by Cathy Lake
Once Goliath was booked in and had been given a treat by the receptionist – something he clearly expected – Clare led him over to the dog waiting area. The reception was divided into three areas: one for dogs, one for cats and the third for small animals, which Clare thought was very sensible.
The front door opened and a man came in carrying a tiny Yorkshire terrier in his arms, Goliath stood up and Clare braced herself, planting her trainers firmly on the lino and wrapping the lead more tightly around her hand, hoping she wasn’t going to be dragged across the floor. Goliath took a step forwards and the lead tightened, the rope crushing her fingers together.
‘Goliath, sit!’ she said, injecting her voice with far more confidence than she felt.
He whined, licked his lips, then, to her surprise, he sat down. Relief coursed through Clare, accompanied by confusion. Why Goliath had listened to her when he never usually did, she had no idea, but she hoped it was because he was getting used to her and because they’d had a few more walks, during which she’d taken some treats in her pocket. He might be a giant of a dog, but he’d do just about anything for a dried fish crunchie. At that moment, Goliath turned and his eyes met hers, so she dug in her coat pocket for a treat, which he took gently from her fingers.
The reception was spotlessly clean, but even so, there was a heavy animal odour in the air, balancing on a cloud of disinfectant and pet food, a hint of bleach stinging her nostrils. There were four doors leading off the reception: consultation rooms 1 and 2, one that opened from behind the reception desk and one labelled WC. Which one would open for Goliath, she wondered. How would he feel about being poked and prodded, examined and more? She had no idea exactly what an OAP health check would involve. What if they found something ominous? Clare would have to go home and deliver the news to her mum and that was not something she would relish doing. The bearer of bad news always became tainted with it. Why hadn’t she thought about this before she agreed? If Goliath had anything wrong with him at all, Clare would have to tell her mum and her mum would probably, subconsciously at least, blame her.
‘Goliath Hughes?’
A voice broke through Clare’s thoughts. She looked up and there he was.
Tall, broad and handsome with his dark brown eyes fixed on her. How long had he been standing there like that? Minutes? Seconds?
Was he angry again?
Get yourself together, Clare! Now is not the time to lose it. This man already thinks you’re an idiot.
She forced herself to her feet and walked on stiff legs across the reception area. Somewhere, deep within the surgery, a cat yowled, and Goliath tugged at his lead, causing Clare to lurch forwards in the direction of the waiting vet. She screamed and flung out her hands, grabbing whatever she could to prevent herself from faceplanting on the floor.
A hush fell over the reception: the cat (wherever it was) fell silent and the receptionist stopped speaking to the man holding the Yorkshire terrier. Clare raised her eyes slowly, knowing she wasn’t going to like what she saw.
And she didn’t. Because as she’d fallen, she had grabbed hold of the front of the vet’s navy chinos, and she was still holding them as she slowly slid down to the floor. Meanwhile, he was hanging on to the waistband, trying to stop his trousers from falling down to his ankles.
Heat flooded Clare’s cheeks and she peeled her fingers from the material just as Goliath leant down and licked her cheek. She lay there for a moment, then she slowly moved to a sitting position and sent out a silent prayer for the floor to open and swallow her whole.
‘Are you all right?’ a deep voice rumbled from somewhere above her and she reluctantly looked up again, meeting his eyes.
‘I-I think so and I-I’m dreadfully sorry,’ she said, as he held out a hand and helped her to her feet.
When she was standing in front of the vet, Goliath at her side like some sort of canine guardian, he asked her again.
‘Are you sure? Can I get you a glass of water, or do you need to sit down?’
Clare was painfully aware of the other people watching them, so she shook her head and gestured at the open doorway behind the vet.
‘I’m fine. Could we just, uh, get this done, please?’
‘Of course.’
He released her hand and led the way into the consultation room. Clare squashed her urge to run in and slam the door behind them so that no one could see what embarrassing stunt she’d pull next. When they were away from everyone else, the heat in her cheeks faded a little and she tried to shake off the humiliation of what had just happened.
