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‘Like him? Liking him has nothing to do with it. Dr Preston is my GP and that is who I want to see when I phone to make an appointment!’
Beattie gave an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, Syd. Dr Jones offered to see you as Dr Preston was overrun and he knew you were in a rush to get back to work.’
Oh. Right. She hadn’t thought of that. ‘Well, that was very kind of him, but...’
It had been very kind of him, hadn’t it? And what was she doing out here complaining? Even though she’d got what she needed.
Deflating slightly, she relaxed her tensed shoulders. ‘Next time just book me in with Richard.’
‘Will do. Anything else I can help you with?’
Not really. Though a niggling thought had entered her head... ‘This Dr Jones that I saw today... Just a locum, is he? Just here for the day?’
She tried to make it sound casual. But it would be nice to know that she wouldn’t be bumping into him in the village unless she had to. Not after she’d stormed out like that. That wasn’t her normal behaviour. But something about the man had irritated her, and then he’d made that crass suggestion about warm milk...
‘No, no. He’s permanent.’ Beattie’s face filled with a huge grin. ‘He moved to the village a week ago with his daughter. Into one of the homes on the new estate.’
‘Oh. Right. Thank you.’
Permanent. Dr Jones would be living here. In Silverdale.
‘Please don’t tell me he’s got an aging pet dog or anything?’
‘I don’t think so. But you’ll run into him at the committee meetings for the Christmas market and the village nativity.’
What? She’d only just decided to return to those meetings. Had been looking forward to them!
‘Why?’
Beattie looked at her oddly. ‘Dr Preston is cutting down on his commitments now that he’s nearly retired. He’s asked Nathan to take over. You didn’t like him? We all think he’s gorgeous! Have you seen him smile? I tell you, that man’s a heartbreaker!’
A heartbreaker? Not if she had anything to do with it.
Sydney grimaced, but thanked Beattie once again and left the surgery, pausing to wait for traffic to rush by so she could cross the road over to her own practice.
The new doctor was going to be on the Christmas committee. And she’d just agreed to go back. To help. She’d told them she would be there. Her heart sank at the thought of it as she neared her place of work.
Silverdale Veterinary Surgery was a relatively small building, comprised of two old cottages that had been knocked through inside and transformed from homes into a business.
Sydney loved it. It was clinical and businesslike, but still retained its old-world charm with white walls and large exposed oak beams and, outside, a thatched roof. There were even window boxes, which she’d learnt to tend. They overflowed with primulas and pansies in the spring, but right now were hung with dark green ivy and indigo lobelia. And no fairy lights. Even if everyone else seemed to think it was okay to start decorating for Christmas in November!
She’d never been a green-fingered person. Not before she’d got married. But when Olivia came along the little girl had loved being in the garden and growing pretty things. Although Sydney had managed to kill the first few plants they’d got, they’d eventually learned together and their flowers had begun to thrive. There’d been nothing she’d liked better than to watch Olivia use her pink tin watering can to water them each evening, when it was cool. And Syd’s talent with flowers had not gone unnoticed around the village either. She’d often been in charge of the flower stalls at the Christmas market each year.
When she’d been involved, anyway.
She pushed through the door and saw that her waiting room was pleasingly busy. There was Mr Shepherd, as expected, with his Great Dane, Sara with her new kitten, and no doubt in the box by Janet’s feet were her two ferrets, Apollo and Zeus.
‘Morning, everyone! Sorry to keep you waiting.’
Her anxiety was gone here. This was her home turf. Her safe haven. The place that she controlled. Was in charge of. Where there were no surprises. Well, nothing life-changing, anyway. Not to her. Here she could cure illnesses. Make things better. As much as she could.
Her clients waved and smiled and said good morning, too. They weren’t too bothered about waiting for her. And she appreciated them for that.
In the staff room, she put on her green veterinary top and prepared to start work.
This was better.
This she could do.
This she was in control of.
* * *
Nathan stood in the playground, surrounded mostly by mothers waiting for their children to come out of infant school. As always, he felt like a complete fish out of water here. All the mothers stood in little groups, chatting and laughing. They all knew each other. And him...? He was the lone male, feeling awkward. Sure that he was standing out like a sore thumb.
He could feel their eyes on him. Judging him. Assessing him. Were they talking about him? Could they see his awkward gait? His limp? Could they see what was wrong with him? It feels like they can. He almost felt as if he was carrying a huge sign naming his condition around his neck.
Silverdale Infants had seemed the perfect place for Anna when he’d first come to the village for his job interview. He’d scouted the place out and asked the headteacher to give him a tour. He’d walked through the school with her, looking in the classrooms, seeing the happy children and their paintings, listening to them singing in assembly and watching as they’d sat for storytime in their impossibly small chairs. He’d genuinely felt his daughter would be happy there. It had a good vibe. The head was a nice woman and Miss Howarth, Anna’s teacher-to-be, seemed really lovely and welcoming.
