Vets in Love (14 page)

‘Now, we’re being watched,’ he murmurs.

I groan with frustration as we pull apart and sit up.

Sage is peering out of the kitchen, half hidden by the partially open back door, and in spite of hearing my sister telling her to leave us alone, it’s somehow stolen the moment.

‘Everything else I want to do with you, girlfriend, needs to be done in private,’ Matt says, his cheeks flushed with colour, as he stands and holds out his
hand to help me up. ‘I’m sorely tempted to kiss you again, but we’ll wait. It’s going to seem a very long time until Saturday.’ He squeezes my hand. ‘I hope all goes well with your sister. She seems to be in a bit of a state.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I repeat.

‘Don’t be. These things happen.’ He tips his head to one side. ‘The Bobster dog will be pleased. I shall go and spend the rest of the evening with her.’

I see Matt out, only to find Frances from next door ringing the bell. She uses her free hand to put her specs on – the frames are elaborate, like bejewelled butterflies – and readjust her hair. I believe she wears a wig because the colour changes from day to day. Tonight it appears the colour of pink grapefruit and clashes with her blue Paisley print tunic.

‘Oh, hello,’ she says, addressing Matt rather than me.

‘I’ll be off.’ He rolls his eyes at me as he sidles past her. ‘I’ll text you.’

‘Make it soon,’ I say, fending off Frances’s attempted invasion of the house by blocking her way. ‘Hi, Frances. Before you ask, everything’s fine.’

‘I know. Fifi dropped by to tell me when I was at work. Is there anything I can do, anything you need for your unexpected visitors? I have blankets, pillows and spare towels.’

‘Thank you, but I think they’ve found everything they could possibly need,’ I say wryly.

‘Oh? All right then. I’ll leave you in peace.’ She pauses. ‘By the way, I brought you this.’ She holds out
a plastic tub. ‘I imagine you’re ready to make another friendship cake by now.’

‘Oh no, Frances, I haven’t the time.’

‘Of course you have, dear. Besides, I’d be most grateful if you could take this one on, only I’ve exhausted my friends at the practice and the WI, and it isn’t right to let the yeast die. This very same yeast has been making the rounds of Talyton St George for the past three years – to break the chain would be a bad omen, like neglecting to deal with a chain letter.’

Thanking her again, I take it from her. She’s given me two tubs of the stuff before, but anything for peace and quiet, I think, both of which are distinctly lacking when I return to the kitchen, having made sure the front door is securely shut.

‘Will we see Granma while we’re here?’ Sage asks.

‘I hope so,’ I say at the same time as Cheska says, ‘No.’

‘I remember Granma,’ says Sage, but Gabriel has never met her, although he claims to have done.

‘Describe her then.’ Sage, now half dressed in a vest and pyjama bottoms, challenges her brother. ‘What colour is her hair?’

‘Black,’ says Gabriel. ‘She looks like a witch.’ He cackles with laughter.

‘No, she doesn’t.’

‘That’s enough,’ Cheska says, breaking them up before World War Three erupts. ‘I don’t want to hear any more about Granma.’

‘Auntie Nicci, I was wondering where we’re all going to sleep,’ Sage says, changing the subject.

‘Let me think,’ I say, my mind drifting back to the kiss. It’s hard to concentrate on anything, but eventually, I sort out the sleeping arrangements. Cheska and Gabriel are to share my double bed, while Sage has the single bed in the spare room and I have the futon in the attic. I imagined that Sage and Gabriel would play up about going to bed in a strange place, but they are both sound asleep within ten minutes of Cheska tucking them in.

My sister rejoins me in the kitchen where I’ve made myself a tuna sandwich, not quite what I was planning for dinner.

‘I would say make yourself at home, but it seems you already have.’ I put the kettle on. ‘More tea?’

‘I could do with something stronger.’

I fetch the rest of the bottle of wine. She drinks the first glass in one go.

‘Cheska, aren’t you going to tell me what you’re doing here? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for ages, I hardly ever manage to speak to you and suddenly you turn up at my house.’

‘I thought we’d come and see you, Sis,’ she says.

‘You could have called, or even texted me to let me know you were coming.’

‘Don’t you want us here?’

‘Of course I do. You’re always welcome. How many times have I told you that?’ I say, dropping a dirty knife into the dishwasher and slamming the door shut with some annoyance at my sister’s inability to see my point of view.

‘You could have fooled me,’ she says. ‘You’ve been a little off with me since we arrived.’

