Vets in Love (30 page)

I count down the strides. ‘Three, two—’

Something goes wrong.

Willow loses her footing, sliding towards the base of the log, and for a split second I’m not sure if she’s going to stop or go. I hold on tight, throwing her the reins to let her recover herself, which she does, hurling herself over the fence, but she’s lost too much momentum and catches one or both hindlegs. I don’t know which because we’re both falling, me first and Willow second, the horse catching up with me as she topples into the water, so close I can see the flash of iron shoes travelling past my eyes as I try to roll myself into a ball, but the air vest’s gone off with a pop and I’m like a beached marshmallow.

Willow catches me, crushing my chest and squeezing the breath out of my lungs. Then she’s gone and I’m trying to get up and I can see my poor brave horse on her side flailing in the water.

I struggle to grab the reins to help her up, but I’m in agony, hurting all over, my legs are dead and my head is swimming and I just can’t get there, but I can see the pain and terror in her eyes and the red flare of her nostrils. I can hear people yelling, and there’s someone in the water with me, pulling me out onto the bank.

‘I can’t breathe,’ I gasp.

‘Hang on in there, Nicci.’ It’s Matt’s voice, sounding rather distant. ‘I’m going to take care of Willow. Don’t worry – everything’s going to be all right.’

I’m aware of a curtain of rain and tears falling across my eyes.

My beautiful horse hauls herself up with a grunt of
effort onto her feet, but when she moves forward, she can barely touch one of her front feet to the ground. The last thing I remember is her limping away with someone at her side. My cross-country colours are sticking to my limbs and I’m shivering, my teeth chattering uncontrollably, the sound knocking around inside my skull. Someone – I’m not sure who – places a shiny silver survival blanket over me, but I still can’t breathe for the pain concentrating in my chest, and the blanket feels so heavy I tear it off.

As soon as I get rid of it, it’s back again and my mother’s voice, calm but edged with panic, says, ‘Keep still, darling. The doctor wants to stabilise your neck before they move you.’

‘She’s a doctor,’ Mum says, ‘so she understands what you’re saying.’

‘I’ve called for the air ambulance,’ someone says. ‘It’s on its way.’

I feel so stupid and embarrassed, and I can’t stop the tears of pain and frustration trickling down my face. They’ve held the other riders on the course and now everyone has to wait for me because I didn’t take a pull on the way into the fence, because I didn’t listen to what Willow was saying to me before we set off. I should have withdrawn her from the competition. It wasn’t worth risking her neck and mine. I’ve let Willow down. I’ve let everyone down.

I overhear anxious voices.

‘We need to get the horse out of the way before we can land the helicopter. There isn’t time to wait for the horse ambulance and we’re worried about its welfare.
We can’t force her to walk far on three legs, so we’re thinking of getting the screens up.’

My immediate reaction is that they’re going to shoot her.

I grab wildly for my mother’s arm. Don’t let Matt put her down, I try to say, but no sound comes out of my mouth. Mum answers with a weak smile. She doesn’t get it, does she? If Willow dies, life will not be worth living.

My heart flutters with panic because I can’t communicate with her, with anyone, and I’m beginning to fade from pain and shock and lack of oxygen. I think I’m dying.

I drift in and out of consciousness, high on painkillers, and I have no idea how much time passes until I wake in a bed in a hospital ward with my mother at my side, holding my hand.

‘How long?’ I mutter.

‘Sh, Nicci. You’ve been here for twenty-four hours.’

‘How can that be?’ I gaze up at the fluorescent strip-lights. ‘I’ve lost a whole day.’

‘It doesn’t matter because you’re going to be fine.’ Mum purses her mouth. Her face is lined with anxiety and I wish I hadn’t put her through this. ‘Can you remember what happened?’

‘I came off,’ I say hesitantly because I’m not sure how much I want to remember. ‘Where’s Matt?’

‘Matt? He’s at work, but he’ll be here later. I promised I’d let him know as soon as you woke up.’

‘I can do that. Where’s my mobile?’

‘It’s in my bag. Just a minute – I’ll find it.’

I shift my body to sit myself up, but sharp pain grabs at one side of my chest, making me cry out.

