Trust Me, I'm a Vet (22 page)

Laughing, I decide to give Cadbury a break from them too and admit him for X-rays. The piccies suggest that he’s eaten something he shouldn’t have (again) and I decide to go in without delay.

I open him up in theatre and search through the snaking loops of bowel, finding a solid blockage. I cut down over the top and open out the tube of gut to reveal a tiny hand, raised up as if calling for help.

‘Guess what – I’ve found a body.’

‘Isn’t that what you were looking for, a foreign body?’ Izzy says.

I tug gently on the tiny plastic hand, pulling it out from the green ooze of gut contents. ‘It’s Spiderman.’ I drop him into the kidney dish Izzy’s holding, then check that no other superheroes or baddies accompanied him on his journey along Cadbury’s gut. There is something else though, something soft, like a piece of rag or a sock. I milk it out through the incision and drop the wad of discoloured material into the kidney dish alongside Spiderman so Izzy can take my finds away to the prep area for a thorough rinse while I close up.

I hear her chuckling at the sink.

‘Lynsey’s a dark horse. Look at these.’ She unfurls a pair of pants at the porthole window in the door. ‘These are no ordinary knickers – she must have bought them from somewhere like Aurora’s Cave. They’re very tiny.’ Izzy squeals with shock. ‘Gosh, Cadbury has chewed out the gusset.’

‘Izzy, they’re crotchless.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘They’re meant to be.’

‘Oh?’ she says. ‘Oh . . . I get it now.’ She chuckles. ‘I think I’m getting a little overheated.’

I don’t know about Izzy, but I’m pretty overheated myself – the radio is on in the background, warning of the risk of sunstroke and telling of queues of almost stationary traffic on the roads to Talymouth and Talysands, and I can feel the perspiration trickling down the bridge of my nose and soaking into my mask.

The radio burbles on in the background – I’m only half listening, but the word ‘vet’ catches my attention.

‘Would you mind turning it up, please, Izzy?’

‘The dog’s doing fine . . .’

‘Not the anaesthetic. The radio . . .’

Izzy tears a piece of paper towel from the dispenser on the wall and wipes my sweaty forehead before turning up the volume.

‘Once again, it’s
Vet’s Corner
on Megadrive FM. Now, Mr Fox-Gifford, you were saying . . .’

I listen for Alex’s voice, but it’s Old Mr Fox-Gifford who’s on air.

‘When you’re choosing a practice for little Fido or Kitty, it’s the vet that counts, not shiny gadgets and toys. Let me tell you a story, a true story . . . One of my clients made the mistake of allowing herself to be seduced by some slick-talking smart-alec young vet recently.’ My needle snags as I pull it through Cadbury’s skin. I start again. So does Old Fox-Gifford. ‘As a result, she has one cat who’s scarred for life, and another who’s having to see a psychologist for counselling.’

‘Slimy toad,’ says Izzy. ‘He’s talking about Cheryl. That’s appalling! He can’t do that, can he?’

‘I think he just has.’ I bow my head, crushed.

‘Remember, no vet worth his salt kisses his patients and gives them treats after every consultation. Good behaviour should be expected, not rewarded.’

‘Everyone will know he’s talking about you,’ Izzy says, ‘about us.’

‘Switch it off, Izzy,’ I groan. ‘Switch it off.’

‘Everyone in Talyton listens to Megadrive FM,’ Izzy says, reaching out and turning it off. ‘I told you the Fox-Giffords were trouble.’ She looks at me accusingly, as if I’m to blame for their outrageous behaviour. ‘There’s the son, taking advantage of your generosity and our facilities, bringing injured strays in at all hours of the night, and then there’s the father, stabbing us in the back. And then there’s the son’s girlfriend. She can be pretty noxious too.’

What Izzy’s saying makes perfect sense. Alex was too good to be true. Suddenly, I feel utterly drained, exhausted.

‘I bet we’ll lose a load more clients after that,’ Izzy goes on. ‘Emma will be absolutely livid. Otter House’s reputation is in tatters.’

‘Not if I can help it,’ I say, rallying. ‘I’m not going to let that family ruin everything.’

My mood lifts a little when Cadbury’s safely round from the anaesthetic and settled on a heated pad in a kennel. Even Izzy seems more cheerful.

‘I meant to ask, how was the talk the other night?’ Izzy says.

‘It was certainly interesting. The original speaker cancelled and my last boss gave the talk instead. My ex.’

‘That’s an unfortunate coincidence,’ Izzy says, raising an eyebrow at me. ‘What did you do?’

‘I tried to hide, but it didn’t work.’

‘How did you feel?’

‘I wish I hadn’t gone – seeing him again brought it all back,’ I say. What I don’t add, however, is that in a small way, during the restless hours of last night, I realised seeing him again helped. I’ve done the right thing, leaving Crossways. Even if coming here is proving to be a mistake.

‘Chris and I introduced Freddie to a flock of sheep for the first time last night,’ Izzy says, tactfully filling my silence as she washes up the instruments. ‘I walked him up to them on a lead and said, “Hey sheep, meet Freddie.”’

‘Were they suitably impressed?’

‘They just stood there, glaring at him and stamping their feet. I don’t think he has any idea what he’s supposed to do.’

‘I thought it was supposed to be instinctive.’

‘So did I.’ Izzy and I take Tripod into the staffroom to wander about and stretch his remaining three legs while we take a tea break. Miff is about too – I must have forgotten to shut her in the flat. As soon as she sets eyes on Tripod, she comes trotting over, wagging her tail. Tripod arches his back and hisses. Miff backs off, then returns, at which Tripod decides that discretion is the better part of valour and scrambles up the arm of the sofa, tugging loops out of the chenille. He settles himself and sits blinking at us.