‘That’s unfair. I had to leave work early because the police were outside my house with a suspected burglar inside.’

‘I’ve told you, we let ourselves in. The door was open.’

‘You should have come round to the surgery first.’ I’m aware that Cheska is staring at me the way she used to when we were children.

‘Should have, could have, would have,’ she says, tipping her head to one side. ‘You’re as bossy as ever.’

‘It’s a big sister’s prerogative,’ I say, smiling as my mind fills with memories of how we used to spend time together and how I imposed my wish to play horses on her.

‘That’s your opinion,’ she says, her expression softening. ‘I suppose it wasn’t all that convenient us turning up this evening. The boyfriend seems nice.’

‘Hands off,’ I say, more cheerfully. ‘How’s Alan?’ Alan is Gabriel’s father. Sage calls Alan her dad, although her real father isn’t around any more. He left my sister when Sage was small.

‘Oh, we’re on a break.’

‘I should have guessed. I’m so sorry …’ I try to get my sister to look on the bright side. ‘If you’re on a break, it isn’t irretrievable.’

Cheska stares into her wineglass. Her lip trembles and a tear rolls down her cheek. She puts her shades on, but I tell her to take them off because she doesn’t have to hide anything from me. She’s always been like this, either upbeat and positive, or down in the depths
of despair. The problem with my sister is that she feels far too much.

‘I love him, but it isn’t working,’ she sobs. ‘We’re at each other’s throats all the time. There’s no one else. It’s all about money, or the lack of it.’

‘Are you in debt again?’

‘Who isn’t?’

‘How much?’ I ask, but, like a chancellor struggling to stay in power, she isn’t going to reveal the extent of the deficit. ‘You should have told me this sooner. I can pay off your debts and you can repay me when you’re in a position to do so.’

‘Nicci, I can’t keep running to you for help. I have to do this on my own.’ She grabs a piece of kitchen roll and blows her nose.

‘You don’t have to though,’ I say, reaching out for her shoulder and giving her the slightest shake. ‘We’re always here for you.’

‘We?’ she says, her voice suddenly laced with suspicion.

‘Me—’ I hesitate before going on ‘—and Mum.’

Cheska falls silent.

‘Does she know you’re here?’ I lean closer. ‘Haven’t you told her?’

‘Why should I? She hates me.’

‘She doesn’t. I’ve seen her in tears, devastated because she doesn’t know if you’re safe.’

‘If her grandchildren are safe, you mean? She doesn’t care about me. You were always the golden daughter.’

‘What happened is in the past.’ It’s almost fourteen
years ago now since Cheska disappeared for the first time.

‘Try telling her that. I’ll never forgive her for the way she treated me.’

‘You weren’t very kind to her, running away from home like that, pregnant and with a complete stranger.’

‘He wasn’t a complete stranger. He was Sage’s father.’

‘He was old enough to know better than to take advantage of a sixteen-year-old girl and isolate her from her family.’

‘What family?’ Cheska growls. ‘You were away at uni, Dad had moved in with the scarlet harlot – and I don’t know how you can go on about the age gap between me and Ewan when that woman was less than half Dad’s age.’

‘What about Mum?’ I cut in. ‘She was there for you.’

‘She treated me like I was six. She followed me when I went out. She even locked me in once.’

‘Because she was petrified you were going to get yourself into some kind of trouble, which you did.’

‘She hated Ewan. She wouldn’t let him anywhere near the house.’

‘Because he was a thief.’

‘That’s what she thought. He wasn’t a thief, Nicci.’

‘Why did he end up in prison then?’

‘That was after. He was set up.’

I take a deep breath. I don’t want to argue but, ‘I’m going to have to tell her,’ I say.

‘Don’t, because she’ll be straight round. Nicci, give me a chance to get myself together. I’m not up to a fight right now.’

She’s very calm now and I can see I’m not going to get through to her tonight. I pour her a second and then a third glass of the wine I bought for Matt. By midnight, the bottle is drained and so am I.

‘I’m going to bed,’ I say eventually. ‘I have a riding

lesson in the morning, so I might not see you before I go.’

‘The kids will be up at the crack of dawn. Gabriel is an early bird, not a night owl.’ Cheska smiles weakly. ‘I hope we don’t disturb you.’ She is grateful and contrite. We hug.

‘Everything will be all right,’ I tell her.

