The Village Vet (5 page)

‘He wanted to be with his family and friends. Which is completely understandable,’ Katie adds, as if challenging me to contradict her, ‘and as the food and drink had already been paid for—’

‘He thought he’d celebrate his narrow escape,’ I finish for her, recalling the slag and slutty-wife comments.

‘Oh, don’t be silly. He’s gutted. This was supposed to be his wedding night. He looks terrible.’ She hesitates. ‘I should have been looking after you, but you ran off and Nathan was in such a state. Well, I couldn’t leave him, could I?’

I don’t see why not, but I don’t say anything.

‘Katie, don’t worry about coming over now. I’ve got my dad with me, and you’ve had a long day.’

‘If you’re absolutely sure.’

‘Sure,’ I confirm.

‘All right, we’ll go out for a drink sometime soon. How about tomorrow?’

‘I can’t face going out. I’ll feel like everyone’s looking at me.’

‘We could stay in, drink some wine …’

‘I’ve got no money,’ I say, recalling that I paid for the reception on my credit card because Nathan’s replacement card had got lost in the post, or so he claimed at the time.

‘I’ll bring a bottle.’

I can sense that Katie isn’t going to take no for an answer, so I thank her and say she can drop round any time. My parents won’t mind – they’ll probably be out anyway, knowing their insatiable appetite for social situations: parties, bridge nights, meetings of the Amateur Dramatics Group, who, even though it’s April, will soon start writing and rehearsing the next Christmas panto.

Dad returns from the kitchen, bumbling in with eggs on toast and a tea towel over his arm, just like a waiter in a cheap seaside hotel.

‘Oh no, thank you, I couldn’t eat a thing,’ I say when he offers it to me.

‘Would you prefer a boiled egg with soldiers?’

‘Dad, I’m sorry I’m not hungry.’

‘You need to keep your strength up. It might seem impossible now, but one day we’re going to look back on today and have a good laugh.’

‘I don’t see how,’ I groan, but I do take the plate, balance it on my lap and pick up the knife and fork, while my father plumps up the chintz cushions and plonks himself down beside me, the sofa creaking under his weight. ‘Is this going to be one of your little talks?’

‘It’s always good to talk,’ Dad says brightly. ‘You go first.’

‘You didn’t approve of him, did you?’ I say eventually.

‘Nathan? No, I can’t pretend that I did. You used to be so sensible, but he turned your head. Oh, I’m not surprised. He could be charming. Look at how he seduced your mother – not in the physical sense,’ he adds quickly, eyes twinkling.

I recall Nathan taking me and my parents out to lunch at a rather exclusive fish restaurant on the coast. He won my mother over then and upset my dad by announcing our engagement without asking him for my hand in marriage first. I remember how the conversation went.

‘I didn’t ask you because you would have said no,’ Nathan said. There was a brief pause, during which you could have heard an oyster sliding down someone’s throat. ‘Steve, I understand because your daughter is a unique and special lady, and I am not worthy of her.’ Nathan lifted my hand to show off the ring. He kissed my mother on both cheeks, and shook my dad’s hand.

‘Have you set the date?’ asked my mother.

‘As soon as possible,’ said Nathan. ‘I don’t want to risk her changing her mind.’

Was that why he was in such a rush to get married? Was it a premonition? Dad brings me back to the present, saying, ‘I know Nathan glowed in your eyes, all shiny and bright, but I always thought there was something of the night about him. Jack obviously thinks so too.’

‘I didn’t jilt Nathan at the altar on Jack’s say-so,’ I point out, a little annoyed at the suggestion that
I
’d actually listen to Jack, an old friend who has become a stranger. The decision was mine, and mine alone.

‘But what he said gave you a nudge in the right direction,’ Dad persists quizzically.

‘My decision had nothing to do with Jack, nothing at all.’ I will not admit it to anyone, but Jack’s dramatic gesture did endow me with an extra shot of self-confidence, and Nathan’s response failed to persuade me against my subsequent course of action.

‘Whatever your reasons, Tessa, you did the right thing. Life isn’t a rehearsal – it’s the real thing.’ After a pause, my dad changes the subject. ‘By the way, I rang about the dog. I knew you’d want to find out how he was.’

