Across the Sands of Time (21 page)

‘Mae will be pleased to see you,' Dominic said. ‘Chas too. He's
a great guy, your da. Oh, I know he likes to have his say but underneath it all he's sound. Do they know yet about you and Tracey?'

He nodded.

‘I've kept in touch with Mum and—'

Suddenly, Dominic's mobile trilled in his pocket. Making a slight apologetic gesture with his hand, he dug out the phone and left the bar, heading for outside where the signal was better.

‘Hello?'

‘Dominic? It's Freddie Barnes here.'

Dominic was immediately on his guard. More trouble, he thought, it had to be.

‘Freddie, hello. How're things?'

‘Hectic, as always. That's why I'm ringing, Dominic. We've a horse with a tendon problem on the near-foreleg. The owner wants us to operate.'

Dominic's anxiety abated slightly. Work-related issues he could deal with, it was the uncertainties that blew up out of nowhere that got him down.

‘Would it be a damaged tendon?'

‘Yes – quite bad. She did it while out on exercise. Thing is, this is more your area than mine. If we operate, what are the chances of a complete recovery?'

‘Pretty good. The tried and tested treatment is sedation and rest and give the torn tissues the chance to heal. But it's a lengthy business. Surgery won't speed up the healing process any, but it will lessen the risk of the problem recurring. I did it once on a young thoroughbred. It went on to race again, eventually. You have to give it time. In the racing world time's at a premium.'

‘I understand. Anyway, any chance of your coming over here and seeing to it for us? It's a tricky operation. I'm not up to it and neither is any other member of the team. It's a valuable animal, Dominic. The client isn't one I want to turn down.'

Dominic frowned, suspicion swirling.

‘Who is it?'

‘Bob Perrit.'

He knew it! Of all the horse yards on the Wirral, it had to be this one.

‘Perrit? You do surprise me, Freddie. I thought I'd heard he'd switched sides to the Neston practice.'

‘He did, but apparently they could only offer the conventional treatment. Anything more specialist they refer to Liverpool. Perrit turned that down. He doesn't want the animal traumatized any more than necessary. If we do it she remains at home in her own box for the recuperation period with a groom she knows looking after her.'

‘Well, now, there's sense in that.'

‘Quite. And this is one of his best mares. He was retiring her from chasing at the end of the season anyway because he wants a foal out of her. Doesn't want to lose the line.'

‘Does he know who'd be performing the op?'

‘No, and I'm not prepared to say. Who does what in this practice is up to me. I've simply said the operation is available to him. Saying that, the man's no fool. He knows you're the equine specialist.'

‘He also believes I'm safely out of the way!'

Dominic sucked in a long breath between his teeth. Every operation carried a risk, some more than others. There never were any guarantees. He'd known a top man once perform this same type of surgery and it had been a disaster.

‘Look, Freddie. This is a highly skilled technique. What if—'

‘Exactly, and that's why I'm calling on the best man for the job. If you'll do it, you'll be granting me a big favour. D'you want to think about it? Give me a bell when you've reached a decision?'

Dominic drew another breath. So far his own luck with the knife had held – and, yes, he could give himself some credit for flair and expertise. But there was always the chance of failure. He knew what Freddie meant by ‘big favour'.

Clients had been leaving the practice left, right and centre and, innocent though he was, Dominic was the cause. No smoke without fire and so on … and Bob Perrit had been the one fanning the flames.

Besides, he was in the thick of the legalities here, and that, coupled with a separate seriously interesting issue that could be of some import to his future, meant that he couldn't easily spare the time away.

On the other hand, a successful op meant a satisfied client and would go a long way towards redeeming his good name and that of the practice….

‘T
hea?' Dominic ducked his head against an icy blast and held the mobile tighter. ‘It's me.'

‘Dominic!'

Even here on the edge of the estuary with the December wind shrieking around him, he couldn't mistake the incredulity in her voice. He braced himself for what might be coming. Contact between them had slowly dwindled and Dominic's guilt was enormous.

‘Well … what a surprise.' Thea seemed to collect herself. ‘Dominic, I've been so worried. Why haven't you been in touch? Is everything all right?'

‘It's fine. Thea, I'm in Parkgate. I caught the early flight from Dublin this morning. Thought I'd catch you before you left for school.'

‘I'm in the car. Another minute and I'd have gone … why didn't you say you were coming?'

‘It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Freddie Barnes rang, he needs me to operate on a horse. A tendon problem. It's one of Bob Perrit's.'

‘Oh, I see.…'

‘Quite. I couldn't very well refuse.'

‘No, I suppose not. When will you do it?'

‘Today. Around mid-morning. Thea, I must see you. Could we meet somewhere? The Thatch at Raby might be best.'

‘Well, it'll have to be late on. It's the school carol concert tonight. It won't finish till eight and even then I could be delayed.'

Dominic groaned inwardly. What he had to say would not be easy, not for himself or Thea. He needed all the time he could get to explain.

