Vets in Love (9 page)

‘You reckon?’

‘I’m quietly confident.’

Matt is charming and the thought is tempting, but I’m not going to let myself be seduced by his offer.

‘I thought it would be something I could do when I retire.’

I laugh. ‘That’s long-term planning!’

‘You should always be prepared.’ He glances towards his shoulder. ‘Who knows how long I’ll be able to work for. I’ve spoken to my doctor, but she hasn’t a clue.’

I give him a dig in the ribs.

‘Ouch.’ He winces. ‘You’re supposed to relieve suffering, not cause it. What about your hobbies? I expect you spend most of your spare time up at the yard.’

We go on to talk about where we live and about the pair of farm-worker’s cottages he’s been trying to renovate for the past four years. The conversation plays out as if we’re already best mates. I like the humour and the banter and I like him very much, but there are many reasons why it can’t go further. He’s my patient, I’m too busy for dating, and I’m not prepared to risk another man being reckless with my heart like Henry was.

‘Hello there.’ It’s my mother calling across to me,
walking arm in arm with Robert, who looks the picture of health to me and hopefully many years from expiring, so I can forget any worries on that score.

‘Do you always bring your mother along as a chaperone?’ Matt says.

‘She thinks I’m keeping an eye on her.’

‘Is that your father?’

‘My dad? Oh no.’

‘I’m sorry I’ve put my foot in it.’

‘It’s all right. My parents are divorced. That’s Robert, my mother’s internet date.’ My heart sinks as I watch her sit down at a rustic table, look into her beau’s eyes and lock lips with him.

‘Did I mention to you that I was adopted?’ I say to Matt.

‘Were you?’ Matt frowns. ‘But you and your mother look so alike …’ His voice trails off. ‘You’re joking.’

‘Yeah, but there are times when I think I must have been. What about your family?’

‘My parents live in Sussex – they run a vineyard that makes English sparkling wine.’

‘I’m not ideal girlfriend material then, am I, being teetotal?’

‘My mother doesn’t drink wine either,’ Matt says, ‘only gin. I have two brothers, the eldest returned home to take over the reins of the winemaking business, and the youngest is sailing charter boats in the Caribbean. I’m the one in the middle.’

‘I have a sister. She has a couple of kids and lives in London.’

‘Is she a doctor like you?’

‘No, she left school at sixteen.’ I don’t elaborate – Matt’s family sounds far more interesting than mine. He edges closer until his thigh is touching mine. I lean against his shoulder, his good one. It feels perfectly normal and natural, sitting close to him, breathing the scent of aftershave, beer and the river while listening to the sound of his voice and in the distance the laughter of the children clambering about on the climbing frame in the play area, and the occasional splash of a bird or fish in the water.

I relax, closing my eyes for a moment, when I hear the dreaded words.

‘Dr Chieveley, how fortuitous!’

I sit up abruptly to find Fifi Green, resplendent in a sunhat, mauve dress and matching shawl, standing over me.

‘I’m here to arrange a quiz night to raise funds for Talyton Animal Rescue,’ she goes on, as if to make it clear that she isn’t the kind of person who is normally found frequenting such an establishment. ‘Matt, could I borrow your companion for just a moment?’ Without waiting for a response, she rushes on, ‘Dr Chieveley, it’s about my wrist. I couldn’t fasten my necklace by myself and I do so hate being dependent on anyone. I’m in agony.’

I resist the temptation to point out that if she was in that much pain, she wouldn’t be here, dressed up to the nines. She’d be at home on painkillers, alternating with ice packs and heat, or in contact with the emergency doctors.

I recall Ben mentioning with a rueful smile that Fifi was a pain, always grabbing him for a consultation
about her bunions whenever he ran into her socially. He gave me the impression he was fed up with humouring her and it made me wonder if he treats Fifi like the boy who cried wolf. If Ben isn’t taking her seriously any more, perhaps I should at least listen to check that there really isn’t anything wrong with her.

‘If you’re doing consultations in the pub, I wouldn’t mind you having another look at my shoulder,’ Matt says once Fifi has gone, pacified by my suggestion that she books an appointment with Claire for some blood tests.

‘Not here, not now,’ I say, blushing at the memory of his naked torso.

‘Later then, after closing time.’

‘Matt!’ I exclaim as his fingers brush lightly against mine.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve offended you.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘I’ve gone too far.’

‘Matt, I forgive you. I’m not used to being chatted up like this.’