‘You’ve made me feel really bad now. I forgot.’

‘Not surprisingly.’

‘How is he?’

‘He’s up and about. He’s got a sore head, but Maz reckons he’ll be fine in a couple of days.’

‘Has the owner of the dog come forward?’

‘Not yet, although you would have thought someone would have noticed by now. He’s a big dog to miss. Maz was wondering if he could be the one that’s been terrorising other dogs on the Green for the past few months. She’s grateful that we caught him, even though we did have to run him over to do it.’ Dad grins. ‘He looks as if he’s been living rough – ruff, get it, ruff, ruff, ruff.’

‘Dad, you’re barking.’ I can’t help smiling.

‘That’s better, Tessa,’ he says. ‘That’s my girl. You know you have to kiss an awful lot of frogs before you find a prince.’

‘That’s just a fairy taIe,’ I tell him. ‘I’ve kissed an
awful
lot of men I thought were princes and they’ve all turned into frogs.’

‘Not all of them, surely. There’s Jack.’

‘What do you mean, there’s Jack?’ A flush of indignation spreads up my neck.

‘I remember you two were always snogging on the sofa when your mum and I got home from bridge. There was never any sign of him turning into a creature of the amphibious kind.’

‘Dad, you are so embarrassing.’

‘I always hoped you two might get it together again one day, but I suppose there’s absolutely no chance of that now.’ I don’t need to respond because my father continues, ‘It’s so out of character for Jack to draw attention to himself. At the club’ – he means the Am Dram Group – ‘he’s very much backstage, as you know.’ He pauses. ‘By the way, he says he’s very sorry.’

‘You’ve spoken to him?’ The idea of my father chatting with Jack upsets me – it seems disloyal somehow.

‘I spoke to him at the church, as you know, and again when he turned up this afternoon with one of your shoes – you must have dropped it somewhere on your way to the river.’ Dad sighs softly. ‘He reminded me of Prince Charming bringing the glass slipper for Cinderella after the ball. Listen up.’ Dad flaps his hands behind his ears, like a dog in a wind tunnel. ‘They’re on their way, your mum, your uncles and your aunts.’

I can hear Aunt Fifi’s raucous laughter from here.

‘Oh no, they’re all out of their skulls,’ I groan, holding a cushion over my face. ‘Dad, will you excuse me? I’m going upstairs.’

‘Go on then, love, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep them away. You know what they’re like.’

Dad is right. I feel as though I’m lying in state when my mother and aunt turn up in my old room and sit on the end of my bed, one each side, my mum holding a glass of wine and my aunt clutching my teddy bear. They’re both in their sixties and there’s a strong family resemblance in their sharp, terrier-like features, but my mother dresses in casual tops, jeans and long boots, and lets her ash-grey hair grow long, wearing it pinned on the top of her head, whereas Fifi fights the ageing process by all means possible; keeping her hair short and coloured with blonde and copper highlights, she wears coordinating separates with matching shoes and handbags more suited to mayoral events, weddings – don’t remind me of weddings just now – and school prize-givings than everyday activities.

‘He is a right charmer,’ Mum says, ‘and more than comfortably off. Tessa, you would never have wanted for money.’ She touches the corner of her eye. ‘I thought I might be a grandmother by this time next year.’

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ I say, my fingers tightening on the duvet, ‘but it’s my life. You would have been more disappointed if I’d ended up divorced and a single parent. I couldn’t go through with it because I realised we didn’t love each other enough to make it last. I loved him’ – I bite back a sob – ‘but he couldn’t say the same about me.’

‘Men!’ my aunt sighs.

‘We shouldn’t tar them all with the same brush,’ Mum says. ‘Look at my Steve.’

‘I wish you hadn’t – looked at him, I mean,’ says Fifi
with
her customary sisterly tact (I’m being ironic). ‘Steve’s always been as poor as a church mouse.’

‘I’ve always loved him though,’ Mum says quietly, ‘which is more than you can say.’

‘Annie, are you casting aspersions on my marriage?’

‘What’s this about casting nasturtiums?’ Dad waltzes in to join us. ‘Oh, I see. Girls’ talk. I’ll make myself scarce.’ He rolls his eyes at me and I shrug back.