Nathan had just had his first day in his new job and this had been Anna’s first day at her new school. He could only hope that it had gone as well as his own day, and that she would come running out with a big smile on her face. Then, perhaps, the lump of anxiety in his stomach would disappear and they’d be able to go home and he’d cook dinner.
Nathan hated being away from Anna. Giving her into the care of someone else. But he had to work and she had to learn—and weren’t schools considered in loco parentis?
He was grateful for the flexible hours his new job afforded him. Since Gwyneth had left them he’d had to become both father and mother to Anna. And he didn’t think he was doing too badly. Anna seemed happy enough, only occasionally asking why she didn’t have a mummy, like other children. Those days were hard. When he could see the hurt in his daughter’s eyes. And when it happened he would curse Gwyneth inwardly, whilst outwardly he would throw everything he had at making his daughter happy.
He just couldn’t give her the mother that she wanted. He wasn’t ready to be with someone new. To open himself up to possible hurt and betrayal. To being left again. And why put Anna through the hope of getting to know someone when they might walk away and break her heart, too?
He didn’t bad-mouth Gwyneth to Anna. It wasn’t up to him to tell Anna how to feel about her mother. Anna might want to find her one day and see her. Talk to her. Ask her things. Did he want Anna to grow up resentful and hating her mother? No. Even if it was hard for him. Because Gwyneth had abandoned them both. And that hurt. Not so much now, but it still caused pain whenever he thought about his and Anna’s future.
He sighed as he thought about his mistake in getting involved with Gwyneth. She’d been so much fun to begin with, but—as was sometimes the way with relationships—they’d both realised something was missing. And then they’d discovered she was pregnant...
Life was short. And he would not have Anna spending hers moping about for a mother who had no interest in her whatsoever. He was only sorry that he hadn’t noticed Gwyneth’s shallowness earlier on. Before he’d got in too deep.
The school bell rang and he braced himself. Now he’d know. Had it gone well?
Crossing his fingers in his jacket pockets, trying not to shiver in the late November cold, he looked for her familiar face amongst the mass of children pouring out through the door, all of them almost identical in their little green jumpers and grey skirts or trousers.
Then he saw her and his heart lifted.
‘Daddy!’
She was smiling. Beaming at him as she ran to his open arms, clutching a painting that was still slightly wet. Nathan scooped her up, hefting her onto his hip, trying not to grimace at the pain in his shoulder.
‘What do we have here?’ He glanced at the painting. There were daubs of brown and green that he guessed was a tree, and to one side was a large black blob with ears. ‘Is that Lottie?’
Anna nodded, grinning, showing the gap where her two front teeth were missing. ‘Yes!’
Lottie was their pet rabbit and his one concession to Anna’s demands to fill their house with pets of all shapes and sizes. Anna adored animals, and ever since she’d started at nursery had plagued him with requests for cats or dogs or parrots or anything that had fur, feathers or a cute face.
Knowing that they would both be out all day—him at work, she at school—he’d not thought a dog or a cat was appropriate, but he’d given in and allowed her a rabbit. It had the added bonus of living outdoors and its presence had stopped Anna from ‘rescuing’ injured insects and bringing them in to be ‘nursed’.
‘It looks just like her.’ He squinted as he saw a small daub of bright orange. ‘Is that a carrot?’
‘No, Daddy. Silly! That’s a worm.’
‘Oh, right.’ He gently placed his daughter back on the ground, being careful not to grimace or wrench himself further. ‘So how did it go? Was it good? Did you make friends?’
She nodded. ‘Lots and lots.’
She proceeded to list them as they walked back to the car. There seemed an awful lot, and to his ears it sounded as if she’d just memorised the register, but he nodded and smiled at her as she told him about Hattie with the bright pink glasses, and George who had held her hand as they’d walked to assembly.
They were soon home. Nathan still had half their life packed away in boxes after the move, but he knew they’d get there eventually. All the important stuff was unpacked. And Anna’s room had everything. He’d done that first. Everything else could wait for when he had the time. He just had to decide where he wanted it all to go.
The house was brand-new, so had none of that old-world character the rest of the cottages in the village had. He had tiles on his roof, not thatch. A modern fake fireplace rather than an old rustic one with real flames. Flat, smooth walls rather than whitewashed ones with crooked oak beams.
Still, the place would get its character eventually.
‘I’m going to see if Lottie missed me.’ Anna ran through the house towards the back door, so she could go into the garden.
‘Not yet, young lady,’ he called after her. ‘Go upstairs and get out of your uniform first.’
‘Daddy, please!’
‘It was raining this morning, Anna. I’m not having you getting your uniform covered in mud and straw. Please go and get changed.’
