Vets in Love (32 page)

‘That’s crazy,’ he says. ‘You’ll have two horses on livery and I’ll never see you. And what will you do if
Willow does go sound? You wouldn’t be able to let one of them go.’

‘You could hack out with me.’

‘No way. I’ve told you before, you’ll never get me into the saddle.’ Matt is serious, his expression dark in the shadows cast by the dim yard lights. ‘I will never ride,’ Matt repeats, ‘and I would really prefer you not to,’ he adds very quietly.

‘Are you saying you don’t want me to ride again?’ I’m shocked. I’ve been worrying about whether I’ll be able to ride at all, and the effect of any psychological scars, and expecting Matt to support me through the challenges of getting back in the saddle, yet here he is saying he wants me to stop. He’s hinted at it before, but he’s never said it outright like this.

‘I don’t mean altogether,’ he says. ‘I mean, I’d be happier if you didn’t compete again.’

‘That makes me feel really uncomfortable.’

‘I’m thinking of your safety.’

‘But it comes across as if you’re trying to control me,’ I argue. ‘Eventing is part of who I am. If I didn’t compete, I wouldn’t be me any more.’ A lump of emotion catches in my throat. ‘If you’re trying to change someone, it means you don’t want them the way they are.’

‘I want you the way you are – just without this obsession you have with the eventing.’

‘I’m not obsessed,’ I cut in. ‘It’s perfectly normal for people to have interests and hobbies. You have your bees, and they aren’t exactly the safest things to deal with, are they?’

‘It’s different,’ he says, but I can’t see how. ‘You must
promise me that you won’t ride until you’re fully recovered from the fall, and then you’ll think about whether or not you go on to compete again in the future.’

‘I won’t ride until I’m better,’ I say grudgingly, ‘but I can’t promise to stop eventing. I can’t do that.’

‘Nicci, let’s forget it for now. I’m shattered and you look completely exhausted,’ he says, changing the subject. ‘Let me drive you home.’

‘Thanks, Matt. I was going to ask Delphi.’

I put Willow to bed, then Matt takes me by the hand and we walk to his car through sweeping waves of fog, and I wonder if the conversation is closed for good, or whether it will resurface in the future.

‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’ Sage asks a few days later when I’m curled up on the sofa with my arm in a sling – Matt was right about slings being a nuisance – and my Kindle in my free hand. I also have a stack of books on the coffee table alongside me, a packet of painkillers and a glass of water. It’s frustrating not being able to do very much, apart from stare at daytime TV or read.

‘That would be lovely, thank you.’

‘Would you like a biscuit too? If there are any left,’ she adds with a sparkle of humour.

‘Yes please.’

‘Jammie Dodger or Jaffa Cake?’

‘You choose.’

‘I’ll bring one of each.’

I watch her heading out of the door. I love the idea of being nursed, but Sage takes it to extremes. She’s like a
little mother rather than a child, while my sister … she’s immature, like a teenager. For weeks, she’s been hanging around the house like a wet weekend. I’m sure she’s depressed, but she won’t admit it, not to me, or more importantly, to herself.

‘Haven’t you got homework?’ I call after Sage, who has been at the local school for half a term now.

‘Yes,’ she calls back.

‘Don’t put off the evil moment for too long.’

Cheska joins me briefly.

‘Can I ask you a favour?’ I say. I’m not sure why when it’s my house. ‘Two favours actually.’

‘What’s the third?’ she says, looking out of the window – I sometimes wonder if the sight of the graves makes her depressed. ‘There’s bound to be a third one.’

‘I don’t want to come across as a nag, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t leave your underwear all over the house.’

‘It isn’t hurting anyone,’ she says.

‘I don’t like Matt seeing it.’

‘It isn’t as nice as yours.’

‘Exactly, so he might think it’s mine and I really don’t want that.’

‘What’s wrong with that? Everyone wears underwear,’ Cheska giggles suddenly, ‘except when they go commando.’

‘It’s all skanky and old,’ I say, being mean.

‘We can’t all afford Ultimo and Victoria’s Secret.’

‘Yes, because some of us have jobs,’ I say, rounding on her crossly. ‘Just don’t leave your pants all over the house when Matt comes over, and promise me you
won’t go commando. Talyton St George isn’t ready for that.’

‘You’re such a prude, Nicci.’

‘Am I?’ I touch my throat.

‘You really need to learn to let yourself go.’

She’s making me feel insecure. Am I really that inhibited?

