It's a Vet's Life: (7 page)

George and I eat pasta (again), and I’m putting him to bed when Alex arrives home. Alex opens a bottle of wine and we sit down later, once our son is asleep, just the two of us, and I think, this is how life should be.

‘We need to talk about the wedding,’ I say eventually. ‘We have to decide on a budget. I’ve been Googling. I didn’t realise how much everything was going to cost.’

‘Don’t worry about that, Maz.’ Alex leans back into the sofa. ‘It costs what it costs, and I think I can rely on you not to go too mad.’

‘Alex, I hope you’re going to take on some responsibility for this wedding.’

‘Mother’s keen to help,’ he says, with a cheeky wink.

‘You’ve told her then?’

‘Of course. I’d let her take some of the strain, if I were you. It would make her very happy.’

‘I doubt it would have the same effect on me.’

‘She’s already dug out her hat.’

‘Not a riding one, I hope.’

‘Her wedding hat. She’s worn the same one for years.’

‘As long as she doesn’t wear that hideous fox fur with the glass eyes and moth-eaten tail … I couldn’t have that in the photos.’

Alex chuckles, yet I feel a little guilty for not wanting to involve the future mother-in-law, or my mother, in the planning of the wedding.

‘What about the reception?’ I say.

‘I thought here, at the Manor.’

‘I’m not sure about that.’

‘It won’t be the same as my first one,’ Alex says, reminding me with a jolt that this will be his second marriage. It’s history and, although he has contact with his ex-wife through their two children, I don’t feel that she’s a threat to our relationship in any way. However, I am still seized with irrational jealousy at the thought that Alex has done this before.

‘It was summer for a start,’ he goes on. ‘We had a marquee on the lawn. It’ll be too cold for that in December.’

‘No,’ I say. ‘I’d be quite happy if we held it in a pub like Izzy and Chris did, at the Talymill Inn.’

‘I’d prefer somewhere a bit more upmarket like the Barnscote,’ Alex says. ‘It will be cosy there at Christmas with the open fires. Elsa will do me a good deal – I treat her pigs, the happy ones.’ They’re called happy pigs because they’re free-range, not because they don’t get eaten. ‘It’s local, and not too far from the
church
,’ Alex continues. ‘All we need is good food, somewhere everyone can warm up, have a few drinks and catch up, especially for those of our guests who meet only for hatching, matching and dispatching. It needs to have good acoustics for the speeches.’ Alex cocks his head. ‘Or poor acoustics, maybe, so no one can hear what the best man’s saying.’

‘Have you asked Stewart yet?’

‘He offered as soon as I told him we’d set the date. I dread to think what he’s going to drag up, what secrets he’s going to reveal. Have you decided who’s going to give you away?’

‘I shall do it myself.’ I giggle. ‘I’m not some chattel to be handed from one man to another. It’s a ridiculous tradition and I’m not going along with it.’

Alex grins. ‘You’ll be the talk of the town, Maz. You rebel.’

I rest my head against Alex’s chest and listen to his heartbeat. He smells of antibiotic, the outdoors and musk. I can see a few dark curls of hair on his chest where the top buttons of his faded blue chambray shirt are unfastened.

‘So, are we any further forward?’ I ask.

‘I’ll get in touch with Elsa and arrange for us to go and have lunch or dinner there to refresh your memory of what the Barnscote’s like, if we can find a babysitter.’

‘Your mother spends enough time with George already, and Shannon’s too busy revising for her exams to babysit at the moment.’

‘What about that friend of hers who came with her the last time?’

‘She gave me the impression she wouldn’t do it again, not because of George, but because your father freaked her out, shooting at a rat in the yard.’ I pause.
‘You
know, Alex, I wonder if we could just book the register office and go and get married on the quiet. You, me, George and a couple of witnesses.’

‘You can’t do that, Maz. I thought you wanted the big white wedding. Anyway, everyone would be so disappointed.’

