Vets in Love (36 page)

‘Nicci, can I have a word?’ Shane says, interrupting my chain of thought. ‘In private.’

‘If you have a medical problem, you’ll have to make an appointment.’ I’m teasing him now and he knows it.

‘It’s about Dark Star.’

‘Sage, you come and help me put the horse away,’ Delphi says tactfully, which makes me suspect that she’s in on this too.

Shane waits until Dark Star’s clattering hooves fall silent.

‘I’ve been thinking about what happens now that Matt’s confirmed Willow is definitely out of action for the long term.’ He starts making patterns in the sand with the toe of his boot. ‘You need another horse and Delphi’s keen to sell, so I thought you should make her an offer.’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Why not? I know it’s a huge financial commitment taking on a second horse, but you don’t have any other vices. It’s the perfect solution.’

‘If I decide not to compete any more, there’s no point in me having a horse like Dark Star. He’d be wasted.’

‘You won’t be happy not competing. I know you, and if you’re saying this because you think you’ll get back with Matt and live happily ever after, you’re making a terrible mistake. You’ll hate him for it.’

‘What if I have to compromise? I miss him.’

Shane takes me by the shoulders and gives me a gentle shake.

‘VB, what’s got into you? Where is your fire?’ He ducks to meet my eyes. ‘You might not remember, but
when I was fourteen or fifteen, I was bullied mercilessly for being a horse-mad boy. People told me I was gay, that I was a girl, that I had a sexual fetish for horses like the teenager in
Equus
, that I was a pony boy …’ His voice fades. ‘Don’t look that one up on the internet by the way.’

‘I do remember how people talked about you.’

‘I got through it and now look at me. I have the life I’ve always dreamed of because I didn’t compromise or give up. Nicci, you are a brilliant rider – you can’t just walk away. It would be such a waste of talent.’ Shane releases me and takes a step back. ‘Lecture almost over. Most of all, on a selfish and personal level, I’d miss you …’

I’d miss Shane too. I’m missing the eventing, the dressage series and the showjumping competitions that run through the winter months, but ultimately, I can live without them, whereas I can’t survive without Matt. Well, I can. That’s a bit of an exaggeration, but nothing is the same without him.

I collect Sage from the tack room where she’s washing Dark Star’s bit in a bucket of water.

‘Hi there,’ I say. ‘We must go.’

‘Do we have to?’

‘We’ll be back.’

‘Maybe sooner than you think,’ Delphi says. ‘Have you remembered that Matt’s coming tomorrow at ten to scan Willow’s tendon?’

‘But it’s Saturday.’

‘He says he hasn’t got anything better to do now that—’ Delphi stops short. ‘Listen to me and my big
mouth. I can deal with it, if you don’t want to be here, Nicci.’

‘Thanks, but I’ll be here.’ Willow’s my horse and I need to know what the prognosis is for her return to work – and for any reconciliation with Matt.

Chapter Twenty

Hold your Horses

I TRY NOT
to raise my hopes when Matt arrives at the yard, parking outside Willow’s stable. The passenger door of his four-by-four opens and a blur of tan and white dog flies out straight towards me. The Bobster is delighted to see me, squeaking and snuffling and running in and out of my legs.

‘Hello, Bobster,’ I say, a lump catching in my throat at the realisation that the dog has missed me like I’ve missed her and her master.

At Willow’s stable, Matt greets me with a gentle but hesitant smile that serves as a painful reminder of better times. He’s lost some weight and the line of his jaw is more sharply defined, suggesting he’s been under stress. Breathing his familiar scent of aftershave and antibiotics with a hint of horse makes me feel slightly dizzy. My pulse flutters and all I want to do is throw myself into his arms and say I’m sorry.

‘I’m here to scan your horse,’ he says. ‘Would you mind hanging onto her?’

‘No, of course.’ I catch Willow, slip the bit into her mouth, slide the bridle over her ears and fasten the throatlatch and noseband, fumbling with the buckles. I’m nervous, but it has less to do with my concerns for Willow and more to do with trying to behave normally – as if Matt and I are merely common acquaintances. Part of me wishes I’d taken up Delphi’s offer and let her deal with the vet’s visit.

‘Have you got her?’ I blush, aware now that Matt has been watching me over the stable door. He brings the ultrasound machine and a bottle of gel inside and asks me to back Willow into the corner. He squats down and removes her stable bandage, something I should have done beforehand. As he passes me the bandage our fingers touch. He pulls away quickly, as if he too is aware of the electricity that passes between us, confirming that whatever we had, it isn’t over.