‘Here, let me help you.’ Mum slides another pillow behind my head and presses a button at the side of my bed, raising the end. I’m, in a ward with three other beds surrounded by grey metal rails from which hang royal blue curtains. To my left is a window with a view of the sky. ‘You’re going to be all right, darling. You had a knock on the head. You’ve fractured your collarbone and a couple of ribs, and bruised your spine, but the doctors say you’ll make a full recovery.’ She gives a small smile.

‘How is Willow?’

‘Matt’s dealing with her.’

‘So she’s still alive.’ I sink back into the pillow. Thank goodness … I thought they were going to shoot her.’

Mum reaches for my hand. ‘You mustn’t worry.’

‘I need to know how she is. Is she badly hurt?’

‘She’s injured her leg, but we don’t know how severe the damage is yet.’

‘Will she have to be put down?’

‘Let’s concentrate on getting you better.’

This implies that the horse requires some ‘getting better’ as well, so there
is
something really wrong. Now I know exactly how frustrating it is when members of the medical profession won’t tell you anything.

‘Matt will be able to tell you more.’ Mum takes my mobile. ‘Can I?’

When I nod, another sharp pain sears its way up my
neck. She says she’s going to call my sister to let her know how I am.

‘You’re speaking to Cheska?’ I say, surprised.

Mum smiles ruefully. ‘I’m speaking to Cheska, but it’s all about you. We haven’t touched on anything else, but it’s a start.’ Her voice is filled with an expectation that I hope is not misplaced. ‘Maybe there really is a silver lining to every cloud. Perhaps this will bring us together and I’ll have my other daughter and my grandchildren back.’ She pauses. ‘Oh, it’s too soon to be dreaming about that. Nicci, you being here is enough.’ She nods towards the entrance to the ward where a man is trying to get through the door with an enormous bouquet of flowers. ‘I’ll leave you two to it.’

‘Nicci. Thank God.’ Matt leans down and kisses me on the cheek, puts the flowers on one of the chairs beside the bed and sits down on the other. He looks exhausted, his cheeks hollow and dark shadows beneath his eyes, but my heart lifts and my aches and pains diminish – he’s more effective than any painkiller. However, his presence has a side effect – it reminds me of my horse.

‘Matt, how’s Willow?’

‘Hey, first things first. How are you?’

‘I’ll feel a lot better when someone – i.e. you—’ I prod him lightly in the arm ‘—tells me how my horse is, because I’m really scared that something terrible has happened to her.’

‘Well, like you, she’s in hospital. Don’t worry, I’ve made sure she has the best stable in the yard, a room with a view.’

‘So she’s alive?’

‘I can categorically state that when I last saw her thirty minutes ago, she was on her feet. I can prove it,’ he says. He pulls out his mobile phone and shows me a picture of Willow in a stable with the deepest bed of shavings I’ve ever seen. She’s wearing a stable rug and picking at hay in a net.

‘But? There is a but,’ I say, gazing at the massive bandage on Willow’s front leg.

Matt nods. ‘She’s torn a tendon, so I’ve put the Robert Jones dressing on to give her some support and discourage her from using the limb too much while we decide what to do.’

‘Which tendon is it?’

‘One of the tendons in the back of her lower leg.’

‘You don’t have to dumb it down for me.’

‘All right, it’s a significant tear in the DDF, deep digital flexor tendon.’

‘Did it happen when she fell, or could she have had the beginnings of a tear before? I thought she was slightly off on the right fore in the warm-up area, but I ignored it.’

‘We’ll never know for sure, but yes, it is possible. I thought the organisers should have stopped the event. I know they were under pressure, but it’s too much of a risk with the ground as it was. They could at least have taken the water jump out – the approach was getting pretty boggy by the time you were on the course.’ Matt pauses. ‘I didn’t want you to set out in the first place, rain or no rain.’

‘If I’d listened to what she was telling me and if I
hadn’t pushed her, she might have been all right.’

‘It’s no use beating yourself up. It’s a pointless argument.’ Matt strokes my hand. ‘Anyway, we’ll talk about the options for Willow later. You need to rest.’

‘I can’t rest if I’m worrying about her. I thought you might have—’ My lip trembles and I can no longer speak.

Matt smiles softly. ‘I can’t put her down, can I, not without the owner’s permission.’

‘Please …’

Matt gives in and tells me the options.

‘Either we don’t treat her at all …’

‘And she’s put down.’

‘That’s one possibility, unless you turn her out as field companion or potential brood mare.’

