twenty-odd years,’ he said. ‘She wants to travel. Go on cruises. Play bridge.�
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Lennie closed her eyes.
‘I’m not going to be able to give her any of that,’ her grandfather said. ‘I’ll just be a millstone around her neck.’
‘So, what?’ Lennie said. ‘You just cut her loose?’
‘Lois deserves to have all the things she’s been looking forward to.’
‘You have to tell her.’ Jesus. ‘She’s your wife.’
‘We’re separated.’ There was a tiny touch of satisfaction in her grandfather’s tone.
‘You did it on purpose,’ Lennie realised, horrified. Feeling the need to sit down, she pulled out the stool next to him. ‘Grandpa.’ She took his hand, absurdly reassured to feel it close around hers with his usual strong, sure grip. ‘Don’t you think the two of you should be making the most of the time you have left? I mean, it could be years. You’re not even symptomatic.’
‘Keith said the same thing.’ He shook his head. ‘I thought I had time. That’s why I asked you to come here. I thought you could help me to get things in order, get everything straight. But it’s too late. I’m already forgetting things.’ Jim looked at her. ‘Important things.’
‘I forget things,’ Lennie said. ‘Everybody forgets things sometimes.’
‘I left the gates open,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘I’ve been looking after livestock for seventy years, and I left the gates open.’
‘You made a little mistake.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘It’s easy enough to do.’
‘Christ.’
Lennie’s eyes widened. She’d never heard her grandfather use language like that before.
‘Dak, I got your dog shot. Alice too.’ He looked away. ‘I don’t even remember leaving the gates open. In my head, I closed them both. I can see myself doing it.’
Lennie bit her lip.
‘But I didn’t, did I? My brain made that up.’ He paused. ‘What else do I think I’ve done that I haven’t? What have I done that I shouldn’t? What have I missed?’
‘Okay,’ she said, the admission ripping a hole in her heart, ‘so maybe you can’t treat patients anymore. But Grandpa, that doesn’t mean you have to give up everything else in your life. It doesn’t mean you can’t take Grandma on a cruise, does it? Retire, relax, do the things she wants to do while you still can.’
‘And when I can’t anymore,’ Jim said. ‘When I am symptomatic, when I can’t think for myself—you think she’ll leave me then?’
Lennie was silent.
‘Of course she won’t,’ he said. ‘She’ll want to. But she won’t. She’ll be stuck with me for the best part of the rest of her life. Stuck nursing a husband who doesn’t even know who she is. I’m not going to do that to her. I won’t.’
‘You ridiculous man.’ Lois stood in the kitchen doorway, a bag with a container of milk and the Sunday paper forgotten in her hand. ‘What on earth makes you think you get to choose?’
Lennie watched a parade of emotions jostle for space on her grandfather’s face. ‘How long have you been standing there?’ he said, at last.
‘Long enough,’ Lois told him.
Jim swivelled his stool away, his eyes moving to the vase of flowers on the windowsill. ‘I thought you’d gone,’ he said.
‘Well, I haven’t.’ Slowly, Lois made her way across the room. Setting her groceries down on the bench, she swivelled Jim’s stool to face her again. ‘I miss you, Jimmy.’
It was a tone Lennie had never heard her grandmother use before—the voice of a younger, less certain woman.
‘I miss my house.’ Lois put her arms around Jim’s neck. ‘I miss us. Our life. I want to come home.’
Getting up stealthily, Lennie headed for the door.
‘This is why I didn’t want to talk to you,’ she heard her grandfather say.
‘I know,’ Lois said, a smile in her voice. ‘You always were a pushover.’
In the doorway, Lennie glanced back to see the unthinkable sight of her grandfather’s face beginning to crumple.
‘I don’t know what’s right anymore.’ Jim’s voice was muffled, his face buried in Lois’s shoulder.
‘You never did.’ Her grandmother’s voice was catching a little too. ‘That’s why you have me. Fifty-one years and I’ve never been wrong.’
Quietly, Lennie closed the door behind her.
•
‘Grandpa?’ That night, Lennie stood outside Jim’s office. ‘Can I come in?’
She heard his footsteps cross the room.
‘Dak.’ Opening the door, her grandfather motioned her inside. ‘I’ve just got off the phone to your mother.’
Settling herself on what Jim liked to refer to as his ‘considering couch’, Lennie watched his face. ‘Did you tell her?’
He nodded.
‘What did she say?’
‘Julia wants me to see some colleague of hers at the university.’ His voice was gruff. ‘The head of some big project researching cognitive impairment. I told her there wasn’t much point—I can read a brain scan myself, I don’t need to fly to Sydney to have some specialist show me what’s missing.’
