Vets in Love (28 page)

‘I can’t bear to lose you,’ he begins. ‘I wish I’d never met Mel, but I did. It was a fling and I thought she understood that. It was never going to go anywhere. Oh dear, like the Bobster, I believe I’m digging myself into a hole here. What I mean is, when I said I wasn’t
looking for a relationship as such, she made out that it was fine because she wasn’t either. I accepted what she said at face value.’

‘It’s different for girls.’ I’m not being sexist, but it’s what I believe, that it’s impossible to have a no-strings attached fling. Being a doctor, I know all that cuddle hormone released during sex plays havoc with the female brain.

‘I think she trapped me with this pregnancy. She thought I’d commit to her because of the baby, but I can’t do that, Nicci, because I’m committed to you. You have to believe that.’ He pauses. ‘Please don’t walk away from this. It will get better, I promise.’

‘I can’t see how,’ I sob. ‘You’ll be with her when the baby’s born.’

‘I won’t be far away, but Mel’s mother is going to be her birth partner,’ Matt says. ‘I thought it might help … I don’t know what else I can do.’ He releases my arm. ‘I want to be with you, not Mel. I’m done with the one-night stands and the single life. I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up with you every morning.’ He takes a deep breath and continues, his voice breaking. ‘We can get through this, you know. I love you, Nicci.’

‘Oh, Matt.’ There are no words to describe the way I feel. My heart lurches and my stomach is tied up in knots. ‘I love you too …’

He sweeps me into his arms and holds me close, planting kisses down my neck, and I melt into his embrace.

*

Later, I can’t stop smiling in the darkness as I lie in Matt’s arms, warm and secure, listening to the rise and fall of his chest, the gurgle in his belly and the beat of his heart.

Matt wakes me with tea, toast, butter, and honey from the hive. The sun is shining through the curtains, the pigeons cooing in the oak tree at the end of the garden, and the hens clucking in their coop. I stretch and yawn. It’s idyllic.

‘I wish I could come back to bed.’ Matt leans down in his white bathrobe to kiss me, and I put my arms around his neck.

‘Come back then,’ I say, smiling.

‘I can’t,’ he says, stroking my shoulder. ‘I’ve got rounds to do at eight.’

‘What time is it now?’

‘Seven-fifteen. I’m going in the shower then I’ll be off. You stay there – there’s no rush.’

I sit back against the headboard of the bed. He’s right. There isn’t. It’s Saturday, Delphi’s doing Willow for me and I’m not riding until mid-afternoon.

‘When are you home?’ I ask. Now we’re back on track, I want to spend as much time with him as possible.

‘Lunchtime, I hope,’ he says. ‘Will I see you then?’

‘I’ll pop into Talyton and pick something up.’

‘You can take the Bobster, if you like. It would do us both a favour. I wouldn’t have to take her to work with me. She doesn’t enjoy it that much.’ He sighs. ‘For once, I’d rather stay here too. I’ll see you later.’ He hesitates as he leaves, freshly shaven and bearing the scent of mint toothpaste, tea and honey. ‘Please don’t
let the dog off the lead down by the river, or she’ll bugger off.’

‘I haven’t agreed to walk her yet.’ The Bobster might be Matt’s idea of a best friend, but she certainly isn’t mine. She looks cute enough, but although Matt and I are reconciled, the dog and I still treat each other with an air of suspicion.

‘You will. You’ll get into her good books, and I know how you’re itching to get back to your sister and her kids … not,’ he adds, grinning. ‘Make yourself at home. And don’t feel you have to muck out here.’

‘I won’t,’ I say. I do though. I stack the dishwasher and tidy up the kitchen a little before heading into Talyton St George, following the path along the brook down into Talyford and along the lanes into the top end of town with the Bobster on the lead and a bag slung over my shoulder. In town, I buy bread and cheese, leaving the dog tied to the ring embedded in the wall outside the baker’s shop.

The Bobster and I walk on down to the green, where a group of men, overseen by a pair of swans, are putting up a tent for the annual Beer Festival. The Bobster utters a couple of good-humoured yaps before flirting with Mr Brown’s dog, Muffin, who is pottering along with his owner in the sunshine.

‘Um, sorry,’ I say, pulling her away.

‘It’s no problem,’ Mr Brown says. ‘How are you, Dr Chieveley?’

I’m sure it’s me who should be asking him that question, but I reply that I’m well. I’m very well, in fact, thanks to getting back with Matt.

‘And you?’ I ask him.

