The Vets at Hope Green, Part 2

by Sheila Norton

  ‘We need to discuss the future,’ he said, giving a moody shrug. ‘I don’t know about getting married, to be honest, but perhaps in due course—’

  ‘Adam, for God’s sake, I don’t want to marry you!’ I exclaimed.

  He looked at me in genuine surprise.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Look, I don’t really know what I want, okay? But I don’t think that it’s this. At least, not any more. Us. Carrying on the way we are: fighting, losing respect for each other. Do you? Honestly?’

  He scowled. Too late, I guessed he wouldn’t forgive me for being the one to say it. It hurt his pride. Well, tough. He’d hurt me, more than enough, the other night.

  ‘It’s not all my fault,’ he muttered.

  ‘I’m not saying it is.’

  ‘You can be bloody annoying, yourself.’

  ‘Right. Can we just stop this, now, please?’ While we could still salvage a bit of dignity, I hoped. ‘I’m sorry, Adam, I really am. I wanted it to work. But it’s not going to, is it?’

  ‘No,’ he relented. He looked at me sadly, then looked away. ‘Will you keep the baby?’ he asked after a moment’s silence.

  ‘Yes. I can’t … I can’t not keep it.’

  ‘How will you manage?’

  Finally, he’d asked!

  ‘I mean, I’ll pay,’ he added quickly. ‘I’ll pay whatever I can – I’m not the person who said those things in the bar, you know I’m not really like that.’

  ‘Okay.’

  So was that it? We stared at each other, neither of us sure what else there was to say. It all felt unreal.

  ‘We could at least stay friends?’ he suggested.

  ‘Yes, if you like.’

  ‘Well, obviously I’d “like”,’ he said crossly. ‘It’s not too much to ask, is it?’

  As I opened the door for him and he turned and went, still scowling, without a backward glance, I still wasn’t even sure whether I’d done the right thing. How had I ended up feeling like such a bitch?

  But equally, I was just glad to go back to thinking about simpler things and the stray cat.

  Mr Fulcher had already told me she’d be taken to the shelter the following week. She still wasn’t in the best of health, but he felt she mainly needed lots of TLC now. Claire had tried to reassure me that someone would be bound to want her.

  ‘I want her!’ I’d said, knowing that my hormones were making me overemotional; but even so, it was unbearable to think of this little furry bundle of cuteness sitting in a cage unwanted. I would have liked to keep her myself, but I knew I couldn’t: it was impossible, living in my one room, and especially with a baby on the way. But at the time, it had felt like the only thing I really wanted.

  Just to make me feel worse, the next day at work was dominated by pregnancies. It had started with a Pekingese bitch who was brought in with complications during her delivery. Then there was a bulldog who was having a phantom pregnancy. Just after lunch, we had an egg-bound budgie. And then in came an elderly lady who refused to believe her little ginger kitten could possibly be expecting at the age of only six months, when the only potential father was its own brother.

  ‘Surely they wouldn’t do that!’ she’d protested in a scandalised tone.

  I’d had to gently persuade her that cats didn’t really see things quite the way humans did, and that if neither of them had been neutered it was more than likely she was pregnant.

  She looked very shocked when she came back to pay for her consultation. ‘If I’d known they were going to behave like that, I’d have kept them in separate rooms.’

  I sympathised. ‘Well, let’s hope you can find good homes for the litter.’

  ‘Yes. What a nuisance, I really didn’t want all this fuss. And the vet thinks we should get Fritz neutered straight away.’

  ‘The male kitten? Yes, let’s get him booked in, then.’

  After the lady had left, I said to Claire, ‘Isn’t it amazing that people just get kittens or puppies and think that’s it, they don’t need to do anything else except feed them?’

  ‘Yes,’ Claire said with a sigh. ‘Although perhaps not so amazing, when you think there are people who have babies without giving it much thought either.’

  My stomach lurched at this. I hadn’t told Claire yet about my news, as I’d only just told my parents.

  Claire’s mouth dropped open with shock as I explained, and then she looked hugely relieved when I assured her that no, Adam hadn’t dumped me because of the baby.