Lennie almost smiled. ‘And what did Mum say to that?’
‘That I was a GP at best,’ Jim said, ‘not a neurologist.’
‘She has a point.’
He tossed his head dismissively. ‘It’s a waste of time.’
‘You know, I’ve been thinking,’ Lennie said carefully. ‘Say you had…’ She paused to consider. ‘A ten-year-old Labrador. The old boy’s in pretty good shape physically, but his owner’s seen a head CT showing damage to his brain and now she thinks it’s kinder to put him down. Would you do it?’
Jim made a noise that sounded like a mixture of frustration and amusement. ‘A ten-year-old Labrador? That’s what I am?’
‘In good shape,’ Lennie reminded him. ‘Trim, not portly.’ She gave him a moment. ‘Come on, would you get your needle out?’
‘No,’ he snapped.
‘Why not?’ She gave him a stern look. ‘What would you tell the owner?’
‘That it might never affect her dog,’ Jim admitted curtly. ‘That it’ll probably be years before she notices any change.’ He snorted. ‘That he’ll probably die of something else before then.’
Lennie gave her grandfather a twisted little smile. ‘Exactly.’
He was silent for a while, looking down at the hands he’d clasped between his knees. He shook his head. ‘A Labrador,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t I have been some kind of mastiff, at least?’
‘A greyhound, maybe,’ she allowed. ‘With some form on the track.’
‘A saluki,’ Lois said acidly, appearing at the door, ‘in serious need of a groom. Jim, for heaven’s sake go and have a shave. Dinner’s nearly ready.’
Twenty-three
In the consult room, Lennie stroked Catniss McKenzie’s silver-striped back.
‘You’re doing a great job,’ she told the cat’s owner, focusing on the serious eyes of nine-year-old Bella McKenzie looking up at her from the other side of the exam table. ‘Catniss’s blood glucose level is perfect today.’
On the chair in the corner, Lennie saw Bella’s mother Trish shift impatiently. As she had every day for the two years she’d sat behind Trish on the school bus, Lennie did her best to ignore her.
‘And her weight is down nearly three hundred grams.’ Lennie smiled at Bella. ‘That’s really excellent work.’
‘If her blood glucose is normal,’ Bella said, concentrating hard on the words, ‘does that mean she’s not sick anymore?’
‘Catniss will always have diabetes,’ Lennie said, ‘but if you keep doing what you’re doing for another few months, we might be able to stop the insulin injections.’
‘Forever?’
‘For a good long while, maybe.’
In the corner, Trish sighed.
‘See?’ Bella glanced at her mother. ‘I told you I could fix her.’ Looking at the triumph in the little girl’s eyes, the determined jut of her chin, Lennie had a feeling she didn’t need t
o ask what Bella wanted to be when she grew up.
‘We all done?’ Trish said.
Lennie nodded to Bella. ‘That’s it. She’s good to go.’
Carefully, Bella put the cat back in her cardboard box.
‘Bella, you take Catniss out to the car.’ Trish heaved herself to her feet. ‘I can’t believe I’m spending this much money on a cat,’ she said, as her daughter made her way out. ‘I mean, it’s never going to be right, is it? We should just get a new one.’
Lennie smiled tightly.
Trish gave her an appraising look, her eyes lingering over Lennie’s white coat. ‘I didn’t think we’d ever see you back in Kimpton,’ she said.
‘Life’s full of surprises,’ Lennie agreed, walking to the door in the hope that her old classmate would follow.
‘I hear you’re finally going out with Benji Cooper,’ Trish said.
‘No.’ Lennie summoned up her most professional voice, adding the weight of ten years’ training to her attempt to close this particular door. ‘I’m afraid you’ve heard wrong.’ Stop talking, she ordered herself. Don’t say another word.
‘Ange saw the two of you walking down the main street of Alnwick last weekend,’ Trish said.
‘Mr Greene!’ Lennie locked her attention on her next client. ‘How’s Ratty today?’
A booster shot and a routine health check later, Lennie had her first chance of the morning to check her private email account. The message she was waiting for—a reply from the Royal—still hadn’t come through. What she did have was another email from Jack Grieve at Atlanta Tech. She clicked on it nervously. Was something up with Chase?
Hearing from you got me thinking, Jack had written. A friend of mine is on the lookout for a new internal medicine specialist up in Chicago. Can we tempt you back Stateside? You want me to throw your name in the mix?
Lennie read the message again, letting it sink in. Chicago? Well, she had said she wanted to get as far away from Kimpton as possible…She felt the familiar rush of excitement at the thought of a new city, a new life to lose herself in. A fresh start.
‘What do you think?’ She looked across the recovery room at Pesh. ‘You up for another plane ride?’