by Cathy Lake
He sloped off to his bed and lay down, peering up at them as if he’d the weight of the world on his back.
‘I don’t know how you can ever be angry with him,’ Clare said, rubbing her eyes because the itching was driving her crazy.
‘Well, I can’t stay cross at him and that’s the problem. It’s why he’s terrorised poor Mr David for years. I guess I’ve been too soft.’
Clare swallowed the comment that sprang to her lips. Too soft? Her mother had never been soft with Clare, but it seemed the dog was a different story.
‘It looks like you’ve had a reaction to some weed you went through. It looks like it was probably hogweed or stinging nettles.’
‘Whatever it was it’s horrid.’
‘I’ve some drops here so let’s put those in and run the bath so you can go and have a soak.’
Clare shrugged out of her coat, then sat down while her mum gently took her chin and held it still, then applied the soothing drops to her tender eyes. She hadn’t had anyone look after her for such a long time and it felt strange. Not bad strange, just unusual.
‘There you go, Clare. Now go and enjoy a bath and when you come down, I’ll make you some eggy bread. How does that sound?’
‘That sounds wonderful.’
Clare got up and went to the door to the hallway.
‘And Clare?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you for walking him. I really do appreciate it.’
Clare smiled then padded up the stairs, taking care with her sore ankle, no longer sure if the water in her eyes was the saline solution or her own tears.
Sam washed his hands thoroughly, then dried them before turning the computer in the consultation room off. It had been a busy afternoon and he’d seen three dogs with varying issues, a cat with gum disease who was going to have to have several teeth extracted and a guinea pig that was unexpectedly pregnant.
Working in a village practice he knew the majority of the people that came in. When he’d worked in London, he might not have seen anyone he’d met before for weeks, sometimes months, unless their pet was a regular with an ongoing condition, and even then, because there were so many vets working at the practice, chances were that they’d see a different vet each time. What he really liked about working in Little Bramble was being able to develop relationships with the locals, getting to know their pets and being able to see improvements in the animals’ health as time went on. Of course, it meant that he also saw them decline as they aged or developed illnesses that were incurable, but even then, he was able to provide the personal caring touch that knowing the clients facilitated.
Then there was his business partner, Miranda. He really enjoyed working alongside her and had learnt so much in the three years of their partnership. She was wise and experienced, with a calm manner that Sam found soothing. Initially, she could come across as reserved and stern, but as he’d got to know her, he’d found her funny, friendly and incredibly helpful. Whenever he had a question about an animal’s condition, he could go to her. Chances were that she’d encountered it before or had read about it in a journal, so her knowledge was incredibly useful, but if she hadn’t heard of it or seen it, she’d go and find out about it. Sam aimed to be as useful to her as she was to him and often they’d leave work of an evening and return the next morning with a wealth of information that they’d read about overnight. He had so much respect for Miranda and her love of animals. She wasn’t always as keen on humans and if she suspected that someone wasn’t caring for their pet as well as they should be, she didn’t spare their blushes, but she always got her message across and had improved the lives of many animals because of it.
He went through to the small staffroom and found Miranda there, swilling out a mug.
‘You done for the day?’ she asked as she set the mug on the draining board, then picked up a tea towel.
‘Yes, all done.’ He ran a hand over his dark hair. He’d let it get a bit longer than usual, wanting to see how it looked, and he was embracing his natural springy curls. He liked how they felt beneath his palm. ‘But I’ve a feeling that I forgot to do something.’
Miranda laughed. ‘I get that all the time and when I arrive home, as soon as the front door closes behind me, I remember.’
‘But you only live next door.’ Miranda had the cottage adjoining the practice building, which was very handy when she was on call for overnight emergencies.
‘I know, but there’s something about your own home that relaxes the mind and helps you remember.’ Her hazel eyes twinkled. ‘So, what could it be that you forgot? To request some tests? To phone a client?’