‘How are you?’ I ask him, making small talk.

‘Good, thanks. The shoulder’s better.’ He drips some clear gel onto the end of the ultrasound probe and places it against the back of Willow’s front leg, angling and sliding the probe and adjusting the focus on the screen of the machine.

‘What do you think?’ I say anxiously.

‘It’s looking as I’d expect at this stage. There’s the usual amount of heat and swelling. Nicci, I haven’t got a crystal ball. I don’t know for sure that she’ll ever be completely sound, but I think, all things considered,
that she’ll come sound enough to be a happy hacker, which is what you want, isn’t it?’

Matt looks up at me, holding my gaze and my chest tightens with desire and yearning. It’s a relief that Willow’s on track to make a return to light work at least, but what I really want more than anything is to have him back in my life, not merely as my vet, but as my best friend and lover.

‘When did you say I can turn her out?’ I ask.

‘Not for another couple of months.’

‘She hates being in all the time.’ I stroke her shoulder.

His lips curve into a rueful smile. ‘I think it’s you who hates the idea of your horse being in. Willow doesn’t look as if she could care less.’

‘That’s your opinion,’ I say stiffly, convinced that I know my horse better than anyone.

‘How’s Willow’s next-door neighbour? Still as mad as ever?’

‘He might be a bit hot-headed, but he has loads of potential. Someone is going to end up with a fantastic horse, if they’re prepared to do the work with him.’

‘Have you heard about Mel?’ Matt asks.

I shake my head.

‘She’s left Westleigh. We’ve taken on a locum until we can recruit a new houseman.’

‘I see … where has she gone?’

‘She’s shacked up with Henry Belton-Smith.’

‘Henry! I should have guessed. It was something he said.’

Matt stands up and starts packing the ultrasound machine away, loading it into the boot of his four-by-
four and slamming the tailgate while I put Willow’s bandage back on and remove the bridle, secretly pleased that Mel and Henry have got their comeuppance. They deserve each other.

‘I could do with a coffee,’ he says as I emerge from the stable and close the door. ‘Do you fancy keeping me company?’

‘I’d love to, but I’m going shopping with my mother. She wants me to vet her choice of wedding dress.’

‘I see …’

‘We could meet later,’ I say. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. ‘Matt, I’ve missed you.’

He moves up close to me and takes my hands. ‘I’ve missed you too.’

‘Is there any chance we could start again?’ I whisper.

‘It was a stupid argument,’ Matt says.

‘I don’t think we can just forget about it when it’s clear how important it is to you,’ I say as he strokes my fingers. ‘You need to know that I regret the episode with Dark Star.’ I’m blushing as I recall my behaviour that day, creeping around to avoid being found out. ‘You also need to know that I’ve decided to give up competing. I’m not going to event any more.’

‘Can you really commit to that?’ Matt frowns. ‘You’ve said before that it’s an integral part of your life. How can you give it up?’

‘I’m not going to stop riding altogether. I couldn’t do that, but I’ve had time to weigh up what is important to me. I can live without eventing, but I wouldn’t choose to live without you.’ I bite my lip as I gauge his reaction.

‘I can’t ask you to stop competing,’ he says. ‘Not so long ago you accused me of being controlling.’

‘I know you can’t help how you feel. I know you’ve tried to change.’

‘I haven’t tried anywhere near hard enough.’

‘Matt, you don’t have to ask me anything, or try to deal with your demons.’ I squeeze his hands tight. ‘Now, will you please listen to me? I have hung up my cross-country colours. I am not going to event any more. It’s my decision and mine alone. There’s no reason for you to feel guilty. And I haven’t done this for you. I’ve done it for us.’ Tears prick my eyelids. ‘I would far rather stop competing than live without you.’

I gaze into his eyes. Does he still want me? Uncertain, I start to take a step back, but Matt stops me, pulling me into his arms.

‘I can’t live without you either,’ he murmurs, running his hand through my hair and stroking the side of my face. ‘I can honestly say that this has been the worst week of my life. I don’t know how I got through it.’ He kisses my cheek, planting more kisses in a line to the corner of my mouth. ‘I’d like to book an appointment with you tonight, Dr Chieveley.’

‘And tomorrow night?’ I whisper.