She pouted, but only briefly, and then she ran back past him, clambering up the stairs as he took their bags through to the kitchen, pinned her painting to the fridge with a magnet that was shaped like a banana. He’d picked up some vegetables from a farm shop, so he popped those in the fridge, then switched on the kettle for a drink.
Upstairs, he heard a small thunk as Anna kicked off her shoes and soon enough she was trotting back down the stairs, wearing a weird combination of purple corduroy skirt, green tee shirt and a rather loud orange and yellow cardigan.
‘Nice... I’m liking your style.’ He was keen to encourage her to wear what she wanted and to pick her own clothes. He’d learned that it was important—it helped Anna to develop her independence and allowed her to express herself. And he needed Anna to be a strong character. He wanted to encourage her at all times to feel happy about herself and her own decisions. To feel valued and beautiful. Because she was beautiful. With her mother’s good looks but thankfully none of her character.
‘Will you do me a juice, Daddy?’
‘Sure thing, poppet.’ He watched her twist the back door key and trot out into the garden. It wasn’t huge out there, and as theirs was one of the original show houses it was just plain grass, with one side border of bushes. Nothing too impressive. Nothing that needed that much work. Something he figured he’d get to later. Maybe in the New Year.
But it had the rabbit hutch. The main reason for Anna to go and play outside. He was hoping to get her a trampoline, or a bike, or something. Maybe for Christmas.
He was just diluting orange juice with some water when he heard his daughter let out a blood-curdling scream.
‘Daddy!’
‘Anna?’ His body froze, his heart stopped beating just for a millisecond, and then he was dropping the glass into the sink and bolting for the back door. What on earth had happened? Why had she screamed? Was she hurt?
Oh, please don’t let her be hurt!
‘Daddy!’
She ran into his arms, crying, and he held her, puzzled. What was it? Had she fallen over? What?
‘Let me look at you.’ He held her out at arm’s length to check her over, but she looked fine. No scuffed knees, no grazes, no cuts. Just a face flooded with tears. What the...?
‘Lottie’s bleeding!’ She pointed at the hutch before burying her face in his shirt.
He looked over the top of her head and could now see that the hutch had a broken latch and poor Lottie the rabbit sat hunched within, breathing heavily and audibly, with blood all over her and in the straw around her, as if she’d been involved in some sort of weird rabbit horror movie.
‘Oh...’ He stood up and led Anna away and back into the kitchen, sitting her down on one of the chairs by the table. ‘Stay here.’
‘She’s bleeding, Daddy.’
‘I know, honey. We’ll need to take her to the vet.’
He didn’t know if the poor thing might have to be put to sleep. There was a lot of blood, and Lottie looked like she might be in shock. He dashed for the cupboard under the stairs, where they’d put Lottie’s carrier and got it out. Then he grabbed some latex gloves from under the sink and headed for the garden.
‘I’ll get Lottie. Can you get your shoes on for me? And your coat?’
‘Where are we going?’
‘The vet. The animal doctor. She’ll need to check her over.’
‘What if she dies, Daddy?’ Anna sobbed, almost hiccupping her words.
He hadn’t imagined this. He’d agreed to have Lottie knowing that rabbits lived for around ten years, hoping that they wouldn’t have to face this day until Anna was in her teens. But not this early. Not now. He wasn’t sure how she’d handle a pet’s death at this age.
‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. Get your shoes on. We need to get her there quickly.’
Nathan headed into the garden, slipped on the gloves and picked up the poor, shocked rabbit and placed her in the box. Normally she fought going in the carrier. But there was no fight today. His heart sank at the thought of having to tell his daughter her rabbit might die. Had Anna not been through enough?
He pulled off the bloodied gloves and quickly discarded them in the bin.
He could only hope that the veterinary surgery was still open.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_4540b9db-73f9-56f0-830d-fbf50c40d4e0)
IT HAD BEEN a long, tiring day. After her doctor’s appointment Sydney had come back to the surgery and seen her first ten patients, and then she’d got round to her surgeries—a dental clean, two spays on cats, a dog to be neutered. Lunch had been quick, and then there had been more appointments: kitten visits, puppy checks, suture removals, an elderly dog that had had to be euthanised. Then she’d returned phone calls, given owners blood test results and now she was finishing off her paperwork. Filling in records. There were three animals being kept in overnight, but Lucy, her veterinary nurse, was giving them their final check before they left for the evening.
‘I’ll be ready to put my feet up tonight. Have you seen my ankles?’ said Lucy.
Sydney smiled sympathetically. Lucy did seem to be suffering lately.
Almost all the lights were off, except for in her office and at the surgery entrance, and Sydney was just debating whether to have a cup of tea here or go home and have it there when she heard a loud banging on the surgery’s front door.
A last-minute emergency?
She hurried through, switching on the lights as she went, and stopped when she saw who was on the other side of the door.
Dr Jones.
Oh.
