‘I’ll take you up on that,’ I said, laughing.
With a glare at us both, Joe turned and strode back into the consulting room, shutting the door with a bang. David raised his eyebrows at me and shrugged.
‘He doesn’t like me,’ he said. ‘And the feeling’s mutual.’
I’d already gathered that. I was too busy to ask him about it right then, but frankly I couldn’t understand why anyone would take a dislike to David; he was so friendly and easy-going. Which was certainly more than I could say for Joe Bradley.
Chapter 14
The following Saturday morning, as David and I walked the dogs again, we bumped into Izzie, who was pushing the baby in her buggy and shepherding the other two children along beside her. The toddler was crying about some imagined insult and I bent down to chat to her, smiling when she rewarded me by stopping her fussing with a hiccup of surprise. Izzie told us she had the day off and was on her way to a children’s fun day at the church hall.
‘It’s a fundraising event for the preschool,’ she told us, going on to explain that the preschool was a privately run business, with a committee of parent volunteers helping to support it. ‘There are so few of us parents now that we’re nearly all on the committee,’ she said. ‘It’s running on a shoestring at the moment. They’re starting a playgroup for mums with babies and toddlers now, to run alongside the preschool, although there aren’t too many of those in the village either.’
‘I hope it goes well today, then,’ I said, adding that I’d be one extra mum for the playgroup after December. She laughed and said she certainly hoped so. I realised I was looking forward to it – to getting more involved with Izzie and the other young parents in the village. Even if there weren’t enough of them!
There was some real warmth in the sunshine now, and the village was slowly beginning to resemble the one I was used to from coming here for my summer holidays every year. People were out in their front gardens, calling out hello to us as we passed. The first few holidaymakers were making the trek along the coast from the nearby resorts, and the pub and tearooms both had their tables outside, ready for al fresco lunches and snacks. It was definitely time we started letting Ebony out into the garden. She’d recovered well from her operation, but Nana was nervous about the little cat getting lost, or being picked on by some of the bigger cats in the village.
I tried to persuade her when David and I arrived back in the cottage to find her watching Ebony walking back and forth on the kitchen windowsill, meowing at birds in the garden. ‘She’s getting restless, Nana. If we don’t let her out, she’ll just make a break for it out of a window one day. And she’s got her microchipin now. Let’s do it today while I’m home and we can both watch her. I bet she doesn’t go far the first time.’
David and I had already planned to be in the garden anyway, planting the baskets for Nana and Irene next door. So I carried Ebony outside with us, put her down on the grass and we both stood back, Nana right behind us, watching anxiously as the little cat looked hesitantly around. She lifted her head up as if to sniff the air, flicked her tail back and forth a few times and then bounded off into a flowerbed where she crouched under a shrub, peering out through the branches. We all laughed.
‘What did I tell you?’ I said to Nana. ‘She’s too nervous to run straight off. She’s got to get her bearings, check out the territory and make sure she’s safe.’
‘She’ll want to go further afield and explore the area before long, though,’ David warned. He smiled at Nana. ‘I could put a cat flap in the kitchen door for you, if you like. You can lock it at night, or whenever you want to keep her in.’
While David and I worked on the baskets, Nana sat on her garden bench in the sun, watching Ebony creeping from one shrub to the next, looking around her, lifting her head to check out the sounds and scents of the garden. As soon as we’d finished the planting, David helped me clean the garden chairs ready for the summer. Nothing seemed too much trouble for him. He’d already mowed the lawn and put up shelves in Nana’s little garden shed, and she’d repaid him with countless cups of coffee and home-made cakes. I wondered again what on earth Joe Bradley could have against him. While we worked on the chairs, I asked him to tell me what had happened between them.
‘Oh, it all started when we had an argument about Tess and Mabel.’
‘The Crowthers’ dogs? Why? What happened?’
‘He bumped into me one day when I was walking them along the road here. Much the same way as you did –’ he added with a grin. ‘– but, well, he was in a hurry, he wasn’t looking where he was going and he tripped over one of their leads.’