‘It’s a good job I was wearing a belt,’ the vet said as he knelt down next to Goliath and ran his hands over the dog’s fur. ‘These chinos are a bit big – on a different day that could have been even more mortifying.’
‘Oh God!’ Clare covered her face with her hands, the burning in her cheeks intensifying again. ‘I’m so sorry. Goliath lurched and I lost my balance and I just grabbed the nearest thing.’
A funny sound filled the room: low, deep and warm, and she peered between her fingers, wondering what it was.
The vet was laughing. At her? At himself? At the situation?
‘I’m sorry,’ he said finally. ‘That was just one of those awkward moments that could have been a lot worse. No one was hurt and that’s the main thing.’
Clare lowered her hands and let herself relax, then smile and then some laughter slipped out as well. He was right. It was awkward, but no one was hurt.
‘I’m Sam, by the way,’ he said.
‘Clare.’ She shook his hand firmly.
‘I take it that you’re Elaine’s daughter?’
She nodded.
‘Nice to meet you,’ he said, trying to hold her gaze, but her eyes flickered away. ‘For the second – I mean third time. But our first meeting wasn’t exactly ideal, was it? I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to come across as rude but sometimes I can be a bit blunt. My sister keeps telling me I need to work on my social skills. I did try to apologise in the café but I don’t blame you for rushing away. You must think I’m an awful person and I’ve no excuse other than the fact that I had a lot on my mind when I bumped into you.’
‘In the café?’
‘No, in the woods. I was inexcusably rude and . . .’ He rubbed at the back of his neck. ‘I . . . I’m just really, terribly sorry.’
‘It’s OK.’ She shrugged and he winced inwardly, recalling exactly how blunt he had been towards her and also cringing at himself babbling away while she was observing him quietly, probably hating him more by the minute. And here she was, petite and blushing and . . . How had he not realised exactly how lovely she was? Shame crawled over him and he shook himself. He needed to heed Alyssa’s advice and think before speaking, before acting on his impulses, because he didn’t want to give the wrong impression, go around offending people when distracted by his own worries.
‘Do you think you can accept my apology?’
She smiled then – a small smile but a smile nonetheless. ‘I guess so.’
‘Phew!’ He laughed loudly, then felt even more awkward than before. What was he, Hugh Grant in a romcom? Something about Clare made him feel wrongfooted, keen to please. ‘Right then, let’s have a look at Goliath, shall we?’ It was time to focus on doing his job, something he could feel confident about.
Half an hour later the dog had been weighed, his teeth and gums checked, his heart and lungs listened to, his abdomen, skin and coat examined, his ears and eyes checked and his microchip scanned to ensure it was still functioning.
‘Everything seems to be working well at this point,’ he said, as he rubbed Goliath’s ears. ‘But because of his age it’s important to keep an eye on him and to let us know about any changes or concerns immediately.’
‘Of course.’ Clare nodded. ‘But obviously, I don’t usually live with him so I wouldn’t know if he was behaving differently.’
‘Does he still go after the post whenever Marcellus delivers
it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does he still water your mother’s plants?’
‘Water?’ She frowned.
‘Yes, you know, raise his leg and . . .’
‘Oh!’ She nodded. ‘Yes. Sometimes. At others he’s quite lazy and he just squats.’
‘And when you’ve walked him, have you noticed anything about the way he walks? For instance, is he struggling at all? Does he seem to tire easily? That sort of thing.’
‘This dog does not tire easily. I swear that in the week and a half since I arrived in Little Bramble, he has exercised me rather than the other way around.’
Sam smiled. ‘He’s still enjoying his walks, so that’s good.’ Then something occurred to him. ‘Is your mother still walking him at all?’
Something passed over Clare’s face, but he barely knew her and it was gone so quickly that he couldn’t be certain what it was.
