Trust Me, I'm a Vet (39 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Horses for Courses

‘The country air suits you, Maz. You’re positively glowing, unlike my briquettes.’ Ben holds his palms towards me as I approach. ‘I wonder who’s been lighting your fire. I could use him to get the barbie going.’

Ben and Emma invited me for an early evening meal and we’re in the garden at the back of Ben and Emma’s house. I’d expected them to settle for a place with history, like Otter House, but this is a new-build on the housing estate Old Fox-Gifford considered to be beneath his dogs, if I remember correctly.

The house is a good size, but the garden is what estate agents describe as ‘manageable’. There’s a patio, on which stands a hot tub, and an area of freshly turfed lawn. Ben, dressed in T-shirt, shorts which don’t suit him because he has what I call Popeye legs – bulging with muscle and covered with a wiry fuzz – and an apron with ‘Come and Get It’ on the front, is tinkering with his barbecue on the decking at the far end, which overlooks a field of young maize plants. Miff, who was actually pleased to see me, sits in the flowerbed, playing a game of risk with a bee.

Emma, looking cool in a long navy skirt and white vest top, hands me a glass of Pimms and lemonade, mixed with crushed ice and slices of cucumber and orange, the way we always made it in Cambridge.

‘Cheers,’ she says, clashing a glass of what looks like lemonade against mine.

‘Cheers,’ I say in return.

‘Perhaps it’s Alex Fox-Gifford,’ Ben says.

‘Hardly, Ben. Honestly, you’re a hoot.’ Laughing, Emma turns to me. ‘I don’t know why you’ve been doing him all these favours though. If it wasn’t for Alex and his precious horse, you wouldn’t have been anywhere near Buttercross Cottage on the night of the fire.’

Suddenly, I find my loyalties torn between my best friend and a Fox-Gifford.

‘If it wasn’t for Alex,’ I say quietly, ‘I wouldn’t be here now.’

‘So that’s it.’ I can hear the relief in Emma’s voice. ‘You’ve been looking after him because you feel somehow responsible for what happened?’

‘I don’t think it’s that at all,’ Ben cuts in. ‘Can’t you see? She’s in love with him.’

‘Darling, do stop pulling poor Maz’s leg,’ Emma says, and I turn aside to face the sun, which hangs like an orange fireball over the hills to the west, hoping she won’t notice my burning cheeks. ‘That’s ridiculous. He’s a complete boor.’

There was a time when I would have agreed with her, but I know differently now. I want to tell her how kind, sensitive and thoughtful he is, but there’s no point.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll see him again.’

‘What about Gloria’s funeral?’

I shrug. I assume he’ll be there, but he hasn’t been in touch about wanting a lift. I guess he’s avoiding me. I mean, he did try to let me down gently when I threw myself at him like some old slapper, like my mother does at anything in possession of an X and Y chromosome.

‘Well, I’m more than happy for you to go as one of Otter House’s representatives. I expect Izzy will go, and Frances wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Emma says. ‘I’ll hold the fort.’

‘I’ll be going,’ says Ben. ‘Gloria was one of my patients.’

Emma puts her glass down on the table on the patio, walks up to me and links her arm through mine. ‘Come inside and give me a hand with the salad.’

In the kitchen, we chop tomatoes and cucumber. I don’t get to do much cooking, and it’s actually quite therapeutic.

‘I have a confession to make,’ Emma begins as she starts mixing the dressing. ‘I’m not ill – I’m pregnant.’

‘You’re what?’ The sharp scent of balsamic vinegar hits my throat. ‘I thought you said . . . Oh, that’s wonderful news!’ I put the paring knife down and give her a hug.

‘We kind of stopped trying so hard, knowing that we were coming back to visit the fertility clinic for tests, and it just happened. Life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?’ Emma says, her eyes shining brightly.

‘When’s the baby due?’ I ask.

‘It’s very early days yet,’ Emma says, sobering up. ‘It’s a souvenir from our holiday.’

‘Ben must be delighted,’ I say, watching him blowing onto the barbecue, tiny flames licking up through the rack.

‘He’s over the moon,’ Emma says softly. ‘We both are.’ Smiling, she touches her stomach, and I feel an unexpected tick of my biological clock. ‘So, we’ve been talking things over and we’ve decided I should take on another vet on a permanent basis. And now you must be able to guess what I’m going to say, Maz. I want that vet to be you.’