‘We could still have a party.’ Do I want the big white wedding? I didn’t think so, but I realise that the pictures in my future wedding album include me in the fairy-tale dress and Alex in top hat and tails, surrounded by family and friends. I feel almost sick with anticipation. With a bit of organisation and planning, it will be a wonderful day. I glance towards my gorgeous husband-to-be. I’m not sure how I’m going to wait until Christmas.

From this Day Forward

A WEEK GOES
by, and the wedding plans fall by the wayside for a while, but I console myself with the thought that there’s plenty of time … It’s summer. There are months until December.

On the Tuesday, when I go in to work in the morning, George is grizzly because he’s overtired.

‘I’m sorry, George,’ I say, because he really doesn’t want to go to nursery today. I don’t know what Sophia was doing with him yesterday, and I resent that. It should be me looking after him, but I need to work too.

Fleetingly, I yearn for the days when all I had to look after was my patients and myself. I used to think how tough it was. Now I know it’s a doddle compared with parenthood, especially when your partner has deserted you. That sounds dramatic, but that’s how it feels, with Alex working late most days now that the light evenings are here. I have no right to expect anything else, because I know very well what his job entails, but I’m sure he didn’t put in quite so many hours when I first met him.

I leave George with Flick, the manager at the nursery, trying to restrain myself from running back to him, and feeling like the worst mum in the world. I walk along to Otter House, catching up with Shannon who’s bringing Daisy in for her check-up. Shannon’s mother has always worked, and she brought Shannon up alone from when her dad died, and she’s turned out fine. I tell myself to take comfort in that and not fret so much.

‘Mum’s busy making up orders, otherwise she’d have brought Daisy along herself,’ Shannon explains.

I can’t help wondering if she’s just too embarrassed after the last time.

In the practice, I spend the morning consulting while Emma guides Will through his fourth list of ops. He’s doing as well as can be expected, but we’re not completely confident that he can cope alone. Emma and I decided who was to do the honours this time by tossing a coin. I won.

I help Shannon coax Daisy onto the scales in Reception, watched by a cat that looks on from its carrier with a supercilious expression, as if to say, you’ll never catch me on one of those.

Shannon checks the display. ‘She’s lost loads. That’s unbelievable.’

‘Yes, and I don’t believe it either.’ I move closer. ‘It’s impossible.’ Then I laugh out loud. Daisy’s on the scales, but she’s also leaning against the wall. The wall is taking the strain. Daisy rolls her bulgy eyes and growls when we ask her to move, but eventually she settles in the right place.

‘She hates people going on about her weight,’ Shannon says.

‘She does appear to be developing a complex.’ I stroke
Daisy’s coat
. I still don’t kiss her. Her skin is greasy, her hair rough and bristly. She isn’t in great condition.

‘What should we do next? Cut her food down even more?’

‘How much walking is she doing?’

‘Not a lot, to be honest. Mum’s been feeling under the weather, and it’s a pain walking Daisy with Seven, because Seven wants to run around playing, while Daisy drags along behind. I take them out separately after work, but I’m not usually up in time in the mornings …’

‘You’ll just have to get up earlier then.’ I’m teasing. ‘Shannon, you’ve got enough to deal with. Let’s reduce her food by another quarter for the next two weeks and see if that makes any difference. Has she had any extras?’

‘Not that I know of,’ Shannon says. ‘She’d love to get hold of Seven’s food, but I stand over them so she can’t. Oh, one thing – I found her drinking out of a bucket that had flower food in it – it’s sugary, but there can’t be all that many calories in it, can there?’

‘Does she drink very much – water, I mean?’

Shannon thinks for a moment. ‘I don’t know. She isn’t drinking any more than normal.’

‘It might be worth measuring her fluid intake over twenty-four hours. It would be a useful practical task to link with the theory you’re studying at college.’ Shannon is doing her second year of a vet nursing diploma on a day-release basis.

‘I’ll try. It won’t be easy with Seven and the flower buckets all over the place.’

‘I’ll leave the logistics with you. Let me know how you get on. Otherwise, we’ll book Daisy in for another appointment in two weeks’ time.’

‘Will do,’ Shannon says brightly.