‘We are as well as can be expected.’ Locks of thin grey hair fall forward over his forehead. ‘No better, no worse, and Mrs Brown is about the same.’

His wife has been about the same since I arrived in Talyton, but Mr Brown seems diminished. His tan coat hangs from his bony frame and his shoes are falling apart. He’s so busy looking after everyone else he doesn’t have time to care for himself.

‘Have you had any help recently?’ I ask him. Somehow it seems easier to talk on the green, away from the surgery and with the dogs as icebreakers. ‘Do you get any respite at all?’

‘The WI come to sit with my wife once a week so I can go shopping, and Fifi usually drops in with a cooked meal on a Tuesday, but I keep having to remind them that we are not a charity. I can manage, you know. I don’t want her taken away and put in a home.’ He’s almost in tears. ‘She’d hate that.’

‘Do you have any other assistance at home?’

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t need it. When my wife first fell ill, I had to learn quickly. I found out how to cook and clean.’ He smiles with a rare flash of humour. ‘And shop for ladies’ smalls.’ Then he looks somewhat shamefaced as if he’s touched on a subject he shouldn’t.

‘You’re a man of many talents. You’re a hero, Mr Brown, but even superheroes need helpers.’ I make a mental note to see if I can arrange for the Browns to be assessed for extra support when I’m next at work. ‘Remember to drop by if you need us, even if it’s just for a cup of tea.’

‘That’s a lovely dog.’ Mr Brown leans down to stroke the Bobster’s head. ‘Is it yours?’

‘She’s my boyfriend’s dog.’

‘Mrs Brown and I were married by the time we were your age,’ he comments. ‘We were teenage sweet-hearts. Anyway, Doctor, I’d better not keep you any longer. Have a lovely day.’

I wish him goodbye and he continues back across the green to the footbridge over the river, while I head the other way along the path until I reach the stile. I climb over and post the Bobster through the gap at the bottom, having checked there are no sheep around before I unclip her lead. I decide, in spite of Matt’s warning, to leave her running free. She doesn’t stray far from my heels until she spots a fisherman on the riverbank, sitting under a parasol with his paraphernalia – including a cool-box for storing his catch, I guess. She races across and dives into a plastic tub, emerging with her nose caked in bran and live mealworms writhing as they drop out of her mouth.

I rush up and try to grab her by the collar, but she dodges away to snatch another mouthful of what is apparently a delectable snack.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I gasp. Although I’m working out at the gym regularly now, I’m not as fit as I thought I was.

‘That dog of your’m’s a thief,’ the fisherman complains, taking the end of a smoking pipe from between his lips. The smell of tobacco rises into the air. In spite of the warm day, he’s wearing a hat and cape. ‘Why don’t you keep her on the lead?’

‘I will do.’

‘When you catch up with her, you mean. I bet I catch a fish before you catch that dog.’

‘Can I pay you compensation for what she’s eaten?’

‘It’s all right. They don’t cost me anything. You’re the doctor, aren’t you?’

‘It’s Nobby, isn’t it? I didn’t recognise you with the hat.’ I don’t bother to ask him how his detox is going – I can see the beer cans in the cool-box, which isn’t for storing his catch at all. He realises I’ve spotted them.

‘I like to have a little drink while I’m out fishing,’ he explains. ‘It’s thirsty work and there’s hardly any alcohol in them cans. If I’d wanted to drink proper-like, I’d have bought a bottle of cider. You’d better go after that dog,’ he goes on. ‘She can run faster than you, my lover.’

I jog along the riverbank, looking among the bushes by the old railway line. ‘Bobster,’ I call. ‘Bobster!’ I realise what a ridiculous name it is. It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue and I’m getting odd looks from a pair of teenagers sitting in the grass and smoking roll-ups. My palms are pricking with sweat at the thought of having to face Matt at some stage to admit that I didn’t listen to him.

I don’t know much about dogs, but I was under the illusion they were supposed to be faithful companions. The Bobster appears to be the exception to the rule. I thought she liked me better now too, having shared a bed with each other, but I was mistaken.

I march along the line of trees bordering the old
railway line, checking through the undergrowth with a stick.

‘Bobster, I’d like to go home.’ Recalling how Matt bribes her to come to him, I try a different approach. ‘Biscuits!’

Something moves in the bushes. Two rabbits fly out and scuttle through the grass, disappearing into a hole in the bank further down. Frantically, I shout louder.

