Vets in Love (19 page)

Delphi is hauling back on the reins, keeping his neck tightly arched so his chin almost touches his chest. He looks as if he’s about to explode with tension, spattering white foam from his mouth, his coat dark with sweat, and snorting as he trots along, pounding his feet and sending up showers of grit that seem to wind him up more than ever.

‘Steady,’ Delphi says, her voice run through with desperation, ‘steady there. Nicci,’ she calls, ‘would you come and open the gate?’

I abandon Willow to let Delphi out of the school. She dismounts and gives the horse a jab in the mouth.

‘He’s a bit of a headcase,’ I say, recalling the pony I had on loan when I was thirteen, a New Forester called Pepper. I lost count of how many times I fell off.

‘I’m going to school this creature to within an inch of his life and then I’m going to sell him. He’s no use to me.’

‘It’s a shame.’ Dark Star is a charismatic horse and I’ve grown to admire his fighting spirit as I’ve got to know him better as Willow’s stable-mate, although I still don’t trust him.

‘I thought he’d make a fantastic dressage horse, but he hasn’t the temperament,’ Delphi continues. ‘Why don’t you have a ride on him sometime and see what you think?’

‘Er, no thanks,’ I say quickly. I’m just too busy, and besides, I want to stay in one piece.

‘You can’t rely on Willow being around for ever. You
could do with a second string to your bow, and Dark Star fits the bill.’

‘On paper, maybe.’ His breeding is perfect. ‘I’m not looking for another horse. I’m concentrating on Willow – she’s all the horse I need.’

‘Can you say the same for Matt?’ she says wickedly in that crystal-cut accent of hers. ‘Is he all the man you need?’

‘Delphi,’ I exclaim as she throws me Dark Star’s reins and I hang onto him while she drags his saddle off, hangs it over the stable door and sponges him down with cool water from a bucket. If this was an attempt to endear him to me, it doesn’t work because he’s on his toes, fidgeting, switching his tail and scraping his front foot on the concrete.

‘Have you thought about changing his feed?’ I ask Delphi.

‘I’ve stopped his oats.’ She hesitates. ‘Are you seeing Matt later?’

‘No, and I’m not talking shop when I do see him, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘It’s only a tiny thing, Nicci, just to ask him if he can get me some bromide to calm the horse down.’

‘Delphi …’ I don’t want to hassle Matt with veterinary questions when he isn’t at work. It’s happened more than once and I don’t want him to feel I’m taking advantage.

‘I can pick it up from the hospital one morning. I’ll send you a text to remind you.’ She throws a light rug over the horse’s back and takes the reins from me, leading him into his stable.

*

‘I can’t wait,’ Sage says, jumping up and down on our way to Tack n Hack the following Saturday afternoon. ‘I’m going to ride a pony.’

And I can’t wait, I think, smiling to myself, because I’m going to see Matt again at last. He’s meeting us in the car park at the yard so we can spend time together. The Bobster comes too and the four of us walk inside the shop, which is filled with all kinds of horsey gear: gleaming bits and stirrups, hand-crafted leatherwork, bridles, saddles and brushes. I buy various beauty products for Willow – specialist shampoos for grey horses, mane and tail conditioners and hoof oil to make her feet shine. The last thing I bought her was a pink browband inset with crystals.

The bell rings, calling one of Delphi’s army of horse-mad girls to the front.

‘Hi, Nicci. Can I help you?’

‘I’d have thought you’d know exactly where everything is,’ Matt teases. The scent of his aftershave mingles with the aromas of wax and saddle soap.

‘Sage here needs a hat, jodhpurs and boots.’

The girl looks at Sage. ‘I hear you’re riding Harry today. I learned to ride on him too. He’s lovely.’

Sage blushes and smiles.

‘I’ll go and find a couple of hats for you to try on,’ the girl goes on. ‘The jodhpurs are all on the rack over there.’

‘Shouldn’t you borrow the kit for a while to make sure she likes it?’ Matt says.

‘What do you mean “Make sure”? Of course she’s
going to like it. It’s in her genes,’ I say, grinning. ‘Lighten up, Matt.’

‘I’m afraid horses do tend to run in families, usually down the female line,’ he agrees. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to take up something like chess or tiddlywinks?’

‘Tiddlywinks?’ Sage starts giggling. ‘What’s that?’

‘In the days before computers, all we had to play with were plastic counters,’ Matt says gravely.

‘If it doesn’t involve ponies I’m not interested,’ Sage says. She puts her fingers in her ears. ‘La la la la la.’