‘She uh . . . since I got back, I’ve noticed some changes in Mum, and one of them is that she barely leaves the cottage anymore. She was walking him, but she said they weren’t going as far as they used to.’
Sam nodded, his professional head taking over. Even though he was essentially an animal doctor, he had a lot of contact with people and, although he could be rather abrupt, he could also be very sympathetic. He was, although Alyssa might argue otherwise, a good listener, especially when someone needed to offload.
‘Are you worried about her?’ he asked gently.
Clare’s expression changed then, as if she’d slammed an emotional door shut and she sighed. ‘No, I’m sure she’s fine.’ Clearly this was not a woman who was about to discuss family with a stranger, and who could blame her? Not only was Sam a stranger, but he had also given her no reasons to want to entrust him with information about her mother. He had been the epitome of rudeness when they’d first met and for all she knew, he was like that most of the time.
Or perhaps she wasn’t used to trusting people.
Just like him.
‘Look . . .’ He held out his hands. ‘I don’t know your mother very well, nor do I know you, but I have been in the village for over three years and I care about the animals here and being supportive of their human beings is part of that care. If there is anything you’d like to talk about, or if you have any concerns, then I’d be happy to talk them through.’
‘You mean if I think Mum isn’t up to looking after Goliath?’ Her eyebrows rose slightly as if in challenge, her lips becoming a thin line of determination. She was strong, someone who wouldn’t take any nonsense. No wonder she had given him the cold shoulder at the café.
‘No! Not that at all!’ He shook his head. ‘I meant more from the perspective of . . . if you just wanted to have a chat to someone. I can come across as a bit of an idiot, but I do have a caring side.’
She eyed him, as if evaluating him carefully, then she inclined her head. ‘Thanks. I appreciate the offer.’
But you won’t take me up on it.
‘Are you staying in the village long?’ He winced as his voice rose on the final word.
She toyed with her bottom lip, then shrugged, a gesture he had noticed her use several times, as if she was lost for answers on more than one matter.
‘I’m not sure yet. I came back because . . . well, for reasons I’d prefer not to discuss right now, but I could be here for a few weeks. I have some things I need to sort out.’
‘OK. Good to know.’
Why did his heart just lift? What was it to him whether this woman stayed local or not?
‘Good to know, why?’ Suspicion filled her eyes and he felt his throat tighten with embarrassment.
‘Because of Goliath, of course! Yes . . . Goliath will surely enjoy having you around.’
‘I’m not really a dog person,’ she said, then she seemed to realise she was talking to a vet. ‘I mean, I like Goliath, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that I’ve never had a dog before and it’s taking some getting used to.’
‘It does, but I promise you that it’s worth it. Dogs are the best friends we can have.’
‘More loyal than humans?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Goliath is kind of growing on me.’ Colour filled her cheeks as she peered at him from behind dark lashes. ‘He seems to be tuning into my moods.’ She rubbed the dog’s head and he turned to her and sniffed her palm.
‘He cares about you.’ Sam nodded.
‘Really?’
‘He wouldn’t be looking at you like that if he didn’t.’
They stood there for a moment in silence, gazing at Goliath, who was gazing up at Clare, then she seemed to gather herself.
‘I guess I’d better go and pay then?’
‘I’ll show you out.’
‘There’s no need.’
‘Oh . . .’ He opened the door and held it for her. ‘I forgot to say that there’s no charge for today because Elaine pays into a plan for Goliath.’
‘That’s great, thanks.’
She smiled at him, then walked Goliath out of the reception area and onto the street. Sam went over to the reception desk to check who his next client was, but he couldn’t help turning to look out of the front window to watch Clare walking away.
She was staying in Little Bramble for a few weeks, and for some reason that made him feel a little bit better about everything.
Clare strolled away from Goliath’s appointment feeling more than a little bit strange. In fact, she felt kind of mixed up, unsure about exactly what she was feeling and whether or not she liked it.
