Must Be Love (22 page)

I refrain from observing that you can’t really miss it, in case I frighten her. There’s a mole on her shin, a volcanic island of brown pigment exploding from the surface. I bite my lip, worrying about how to deliver my opinion, because it doesn’t take a specialist to work out that it’s probably a melanoma and a malignant one at that. Sally’s worked it out too – I’ve no idea how, but that’s why she’s been so persistent.

‘I keep telling her to see the doctor,’ Declan says.

‘I don’t believe in doctors,’ Penny cuts in sharply. ‘If they’d been on the ball the night of the accident, they’d have picked up on Mark’s condition and operated sooner. He might not have died.’

I notice how Declan touches her shoulder.

‘You don’t know that,’ he whispers.

‘I know.’ Penny rests her hand on Declan’s.

‘It isn’t for me to say what that mark is, but Declan’s right. You really must see a doctor and the sooner the better.’ Sally might not be the most helpful assistance dog in the world, but she’s probably saved Penny’s life.

‘Thank you, Maz,’ Declan says as I’m leaving. ‘I’ll make sure she contacts the surgery ASAP. Without Penny, I’m without a job.’ His mouth curves into a lopsided grin. ‘Sorry about the black humour – it goes with the territory. I expect it’s the same for vets.’

It’s true. Sometimes in this job you just have to laugh, otherwise you’d break down and cry, but today I can’t find anything to laugh about. I think of Emma and Ben, standing out there in the rain beside a tiny grave, and run to the car. I drive away along the lanes until I find a convenient gateway where I park up and have a good sob. I don’t know how long I sit there, hot salt tears trickling down my cheeks as I stare at the water pouring down the windscreen, my heart breaking.

Eventually I pull myself together before heading back via the church, but it’s too late. They’ve gone. All that’s left is a rectangular patch of earth – a child-sized patch, which makes it seem even more poignant – marked with a soggy brown teddy bear, a yellow ribbon round its neck, a sprig of purple heather and footprints in the grass. To the right is a grey stone wall, to the left, Emma’s parents’ grave, marked by a simple granite memorial. I lay my flowers alongside the teddy bear and do my crying alone among the dead, the generations of families who’ve lived in Talyton St George.

I’ve been so stupid … I’ve let Emma down. All I wish now is that I could turn the clock back and be there for Emma when she needed me most.

‘How was the funeral?’ Frances asks when I get back.

‘What do you think?’ I say, my voice thick.

‘Upsetting, of course,’ she says, and I know she’s hoping for more, like the details of what Emma was wearing, what words of comfort the vicar gave, but I can’t tell her. ‘I guess I’ll find out all about it when I’m at church on Sunday,’ she goes on, and I shrink at the thought of what she’s going to say when she finds out I wasn’t there.

Up in the staffroom, I sit on the sofa with Ginge and check my phone. Alex has left a message.

I hope it went okay. Meet l8r. Alexx

I text back.

Feel terrible – I missed it. Mazx

Alex texts me again.

Sure u had gd reason. Em will understand. Alexx

I let Ginge down when he starts clawing at my legs through my dress. It isn’t malicious – he’s purring happily at the same time. I head up to the flat to get changed again, before returning to work until seven-thirty, when Alex drops by.

‘I bought you some more Marmite,’ he says, smiling as he kisses me. ‘I noticed the jars on the win-dowsill the other day. Can I make you some toast, or can I take you out for dinner? We could try the new Indian.’

‘The one on the way into Talysands?’

‘I’ve heard it’s very good,’ Alex goes on.

‘I’m not sure,’ I say slowly. ‘I’m really tired …’

‘I can get you back here for ten.’ Alex rests his hands lightly on my shoulders. ‘Oh, Maz, you do look shattered. Why don’t you run yourself a bath and have a relaxing soak while I go and get us a takeaway?’

‘What, all the way from Talysands? It’ll get cold.’

‘It’ll be fine – I’ll stick it in the oven when I get back.’

‘Thanks, darling,’ I say, leaning up and kissing him gently on the cheek, grateful for his offer. I can’t face going out tonight.

I’m still in the bath when Alex returns. The tealights I lit have gone out and the bubbles have dispersed, but I don’t get out until Alex sits on the edge and, laughing at my protests, pulls out the plug.

‘Alex, it’s freezing,’ I say, but his answer is to throw me a towel.

‘So, how was your day?’ he asks when we’re settled on the sofa, eating korma and rice straight from the carton. ‘What stopped you going to the funeral?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know what came over me – I got to the church, but I couldn’t …’ I pause, swallowing hard. ‘I couldn’t do it, Alex. I drove off.’ I put my food aside on the arm of the sofa, unable to eat any more.