‘M-m-me?’ I stammer.

‘I’m offering you an equal partnership in the business,’ she says, beaming at me like an over-enthusiastic puppy. ‘Well? I wasn’t expecting stunned silence.’

‘I thought you were thinking of closing the practice down.’

‘Ben wouldn’t hear of it. He’s still sure that we can make a go of it.’ She pauses as if collecting herself. ‘It’s what Mum would have wanted. Maz, it isn’t just about money. I’ve known some of my clients for years. Some of them have known me since I was a baby. I’d like to be able to carry on looking after their pets.’

My instinct is to say no, but why not? My thoughts meander back to our cosy chats at vet school, our plans to work together. A permanent job with my best friend. All small animals. No sheep. And a coffee machine. It’s all falling into place.

I gaze at Emma, at the disappointment which clouds her face when I don’t respond.

‘I’ve waited so long for this baby,’ she says, ‘I want to spend as much time as I can with him, or her. I’d like to be able to take maternity leave, knowing the practice is in safe hands. Please, Maz.’

‘It’s all a bit of a surprise. I’m not sure . . .’ I glance down at my ‘not-so-safe’ hands and the bandages – lighter ones now – on my arms. Am I up to the job? Look at what happened to the practice when Emma left me in charge the last time.

‘We’ll have to go house hunting. You’ll need somewhere to live – you don’t want to stay above the shop for the rest of your life.’ She pauses. ‘Maz, cheer up. You look as if I’ve just condemned you to death. Aren’t you pleased?’

‘I’m really pleased that you asked me . . .’

‘What’s the problem then?’

‘I never planned to live in the country,’ I say. ‘It’s too quiet for me.’ I think of how long it takes to buy a newspaper, of the mud and muck, of the gossip, of how the people of Talyton St George don’t like me . . . Well, a lot of them don’t. They might be rallying round to help with the rescues, but they don’t respect me as a vet. What about Izzy? I’d be her boss, yet she doesn’t trust me. And then I think of Alex . . . ‘Emma, I need time to think it over.’

‘That’s all right.’ Emma gazes at me as if she’s searching for clues as to which way I’ll decide. ‘Take all the time you need.’

I pick up my glass and follow her back out to the garden where Ben is arranging food on the barbecue, carefully tweaking the positions of the steaks and burgers so they’re equal distances apart. I smile to myself. He’s going to have to change when he becomes a dad – there won’t be time for such precision. I congratulate him on the baby.

‘I’ve popped the question, Ben,’ Emma says, ‘and Maz says she isn’t sure.’

‘I told you it was a bit much to expect an instant answer, darling,’ Ben says, turning fondly to his wife. ‘It’s a huge decision.’

‘I know,’ Emma says, her eyes downcast.

‘It’s a lovely place to live, Maz,’ Ben says, waving his spatula towards the vista of green hills beyond the garden. ‘Look at that view.’

He’s right, I think. It is beautiful, but could I really put down roots in Talyton St George? I know that if I don’t, I’m back on the road, not knowing where life’s journey will take me next.

As I’m watching the seagulls sweep across the sky, I notice a tiny plume of smoke rising up from the barbecue behind Ben.

‘Ben, something’s burning,’ I say quickly.

‘Oops,’ he says, turning back to salvage the food while Emma pops indoors and returns with a packet of nut cutlets.

‘Don’t burn those,’ she says, smiling, as she gives them to Ben. ‘They’re the only ones we’ve got.’ Emma returns to my side. ‘Now, Maz, why don’t we talk this through? What’s getting in the way?’

‘There’s Talyton Manor Vets?’ I say after a pause. I can imagine Old Fox-Gifford’s reaction if I should decide to stay.

‘Yeah . . .’ Emma looks at me through narrowed eyes. ‘They got to you too, didn’t they?’

They did, I think, flushing slightly, but not in the way she’s thinking of. I touch the cool glass in my hand briefly to my face.

‘Damn them.’ Emma kicks at a clod of earth. ‘They’re the bane of my life. They still want to ruin everything for me.’

‘Emma, they aren’t all that bad. Large animal work’s in decline. Otter House and Talyton Manor Vets are after the same thing.’

‘Anyone would think you were on their side, Maz,’ Emma says dismissively. ‘Look, I’ve asked Frances to stay on. Is that part of the problem?’