Sam’s eyes widened. ‘Yes! That was it. I saw Goliath out walking earlier, Elaine Hughes’ dog, and he hasn’t come in for his OAP check-up yet.’
‘He was out walking alone?’ She cocked an eyebrow.
‘No, he was with a woman. I’m not sure who she was, but she was younger than Elaine.’
‘Could be her daughter, Clare.’
‘I thought she might be her daughter.’ He chewed his bottom lip. So that could be her name? ‘Although I haven’t seen her round here before.’
‘Clare moved away years ago and doesn’t visit that often.’ Miranda frowned, drawing her bushy grey eyebrows together above her long, straight nose. ‘I think Elaine told me that she was living in Reading with her husband and son.’
Sam’s stomach lurched. She was married and a mother? He shook himself. Why would it matter to him either way? He had no interest in the woman other than wanting Goliath to come in for a check-up and wanting to apologise, of course.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Sam asked, realising that Miranda was staring hard at him.
‘Is there something you’d like to share about your encounter with Clare? If it was Clare, that is.’
‘Nothing to tell, no.’ Sam rubbed the back of his neck and looked across at the small window that opened out to the car park at the rear of the surgery. The view was obscured by the patterned glass, but Sam needed somewhere to look other than at Miranda. She knew him well and would be able to tell that he was hiding something. The main problem was that he wasn’t sure what he was hiding from her. Was it the fact that he felt bad because of how harsh he’d been towards the woman walking Goliath, or was it because he’d felt something in her presence that had unsettled him?
‘From what I can recall of Clare, she was always an attractive woman.’
Miranda’s words snapped him from his thoughts.
‘What?’
Miranda smiled and inclined her head as if acknowledging that she’d hit the nail on the head.
‘Don’t worry, Sam, your secret’s safe with me.’
He shook his head. She was way off the mark, but he didn’t fancy explaining how he’d behaved in the woods. He’d hoped he might actually forget how ashamed he was as the day wore on but every time he remembered it, his mortification grew.
‘I have no secrets, Miranda.’ His voice wavered so he coughed. ‘I just need to phone Elaine regarding that OAP check, but I’ll do it tomorrow.’
‘No problem, Sam. Have a good evening,’ she said, as he reached for his coat and went to the door.
‘You too.’ He smiled, then went back through to the main reception and out of the front door, locking it behind him. The rest of the staff would leave via the back door to the car park to get in their cars or walk the short distance home. It wasn’t far from here to Elaine’s cottage so he could take a stroll and let her know about the OAP check-up, make sure everything was all right in person.
But as he stood outside in the darkness of the October evening, he knew that he wasn’t going to go to Elaine’s. He was heading straight home because he just wasn’t ready to face the feelings he’d allowed to control him in the woods earlier that day, and he didn’t feel ready to face his embarrassment either, so trying to apologise now might come across as insincere because his delivery would probably be too blunt. It would be better to sleep on i
t all and face it another day.
Chapter 7
Clare pushed open the door to the café, being careful to keep her weight off her sore ankle, and looked around. Jenny had sent a text the previous evening, asking how she was feeling and inviting her for coffee the next day during her break from work at the salon. Clare had been delighted – and a bit anxious; after all, they hadn’t had a good chat in years.
The warm air smelt of toasted teacakes and coffee, freshly baked bread and mixed spice. She’d tried to peer through the window to see if Jenny had arrived, but the glass had been steamed up, so she’d swallowed her rising anxiety and gone inside.
She pulled off her hat and gloves almost immediately, not wanting to start sweating before she’d even sat down.
‘Clare!’