‘But why?’ Alex frowns. ‘Whatever possessed you? You and Emma, you’ve been friends for years.’

‘I don’t know.’ Sensing Alex’s disapproval, I bury my face in my hands and start to sob. ‘I just couldn’t face it.’

‘I can’t believe you’re that selfish, putting your feelings over and above Emma’s.’

‘How dare you say I’m selfish!’ I snap back, but Alex continues.

‘You’ve said yourself that Emma’s stuck by you through thick and thin. I don’t understand you sometimes, Maz.’ Alex’s voice softens slightly. ‘Actually, I don’t understand you pretty often …’

I feel myself shrinking, sliding further down in his estimation. I used to believe I was at least a nine point five on a scale of one to ten, but I can’t be any higher than a two now.

‘I suppose you’re under a lot of extra pressure at the moment,’ he begins again.

‘Nothing I can’t handle, though,’ I say quickly, my pride pricked at the very idea I might not be coping.

‘You’re overdoing it – running the practice without Emma, being pregnant. It’s too much for you.’

‘Alex, don’t tell me what’s too much for me and what isn’t.’ I stand up, anger building inside me. How dare he assume what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling. I stare at him and he gazes back, his eyes filled with compassion, which only upsets me more.

‘You might not be able to see it, but I can,’ he says slowly. He gets up too and moves across to me, gently enfolds me in his arms and tries to pull me close, but I hold him away, my body rigid with fury and anguish. ‘Maz?’ he murmurs. ‘Please …’

I look up into his eyes and my resistance melts away. I lean against him, letting fresh tears soak into his soft cotton shirt, while he runs his fingers through my hair and whispers to me that everything will be all right, that he’ll look after me for ever.

‘Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry.’

By the time he leaves for work early in the morning, I feel marginally happier, although still terribly guilty. Watching Alex go from the upstairs window, I touch my stomach. I can’t possibly redeem myself and make up for what I’ve done, but I can do my utmost to stop what happened to Emma’s baby happening to mine. I owe it to my baby, and to Alex, to make sure it’s fit and healthy, so I make the appointment Alex has been nagging me about – to see one of Ben’s colleagues at the surgery.

The next Monday, I leave Drew in charge yet again – it’s becoming a habit. Frances gives me a look when I head out and my skin grows cold because I know she knows I lied about the funeral. At the doctor’s surgery, I run into Ben in the waiting room. I can tell he’s itching to ask me why I’m there, but I can’t say, even though I know he’s bound to find out eventually. I hold my bag across my stomach to hide any telltale bulge – it’s still tiny, but Ben’s an expert. He doesn’t miss much.

‘Er, hi,’ I say, trying to avoid looking him in the eye.

‘You didn’t come to the funeral,’ he says. ‘We missed you.’

‘I’m sorry. I had an emergency. A visit. Up at Talyford.’ I hesitate. ‘How did it go?’

‘It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do …’ Ben’s voice cracks. ‘Still, it’s done now.’ He recovers himself. ‘You haven’t been attacked by another crazy collie?’ he asks lightly, referring to an occasion when I had to see him for a rather nasty dog bite.

I shake my head. ‘It’s a bit personal, Ben.’

He changes the subject, apparently satisfied I’m not insulting his professional reputation. There are certain things I can’t show my best friend’s husband.

‘Emma’s not coping very well,’ he says.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I can’t do anything,’ he goes on. ‘I can’t make her feel better.’ Ben’s shoulders, normally so broad and strong, sag a little. ‘I wish she’d understand – it hurts me too.’ Then he forces a smile. ‘I didn’t realise how much I wanted a child until I discovered how difficult it was going to be to have one.’

A knot of guilt forms in my belly at the thought of how easy it was for me and Alex.

‘It makes it worse, seeing the lengths some of my patients go to to have a family.’

And I want to say, At least you know Emma can fall pregnant, but it would come out wrong and I’d regret it.

‘Perhaps she’ll talk to you,’ Ben goes on.

‘Maybe.’ It doesn’t seem terribly likely as she’s rebuffed me twice over the weekend. When I phoned, she said it wasn’t convenient to talk, and when I turned up on her doorstep with Miff, thinking she might find having the dog back a comfort, she took her, but didn’t invite me in.

‘Has she mentioned anything about coming back to work?’ I ask, and Ben tips his head to one side and stares at me. ‘It would be useful to have some idea. The paperwork’s building up, the unpaid bills and the invoices, and there are several clients waiting to see her in particular.’