  ‘Are you sure – about it being over?’ she asked sympathetically.

  ‘Yes.’ The word didn’t come out as emphatically as I’d intended. Sure? Was I ever going to be sure? Was I going to regret it eventually, look back and think I’d been an idiot for preferring to go it alone? ‘It hasn’t been right between us for ages,’ I reminded her, or maybe I was reminding myself. ‘I’d rather try and manage on my own … somehow.’

  ‘It won’t be easy,’ she warned me, looking worried. ‘What did your parents say?’

  Mum and Dad had only returned from their cruise the previous day. I’d let Mum tell me all about the holiday first, waiting for her to stop for breath before I told her my own news. She was surprisingly animated about how wonderful it was that young women nowadays were perfectly capable of bringing up children without having to have a man around. She gushed on so much, admiring my independence and self-sufficiency, that I couldn’t help feeling she was trying to cover up her shock. So it probably didn’t help that I then burst out crying, protesting through my tears that I wasn’t as strong or independent as she seemed to think I was, that I hardly earned enough to pay my rent as it was, and that I’d have to look for somewhere else to live when the baby was born. I had no idea where I could afford to move to, or how I was going to manage, especially when it came to paying for childcare, and perhaps I’d been crazy to break up with Adam even though I didn’t think I loved him any more – in fact, I couldn’t even stand the sight of him since he’d been so horrible to me about the baby. When I finally ran out of steam, there was a silence at the other end of the line for so long, I thought Mum must have hung up.

  ‘Yes, I can see it’s going to be hard at first,’ she said eventually.

  I wondered how she felt about the prospect of becoming a grandmother. I hadn’t really given her a chance to let it sink in. But when she went on to say that of course, they were there for me and would help and support me, I sniffed back the tears and said:

  ‘Thanks, Mum, but I don’t think coming back to live with you is going to be the answer – not long term, anyway—’

  ‘Coming back? What, with a baby?’ she gasped. ‘Oh God, no, I didn’t mean that, Samantha. No, I don’t see that as being a solution, not at all, not with our career commitments, my charity work and your dad’s golf club – not that we wouldn’t be prepared to move heaven and earth to help you, darling, that goes without saying, but I don’t think it’d be what you’d want yourself, would it? I know how much you’ve always loved living in London. No, I was thinking more in terms of some financial assistance. I mean, obviously we could set up a trust fund for the baby, but your father and I had better sit down and discuss what we can do to help you with the initial expenses, and, well, for the first year or so at least – perhaps a regular monthly sum into your account …’

  This all came out in such a rush, I could literally picture the panic on Mum’s face at the thought of me turning up on their doorstep with a baby in my arms. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience their lifestyle, now, would I? I was of course hugely grateful though and relieved that they were going to discuss giving me a financial safety net. But it was strange: after talking to my mum I didn’t really feel any less alone than I had done before. I’d rather have confided in Nana, but I couldn’t because each time I spoke to her, I was more worried about how down she sounded. Every time I tried gently to discuss this with her, she insisted she was okay, putting her barriers back up and telling me off for making a fuss.
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  Mum had promised me that she and Dad would go down to Dorset to see her ‘when we next get a free weekend’. I knew this ‘free weekend’ wouldn’t happen for a long while and I tried not to feel annoyed with her. It wasn’t that she was selfish; she’d given up her own life, really, when my brothers and I were born, staying home to look after us and then only working part-time to fit around our schooling until we were old enough for her to pick up her career again. But this was Nana, Mum’s own mother! If she couldn’t find the time to go and see her, then I was going to take on the responsibility myself. I’d go back down to Hope Green for the coming bank holiday weekend and see for myself how she was coping without Rufus.

