Must Be Love (10 page)

‘I’m sorry.’ At first I’m afraid I won’t be able to leave her in the state she’s in, but she rallies, forcing a small smile.

‘Listen to me going on. I’m holding you up.’

‘Not at all,’ I say, suppressing an impulse to check my watch, as I’m supposed to be meeting Alex back at Otter House. ‘Can I help you with anything? Feed Sally for you?’

‘No, you go, Maz. Declan, my carer, he’s left some chicken and rice ready for her.’

‘All right, then. I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning to make sure Sally’s okay.’

‘That’s very kind of you. Maz, you and the staff at Otter House have been wonderful. I’ve had lots of lovely chats on the phone with Frances, Emma, Izzy and Shannon. No one’s ever made me feel a nuisance.’

Feeling rather embarrassed at Penny’s gushing praise, I wish her goodnight.

‘We’ll speak tomorrow,’ I promise.

I drive back to Talyton beneath a star-studded sky that seems to hint at romance. My pulse quickens with anticipation at the thought of seeing Alex. It may sound trite, but every hour feels like a day when we’re apart, and I wish we could spend more time together. He’s waiting for me, standing on the doorstep with a bag from Mr Rock’s, Talyton’s one and only takeaway.

‘Hi, Maz. I thought I was late. I dropped by to see Delphi on my way back from my last call – I got the PM results on her horse at last.’ I can feel Alex’s eyes searching my face and I’m afraid he can read my mind. ‘I wanted to give them to her face to face. It’s better than by phone, don’t you think?’ he goes on. ‘Kinder.’

And I can’t help thinking, She doesn’t pay you to be kind, which is ridiculous because I’d do exactly the same for one of my clients.

‘You aren’t jealous of Delphi, are you?’ Alex asks suddenly.

‘Me? No …’ My squeaky tone of voice betrays me.

‘Maz, you don’t fool me.’

‘Maybe I am, just a bit,’ I say, slightly ashamed.

‘When have I ever given you any reason?’ he begins.

‘It isn’t you,’ I cut in. ‘It’s me and my jealous mind and something your mother said at the party … about her hopes for you and Delphi.’

‘She’ll be a long time hoping.’ Alex chuckles. ‘I could never fancy Delphi – she just isn’t my type. Anyway, I’m flattered that you think me such a good catch,’ Alex goes on, ‘but I can assure you I’m too bloody knackered to do anything with another woman. It’s all I can do to raise a smile.’

‘All right,’ I say, embarrassed at letting my paranoia and insecurity show through.

‘Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?’

I shake my head, and he takes me in his arms.

‘I’m all yours, darling. I can stay all night – if you still want me.’

‘Of course I want you,’ I murmur, my skin growing hot as he slips one cold, roughened hand inside my jeans and strokes my buttock.

‘I’ve heard all about your day,’ he says, after we’ve shared a lingering kiss.

‘Even that we’re interviewing for a locum tomorrow?’

‘No, I didn’t know that, but I did hear that your trainee fainted and one of your clients defected.’

‘How?’ I say, reluctantly tearing myself away and unlocking the door to let us in.

‘Frances gave me the gossip when I rang for Petra’s notes. It’s all right. I don’t feel in the slightest bit superior about this.’ Alex’s smile gives away the lie. ‘It isn’t every day a client chooses Talyton Manor Vets over Otter House.’ Alex takes his boots off and leaves them in Reception before following me into the corridor and up the stairs to the flat.

‘Clive didn’t waste any time, then.’ I hesitate on the top step with Alex a couple of steps below me. His waxed coat smells of sheep and his jeans are muddy.

‘He came straight up to the Manor. My father saw him.’

‘There wasn’t anything wrong, was there? I mean, with the op?’ I have a spine-chilling vision of an internal ligature slipping, of Petra bleeding to death.

‘No. He wanted to be sure she wasn’t in any pain.’

‘I gave her painkillers,’ I say quickly, a little upset that anyone who knew me could imagine I’d leave an animal in distress.

‘Clive wanted her checked over – he thought the anaesthetic might have damaged her brain.’

‘What did your father say to that?’

‘Well’ – Alex rubs the back of his neck – ‘you know how tact isn’t his strong point.’

‘Okay, I get it.’ I have a flat, metallic taste in my mouth. It can take months to gain a client’s trust. It takes only seconds to blow it. ‘Did Petra have a go at your father?’

‘No way,’ Alex says. ‘No dog would dare, and if they did, he’d probably bite them back. Why?’

‘She went for Shannon today.’

‘Oh? Father didn’t mention that.’