‘That’s typical of you, isn’t it, Maz?’ Ben says sharply. ‘Emma’s going through the worst experience of her life, and all you can think about is work and that bloody practice of yours.’

‘Ben!’ I take a step back. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘All right.’ He holds his hands up. ‘I know you didn’t. It’s me. I overreacted. Against my colleagues’ advice, Emma’s decided she’s coming back on Monday – but then you vets always think you know better than us medics. I’ll see you around,’ he adds, and strides right past me out of the surgery.

I don’t have to wait for long before Dr Clark calls me into her consulting room. I haven’t met her before, but she seems pleasant. She’s older than me by about ten years, I’d guess, tall, dark-haired and dressed smartly in a trouser suit and big beads.

‘Hi, I’m Maz,’ I say as I take a seat.

‘And I’m Marietta,’ she says, running her eye down her computer screen. ‘You’re the vet, Emma’s partner at Otter House. The au pair brought our rabbit in to see you not long ago – you neutered him for us.’

I remember Izzy describing the rather striking lionhead as ‘the rampant rabbit’.

‘He’s much better behaved now,’ Marietta goes on. ‘Much less of an embarrassment when we have other children round for tea. We don’t have to go into all the explanation about why he’s shagging the cat.’ She smiles. ‘Anyway, how can I help?’

‘I’m fine actually.’ Then I retract. ‘No, I’m not really – I’m pregnant.’

‘Right,’ she says, non-committally. ‘Are you happy about that?’

‘I’m not sure … Let’s say I’m getting used to the idea.’

‘You’ve done a test?’

‘Yes. I probably should have come to see you sooner – I’m eleven weeks gone already.’

‘You’re sure of your dates?’

‘Absolutely,’ I confirm.

‘In that case, we’d better check you out and get you booked in for your first scan, which we do at about twelve weeks.’

I thank Marietta when I leave the surgery, having been prodded, poked and thoroughly interrogated on virtually every aspect of my lifestyle, and thinking how odd it feels being the patient for a change.

Ben is still outside in his car. I wave, but he doesn’t look up.

I make my way back to Otter House – I walk because it’s only round the corner. I call Alex, expecting to have to leave a message on his voicemail, but he answers himself.

‘Hi, darling,’ he says, as if he’s been waiting for me to phone. ‘I’ve been thinking of you this morning. How did it go?’

‘All well so far. I’ve got a date for a scan next week. Tuesday, eleven o’clock.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ he says.

‘You don’t have to,’ is my instant reaction.

‘Maz, I want to,’ he says. His tone is light, but I can detect a warning note: don’t argue, Maz. The decision is made. ‘I probably shouldn’t ask,’ he goes on, ‘but due to a muddle-up with the admin back at the Manor, we’re short of dog vaccine. I don’t suppose there’s any chance –’

‘Yes, of course,’ I say, smiling. ‘We’ve just had an order come in so we’re well stocked up.’

‘I’ll drop by later, then,’ he says. ‘I’m on my way to take some wires out of a horse’s jaw and then I’ve got to see some calves with the scours. And it looks as if it’s about to rain.’

‘Good luck, then. That’s why I chose small animal practice – so I could stay indoors and work in comfort, not slosh about in rain and muck. I’ll see you soon. Take care.’

‘And you. Don’t overdo it, will you?’

‘Alex, you don’t have to tell me,’ I say, happy that he remembered the doctor’s appointment and pleased he’s offered to accompany me to the scan. ‘Anyway, Drew’s making himself useful. I’ve left him working his way through the ops.’ I’ve discovered that he’s perfectly capable of dealing with the routine stuff as long as Izzy gives him the odd nudge to remind him which patient is which, and to keep his notes up to date, as he can be a bit slapdash. ‘I hope those calves are okay,’ I add, but the phone cuts off. When I redial, the signal’s lost.

I’m in touch with Emma several times more during the week – by phone and by text. I don’t mention the funeral and neither does she. I ask her to join me for a girls’ night out – not at the Talymill Inn because I can’t face running into Clive – but she declines. On the one hand, she says she isn’t ready to enjoy herself. On the other, she makes it clear she wants to be treated as normal when she comes back to work, so normal it is. On the morning of her return, I get the coffee on and the doughnuts in.

‘I’m so glad you’re back.’ I give her a hug as she comes through the door, noticing how she’s lost weight and got herself a new hairstyle, a shorter bob with an asymmetric fringe.