  I was still worrying about the little black cat as well. I couldn’t bear to think what might happen to her after she went to the shelter. Would the people there have the time to stroke her and pet her? I was just getting her more used to human contact again. She was eating treats from my hand now, and sometimes even purring when I picked her up. What if she became more timid again, or even aggressive, with the wrong kind of handling? What if nobody wanted to adopt her? We’d obviously taken in stray pets before at James Street, but I’d never become so attached to any of them. Claire seemed to think I was using her to take my mind off the break-up with Adam. Perhaps she was right. But as the weekend approached, the thought occurred to me several times that perhaps I wasn’t the only one who would benefit from having her mind occupied with a new little friend…

  By the time I left work that evening, preparing to drive down to Hope Green, I’d made up my mind. I knew Claire thought it was crazy, although she tried not to say so in quite so many words. ‘Impulsive’, she called it. Maybe it was, but I just had a feeling it might work. Nana couldn’t cope with another dog, but a cat would be different. It’d be company for her and cheer her up.

  I picked up the carrying basket I was borrowing from the surgery, from which the little black cat meowed anxiously.

  ‘It’s all right, Ebony,’ I said softly – the name I’d christened her myself. ‘We’re going on a journey, but you’ll be fine. You’ll be safe. And perhaps …’

  Perhaps she wouldn’t have to come back. I desperately wanted her to be the lucky black cat – the one who bucked the trend and was adopted and loved for the rest of her life. If Nana didn’t want her, I’d have no option but to bring her back and watch her go to the animal shelter, praying somebody else would come along who’d care for her. And I knew how incredibly hard I’d find it, now, to let her go.

  Chapter 10

  The traffic was heavy as I left London that evening and only eased slightly as I headed down the motorway. It was probably a good thing that I had to concentrate on the road; it was taking my mind off my anxiety about how Nana might react to my plan. I hadn’t told her about Ebony. I was, of course, hoping she’d love the little cat on sight. I hoped she wouldn’t be offended at being presented with a fait accompli. I knew she was far too independent, not to say opinionated, just to cave in and accept what I might say was good for her so I’d have to somehow make it seem like she was choosing Ebony herself.

  Halfway through the journey, I realised I probably shouldn’t have gulped down a full glass of water just before leaving home. Apart from the nausea, the only other symptom of early pregnancy I’d been victim to was a sensitive bladder. I tried to put it out of my mind and listened to little Ebony mewing quietly in the back of the car; thought about other things; turned the radio from a music station to a phone-in programme – that’d give me something to concentrate on – but it was no good; the need was getting more urgent. Surely I wouldn’t have to stop?

  I kept telling myself I could hang on till I got to Nana’s, but in the end, only ten minutes from Hope Green, I knew I had to find somewhere to relieve myself. Luckily, I was just approaching a petrol station. I pulled up with a screech on the forecourt, jumped out of the car and glanced quickly at Ebony. She’d be all right – I’d only be a few minutes. There was nobody using the toilet cubicle or I’d have been in big trouble. I made a mental note to myself with a laugh to be more aware of my body’s changing needs in future.

  Feeling much more comfortable, I went back outside to top the car up with petrol – to find someone standing next to it, peering in at the window.

  ‘Excuse me!’ I called out. ‘What are you—’

  And then I froze. Because the person had turned round as I approached, and of all the people in the whole of Dorset, it had to be Joe Bradley.

  ‘Is this yours?’ he asked in his usual abrupt manner, nodding his head towards the car.

  ‘Yes, it is.’ And what’s it got to do with you? I added inside my head.

  ‘Right. You’ve got a cat in the back.’

  ‘I do know that, thank you.’ I couldn’t help the sarcasm. I really wasn’t in the mood to see him, never mind getting into conversation with him.

  ‘You left him in the car on his own,’ Joe said, frowning at me. ‘That wasn’t a good idea.’

  The nerve of the man!

  ‘It was for about two minutes,’ I said crossly, ‘while I … went inside. The car’s locked, it’s not hot, there’s no one else around. And … she’s a girl,’ I added, as if it made any difference.

  ‘Well, I’d just pulled in to fill up the Jeep with fuel and I heard her crying. She sounded distressed, so I thought I should check whether anyone was with her. She might have been abandoned, for all I knew.’