‘I can’t believe that you don’t have men chatting you up all the time,’ he says.

‘Well, I think you’re more than making up for it.’

‘I would like to see you again, on any basis of your choosing. How about dinner sometime? I’d prefer you to be my girlfriend, but if you want to keep up the “just friends” charade for a little longer, I’ll survive.’

‘I’d like that.’ Despite my misgivings I really do want to see him again. ‘Maybe we could have lunch tomorrow?’

‘Unfortunately I’m working tomorrow,’ he says with a sigh. ‘Actually, I don’t mind working on a Sunday. It can get busy, but I usually find some time to catch up with paperwork and the general repairs that need doing at the hospital.’

‘Don’t you have a handyman for that?’

‘We employ a gardener to mow the lawns and keep the paddocks tidy, and we have contracts on the anaesthetic, X-ray and ultrasound machines, but Jimmy and I try to do as much as we can ourselves to keep the costs down.’ He pauses. ‘How about Monday for a meal out?’

‘I have dressage training with Delphi on Monday after work, and late-night surgeries on Tuesday and Thursday.’

‘Can you do Wednesday? No, that’s no good.’ He changes his mind. ‘I’m on call. I know – give me your mobile number and I’ll text you mine. I’ll see if I can do a swap on the rota. Here.’ He holds out his hand, palm down.

I take a pen from my bag and write my number in shaky figures on his skin.

Later, my phone rings, but it isn’t Matt. It’s Mum calling me to check that I’m home.

‘What did you think of Robert?’ she goes on to ask, and I can tell from the tone of her voice that it doesn’t really matter what I think because she’s made her mind up.

‘He seems …’ What can I say? I’ve never been interested in older men and May to December relationships,
so I can’t say ‘Yum, he’s rather gorgeous,’ as she does about my boyfriends, because it would make me want to throw up. ‘Lovely’ is too non-committal to count as an opinion, so I settle for, ‘He seems very jolly.’

‘Is that the best you can come up with, Nicci?’ Mum sighs. ‘I think he’s wonderful – intelligent, attractive and civilised – for a man.’

‘It’s rather too soon to be saying that, isn’t it?’

‘What are you like? I know Henry let you down, but you mustn’t let that influence you in the future.’ She pauses. ‘I like Matt. If I were you, I wouldn’t hesitate to snap him up.’

‘You have a spring in your step this morning, Dr Chieveley,’ Claire says on the following Wednesday morning. I’m bringing the treats for today – cherry and almond slices and meringues filled with cream and sprinkled with hundreds and thousands. We’ll have a cholesterol-free day tomorrow. ‘I hear you had a good weekend.’

‘I did. How about you? How was your long weekend off?’ I ask her as I head into the staffroom with my armful of goodies. Claire follows me as I make my way to the consulting room to prepare for the day.

‘Oh, I did the garden and went to the beach, nothing special. I believe you have a lot to tell me.’

‘Willow won the one-day event over at East Hill.’ I sit down, pull my mobile out of my bag and switch it to silent before putting it away in the drawer of my desk.

‘That’s amazing. You must be over the moon.’

‘I am. Willow’s such a great horse. I gave her the day off on Sunday, turning her out in the paddock to graze and relax. I hacked her out on Monday and started back on the training schedule yesterday in earnest.’

‘I’m more interested in the fact you were spotted out with Matt Warren,’ Claire grins. ‘It’s no good denying it – I’ve had it confirmed by more than one source. And if you’d wanted to keep it quiet, you shouldn’t have gone to the Talymill Inn. The gossip’s all over town.’

‘Oh great,’ I sigh, recalling that I spoke with Fifi Green. ‘It felt like I was on a double-date with my mother.’

‘So it was a date,’ Claire flashes back.

‘My mum was on a date. I wasn’t. I’m glad she’s found someone, for now at least. It takes her mind off my errant sister.’

‘So?’

‘So what?’

‘You and Matt?’

‘He’s my vet.’

‘In what way?’ Claire teases.

‘It’s purely platonic.’ I giggle, before growing serious. ‘Claire, there’s nothing going on. Matt’s a patient and I’m well aware of the rules about doctor-patient relationships. I’m not stupid.’

‘But you do fancy him?’

‘Well—’ I can’t deny it ‘—he’s pretty fit, but—’

‘So you must do something about it.’ Claire is excited. ‘Don’t let him get away.’