‘Is Matt coming round this evening?’ She turns and smiles at me. ‘That’s the other favour, isn’t it – you want me to make myself scarce?’

‘For a couple of hours, that’s all. He’ll be round at seven-thirty and I’d appreciate being able to sit here with him and enjoy a quiet meal, just the two of us.’ My mood lifts at the thought. ‘This is like living in a student house, having to negotiate arrangements for guests. By the way, have you seen my top, the White Stuff one with the tie at the front?’

‘Oh?’ Cheska touches her lip. ‘I might have put it in the washing basket. I borrowed it the other day, but I knew you wouldn’t mind because you said to help myself to anything I need.’

‘I was going to wear it tonight.’ I want him to hold me close, ribs and collarbone permitting, and kiss me and make me forget the rest of the world.

Matt arrives early because he had to put his last patient to sleep.

‘It was too late. By the time the horse arrived at the hospital, it had a strangulated bowel and raging peritonitis.’ He frowns and then says, ‘I’ve got the Bobster in the car. Do you mind?’

‘Bring her in,’ I say.

Matt and I settle on the sofa with cold drinks and nibbles of chopped peppers, sun-dried tomatoes, hummus and pitta bread. The Bobster sits at the coffee table, drooling and inhaling deeply as if imagining she could suck the food across the table and into her mouth.

‘We need to talk about Christmas,’ I say.

‘Do we?’ Matt gazes at his mobile, clearly hoping it will ring and save him from this discussion. ‘Now?’

‘Matt, if we don’t discuss it now, it’ll be the New Year before you know it.’

‘You aren’t one of those ghastly control freaks who wants to plan everything down to the very last detail?’

‘You’ve seen my “to do” lists. What do you think? At least I’m organised, unlike someone else around here I could mention.’

‘Spontaneity is good,’ he says, moving so close I can sense the thrilling caress of his breath against my neck and his hands finding the curve of my waist. ‘Life would be pretty dull if you had it all planned.’ He pulls me against him. ‘Do you fancy doing something spontaneous right now? After we’ve talked about our plans for Christmas, that is …’

‘Of course I do, but my sister …’ I glance up at the ceiling.

‘Shame,’ he murmurs.

‘I’m off over Christmas and working for much of the New Year. How about you?’

‘The same,’ he says. ‘We could spend Christmas Day together, unless you have plans to be with your family.’

‘I think I can do a bit of both.’ It’s going to be a
difficult time unless my mother and sister can bury the hatchet before the festive season. Is there any chance that they will? ‘When will you see your family?’ I ask.

‘I’ll drive across to see them on Boxing Day for a second Christmas dinner. Come with me – if you want to, that is. They’d love to meet you.’

‘I’d love to meet them,’ I say.

‘Have you seen—’ Cheska stops abruptly in the doorway, dressed only in a bra and tiny pants. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you were coming at seven-thirty.’ She carries on oblivious to both my embarrassment and Matt’s discomfort. Being a gentleman, he looks studiously at my sister’s face, rather than the obvious attributes she’s parading in front of him. ‘I can’t find my pink top.’

‘It will be on a radiator somewhere,’ I say.

‘Not in here. I’ll go and look elsewhere.’ Cheska smiles. ‘Don’t mind me.’

‘We won’t,’ I say, but I do mind. ‘She could at least have thrown a towel around her before turning up semi-naked,’ I say to Matt when she’s gone. ‘Cheska says I sound like a prude.’

‘I guess you wouldn’t feel so insecure if your sister didn’t have such a cute body,’ he says.

‘I’m sorry.’ I stare him straight in the eye.

‘Your sister has a lovely figure.’

‘Matt!’

His lips curve into a smile.

‘It’s all right. I was trying not to look.’ He pulls me close again. ‘Have no fear. It isn’t a patch on yours. You have the hottest body I’ve ever laid my hands on,’ he
continues. ‘And no, I’d never consider laying my hands on your sister. And I wish I’d never started on this because I can see your mind is running riot. It’s you I want, Nicci. I love you.’

‘This is going to cost you. You’re going to have to take me out for dinner to make up for it.’ I’m teasing now because I do believe him when he says he has no designs on my sister.

I tackle my sister in the morning to check that she has no designs on my boyfriend.

‘I hope you weren’t coming on to Matt last night,’ I say to her over breakfast.

‘He isn’t my type,’ she says. ‘He’s just too nice.’