‘I understand,' he replied. ‘You're right, of course. You'll be exhausted. Do you want to leave it till tomorrow? Straight after school perhaps?'

‘Tomorrow's out.' She sighed. ‘It's the Christmas party.'

This time he groaned aloud, then cringed at Thea's indignant snort.

‘Dominic, this is a hectic time in the school year. With the best will in the world I can't just down tools and come running because it suits you.'

‘Ouch!' Dominic said. ‘I suppose I deserved that.'

He pictured her, chin slightly raised in that commanding way she had, eyes going steely. Thea, when crossed, was a force to be reckoned with and he loved her for it.

‘Tonight, then,' he said, coaxing. ‘I'll be waiting there for you at the Thatch.'

‘Right. I must go or I'll be late. ‘Bye, Dominic … oh, and best of luck for today.'

‘Thanks. I hope the concert goes off OK, too. See you later, then, Thea.…'

His words seemed inadequate. He wanted to say so much more but she'd gone. Putting his phone away, scowling at the sudden sting of raindrops on his face, Dominic set off for the modern precincts of the veterinary centre he had left. It seemed an eternity ago. So much depended on the work that lay ahead of him.

Inwardly he was nervous, yet he knew that once he had begun surgery his mind would empty of all thought bar the task in hand. It
had
to turn out a success….

 

Thea was at the Thatch just before nine, weaving her way through the Thursday night crowd, nodding a greeting here and there, pausing briefly to exchange a word with the barman, who was a friend of her father's.

Spotting Dominic, she came across to the fireside table where he
sat, her thick plait of dark-gold hair ruffled by the still-buffeting wind.

He stood up to greet her, noticing the smudges of fatigue shadowing her eyes and the strain on her fine-boned face.

‘Thea … sure, it's good to see you. Come and get warm here by the fire and I'll get you a brandy – no argument, now! You've had a long day.'

He knew he was jabbering and silently berated himself. Thea, however, directed him a brief smile of gratitude and sank down by the crackling logs, holding her hands to the blaze.

‘Thanks, Dominic. A small brandy would be great, but plenty of soda, please.'

‘Brandy and soda it is, then. We'll have a bite to eat afterwards. Don't go away.'

He strode off to the bar. When he returned with the drinks she had unwound her long white scarf from her neck, taken off her coat and was sitting back in her chair, looking pale but composed.

‘Thanks.' Accepting the glass, she held his gaze. ‘How did today go?'

‘The repair job? All according to plan, I'm glad to say. It's early days yet, of course, but the mare bounced round from the anaesthetic, and that's always a good sign.'

He settled down opposite her with his own drink, feasting his eyes on her. How lovely she was. His beautiful, lovable Thea.

He cleared his throat.

‘Well then. What about the carol concert. How did that go?'

‘Oh, fine, all over for another year.'

Thea sipped her drink, catching her breath as the fiery liquid slipped down her throat.

‘Dominic, I'm sorry to come straight to the point but you have to tell me how we stand. We were getting so close and then – nothing. Was the fault on my part? Did I say something I shouldn't have? You didn't even answer my text congratulating you on the outcome of the inquiry.'

‘I know and I'm sorry.' He sighed. ‘What with one thing and another it's been quite a time lately.

‘You always say that,' Thea said dismissively. She frowned, as if something had just occurred to her. ‘Where's Trina?'

‘I've left her back at the hotel in Wexford. Remember Sue O'Hare, the proprietor's wife? She's looking after her for me.'

If anything, Thea's face went a shade whiter.

‘You mean, you're going back to Ireland? You're not stopping here? But I thought once the case was finished you'd be free to take up your life again.'

‘And so I am. Thea.…' He leaned closer, taking her hands. ‘This isn't going to be easy. Look, I've been offered my old job in Ireland. It's a thriving practice with no less than five horse specialists and I stand to occupy a senior position.

‘It's my sort of work, Thea. I'd be a fool to turn it down. There's the matter of working out my notice here, but I've been speaking to Freddie Barnes. He thinks he knows of a vet to fill my place, in which case he's willing to waive the contract. That'll leave my way clear.'

‘I see. And … us?'

‘Thea, this is why I wanted to see you. I love you, you know that. You're like no one else I've ever met, and for that reason I have to let you go.'

‘I don't understand,' Thea said flatly.

He reached over and took her hands.

‘Thea, I can't help thinking I'm no good for people. Wherever I go, whatever I do, things go wrong around me.' He grinned ruefully. ‘I have an uncanny knack for it. I can't risk dragging you into all that.'

‘All what?' Thea bristled. ‘I can't make any sense of what you're saying. Are we talking about destiny? If so, then it's my belief that we make our own.'

‘I'm telling you, it happens. Look at the Ferlann Ridge débâcle. Look what happened at the practice here. My mother would have called it the black dog of fate snapping at my heels.'