Sam Wilson had turned out to be quite pleasant. His apology had seemed genuine and she respected him for it. Admitting to being wrong about something took courage and Sam had seemed keen to let her know that he was sorry for being so rude in the woods. He was also wonderful with Goliath and actually rather kind towards her, which she hadn’t been expecting at all, especially when she’d nearly pulled his trousers down. That could have annoyed him, but instead he seemed to find it amusing. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of how it must have looked. Bloody Goliath pulling on his lead just because he heard a cat yowl.
She wrapped the lead around her wrist and held it tight, trying to stay alert in case he spotted something and decided to run again. There might not be a pair of chinos attached to a tall, handsome man around to break her fall next time.
Handsome?
Now she thought about it, when Sam wasn’t angry, he was quite attractive. Not that she was in a place to be noticing if men were good-looking or not, of course.
The site of the old village hall came into view and she decided to go and take a look. She could walk the long way around the village with Goliath and take in some of the sites she hadn’t seen since her return. The land where the hall had stood for over sixty years had been levelled and cordoned off with a small picket fence, almost as if it was a site of a great tragedy. Surely it was premium land and would fetch a good price? Ah, it was owned by a local family and would have to be sold by them, preferably with the approval of the locals. Perhaps they were waiting for a while for things to settle. After all, the old village hall had burnt down almost two years ago and it had taken a while to clear the land and to get the insurance money to build the new one, which sat on the opposite side of the road.
Clare looked both ways then crossed over, Goliath trotting at her side as if he was a show dog at Crufts (he obviously knew she had more treats in her pocket) and not the lumbering, overexcited oaf he had shown he could be. She passed the new hall, admiring its pale-blue exterior, the large windows complete with roller blinds – some currently pulled down – and the Velux roof windows that would let in a lot of natural light. It reminded her of a Scandinavian building, all clean lines and so very different from the old hall. That had been built over sixty years ago then extended, had small circular windows in the upper rooms and sash windows that jammed on hot days. That hall had been old, had been in need of repairs and decorating, but it had be
en a warm place, the centre of the village for a very long time.
Clare’s mum had loved that hall and so had her dad. It had been the place where many people had held wedding receptions, birthday parties and wakes, where there had been jumble sales and book clubs and exercise classes and, of course, the annual Christmas show. Those shows had sold out every year and Clare knew that they had been the highlight of her mum’s year, the time when she got to forget that she was a hardworking teacher, driven into the ground by paperwork and deadlines, and had been able to let her own theatrical talents shine, both on and off stage.
This new hall looked very pleasant and no doubt had potential, but Clare knew that it wouldn’t have the plaques on the walls that were dedicated to locals such as her father. It wouldn’t have walls covered in photographs of local celebrations and village shows, of her mum and dad in the early days of their marriage when they had been big-haired and starry-eyed, when they had been devoted to each other and excited about their future together. Her parents had starred in the shows together, had sung and danced and performed, both of them confident, larger than life, happy to be a part of the community. And now that was all gone. No wonder her mum was struggling.
The old village hall had meant so much to so many people, not just Clare’s mum, and she could understand how hard the community must have felt its loss. Being back for just over a week and a half, Clare could feel that the village was different. The locals were still warm and friendly, but it was as if the heart, the hub, of this pretty little village had gone.
And with it, Elaine had lost her joie de vivre.
How many others had too? But at least they might still have husbands and wives, lovers and family member nearby. Elaine was, apart from Goliath, alone, and she had clearly been sinking with each week, each month that passed. It broke Clare’s heart to think of her mum suffering. She wanted her to be happy, wanted to know that when she did leave Little Bramble again, that Elaine would have a full and enjoyable life. In fact, until Clare was certain that Elaine was OK, she realised she would be unable to leave.
She would think about the hall situation and see if she could come up with a plan. There must be a way to restore the sense of energy her mum had always had, a way to give her something back that would make her happy once again.