‘Clive probably didn’t either,’ I say, feeling a little gloomy about it again, but then I look at Alex and put it aside. Now I’ve got him to myself at last, I’m going to make the most of it.

In the kitchen, which is open plan to the living room, I take the bag of takeaway and start searching for two clean plates, while Alex sinks into the sofa and stretches out his long legs. I can see his socks: odd ones with holes.

‘Didn’t anyone buy you socks for Christmas?’ I bought him a watch because he’d lost his while he was out on his rounds – he said he’d get all his dairy farmers to listen to their cows to see if they could work out which one was ticking.

‘I’m saving them for best.’ Alex grins that wicked grin of his and I want to say, Let’s forget the food. The thought of curling up with Alex is far more appetising than a veggie cutlet and chips from Mr Rock’s, but I don’t want to offend him after he’s gone to the trouble of queuing up for it.

I manage to find some ketchup in the back of the fridge. I don’t check the date on it, but it looks all right on the plate: red and watery.

‘Are you sure that isn’t something that’s lost its way to the Path lab,’ Alex remarks, when I hand it to him, but I notice it doesn’t put him off. He eats all his dinner and half of mine, then makes coffee and sits back down beside me on the sofa.

I lean against him, resting my head in the crook of his shoulder, and start telling him about the rest of my day. About how I managed to bond with Shannon over a mutual tendency to faint, about how I felt something had changed between me and Emma …

‘It’s almost as if she wants to forget about the practice. It’s as if she wants to leave it all to me and this locum, if we take him on.’ Alex doesn’t respond, so I give him a nudge. ‘Am I boring you?’ I look up at the slow, even pulse in his neck, the stubble on his cheek, dark and pricked with grey here and there, at his lips parted in a quiet snore. ‘Alex?’ I reach out and stroke his hand, noting the grain of his skin, stained with purple spray. He works so very hard. How could I doubt him?

Alex stays overnight, snoring lightly beside me as I struggle to get to sleep, aware all the time that one of our phones might ring at any moment as we’re both on call. The broken nights are something I’ve never quite got used to, and when Alex wakes me in the morning, gently stroking my shoulder, I feel as if I’m going to need eyelid surgery to get my eyes open.

‘I’m sorry for waking you – my mother says you should always let sleeping vets lie. I’ve got to go, darling,’ Alex says, sliding out of bed.

‘Do you have to?’ I say, my voice thick with sleep. ‘I said I’d be at Stewart’s early for his routine fertility visit.’

‘I thought Stewart was the last person who needed fertility tests,’ I say lightly, stretching my limbs across the warm space he’s left. ‘All those children …’

Alex chuckles as he pulls on his shirt and starts fastening the buttons.

‘Good luck with the locum. You’re interviewing him today, aren’t you?’

‘I think Emma’s already decided he’s the one.’ I smile when Alex leans down and presses his lips to my cheek. ‘Will I see you later?’

‘I’m on call.’

‘So’m I.’

‘So the chances are …’ Alex’s voice trails off.

‘Yeah,’ I say regretfully.

I must have nodded off again, because when I finally surface it’s gone eight-thirty. I throw on some clothes, grab a drink and a cereal bar, and head straight downstairs.

From the noise, anyone would think there’s a riot going on in Kennels. I push the door open to find Shannon sobbing, black tracks of mascara running down her cheeks, and Izzy unfurling a fire blanket. There are flames dancing on a bubbling tar-like substance on the plate in the microwave. Izzy slams the door on them and throws the blanket over the top.

‘I’m no Gordon Ramsay, but that looks more like crispy duck than boiled chicken.’ Keeping an eye on the microwave, Izzy addresses Shannon. ‘How long did you give it?’

‘Thirty minutes on h-h-high. I didn’t know, did I? When Mum cooks chicken, she leaves it in the oven for hours, all morning on a Sunday.’

‘This is a microwave – you must have used a microwave before.’

‘Only for popcorn.’ Shannon wrings her hands, and clicks the joints in her fingers, one by one.

‘I despair,’ says Izzy.

‘I used my initiative like you said,’ Shannon goes on, ‘and I still can’t get it right.’

‘It’s too early in the day for all this,’ I cut in wearily. I turn to Izzy. ‘Is that machine safe?’

‘I’ve pulled the plug out,’ Izzy says. ‘I don’t think we should use it again.’

‘You’d better put in an order for another one,’ I say, wondering how many cats we’ll need to vaccinate in order to claw back the cost.