‘Dominic, you were simply a victim of circumstances. It can happen to anyone. It was all just a knock-on effect. All this talk of fatalism … it's just not true and you'll never convince me otherwise. '

Dominic's hands had tightened unknowingly over hers and now she disengaged them, rubbing back the circulation.

‘So what other excuse have you for going back to Ireland without me?'

‘You'd be lonely. It's all so different over there from what you're used to. It wouldn't be fair on you.'

She drew in a disbelieving breath.

‘That's a good one! I'm not a child, Dominic. I'm a grown woman. I'm perfectly capable of making friends and settling down. We'd be together. Hasn't it occurred to you
that
might be all I want?'

‘And give up all this?' In an almost angry gesture he embraced the crowded floor and bright faces around them. ‘These are your friends, people you've known all your life. Not far away is the home where you grew up and the folks who love you. You hold down a respected position at the school. You have your own life here, Thea – the show ponies, the history group—'

‘Don't they have all those things in Ireland?' she interrupted. ‘Of course they do! Dominic, listen, just listen.…' Thea's voice wobbled on the brink of tears. ‘Don't give up on us until you've thought this through. OK, things were tough for a while – but you've come through it. You're still bruised by what happened through no fault of your own. Give it time to heal. Six months, a year. Whatever it takes. But please don't say it's over.'

Dominic gazed at her, hating himself for the desperate look in her eyes, his mind struggling to accept what she was saying. He was achingly tempted to swallow his doubts, take her into his arms there and then and ask her to risk all at his side. Just in time, he stopped himself.

‘I'd be no good to you,' he repeated. ‘Some men are cut out for going it alone and I must be one of them. It's a solitary road but there it is.'

Thea dragged her gaze from his and stared miserably into her barely touched drink.

‘In that case, there's no more to be said,' she replied quietly.

It was late when Thea drove into the main yard at Woodhey. She hadn't been able to touch a morsel of her food and bitter unhappiness had swamped her all the way home. If it hadn't been for the weather, now working up to a sleety gale, she'd have taken her woes to the ponies.

She saw, with sinking heart, that the lights were still on in the sitting-room, indicating her mother was still up and waiting for her return. Facing Mae, having to put on a brave front to avoid worrying her, seemed a near impossible task.

Steeling herself, Thea went indoors, calling brightly as she crossed the kitchen floor.

‘Hello.… Anybody there? I'm home.'

‘Darling, hello,' Mae responded from the far side of the house. She came into the passageway, looking flushed from the heat of the fire and much improved after her recent spell of ill health.

‘I was beginning to think you'd got lost. Do you want some cocoa? I was just about to make some.'

‘Not really, Mum, thanks. I'm absolutely done in. Think I'll go straight to bed.'

She made to leave but her mother was quick, catching hold of her arm.

‘Thea, darling, what is it? You look dreadful.'

‘Oh … oh Mum!'

Sympathy on top of what had happened was too much. All Thea's control fled and the tears that had been held back now flowed unremittingly.

‘I've just seen Dominic,' she said on a gulping sob. ‘Mum, he says we're through and we'd b – barely started. But I know I love him and—'

‘Hush, now.' Mae threw a cautious glance up the stairs where Chas was hopefully asleep and deaf to the world. She put a comforting arm around her daughter.

‘Come in by the fire and tell me about it. And I don't want any nonsense about not wanting to worry me. Worry is all part and parcel of being a mum.'

Sitting together on the sofa before a replenished fire, Thea told
Mae what had happened. After the first bout of weeping had subsided, a strange calm settled over her. Thea barely recognized the dull tones of her own voice as she relayed the events of the past weeks, much of which had not been hers to broadcast and which she had kept closely to herself.

‘You already knew why Dominic left Ireland to take up that vacancy with the practice here,' she began. ‘It's true there was a big doping case and Dominic was implicated, but the evidence was flawed. It seems he took the blame to protect Aisling Cleary – well, they were engaged at the time. She wasn't guilty, though. The true culprit was a man called Murty Miles.'

‘The jockey? Didn't he win the Dublin National three times in succession?'

‘That's right. Murty was seriously ill and wanted to put his house in order. He managed to contact Dominic through Aisling and, well, to cut a long story short, Dominic's name has now been cleared by the Irish Jockey Club.'

‘But … darling, that's wonderful!' Mae cried.

‘Isn't it just.' A bitterness crept into Thea's voice. ‘Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm delighted for Dominic. Mum, I
really
love him. This is different from how I felt about Geoff. It's … it's all-consuming. I can't imagine life without him. I know that sounds clichéd and melodramatic but it's how I feel. And he says he feel the same about me.'

Mae looked justifiably bewildered.

‘So what's the problem? If Dominic's been exonerated, his career can now blaze ahead. And it will. He's a brilliant vet, everyone says that. And if this other girl no longer features in his life but you do, why can't the two of you give it a chance?'

Thea dabbed her eyes.

‘Dominic doesn't see it that way. He's got this thing about being fated for things to go wrong. He says he's dogged by ill luck and he doesn't want to drag me into it. It's rubbish.'