‘Biscuits!’ I strain my ears for an answering yap while I probe the bank with the stick. It’s soft and sandy and full of holes and there’s an area that’s recently been dug over. Squatting down, I take a closer look. There’s a yap from deep inside the bank. My heart sinks. What if she’s stuck down there? How am I going to get her out? What if I can’t get her out? Matt will never forgive me.

‘Bobster,’ I call again. ‘It’s going to be all right. You hang in there.’

She answers with a whine.

‘Good girl.’

I enlarge one of the holes with the end of the stick, but the tunnel beyond starts to cave in so I stop. How long can a dog survive without food and water?

‘You’ll never find um, Doctor.’ It’s Nobby Warwick again, his rod slung over his back and the cool-box in his hand. ‘It’s like a rabbit warren down there.’

‘That’s because it
is
a rabbit warren,’ I say, angry at myself and worried sick for the Bobster’s safety. There was a time when I wouldn’t have minded if she’d made herself scarce, but things are different
now. She’s important to Matt, so she’s important to me.

‘I can give you a hand. The Dog and Duck doesn’t open for another half an hour. Officially, like. I only goes in there for a pint now and again.’

How can he be thinking about drinking at a time like this? I want to scream at him. ‘I thought I’d better stop digging in case the earth falls in on her.’

‘Why don’t you give it a bit of time? Go home, have a cuppa then come back with a shovel. It’s no use digging with a stick. She’ll be out the other side of them bushes somewhere. If you’re lucky, she’ll dig herself out. That’s what terriers do, unless she’m been crushed by a load of earth.’

‘Thanks for the reassurance, Nobby,’ I say with irony.

‘Think nothing of it, Doctor.’

‘Did you catch anything?’

‘Them otters have been here before me again.’

‘Have you seen otters down here?’

‘They’re back this year. It’s natural, I suppose, but they don’t like sharing.’ Nobby shrugs ruefully. ‘I’ll have to go and tickle some trout on the north side of the Fox-Gifford estate.’ He grins, revealing missing teeth. ‘Don’t go dobbing me in though. Cheers, Dr Chieveley.’

‘Goodbye.’ I frown as I watch him walk back along the path through the field beside the river. He moves with a shuffling gait, a consequence of the alcohol perhaps, but he covers the ground quickly now he’s heading in the direction of the Dog and Duck, just like
Willow does when we’re out on a hack and we turn for home.

Eventually I decide to take his advice and walk back in the same direction too, but without the Bobster. I debate whether or not I should contact Matt at work, but decide this is something I need to do face to face. I check my mobile. He’s texted to say he’ll be back by one, so I have half an hour to worry about what he’s going to say.

I walk back through town, picking up a marrowbone from the butcher’s, which I take back and stick in front of the hole in the bank, hoping it might tempt the Bobster out. But she doesn’t appear and I realise time is running out. I’m going to have to go and fess up to Matt.

At Matt’s house, hot and sweating, I take a deep breath and head around the back. He keeps the doors locked but there’s a key under the brick beside the water butt. The back door is already open and Matt is lying on the hammock with a glass in his hand.

‘Cheers, Nicci,’ he says. ‘Did you have a good walk?’

‘Oh, God, Matt, I’m so sorry. Something terrible’s happened.’ I stare down at the Bobster’s lead. ‘I’ve lost her. I’m soooo sorry. I’ve been calling her for ages.’

Matt grins.

‘It isn’t funny. I’m not joking.’

Matt whistles through his teeth and with a yap, the Bobster comes racing up the garden through the rhubarb and forget-me-nots with a fresh marrowbone between her jaws.

‘Oh, thank goodness.’ I start to cry with relief. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I’m actually pleased to see her.’ What’s more, she seems pleased to see me, running in circles around my feet with the bone in her mouth, squeaking and whining. The gift of a marrowbone seems to have won the way to her heart.

‘She must have made her own way home,’ Matt explains. ‘She was here when I got back ten minutes ago. I told you she’d do a runner if you let her off.’

‘I know and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.’ I pause. ‘Don’t you have to train her, or something?’

‘The Bobster knows her own mind. She does her own thing. I don’t want to change her.’ Matt grins. ‘Okay, that’s me being lazy. I probably should, but I don’t have the time or inclination. What’s that old saying?’

‘You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.’ Wiping my eyes, I smile back. ‘Matt, are you free tonight? I could come back after I’ve been to the yard.’

‘Oh, I don’t know …’ He’s teasing and I sit down hard beside him on the hammock, making it swing. He slides his arm around my shoulders and kisses me. ‘I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you forget about the horse and the yard and stay here with me?’