Turning, she spotted Jenny sitting at a corner table at the rear of the café. She was smiling, her pretty blonde hair gently waved around her face, and for a moment it took Clare back to the times they’d come here as teenagers. Jenny had been her best friend from the first day at primary school when Clare had arrived at the school gates clinging to her dad’s hand. Her mum had been unable to be there because it was the first day back at work after the summer holidays for her, whereas her dad had taken the morning off from his job as an accountant. Clare had been reluctant to let go of her dad until a small girl with blonde bunches had approached her and asked her name. Their bond had been instant and, as Jenny had taken Clare’s hand, her dad had smiled and nodded and then the girls had walked into school together, chatting away as if they’d been friends for years. They’d been close throughout secondary school and had seen each other virtually every day, speaking every evening on the phone and driving their parents mad by tying up the phone lines in the days when they didn’t have mobile phones and all calls were limited to the house landline.
Clare weaved through the other tables, taking care not to knock the elbows of elderly ladies having their buttery teacakes and cups of tea and avoiding the pushchairs weighed down with changing bags, toys and shopping.
‘Hi, Jenny.’ Clare bent and kissed Jenny’s cheek then sat opposite her.
‘How’s your ankle?’ Jenny’s features were etched with concern.
‘Not too bad, thanks. It’s a bit sore but thankfully not sprained and my rib seems to be bruised but not broken. I must have looked a dreadful mess yesterday.’
‘You just looked like you’d been dragged through the woods by a dog.’
They grinned at each other, the old warmth of friendship resurfacing.
‘It’s busy in here, isn’t it?’ Clare said.
‘Thursday morning always is, following OAP sessions at the GP surgery and playgroup at the village hall.’ Jenny nodded. ‘Remember those days?’
‘OAP sessions?’ Clare giggled.
‘No!’ Jenny laughed. ‘Although we’re not far off.’
‘I know – how did we become forty-somethings?’
‘Time flies! But no, I meant remember having little ones? I could not do that again, let me tell you.’
‘Well, I only had the one child.’ Clare smiled sadly. She’d have liked more but it wasn’t meant to be. ‘But you had double trouble.’
‘Didn’t I just! The twins were so challenging as little ones and it was exhausting running around after them both. Thank goodness for wine and chocolate, that’s all I can say.’
‘I did enjoy the whole playgroup and school-run thing, though,’ Clare said, thinking how lucky she’d been to do that with Kyle. ‘Did you?’
Clare had moved away from the village long before she had Kyle, so she had not been around to see how Jenny had managed with twins, just like Jenny had not been there to see Clare become a mum to Kyle.
‘I did. Wonderful times. I can’t say that the teen years have been easy though.’
‘What, with two girls?’ Clare shook her head. ‘I’m full of admiration for you. It was enough having just Kyle’s mood swings to deal with, although he was never as bad as some of his school friends, so I think I got off lightly.’
‘How is he?’
‘Good, thanks. Enjoying university as far as I know.’ Clare felt that familiar jolt of emotion that she always did when she thought of how much she missed her son. ‘He texts me most days to keep in touch and I know I’m lucky with that as I suspect a lot of young men don’t text their mums that often. How are the girls?’
‘They’re good. Eighteen going on thirty . . .’
‘Taking care of themselves, are they?’
‘You’d think, right?’ Jenny rolled her eyes. ‘I’m sure we were far more independent at their age.’
They held each other’s gaze as the sounds of the café floated around them: the murmuring of customers, a grizzling baby, clinking of cutlery and a radio station on low, playing pop songs in the background.
‘We wanted to grow up so quickly, didn’t we?’
‘And to escape from Little Bramble.’
‘Which I did – but now I’m back, tail between my legs.’ Clare gave a small shrug, expecting to feel worse than she did.
‘Why’d you say it like that?’
‘Oh,’ Clare waved a hand, ‘it’s a long story but basically, as I said yesterday, I’m newly single. I’m OK – it’s just a bit strange sometimes.’
‘I am sorry.’ Jenny reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘At least . . . should I be sorry?’
‘It wasn’t horrid or terribly drawn-out or acrimonious, Jen. We just – just realised we didn’t love each other enough anymore. Or at least Jason did and I followed suit.’