I stifled a giggle. It wasn’t altogether surprising, the way Tess and Mabel dragged David along.
‘Did he hurt himself?’ I asked.
‘No. He stumbled and nearly fell, but he just brushed himself down, swore out loud and scowled like this.’ He did such a superb imitation of Joe’s scowl that I burst out laughing. ‘And he proceeded to tell me that if I couldn’t keep the dogs under control I shouldn’t be allowed out with them. I didn’t even know who he was at that point – he’d only just moved here, apparently. I said it was his own fault he’d tripped over – he should’ve been looking where he was going – and he came back at me with a load of abuse about me not being fit to own dogs. So I explained they weren’t even mine, but that just seemed to make things worse. Anyway, when he finally shut up, I told him he ought to have anger-management therapy.’
‘Oh my God! I can imagine how that went down!’
‘Quite. And then, of course, I heard people in the village talking about the new vet, saying he seemed a bit grumpy and impatient. And I had to take poor KitKat to see him because he had an infected scratch from a cat fight – and it turned out he needed an antibiotic shot. So Joe got his own back by being obnoxiously scathing about my needle phobia. He’s just a thoroughly unpleasant man, if you want my opinion.’
‘I agree.’ I sympathised. ‘And if it’s any comfort, it’s not just you. It seems he’s horrible to everyone. I feel sorry for his poor wife and daughter.’
David raised his eyebrows. ‘Didn’t know he was married.’
‘Me neither, till he snapped at me for daring to ask. Maybe it’s a really unhappy marriage.’
This hadn’t actually occurred to me until I voiced it, but now, the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Perhaps it was his wife making him so bloody miserable and bad-tempered. Maybe she’d gone off him – you couldn’t blame her! – and they were only staying together because of the child. Perhaps he wasn’t getting any action in the bedroom department. Stop it, Sam! I chuckled to myself, and then felt silly and flustered when David asked me what was funny. Then to make things worse I had a sudden memory of Joe’s hands when he was holding Ebony – how strong they looked, how gentle they were – and I had to give myself a little shake. I turned away, looking for Ebony, and changed the subject.
By now she had become far more confident, darting in and out of the flowerbeds, chasing the odd beetle and leaping up into the air after passing flies. She was certainly enjoying her first taste of freedom. She was a healthy-looking cat now, with a sleek glossy coat and bright eyes. It was hard to remember how poorly she’d been just a short while ago. She suddenly came running back towards us and scurried around, chasing a piece of greenery that I’d dropped while I was planting the flowers, batting it across the patio and pouncing on it, her eyes wide with excitement. I sat back on my heels, laughing out loud with pleasure. It was just so lovely to see her enjoying life at last – more than I could ever have wished for when I’d taken such a chance in bringing her here from James Street vet’s. I wasn’t the only one who was benefiting hugely from a move to the countryside! All my fervent hopes for her had been realised: she’d turned out to be the lucky black cat, the one who found a perfect for ever home, and I couldn’t be happier.
I hoped the same would work out for me, and that when the baby came in December, it would be e
qually happy.
After lunch, David and I went out to the front of the cottage to hang the baskets up for Nana and her neighbour. Irene Parks was just thanking us and saying how pretty they looked when Maggie Stammers walked past on her way to the shop. She stopped and stared in surprise.
‘Nora hasn’t managed to do them after all, has she?’
‘No. Sam and David have. Don’t they look lovely?’ Irene said.
‘They certainly do.’ Maggie glanced at us hesitantly. ‘I don’t suppose you’d be up for doing a couple more, would you? I’d pay you,’ she added quickly. ‘I’ve got my money back from poor old Nora, so I’d give you the same. And I bet other people will ask you, too, when they see these. Especially if you can get them done before the competition judging.’
David hesitated. ‘Well, Sam’s at work all week, but I suppose I’ve got enough time,’ he said.
I nodded. ‘Go for it, David. I wasn’t much use anyway, but I’ll help out at weekends if you do get other people asking.’