Next, there are seven Springador puppies, Labrador-springer spaniel crosses, to check and give their first vaccinations. The owner has enlisted the help of several family members to bring them to the practice.

‘Hello, Jan,’ I say, letting the trail of people and pups in arms into the consulting room. Jan is a longstanding client who is married to the local oyster farmer. She’s slim, blonde and freckled, and in her late twenties, quite cool in a surfer-style printed cotton dress and flat sandals. Whether I’m imagining it or not, she always seems to bring the scent of the sea with her.

‘I’ve brought everyone with me,’ she smiles. ‘I don’t want my boys and girls padding around on the floor until they’ve had all their jabs.’

‘They’re very cute,’ I say, having tried and failed to shut the door with so many people crammed into what is really a very small room. ‘How do you tell which one is which?’ To me, they are all very similar: black with wavy coats, ears and paws that are too big for their bodies, and soulful brown eyes.

‘They’re colour-coded with nail varnish. Look.’ Jan shows me the paw of the puppy she’s holding. It has one claw painted pink. ‘This is Bonnie. She’s the naughtiest of the bunch.’

‘So we know which one is which,’ I say. ‘That makes it easier. I’ll check them all over first, then inject them. That way they’ll be less likely to upset each other.’

I examine each puppy, one at a time. Shannon takes notes for me on the computer.

‘They’re great, Jan. All fit and healthy,’ I pronounce, before looking towards Shannon who’s squatting down, almost inside the fridge under the workbench,
pulling
out box after box of vaccine. ‘Shannon, is there some problem?’ I ask, with a growing sense of unease.

‘Um, I’m not sure. Let me go and look in the fridge in Kennels.’ Shannon stands up and straightens her uniform. Her cheeks are red, her expression anxious.

‘I’m sorry for the delay,’ I say, when she disappears through the door into the rest of the practice. ‘There must have been a mix-up when they unpacked the delivery.’ It would be a first though, I think to myself. I know Shannon’s been allowed to check the deliveries, but I can’t imagine Izzy allowing any mistake to slip through.

Suddenly, I hear Izzy’s voice and the sound of feet pounding back along the corridor towards the consulting room.

‘It’s no good, Shannon. There’s no excuse for this. How many times have I told you to check and double-check? You’ll have to apologise. Maz …’ Izzy hesitates as she comes in. ‘I didn’t realise you wanted the vaccine right now, this minute.’

‘So there’s no puppy vaccine in the practice?’ I surmise. I turn to Jan. ‘I’m so sorry about this, especially as you’ve all been inconvenienced.’ I think quickly. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to rebook you. Naturally, there’ll be a discount.’

‘I should hope so. It’s a real pain,’ Jan says. ‘I wanted to get this lot vaccinated, and out and about as soon as possible.’

Jan and her entourage return to make another ultra-long appointment with Frances, while I head for the staffroom where Izzy is continuing her rather one-sided discussion with Shannon. Izzy is understandably furious because it reflects on her as head nurse. Steam rises from a cup of coffee beside the
kettle
. Metaphorical steam is coming out of Izzy’s ears.

‘You’re lucky,’ Izzy says. ‘Frances says Old Fox-Gifford used to throw his mug at her, if anything went wrong.’ Frances used to work for Talyton Manor Vets – Old Fox-Gifford accused Otter House of poaching her, and I don’t think he’s really ever forgiven us. ‘What did go wrong, Shannon?’

‘There’ll be time for the inquest later,’ I cut in. ‘Shannon made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes.’ It’s a shame it had to be this one because we need that vaccine. I’ve rechecked the list of clients booked in for the rest of the day, and there are three, if not four, more dogs for their annual jabs. We need to get hold of some dog vaccine, otherwise I’ll have to cancel, and that is going to be expensive, and have a knock-on effect on bookings for the rest of the week. We’re lucky in that we’re always fully booked, fitting in extra patients when they need to be seen, often at the end of routine consultations. BG, Before George, I used not to mind, but it gets difficult when I have to pick him up from nursery before they close.

‘What are we going to do?’ says Izzy. ‘I can order more now, but it won’t come until lunchtime tomorrow.’