I smile to myself. There is something irresistible about Matt Warren, and he’s asked me out for a second time. I’d love to date him, but there’s no changing the fact that he’s my patient, and nothing can happen between us, even if I wanted it to. And I’m too shy to raise the subject of him changing doctors – it would make me look desperate and cheap. And I’m not sure I’m ready for a relationship. What if I went through all that and found out he wasn’t for me after all? No, it’s best to let it lie, at least for now. Take it slowly, I tell myself. The problem is that Matt gives the impression of being an impatient kind of man.

‘I won’t be seeing him for a while now. We tried to arrange to meet for a meal this week, but we’re both too busy. He was supposed to get in touch, but he hasn’t.’

‘You’re in for a nice surprise then,’ Claire says. ‘He phoned for an appointment this morning.’

‘Today?’

‘You had a cancellation.’

‘What time?’ I scroll down through the patient list for the day. Ten o’clock.
Matt Warren. Shoulder still playing up something chronic
. It’s Janet’s explanation. The receptionist likes to put her own spin on things. Sometimes it’s helpful and other times it isn’t. I notice that Ed Pike is on the list too, without Milo this time.
Personal problems. Will only speak to Nicci
. There’s also another of Janet’s observations.
Nobby Warwick. Can’t sit down
.

‘That’s quite a list,’ Claire says, looking over my shoulder.

‘It certainly is. There are times when I long for the cut and thrust and adrenaline rush of emergency medicine, and today might very well turn out to be one of them.’ I glance at her. ‘By the way, Fifi’s coming in for blood tests. I thought I’d better warn you, so you can prime Janet to interrupt if she chatters on for too long.’

‘Thanks for that, Nicci.’

‘It’s a pleasure. I’m going to look forward to the cakes at coffee time, I can tell you.’

I see Ed Pike first. For once, he’s alone with neither a dog nor a baby, and he’s nervous, clearing his throat without saying anything at all. He’s sweating too in his skeet vest and long brown hunting boots.

‘How can I help?’ I say, offering him a seat. I wait for him to speak.

‘I don’t know why I’m here really,’ he says eventually. ‘I doubt there’s anything you can do. And it’s a cosmetic thing. I’m not ill.’

‘But it was important enough to bring you here,’ I point out.

‘Actually, I’m fine, A-one.’ He makes to stand up. ‘I’m sorry, Nicci. I’m wasting your time.’

‘Ed, sit.’ I find myself talking to him the way he does to his dog. ‘You aren’t wasting my time.’

‘I’ll – um – make another appointment sometime.’

‘And then you’ll forget or not get around to it,’ I say sternly. I notice the flush on his cheeks, like the baby teething, and the fine tremor in his hands as he rubs them along his thighs.

‘I really should let you get on.’

‘I promise you I’ve seen and heard it all, and whatever you say, remember it’s in complete confidence.’ I know Ed. He wouldn’t have booked an appointment if it was nothing. Finding it hard to admit weakness isn’t an exclusively male trait. ‘If there’s something bothering you, it’s better to get it off your chest.’

Ed stares at me. ‘That’s just it, Nicci. It’s so obvious, isn’t it?’

I frown. I’m not sure what he’s getting at.

‘I feel like a freak,’ he goes on, staring down at the front of his vest.

‘Ed, you’re going to have to be more explicit,’ I say gently. ‘What exactly is the problem?’

‘I’m growing breasts, man-boobs, moobs, or whatever you like to call them.’ He looks as if he might burst into tears. ‘One of the guys at work on the estate asked me if I was having a sex-change the other day, and the guv’nor’s wife calls me Edwina. She’s a right stuck-up bitch too, but I have to kowtow to her to keep my job and the roof over our heads. I get a small wage and the gamekeeper’s cottage rent-free, but I’m not sure I can stand the humiliation for much longer.’

‘What about your family?’

Ed relaxes a little. ‘I’d like to say they’re supportive, but my brothers take the mickey out of me too, cracking jokes about which bra I should go for and how I should model for Victoria’s Secrets.’

‘And your wife?’

‘She says she loves me the way I am, but it isn’t helping our sex life.’ He smiles ruefully. ‘I don’t feel,
well, like a man any more – and I like to stay covered up.’ He tries to make light of it, adding, ‘At least we’re both keen to undress in the dark now … And I’d hate to make her feel inadequate in the breast department.’

I let Ed unburden himself now he’s found his voice.

‘I get pretty depressed sometimes, because they seem to be getting larger. I’ve tried working out a bit to see if I can turn them to muscle, but that only seems to make them look like eggs on toast.’