And so the deal was struck, and sure enough, within a few days David had a list of orders from around the village. I was pleased for him: he admitted it was helping to fill his days between the dog-walking and the bits of work he had from his few copywriting clients. Hope Green began to look prettier than ever with cascading bright blooms of geraniums, petunias, salvia and lobelia decorating the outside walls of the pastel-coloured cottage walls. I knew he wasn’t charging the villagers much for his time and that endeared him to them even more. ‘Such a nice chap, that David’, was the general theme among the older ladies as they chatted on the street corners and outside the shop.
We walked the dogs together regularly, and I was loving spending time outdoors in the countryside after so long with only the London parks to walk in. One evening David came to meet me from work with a collie in tow, and Joe, who’d been talking to me quite civilly about a pet rabbit he’d be treating the next morning for a dental abscess, afforded him only a muttered and scowling ‘Hi’ before retreating rudely to his consulting room.
‘Take no notice of Jekyll and Hyde,’ I said, aware of David stiffening with annoyance beside me. ‘He’s not worth getting upset about. I should know, I have to work with him all day—’
‘God knows how!’
He was right, of course. To be honest, I wasn’t sure myself how I was managing it – sometimes Joe’s rudeness and abruptness made me want to walk out. Occasionally, though, when I was actually driven to answer him back, it seemed to stop him in his tracks, as if he hadn’t even realised how unpleasant he was being. Not that he ever apologised. But it was on those occasions that I noticed the sadness in his eyes, and my theory about his unhappy marriage was gaining ground in my mind.
‘Professionally, though, I’ve got a lot of admiration for him,’ I told David as we set off on our walk that evening. ‘He’s got an amazing way with the animals he treats. They all seem to trust him instinctively—’
‘Apart from KitKat,’ he reminded me.
‘Well, yes, there’s always an exception!’ I laughed. I didn’t tell him that there was also, despite his moods, something about Joe that I still, annoyingly, found very attractive. Anyway, since I’d found out he was married, I was ignoring that.
And blaming my hormones.
As my first few weeks as a resident of Hope Green passed, Nana seemed to be positively blooming with happiness, the shadow of her loss and sadness fading now that she had me to chat to, and cute little Ebony for company while I was at work. I was finding my new job interesting and stimulating; I loved seeing all the familiar folk from the village coming in with their pets, as well as local farmers calling about problems with their livestock. It was a huge bonus, too, being only a stone’s throw from home. My early pregnancy nausea had finally eased off, and with all the walking and fresh air, I was feeling fit and healthy. The break-up with Adam was already losing its sting, and I’d found a lively and entertaining new friend in Izzie, who never failed to share the latest village gossip with me, as well as reassuring me, in her down-to-earth way, about being a single mum. However, one day our conversation took a completely unexpected turn.
‘How’s it going with the new man, then?’ she asked with a cheeky grin.
‘New man?’ I repeated. ‘What new man?’
‘Come on, everyone’s seen you out and about together! Walking the dogs, making hanging baskets for everyone, cuddling each other’s cats and all that …’ She stopped, clocking my astonished expression. ‘You and David,’ she added, sounding less sure of herself. ‘No?’
‘No!’ I said, horrified. ‘God, Izzie, you mean to say everyone’s gossiping about us?’
‘Well, don’t sound so surprised about it. You know what it’s like around here. People put two and two together—’
‘And make a dozen, by the sound of it! No, we are not an item, it’s nothing like that! We’re just friends, we just – you know, we like each other’s company, and …’ I tailed off again. ‘I don’t feel that way about him, at all. He’s … well, I think of him like I do of my older brothers.’
‘And are you sure he’s on the same page as you with that, then?’ she said. ‘Only I’ve seen him looking at you a couple of times and I have to say, it’s not exactly the look of an older brother.’
‘What? No, you’re imagining it, you must be.’
‘Okay. Maybe I am,’ she said lightly and quickly changed the subject.