  ‘Unlikely, I’d have thought.’

  I unlocked the petrol cap and turned my back on him as I started to fill up. I was hoping he’d take the hint and go away, but still he stood there. I could feel his eyes on the back of my head.

  ‘So you’re back again?’ he said after a few minutes. ‘I thought you’d gone back to London.’

  ‘I have.’ Damn it, why should I tell him what I was doing, or why? He was so bloody rude to me before, when I was the one being nosy!

  ‘I didn’t know you had a cat,’ he persisted.

  ‘I haven’t. Not exactly.’ I hung up the petrol pump nozzle with a clunk. I didn’t want to say any more, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. I turned round to see he was looking through the car window at Ebony again. ‘She’s a stray,’ I said more quietly. ‘I’m taking her to my nan. Hoping she might like to keep her.’

  He nodded. ‘I did notice she looks very thin. And her eye looks infected.’ He turned to face me now, and there it was again, just for a moment – the warmth in those deep brown eyes, the gentleness in his expression. I was not going to be taken in by it, I told myself sternly. That warmth was for Ebony, not me! I wasn’t going to be such an idiot this time. ‘Would you like me to check her over for you?’ he went on.

  ‘No, thank you,’ I replied. It came out even more sharply than I’d intended. ‘She’s already been under the care of a vet. Her eye’s much better than it was. I know how to look after it.’

  He shrugged, his expression darkening again.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ he said, and walked briskly to fill up his Jeep. I also walked away, wishing the encounter hadn’t unsettled me so much, wishing that man didn’t always end up putting me in such a bad mood!

  But by the time I was parking outside Meadow Croft cottage, I was too busy trying to decide how to introduce Ebony to Nana to waste any more time thinking about Joe Bradley. I got out of the car and nearly jumped out of my skin – someone had crept up behind me and reached out a hand to tap me on the arm.

  ‘Sorry, love,’ the person said. ‘Didn’t mean to make you jump.’ It was Irene Parks, Nana’s next-door neighbour. ‘I’ve been looking out for you. Peggy said you were coming this evening.’

  ‘Oh, hello, Irene.’ I noticed the worried frown on her face. ‘Is something wrong? Is Nana okay?’

  She sighed. ‘Not really, love. I’ve told her she ought to see the doctor, but you know what she’s like, she just tells me to stop fussing, that she’s fine. But she’s not, to be honest, Sam.’

  ‘What – is sh
e ill?’ I felt a rush of alarm.

  ‘No, love, not ill. Depressed, in my opinion.’

  ‘I see.’ I swallowed. I wasn’t really surprised. After all I’d been suspecting it myself recently. But hearing someone else say it made it sound more real. And Nana had always been so strong, so resilient, so …

  ‘Lonely, you see,’ Mrs Parks was going on. ‘That’s the trouble. She’d never admit it, but it was bad enough after Bert died. She put on a brave face, but I knew how bad she took it. She was getting over it a bit, though, and at least she had old Rufus, didn’t she …’ She tailed off. ‘But now it’s different. Since you went home, she’s gone downhill something dreadful. Spends too long in bed. Can’t be bothered to cook for herself properly. I just thought I should let you know. Hope you don’t think I’m interfering, love.’

  I knew Nana wasn’t going to admit to being depressed or lonely to me any more than she did to Irene. But it was obvious the situation now needed to be watched more closely.

  Needless to say, she showed no sign of depression when she answered the door to me – grasping me by the shoulders and kissing me firmly as always. ‘So what’s wrong with that dratted London, all of a sudden, that you’ve made two trips down here in a matter of weeks?’ she said, and then under her breath: ‘As if I didn’t know…’

  I’d evaded questions about Adam when I told her I was coming. But Nana appeared to have put two and two together and made, if not four, then at least three and a half.

  ‘All in due course, Nana. But first, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve brought a little friend with me.’ I lifted the cat basket from behind my legs, holding my breath. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve brought some food along for her.’

  ‘What’s all this, then?’ She stared at Ebony. ‘Looking after her for someone, are you?’