‘I guess that can happen, but lots of people probably ignore it and stay put. So where is Jason?’
‘Gone to find himself.’
Jenny’s eyes widened and she pressed her lips together. Clare watched her face carefully, wondering if she could still read her oldest friend’s body language like she used to. And she could, because when Jenny suddenly snorted then covered her mouth with a hand, Clare started to laugh too. They laughed until Clare could barely breathe, until her hairline was damp and her ribs ached, especially the bruised one. Every time she tried to stop, all she had to do was look at Jenny again and she’d be off. It took a waitress arriving at the table to make them pull themselves together.
‘I’ll have a medium latte and a slice of chocolate fudge cake, please,’ Clare said, trying to avoid making eye contact with Jenny.
‘I’ll have the same, thanks.’ Jenny tucked her menu back behind the salt-and-pepper stand then shuffled in her seat. ‘So, Clare, I guess we can still laugh like the old days, eh?’
‘That was sooooo good.’ Clare pushed her hair back from her face and fanned it with her hands. ‘I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that.’
‘It was the bit about finding himself, Clare. It’s just such a cliché. I really am sorry, though. Divorce, however amicable, is never easy.’
The warm air around them was thick with aromas of food: sweet frosted buns, toasted sandwiches and the tang of something acrid, as if an onion had burnt under the grill.
‘I know – and thanks. I didn’t expect it to happen and was actually quite surprised when Jason initially told me he wanted out of our marriage, but as time went on and we talked about it properly, I could see what he meant. Our relationship was over a long time ago and I guess if we’d wanted to work at it we could have done, but he had this thing in his head about quitting his job and heading off into the sunset, so I had to let go.’
‘Well, his loss is my gain now that you’re back.’ Jenny knitted her brows. ‘I mean . . . not that I’m taking anything for granted here, because I know you said yesterday that you’re only here until you get back on your feet . . .’
‘I’m not sure if I’ll stay more than a few weeks, Jen, but everything is so up in the air for me at the moment. I need somewhere to live, but I’m nervous about the prospect of renting, let alone buying, in case it’s the wrong decision. And I need to think about looking for w
ork but don’t know where I’ll be. I’m also terrified at the thought . . . and I seem unable to think about any of it for long without my head aching.’
Jenny nodded sympathetically. ‘It will all be scary because you thought your life was mapped out and then it suddenly changed. But from the sound of things you’re taking steps in the right direction and, now that you’re here, I’ll help however I can. For what it’s worth, I think you’re being very brave and coping far better than I would. And however long you stay, I’m glad you’re here now.’
‘Thank you. I really appreciate your kind words.’
‘There are plenty more where they came from because you truly are amazing and more capable of getting through this than you know. Getting a job and finding somewhere to live are things you’ll manage easily, but I do understand that you need some time to think about where you want to settle and about what you want to do. Oh, Clare . . . I’ve missed you so much. The village hasn’t been the same since you left.’
‘But that was twenty-seven years ago!’
‘Yeah, I know, but people have come and people have gone, but you were always my favourite.’
‘Oh, Jen . . .’ Clare’s vision blurred. ‘I-I don’t know what to say. I’ve missed you too. I feel terrible for not staying in touch.’
There had been reasons why they’d let their friendship dwindle but nothing dreadful, nothing bitter, just a difference of opinion and the pursuit of their separate lives.
‘Hey, that was me too, but with husbands, kids, jobs and so on, it’s difficult. Don’t beat yourself up, Clare. Remember that I swore I’d follow you to Reading when you first bought your house with Jason. I believed I would too, but Martin had his rugby and the family business here and it would have been such an upheaval. If you’d asked me when I was twenty if I’d still be living in Little Bramble at forty-five, I’d have laughed in your face. In fact, I think I did! But life doesn’t always go the way we plan.’
‘It certainly doesn’t. And I don’t think you’d have liked living close to Jason anyway.’