‘I can’t imagine you playing tiddlywinks,’ I say, amused at the idea of Matt flicking counters across the floor for fun.

I stop to pick out two pairs of jodhpurs from the children’s rail. ‘Here, try these on, Sage.’

Matt and I wait outside the refurbished changing room while Sage changes into a grown-up beige pair, followed by a fun pair in pink and navy.

‘Aren’t you worried she’ll hurt herself? What does her mum think?’ Matt says quietly.

‘Matt, you’re being a spoilsport. What’s got into you today?’ I reach my arm around him to give him a hug for being a great big softie.

He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin Sage’s big day when she’s been looking forward to it.’

‘I like these best.’ Sage appears in the beige jodhs. ‘They’re like your best ones, Nicci.’ She does a quick canter around the shop, hanging onto imaginary reins, and pulls up at the till with a snort and a stamp of a hoof.

Matt looks at me, one eyebrow raised.

‘Of course, I never used to do anything like that,’ I say, but he knows I’m fibbing. ‘Although I did once perform a complete dressage test in the dentist’s waiting room.’

I offer to buy Sage a stick, but she doesn’t want one because she swears she will never hit a pony.

‘I think it’s cruel,’ she says.

‘Sometimes ponies need a reminder of who is the boss,’ I point out. ‘A good rider uses a stick as a guide, and never in anger.’

I can see that she remains to be convinced. I set her up with a hat and boots and she’s ready for her first lesson with Harry, one of the little grey Welsh ponies who looks like a miniature version of Willow.

Harry is a good pony. He knows Sage is a beginner and ambles around on the lead rein with his nose level with his knees. If he was any more relaxed he’d fall over.

Delphi asks Sage to give him a kick and she gives him a very half-hearted flap of her legs.

‘Harder,’ shouts Delphi. ‘Give him a smack. Oh, you haven’t got a stick.’

‘I don’t want one,’ Sage yells back.

‘Your niece is a feisty one,’ Delphi observes lightly. ‘I can see I’m going to have to whip her into shape.’

I’m sure Delphi will have plenty of time to teach her how to ride because, when the lesson is over, Sage is determined to come back for a second one the following weekend. Sage and Matt feed mints to Harry, Willow and Dark Star while I join Delphi in the office,
where she writes the time of Sage’s next lesson in the diary.

‘Have you heard the rumours?’ she asks. ‘I wondered if Matt had said anything to you. I didn’t want to ask him in case they weren’t true – I don’t want to make a fool of myself.’

‘What rumours?’

‘The one about the houseman being pregnant. According to Neil, the farrier who was at Westleigh doing some corrective shoeing the other day, Mel is almost three months’ gone.’

‘I would have heard if Mel was pregnant,’ I say. ‘Matt wouldn’t have been able to keep that to himself – it would cause a certain amount of disruption at the hospital as she wouldn’t be able to take any X-rays because of the risk to the baby. He would be grumbling like mad.’ A dark thought enters my head. ‘Unless …’ No, if she
is
pregnant and the dates are right, it can’t possibly be Matt’s baby because he split with her back in March. She would have conceived at the beginning of May.

‘Oh well,’ Delphi shrugs before staring at me expectantly.

‘No,’ I say, holding up my hands. ‘I’m not asking him.’

‘You haven’t seen her at the surgery then?’

‘She’d hardly book in to see me, would she?’

‘You’re a doctor.’

‘I’m Matt’s current girlfriend and Mel doesn’t like me one little bit.’ I pause. ‘Delphi, I’d let sleeping dogs lie if I were you. It’s no one’s business, but Mel’s.’

‘Have you heard that one of Henry Belton-Smith’s
grooms is taking him to an industrial tribunal for unfair dismissal?’ Delphi continues. ‘I thought you’d be interested.’

Smiling, I shake my head. ‘I’m not interested in anything Henry does.’

‘You used to be.’

‘I’m going out with Matt now. I’ve dealt with the Henry episode and moved on.’ I change the subject. ‘I’d better go and put Willow’s rug on.’

Matt has left when I get back, so I make sure my horse is tucked in for the night before taking Sage home. I grab a shower and head out to Matt’s.

We have pizza from the Co-op and a freshly-baked fruit cake for dinner. I notice how Matt picks off a couple of slices of pepperoni and surreptitiously slips them to the Bobster, who sits drooling underneath his chair at the kitchen table.

‘I hope I’m not going to bore you with horse talk,’ I say, ‘but it is my specialist subject.’