‘There you are.’ Emma joins us. ‘Who’s ordering what now?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ I notice how Izzy flashes me a glance. I don’t want to bother Emma with trivial matters like microwaves when she’s made it perfectly clear she wants to concentrate on getting ready for the baby. I’m glad I didn’t utter that thought aloud – it sounds petty, grudging, when all I want is for her to enjoy this magical time that she believed would never happen.

‘Would someone mind telling me what on earth’s going on?’ Wrinkling her nose, Emma gazes at the smoking blanket. ‘I’ve been away five minutes and the place is on fire.’

‘Shannon cremated the chicken,’ I say, my eyes drawn to the man whose silhouette appears in the doorway. ‘Everything’s under control.’

Apparently satisfied, Emma waves the man through.

‘Meet Drew,’ she says, and I watch Shannon’s expression of abject despair turning to curiosity as she eyes up his deep tan and blond curls. He’s wearing a plain grey suit that seems too small for him, and carries a khaki man-bag slung over his shoulder.

‘Hi, I’m Maz.’ I hold out my hand to him, surprised at how tall he is, at least six foot two, and unsure whether to greet him with a handshake or a high five.

He smiles, his blue eyes lighting up like a summer sky.

‘Hi,’ he says in a sultry, sun-drenched voice.

‘Thanks for coming,’ Emma says. ‘I’m sorry it was such short notice.’

‘My current boss was glad to see the back of me for a couple of days.’ Drew tilts his head to one side. ‘He said he was looking forward to some peace and quiet.’

‘Oh?’ I say. What does he mean by that? I wonder. Is he very loud, or difficult to get on with? I glance towards Emma, who’s smiling and nodding, apparently unconcerned.

‘Would you like coffee, Drew?’ she says. ‘We can have a chat over doughnuts fresh from the bakery along the road, then give you the guided tour.’

‘I could kill for some caffeine,’ Drew says brightly. ‘The overnight sleeper is a bit of a misnomer if you ask me. I didn’t sleep a wink on that train.’

‘This way, then,’ Emma says, showing him through to the staffroom. I follow, pausing in the doorway to watch Drew approach the sofa where the two cats, Tripod and Ginge, are sleeping, one at each end.

‘Shoo them off,’ Emma says, hunting around for three clean mugs, but the cats are ahead of her. As Drew’s figure looms over them, they fly off in opposite directions, Ginge whisking out past my legs and Tripod running behind the sofa to hide.

‘I don’t think I’ve made a good impression on the cats,’ he says, smiling.

‘Oh, Ginge doesn’t like anyone except Maz,’ says Emma. ‘How do you like your coffee?’

‘Milk and one sugar,’ Drew says, sitting down. He opens his bag and pulls out a plastic wallet. ‘I’ve brought the references you asked for,’ he goes on, handing them to Emma in exchange for a mug of coffee and a doughnut.

‘Well, the most important thing for me is that you can start with us very soon,’ Emma begins, once we’re settled. ‘As you can see’ – she strokes her bump – ‘it won’t be very long before I have to cut my hours, and we’re really too busy here for one vet to cope alone.’

‘I don’t mind being busy,’ Drew says, ‘so long as I have some time to take in the sights, see a bit of surf.’ He takes a bite from his doughnut. The jam inside haemorrhages out onto his tie. ‘What’s the surf like here?’

Emma looks at me and I can tell what she’s thinking. Should we tell him or ignore it to save any embarrassment?

‘It’s pretty good,’ Emma says, ‘not that I know much about waves.’

I get up and grab a piece of paper towel, handing it to Drew.

‘Your tie,’ I say.

‘Thanks,’ he says, grimacing as he wipes it. ‘My boss isn’t going to be too pleased. I borrowed it, along with the suit.’ He looks up again. ‘Now, where were we? Oh yes, the waves …’

‘I don’t suppose the surf down at Talysands will be quite what you’re used to,’ I say, recalling those Old Spice adverts that used to be on the television. ‘The sea’s pretty cold too at this time of year.’ I notice how Emma casts me a light-hearted scowl as if to say, Stop putting him off.

‘We like to treat our vets – all our staff – humanely here at Otter House,’ Emma says. ‘You’ll work to a preplanned rota, so you’ll know well in advance when you’re off duty.’

‘I take it you’re happy with sole charge,’ I cut in. There are some vets who aren’t.

‘You’ll have a nurse available at all times,’ says Emma, ‘and you’ll always be able to get in touch with Maz, if anything comes in that you’re not sure about.’

‘I’m confident with the routine stuff and common emergencies,’ Drew says. ‘I’ve also had plenty of experience in exotics – rabbits, birds and reptiles.’

‘There aren’t that many reptiles in Talyton St George,’ Emma says, ‘unless you count one or two of our clients.’