‘Don’t mind us, Steve,’ says Fifi. ‘We’ll all be on our way downstairs in a minute, Tessa included. No buts,’ she adds, aiming this at me. ‘You mustn’t be a party pooper.’

‘That’s right,’ is my father’s parting shot. ‘Life might fall apart now and again, but the party must go on.’ - ‘Fifi, I’ve had an extremely traumatic day,’ I begin. ‘I’d like some time to myself.’

‘You must join us. We meet once in a blue moon for the odd hatch, match and despatch. Go on, Tessa, this could be your very last chance to see Great-Auntie Marion before she pops her clogs, and you must have some cake.’

‘We brought the rest of the wedding cake back from the reception. I hope you don’t mind,’ says Mum, ‘but it seems such a shame to waste it.’

‘You can freeze one tier and use any that’s left for making trifle,’ says Fifi, getting up and taking my dressing gown down from the hook on the back of the door. ‘There you are.’

Fifi and my mum virtually frogmarch me down the stairs and I spend the next few hours feeling like an exhibit at the zoo, being consoled by the extended family and jollied along by my maiden great-aunt over brandy and wedding cake until I’m so sozzled that I can almost believe the day never happened.

‘That’s right, dear,’ Great-Auntie Marion says, patting my knee. ‘You mustn’t upset yourself any more – you can rest assured that we’ve all had a wonderful day.’

‘I shall die an old maid,’ I say with a theatrical flourish of my hand.

‘There’s nothing wrong in that,’ my great-aunt says.

‘I’m sorry.’ I wish I hadn’t mentioned dying either, considering that, according to Fifi, she’s supposed to be on her last legs.

‘It’s all right. I’ve had a lot of fun as an old maid.’ She lowers her voice and, glancing around the room, she adds, ‘I’ve never been attracted to anyone of the male persuasion. It’s so much easier to share one’s life with women. I’ve always enjoyed tipping the velvet, if you know what I mean.’

I’m not sure that I do, but I have my suspicions.

‘I’m sorry to hear you haven’t been well,’ I go on, changing the subject.

‘Oh, I’m well enough,’ she assures me. ‘The doctors are keeping me going.’

What a day! The wedding car ran over a dog, the bride jilted the groom at the altar, the wedding cake is to be turned into trifle and my great-aunt has come out of the closet.

It’s been the most devastating, yet bizarre day of my life. I wonder how Nathan must be feeling and hope he is all right, and then I start to worry about what I will do next. This morning, I had my future mapped out. Tonight, I have no idea what the future holds.

‘You’re in demand, Tessa,’ my dad says, waking me the next day with hot whisky and lemon and some
toast
and honey, to make doubly sure that I won’t catch a cold after my unplanned dip in the river. ‘Are you up to seeing visitors?’

‘I really can’t face playing happy families again, not just yet,’ I sigh, pulling the duvet up as far as my nose. ‘Who is it?’

‘I’ve got Nathan in the kitchen with your mum, and Jack on the doorstep. And don’t frown at me like that. I had to let Nathan in because I didn’t want them coming to blows, and you’ll have to come down and speak to him because he refuses to leave without seeing you.’

‘I don’t want to see either of them. I’ve had enough of men – you excepting, Dad.’

‘If you would just talk to them, they might both leave you in peace,’ Dad says optimistically.

‘Look, I can’t do it.’

‘Tess, love, you have to speak to Nathan at least.’

‘Is he okay?’

‘He’s very upset.’

‘After what he said to me yesterday in front of all those people?

‘He wants to apologise.’

‘But, Dad, it won’t make any difference. We’re finished and the sooner he realises that the better.’ My voice sounds harsh, but it’s a cover for how I’m really feeling: pain and regret for not understanding before that Nathan and I don’t love each other any more, if we ever did, and guilt, because I blame myself for making such a mess of things. It took Jack Miller to bring me to my senses.

‘That’s why you should have a word – to make it clear exactly where you stand, otherwise he’ll be back here every five minutes, hassling you.’ Dad turns and
takes
the robe off the hook on the back of the bedroom door, flinging it across the bed, where it falls on top of my head. ‘Throw that on. I’ll deal with Jack. You come down to see Nathan and clear the air.’