‘No, Frances isn’t so bad when you get to know her.’ It’s actually Izzy, I think, but I don’t feel able to tell Emma about how I sometimes feel uncomfortable working with her. She doesn’t trust me after what happened with Blueboy and Cadbury, and I don’t see what I can do to regain her trust.

‘Is it the money? I realise joining Otter House Vets as a partner doesn’t look like the most attractive prospect at the moment, but that’s my fault. I wanted the practice to be perfect when I set it up, and I spent too much on it, but I’m sure we can get the finances back on track.’

‘You don’t seem to have enough clients to make it work,’ I say.

‘They’re coming back,’ she says, ‘and there are more families moving in to Talyton all the time.’

‘They’re coming back because of you, Em. They prefer to see you, because they don’t trust me.’

‘What about Ally and Mr Brown? I haven’t heard them complaining.’

‘I know, but . . .’ I tail off as Emma finishes my sentence for me.

‘The people who live here are perfectly capable of making up their own minds. They know you went overboard with Cheryl’s cat, but they also know that Cheryl can be a spiteful gossip. They know Cadbury died after you operated on him, but they also understand that things can, and do, go wrong. They’re also very forgiving, and I wish you’d stop wallowing and start looking on the positive side. You helped Clive Taylor through a tough time with Robbie, and rescued Gloria’s animals . . .’ Emma falters, then glances at me, a spark of amusement in her eyes. ‘I’d better not start bossing you around, had I? Otherwise I’ll have no chance of persuading you to work with me.’

‘Dinner’s ready,’ Ben calls, interrupting our conversation, and Emma excuses herself to fetch another bottle of Pimms. ‘Are we celebrating?’ Ben asks as he comes over with a plate of food from the barbecue. ‘Have you come to a decision?’

‘Not yet, I’m afraid.’ Emma is right. I have done some good since I’ve been here, but I’m not sure it’s enough to make up for the bad.

‘Of course,’ Ben says, ‘I’ve no objection to you going into partnership with my wife, if that’s what you’re worried about, as long as you don’t live with us again.’ (He’s joking – we shared a house in our final year at university and poor Ben didn’t understand that the only place suitable for drying calving gowns was over the bath.)

‘Oh, Ben, I know that,’ I say, touching his arm in thanks.

‘I’ll let you in on a secret, Maz,’ he says, lowering his voice. ‘I wouldn’t have chosen to settle in Talyton if it hadn’t been for Emma and her mum, but now I’m here, it isn’t so bad. The people are great’ – he qualifies that – ‘most of them. The pace of life isn’t as frantic as it is in London, and it’s good to be near the river and the beach.’ Ben hands me a laden plate. ‘I don’t want to put you under any pressure to make up your mind, but I have to think of Emma and the baby. I really don’t want her working full-time in her condition.’

‘She could ask someone else,’ I say.

‘Maz, she’s asked you.’ Ben fixes his eyes on mine. ‘The decision is entirely up to you, of course. All I’m asking is that you put Emma out of her misery very soon.’ His face relaxes into a grin and the tension dissipates. ‘It shouldn’t be beyond your capability – you’re the vet, after all.’

Chapter Twenty-Two

Partners in Practice

‘Ally Jackson did a great job there, Maz.’ Clive grins as he throws a copy of the
Chronicle
onto the consulting-room table. It bears the headline ‘Fire Rescue Animals Need Good Homes’, and a note reading, ‘See inside for photos of the many cats and dogs looking for a new start.’ ‘How could we resist Petra after this?’

I recall Ally’s rather poetic description of Petra as a goddess of dogs, highly strung and very sensitive, in need of that extra special home. Ally has turned out to be a decent wordsmith, after all.

Izzy brings Petra through, and Clive swaps our piece of string – one of Izzy’s tactics for making potential adopters sorry for them – for a new collar and lead. Petra sniffs his hand suspiciously, her ears back and her body slung low.

My heart is in my mouth. Will she accept him, or will she reject him like she did Chris?

‘Hello there, gorgeous.’ Clive rubs her head. Petra tenses. She’s going to growl, I think, and what could have been a beautiful relationship will be over before it’s begun, but Clive pulls a treat out of his pocket, shows it to her and asks her to sit. Without faltering she obeys him, then takes the treat gently from his hand. ‘Good girl.’ Clive rubs her head again. She whines and wags her tail.