‘And the night after that,’ he says, holding me close, and over the next few days and nights, we make up for lost time.

On the evening of the panto, Matt and I take Sage and Gabriel to the school where the show is being performed on stage in the assembly hall by Talyton’s
Am Dram group. My sister, having said that she wasn’t interested in watching an amateurish rural production (her words), has agreed to see Mum while we’re out with the children. Will they reconcile before the wedding? I’m not sure, but I wish I could write them a prescription to make it right.

Sage, wearing a sparkly dress, jodhpur boots and winter coat, holds my hand on the way in.

‘Do you think they’ll have found a pumpkin big enough for a coach?’ she asks.

‘It won’t be a real one. Have you got the sweets?’

Smiling, she shows me the bag.

‘I wanna sweet,’ Gabriel says.

Sage clutches the bag to her chest. ‘No, little brother, they’ll make you go hyper.’

‘He’s hyper already,’ Matt says, joining in.

‘You should see him after he’s had a few Skittles,’ Sage says.

‘I’d rather not,’ I say, smiling wryly as I check our tickets. We have seats in the front row so close to the stage that, as Matt points out, we’ll be able to see right up the ugly sisters’ skirts. Before I can sit down though, Fifi joins us.

‘Nicci and Matt, how wonderful. You’re so good with those children. Soon, you’ll have a lovely family of your own.’

‘Fifi, hold your horses on that one.’ My awkwardness turns to horror when I find her sitting down in the seat next to mine.

‘The front row is always reserved for the guests of honour,’ she says. ‘Aren’t we lucky?’

‘Indeed,’ I say. ‘Is Mr Green with you?’

‘No, I’m here to support my niece – she’s playing Cinderella.’ Fifi places her handbag on her lap and clasps her hands across the top. ‘Dr Chieveley, could you tell me if the cold might be affecting my arthritis, only since the weather turned it’s been very much worse. My husband suggested some winter sunshine might help.’

I don’t really want to get involved in a full-scale consultation, but it seems like a sensible question.

‘I think it would be a great idea if you and your husband could afford a holiday in the sun.’

‘Oh no, he wasn’t saying we’d both go,’ Fifi says. ‘He meant for me to go alone.’

‘You sound like you have a very considerate husband,’ I say brightly.

‘I suspect he was considering himself, not my precarious state of health. Anyway, if you think it’s a good idea, I’ll book some time away with my sister, that’s if everyone can manage without me.’

Sage gives me a nudge. ‘The Eternally Frazzled Mum is here with those naughty boys.’

‘Are they?’ I look around, worried that Ally might have overheard our nickname for her. ‘Where?’

‘They’re behind yooou,’ Sage sings out. ‘Get it!’

‘You are very funny,’ I say, relieved to see that although they are indeed behind us they’re a few rows further back, as are Claire and Kevin, who appear to have eyes only for each other. ‘You should be a stand-up comic.’

‘It’s starting,’ Sage says, as music comes blaring out
of the speaker to our left and the curtains part, revealing a magnificent set of a pastoral scene with a distant castle, and at the front of the stage, Cinderella, in tattered clothing, sweeping the path up to the door of a cottage, made to look as though it’s built from cob and thatch.

I look at Sage’s face. She’s entranced by the magic of the tale of rags to riches, which could also be described as the story of the rise of a nonentity to a celebrity because the group have given the panto a modern twist. The ugly sisters, one of whom is Steve, come tottering onto the stage in skimpy gowns and ultra-high heels. Their blonde wigs, enormous cleavages, false lashes and fake tan make them look like exiles from TOWIE.

The prince, wearing a cloak, crown and hose and holding a bow and arrow, comes skipping out from the wings. He takes a potshot and a soft toy – a toucan – drops down to the floor with an arrow stuck through it.

‘What did he do that for?’ says Sage, on the edge of her seat. ‘I wouldn’t want to marry a prince who kills birds.’

‘It’s just to show that he enjoys princely pursuits like hunting,’ Matt says, letting Gabriel scramble onto his knee.

‘He’s wearing tights.’ Sage maintains an expression of disapproval. ‘What does Cinderella see in him?’

I can’t help laughing. ‘I think he’s supposed to be very handsome.’

‘And have a good sense of humour,’ Matt adds.

‘Sh,’ says Fifi.

‘The prince is a girl,’ Gabriel announces. ‘Nicci, that man is a lady.’

‘Be quiet,’ says Sage, embarrassed by her brother.