I retire to the futon, which is so lumpy it makes me feel like the girl in ‘The Princess and the Pea.’ I check my mobile and find that I’ve missed a text from Matt. ‘Hope all well XXX.’ I text him back. ‘XXXX.’

Chapter Eight

Only the Horses

‘
HELLO, NICCI. CUP
of tea for you.’ The early dawn light sears the back of my eyes – there are no blinds on the attic windows – and the figure of my niece gradually forms in front of me, a good fairy in tatty blue pyjamas, holding out a mug.

‘What time is it?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know. Mummy said you had to get up early because it’s Monday morning. It’s early.’

I look for the alarm clock, but remember I’m in the wrong room. I squint at my mobile. Five a.m.

‘Please don’t be cross.’

‘I’m not cross.’ I pull myself up and take the mug from her. ‘Thank you very much for the wake-up call.’ As she perches on the edge of the futon, I refrain from pointing out that five o’clock is early even for me. I was hoping for a lie-in. ‘Did you sleep all right?’

She nods. ‘I slept with Mummy and Gabriel in the end.’

Smiling at the thought that I may well join them, having spent three uncomfortable nights on the futon, I take a sip of the watery, sweet fluid in the mug.

‘That is a lovely cup of tea,’ I say. ‘Have you found yourself some breakfast?’ I go on, noticing the cornflake stuck to her sleeve. This is a girl who knows her way around a cupboard.

‘Mummy says she’ll give you some money.’

‘She does, does she? Well, you’re my guests. You don’t have to pay your way while you’re staying here.’ I place the mug on the floor at the same time as a loud crash reverberates through the house from downstairs.

‘What is that?’ Sage says, wide-eyed at the distinct tinkling sound of breaking glass.

‘I think you mean what
was
that?’ I sigh. Pulling my duvet around me, I head downstairs with Sage running ahead to find Gabriel sitting on the kitchen floor surrounded by the remains of at least three glasses. He’s crying his eyes out and holding up his finger which is dripping blood.

‘I hurt myself.’

‘Nicci, he’s bleeding,’ Sage says, squatting down beside him.

‘Sage, be careful. You haven’t got any shoes on and there’s glass everywhere. Everyone, keep still.’ I check Gabriel’s wound, and having ascertained that he isn’t going to bleed to death I grab a dustpan and brush and sweep up as much of the glass as I can before I fetch the first aid kit.

It isn’t the best stocked of kits, considering I’m a doctor, and there’s a muddle of horsey and human
equipment in the box. I end up applying a dressing followed by a veterinary bandage to hold it on. It’s overkill really, but Gabriel loves the fact that it’s purple.

Sage finds him some breakfast while I clear up, but within minutes he’s off again and before I know it, he’s making a den in the living room with the cushions from the sofa and a boat from the coffee table turned upside down. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. The house is a mess, and Gabriel is giggling and shouting, ‘Auntie Nicci, ahoy there!’

‘Ahoy there to you,’ I call back with a chuckle before turning away to gaze out of the window. Bridget, the florist, gives me a wave as she takes her dogs into the churchyard for a stroll. I wave back.

‘Have you got some rope?’ Sage asks. ‘We’re going to get a sheet and make a sail.’

‘There’s some string in the kitchen,’ Cheska says, joining us. ‘Morning, Nicci. I hope you don’t mind – I’ve borrowed your dressing gown.’

‘Do I mind?’ I start to laugh. ‘Cheska, it’s like my home’s been taken over by an alien race, but no … I don’t mind in the slightest.’ I was craving company and now I have it. The house has come alive.

Having told my sister and the kids to make themselves at home, I get ready for work. I’m itching to call Mum, but decide to give Cheska a couple more days to get herself together and call her herself, hoping that the gossips don’t get to Mum first.

‘Nicci, a word,’ Ben says quietly from the doorway of his consulting room when I arrive at the surgery just in
time for my first appointment a few days later. ‘In here,’ he adds.

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask. It’s ridiculous, but my heart is beating hard. Has someone made a complaint of some kind? It does happen occasionally.

‘Oh, nothing’s wrong,’ he says, smiling as he sits down at his desk, his fingers forming a steeple under his chin. ‘I didn’t want to ask you about a rather delicate situation in front of the others, but are you and Matt Warren an item?’ Ben’s cheeks grow pink. ‘I overheard the others talking.’

‘Yes, I think I can say that now.’ I find myself blushing too. ‘It’s all right though, he’s no longer a patient.’

‘And you let me call him a misogynist,’ Ben says, teasing me. ‘Really, Nicci.’