‘I’m not sure I believe you, Cheska. In fact, I’ve had enough of you swanning about the house and failing to contribute anything financially or otherwise.’ I pick up the carton of orange juice Cheska’s left out on the breakfast bar to pour myself a drink, but there’s only a small splash left. ‘You have two lovely kids, but you won’t take any responsibility for them.’

‘That isn’t fair,’ she says, accusingly. ‘I love them.’

‘Who took Sage to look at the school? Who bought her uniform?’

‘You didn’t have to do all that. You just took over.’

‘Because I see what needs to be done and I get on with it, whereas you – you don’t do anything. You won’t look for a job. You won’t make any attempt to mend bridges with Mum. And when you condescend to do any chores, you make a mess of them.’

‘I wish you’d chill a bit, Nicci,’ she says, rounding on
me. ‘You really should take up drinking and let your hair down. You’re so uptight.’

‘But I’m in control of my life,’ I say, hurt.

‘Exactly. You never ever let go of anything. You’re like a bloody robot. We’re only here because you look at me as some kind of charity case, someone to put right and do the right thing by.’

‘That is complete rubbish and you know it.’ I’m furious at the injustice of her comment. ‘If you don’t like it, you know what you can do,’ I say, in tears. ‘You can pack your things and leave.’

I’ve calmed down a little by the next morning and I assume that our bust-up will soon blow over. When I leave home for my first half day back at work, Sage is up, pattering barefoot around the kitchen. Cheska is in the shower and I’m assuming Gabriel’s still in bed. I’m tempted to go and stand at his bedside, whining and pulling at his covers, as he did to me last night. It’s no wonder he’s tired.

‘I’ll see you later,’ I say to Sage. ‘Have a good day at school.’

‘I’m not going. It’s an inset day when the teachers have training to remind them how to do their job.’

‘I’d better go and do mine.’

‘Before you forget how to do it,’ Sage says with a cheeky grin.

Realising that they’ll all be home at lunchtime, I call in bringing fresh bread, cheese and some apples, but to my confusion, I open the front door to find my sister sitting astride a suitcase, squashing the lid
down while she instructs Sage on how to fasten it so it stays shut, a feat that involves a length of rope and some baling twine from the yard. Gabriel is watching, his teddy bear hanging upside down from his hand.

‘Where are you going?’ I ask.

‘Nicci?’ My sister looks up, her face flushed. ‘I thought you were at work—’

‘I thought I’d join you for lunch.’

‘Oh?’

‘You’re leaving?’

‘That’s what you want, isn’t it?’

‘And you were going to sneak away without letting me know.’ A sharp pain cuts across my heart like a knife. ‘How could you? How could you just disappear without telling me where you’re going, or giving me the chance to say goodbye?’

‘But Mum, you said—’ Sage cuts in.

‘I know what I said, thank you.’

‘You can’t go today. I’ve booked another riding lesson for Sage.’ I’m not sure which of us is looking forward to it the most, and Matt’s going to drop us at the yard and Delphi’s offered to give us a lift back. ‘It’s all organised.’

I hand the bag of food to Sage, telling her to take it into the kitchen.

‘Gabriel, you help Sage with the lunch. Mummy and I need to talk.’ My sister follows me meekly into the garden and down to the end. ‘After all I’ve done for you this had better be good.’

‘You’re right,’ she begins. ‘I’m perfectly able to
stand on my own two feet, and you and Matt don’t need us getting in the way. I feel like a bloody gooseberry living in this house, so what I’ve decided is to move out and find somewhere else to live with the kids.’

‘Yes, but where?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ she responds, smiling as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.

‘I don’t understand. How can you leave with the children if you have nowhere to go?’

‘I’ll find somewhere. There are rooms to rent advertised in the newsagent’s window, and there’s the B&B at Barton Farm, or if we get really stuck, I can ask at the caravan park.’ She sounds rational, yet there is a hint of mania in her responses.

‘It’s the end of the season – the caravan park is closing.’

‘I’m going to ask about the rooms first.’

‘You can’t have three of you in one room.’

‘Why are you being so negative?’

‘I’m not. It’s you, being over-optimistic.’ I pause. ‘You can’t move out without finding somewhere to go first.’

‘That isn’t the way I operate.’

‘I realise that. What about staying at Mum’s? She has loads of spare room.’

‘You are joking?’

‘This might not be the right time to mention it, but that stuff about the abortion. Mum’s really sorry.’