‘I realise that.’ Matt shakes his head. ‘You’ll never bore me, Nicci.’

‘Do you ride?’ I go on.

‘I don’t.’

‘You’re a horse vet, and you don’t ride?’ I say, surprised.

‘I’m not the only one around here. You’re harking back to the olden days when vets rode to check for broken wind and bridle lameness. I started to learn at vet school. One of the other students …’ He pauses. ‘It wasn’t for me.’ He smiles, but the smile is forced. ‘I guess I didn’t like the breeches that much.’

‘We could ride together sometime,’ I suggest.

‘No thanks. I’d rather keep my feet on the ground.’

It’s a shame, I think. We could have spent some time in the yard together.

‘What about mucking out? Didn’t you have to do that at vet school?’

‘I worked at a yard one summer, but the girls used to do the stables for me in return for favours, the occasional kiss, if they were lucky. I’m teasing. I wasn’t overly confident with girls back then.’

Later, when we’re ready to cuddle up on the sofa, Matt puts the Bobster in the dog bed – it’s pristine, I notice, without a single hair or muddy pawprint on the cover.

‘Stay,’ he says and we retreat to the living room that runs the width of the two former cottages. It’s unfinished. There are patches of bare plaster on the walls and no curtains, but you can see its potential with its brick chimneypiece and log burner ready for use in the winter. We sink down into the soft green sofa and Matt puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me towards him for a kiss. Suddenly, a small tan and white dog appears between us, standing on Matt’s thigh and bouncing up and down trying to lick his nose.

‘Get off!’ I say. ‘I thought you said you’d put her to bed.’

‘I had.’ He chuckles at my expression of horror. ‘You saw me.’

‘Why won’t she stay there?’

‘Because she’s afraid she’s missing out.’ He tips the
Bobster off his lap, gets up and calls her back to the kitchen. ‘I’ll shut the door this time.’

‘Good idea.’

The Bobster has an alternative plan though, which consists of howling as loud as she can. It’s incessant and a highly effective passion killer. Matt sweet talks her, gives her a biscuit and a chew, and leaves the radio on, changing the station twice in case she has a preference for classical music over pop. But nothing works.

‘If I were you I’d send her back,’ I say caustically. ‘What about seeing a psychologist?’

‘For me or the dog?’ He smiles ruefully. ‘I think I might need counselling if she keeps on like this.’

‘I’m glad you feel the same way I do. That racket is driving me mad.’ I put my arms up as he stands in front of me, having returned from the dog for the umpteenth time.

‘What’s this?’ he asks.

‘Pull me up. I must go home – I have a long day tomorrow. I’m training at seven.’

‘With Shane?’ I watch a frown flit across Matt’s face.

‘You aren’t jealous, are you?’ I tease as he pulls me up and into his arms.

‘Just a little, maybe. Don’t you ever give your poor horse a day off?’

‘She has one day a week when she has a bran mash for breakfast and time out in the paddock, just chillaxing, but it’s usually a Wednesday.’

‘Why don’t you stay?’

‘Another time.’

Matt pulls me closer and kisses me passionately until, eventually, I brace my palms against his chest.

‘You’re making me want to stay,’ I murmur. ‘I want to stay.’

‘Stay then. The dog’s gone quiet at last.’

‘I haven’t got any clothes.’

‘You don’t need any. Come to bed …’ His final word on the matter, uttered in a husky whisper, explodes any resistance I have left. ‘Please …’

I take his hand and we climb the stairs together.

I lie in bed with Matt’s arms around me and a big smile on my face, warm with the afterglow of making love with him for the very first time. It was perfect. He is perfect and I could stay like this for ever, listening to his breathing as dawn approaches.

‘Go back to sleep, darling,’ he murmurs.

‘I’m not sure I can,’ I say as the cockerel starts to crow and a hen starts clucking frantically as she lays an egg, a large one if the number of decibels is related to the size.

‘Do you have to keep a cockerel?’

‘I like the old rooster – he has a purpose, to keep the hens happy and provide the next generation of chicks. I got them from Hen Welfare and some of them are getting on a bit. The fox got one the other day, the rotten bastard!’ Matt sits up, pulling the duvet from my shoulders. Shivering, I tug it back from him. The dog has joined us and is curled up between mine and Matt’s legs.

‘I thought she slept downstairs.’

‘I was trying to impress you,’ he grins. ‘I told a little white lie because I didn’t want to put you off.’

‘It doesn’t seem very hygienic.’ I wrinkle my nose at the sight of a few tan and white hairs on the bed.