I tried to put the conversation out of my mind, but that Sunday afternoon after David had been round, as promised, to fit a cat flap for Ebony and help to tidy the garden, Nana only had to comment, as usual, that he was ‘such a nice young man’ for me to demand what she meant by it.
‘You do know that David and I are just friends, don’t you,’ I said a little sharply.
‘Right. If you say so.’
‘I do say so,’ I retorted. ‘Have I said anything to make you think otherwise?’
‘It’s not so much what I think. It’s … well, perhaps you should ask yourself what he thinks.’
I stared at her. ‘Izzie said much the same thing, the other day. Have people been gossiping about us?’
Nana looked away, coughing slightly, smoothing her hair, muttering about making a cup of tea.
‘You’ve all got it wrong!’ I said, heatedly. ‘Apart from anything else, I can’t believe you think I’d be interested in another relationship already, Nana! It’s far too soon after Adam. I’m not sure if I’ll ever want one, and certainly not until after I’ve had the baby.’
‘All right, all right, keep your hair on. Sorry I spoke. I know I’m only your grandmother, it’s nothing to do with me, I’m saying nothing. But I can’t help noticing how much time you spend together. And how that young man looks at you.’
Had I really been so blind? Well, it wouldn’t be fair to let him think I felt the same. I’d have to make it clear to him, and hope that it didn’t ruin a lovely friendship. But as it happened, I didn’t quite get that far before I had something far more serious to worry about. David had asked me round to his place one evening after I finished work to look at the latest flower baskets. When I’d finished admiring his work, he suggested we might have a quick drink together at the Horse. I decided that might give me a good opportunity to try to tackle the awkward talk we needed to have.
‘Hang on, I’ll just give KitKat his dinner, or he’ll sulk all the time we’re out,’ he said cheerfully. I laughed. KitKat was, as David had said, a big softie when he wasn’t at the vet’s. I went to the bathroom while David dished up his food.
But all thoughts of dinner left my mind by the time I returned to the kitchen. I called out to David with a trembling voice, and he spun round in surprise. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, his voice full of concern.
I felt weak and had to sit down abruptly. Something wasn’t right at all. ‘I think I need to go to the hospital,’ I said, suddenly feeling faint from the shock. ‘I’m bleeding, David. I … think I might be going to m
iscarry.’
‘Oh my God. What – it’s just happened, just like that?’ he said, looking horrified.
‘Yes! I … don’t know why – I’ve been feeling fine, I don’t think anything’s changed, but – oh, David, I’m sorry to ask you, but please can you get me to the hospital?’
And at that moment, I realised nothing else really mattered to me. Not whether David did, or didn’t, like me as more than a friend. Not whether Adam would ever forgive me for finishing with him, or whether Joe was ever going to become less of an enigma and more easy to work with. None of them were as important to me as this baby. It hadn’t even crossed my mind for a minute that anything could go wrong with the pregnancy and now that I was afraid it might, I was desperately, acutely aware that it would break my heart. I couldn’t lose this baby. Anything but that. And as David helped me into his battered old car, frowning with anxiety and trying his best to soothe me, I found myself praying like mad – to a God I wasn’t too sure about these days but desperately hoped might listen anyway.
‘Please, God!’ I whispered, and David squeezed my hand before starting the car for the journey into town. ‘Please, please don’t let me lose this baby.’
Not when I’d only just realised how terribly much I wanted it.
Coming soon from Ebury Press:
THE VETS AT HOPE GREEN
Part 3
TOO CLOSE TO HOME
Things are finally starting to look up for Sam – a chance at her dream job as a vet, and a handsome man keen to date her (who is a huge animal lover himself – a very important detail!) What more could she ask for?
But a secret is eating away at her, something she feels she cannot and will not reveal to her boss Joe who is still acting strangely around her, and having dreamed of being a vet for so long, she cannot afford to put a step wrong.
When a call to tend to a sick pony comes into the practice, it all strikes too close to home for Sam and Joe. The odds are stacked against her, and she risks losing everything…
The Vets at Hope Green, Part 2 Page 6