‘She’d be bored stiff,’ I say, trying to imagine my clever horse mooching around a paddock for the rest of her life.

‘What I’d suggest is that we try the stem cell route of repair.’

‘You’d better tell me a bit more about it before I give you permission to experiment on my horse.’

‘It isn’t an experiment – this therapy’s been used with good results for a while now. We’ve had three horses at the hospital do very well with it. Anyway, if you let the injury heal naturally, you’ll be left with scarring and a weakened tendon. If we intervene we can make the injury heal better, though not necessarily more quickly. I’ve scanned the leg and put her on box rest.’

‘Bed rest for horses,’ I say. ‘For how long?’

‘Full healing takes up to eighteen months.’

‘Okay, where do these stem cells come from?’

‘I can extract the cells from Willow’s bone marrow, under sedation, from her breastbone. It’s straightforward but as with everything, there are risks.’

‘And then what?’

‘I send the sample off to one of the stem cell labs, and they’ll grow them before returning them to me to implant into the damaged tendon. Then Willow goes into rehab for twelve months, the aim being to get her back into full work. Simples.’

‘You make it sound so easy, but I can’t see Willow surviving three months on box rest. She’ll hate it, and she’ll go ballistic when I turn her out.’

‘We’ll sedate her for that too,’ Matt says.

I can see that he’s itching to go ahead with the treatment. It’s Willow’s best chance of returning to fitness.

‘I need to think about her long-term welfare. If it fails, will I have put her through a lot of pain and suffering and confinement in a stable for nothing?’

‘That I can’t tell you,’ he says gravely, stroking his chin. ‘As with everything in life, there are no guarantees.’

‘So, what does my vet recommend?’

‘Willow’s your horse. It has to be your decision.’

I think for a moment. When it comes down to it, there is no decision to be made. I’ll do anything to get Willow better. I owe it to her. I put her into this situation, so it’s up to me to try and make things right.

‘Where there’s life,’ I say. ‘Let’s go for it.’

‘That’s great. If you’re willing to bear the cost of the therapy, I won’t charge you for the investigations and hospitalisation.’

‘I can’t let you do that. She’s my horse.’

‘And you’re my girlfriend, I hope, unless that fall made you see sense.’ He chuckles. He doesn’t mean it. ‘And it’s my practice.’

‘Can you stem cell me?’ I ask.

‘I can give you a hug,’ he offers.

It’s one of those occasions where a saying rings true: love hurts, but to feel his arms around me, to know I’m alive, is bliss.

‘I don’t like hospitals even though I have one of my own,’ he observes.

‘No one does, do they?’

‘I said I’d bring your sister and the children in to see you later.’

‘That would be nice, but I’m expecting to go home very soon.’

‘Hey, there’s no rush.’

‘I need to get back to work.’

‘Ben’s organising a locum for as long as it takes, while you concentrate on getting yourself better. I thought you … when you were lying there so still …’ His voice breaks and my chest tightens with guilt and compassion.

He kisses me again and again. ‘I thought I’d lost you. I’ve never been so scared in my life.’

To my surprise I feel tears warm and wet against my cheek, Matt’s tears.

‘Matt, you’re crying. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise …’
I don’t know what to do and I haven’t a clue how to console him. Gradually, he regains his self-control and pulls away from me, keeping his hands on mine.

‘You remember you once asked me if I’d ever been engaged?’

‘Yes …’

‘The girl I proposed to – I met her at vet school.’

‘The one who turned you down?’

He nods and bites his lip.

‘And?’ I go on.

‘She was a brilliant rider, tipped for a place in the British eventing team. Anyway, she was riding her horse cross-country one day. She fell.’

From his expression, I don’t need to ask what happened. I reach out my arms to hold him, but the pain is too much. I can’t reach him because of my fractured bones, and he is unreachable anyway, in a place long ago and far away.

‘It was the worst day of my life.’ He grimaces as he explains what happened to the girl, the love of his life. ‘There are times when I never want to see another horse again.’

‘I didn’t realise. You never talked about it.’

‘I thought it would make you feel insecure. You were jealous of Mel.’

‘It’s only because I feel so strongly about you, Matt. I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through.’ I reach out gingerly for his hand and stroke his fingers. ‘It won’t happen again. It was a combination of circumstances – the weather, the ground, the horse and most of all, my riding …’