‘No one’s called to claim him,’ says Izzy.

‘He can’t go to the Fox-Giffords,’ I say quickly. ‘They don’t want him, and I wouldn’t let them anywhere near him now if they did.’

‘I think he’ll have to join Otter House Vets as practice cat. I know Emma won’t like it, but we can’t possibly bump him, not after all he’s been through.’

‘I wasn’t planning to bump him.’

‘We’ll have to fit a cat-flap.’

‘Where will – I mean, where would he sleep, if he stayed?’

Izzy looks at me as if I’m an alien. ‘In the flat, of course.’

‘So he’ll need a stairlift as well!’ At which Izzy laughs, but I realise all of a sudden that she’s talking as if Otter House Vets are going to go on and on. I watch her smiling as she tickles Tripod under his chin. I’m wondering how much she knows when her smile drops and she looks at me seriously.

‘Nigel told me about the problem with the accounts.’ She hesitates. ‘I’d guessed there was some kind of hitch. Emma hasn’t been herself recently, as if there’s been something preying on her mind. I thought she might have talked to you about it . . .’

‘I wish she had.’ I don’t like to tell half truths and lies, but I don’t want to betray a confidence. I guess the problems in the practice probably stem from Emma’s preoccupation with her failure to fall pregnant.

‘She wouldn’t open up to me. She kept making out that everything was hunky-dory.’ Izzy sighs. ‘The practice has to survive – I can’t afford to lose my job.’

The phone starts ringing and I reach out to answer it. ‘Well, don’t worry about it. I’m going to keep this practice going if it kills me.’ I’m not sure exactly how, but I’m working on it. ‘What’s up, Frances?’

‘There’s a man for you.’ Frances sounds somewhat breathless on the other end of the line.

‘I don’t need a man,’ I say flippantly. ‘Send him away.’

‘It’s young Mr Fox-Gifford.’

‘Send him through,’ I say. ‘It’s Alex,’ I add, turning to Izzy. ‘I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.’

‘I’ll go,’ Izzy says.

‘No, stay,’ I say, eager to prove to Izzy where my loyalties lie, in case she still has doubts.

‘Hi, Maz. Izzy. Have you got the coffee on?’ Alex appears at the doorway, smiling. Izzy goes over to the coffee machine to top up the water.

‘Don’t bother, Izzy,’ I say. ‘He isn’t staying.’

Alex frowns, pulling his mobile from his pocket and answering its ring. ‘Hi. Speaking. How’s Satan?’ He pauses. ‘I’ll be out to check up on him tonight. Yes, it sounds as though we’ve put the devil back into him.’ Alex chuckles. ‘Cheers, Eloise.’

‘Sorry about that, Maz,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t leave it in case it was urgent, but then you know all about that . . .’ His voice trails off. ‘Have I come at a bad time?’

‘You aren’t welcome here,’ I say.

‘But I thought?’

‘You thought wrong,’ I say curtly. ‘You gave me the impression you wanted to be friends, but I reckon you’re only here to gloat. Oh, stop pretending you don’t know anything about it. Your father. On the radio. I’ve never heard anything so unprofessional. It’s appalling.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Alex’s face flushes. ‘I heard what he said. It was wrong, but I can’t be held responsible for my father’s actions.’

‘He was speaking on behalf of your practice and he said some terrible things.’ I’m spitting with anger. ‘Emma was right about your family. I can’t trust any of you.’

‘Well, you aren’t so perfect yourself,’ Alex says reproachfully, ‘telling me the robot was your boss. He was a bit more than that, wasn’t he?’ Before I can answer him, he goes on, ‘Eloise told me. He’s your ex-boyfriend.’

‘How does she know?’ I say, confused. I don’t know why I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t lie, I think. I just didn’t tell Alex the whole truth.

‘They had a cosy tête-à-tête after the meeting,’ he says. ‘Eloise can’t keep anything to herself.’

‘Look,’ I say, ‘I don’t care about Eloise, or you, or your father. I want you to leave.’

‘I’ll go then,’ Alex says after a moment’s hesitation.

‘That’s right. Go. I don’t know why you came here in the first place.’

‘Because you invited me, remember?’ Alex answers with an infuriating smirk, as if he thinks he’s had the last word. ‘Goodbye.’

All I can do when he turns and marches, back down the corridor is call after him, ‘Why don’t you go running back to Eloise?’

I’m aware that Izzy is staring at me.

‘I didn’t think you had it in you, Maz,’ she says – admiringly, I think. However, the fact I seem to have done something right in Izzy’s eyes for once doesn’t make me feel any less upset. Emma warned me about the Fox-Giffords, yet Alex somehow misled me into giving him the benefit of the doubt. I was wrong, and I’m still fuming when I head back to Kennels.

I try to look on the bright side. At least I’ve done something good today. I’ve saved Cadbury’s life.

Chapter Twelve

Baby Baby

When I wake up in the morning on Friday, I find Nigel has slipped a letter under the door of the flat – Miff has left her teeth marks in it, but it’s just about decipherable.

Dear Maz,

Re: the chat we had the other night about ways to save money.

Working on the principle last in, first out, it is with great regret that I must ask you to give Frances notice to leave the practice with immediate effect. I know I can rely on your discretion.

Yours sincerely, Nigel.

PS: Any questions, feel free to call me.

I head down to Reception to unlock the doors, and pick up the phone, checking no one is around to listen in.

‘Nigel,’ I say, once I get hold of him. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m having a fishing lesson,’ he says. ‘I assume this call is about my letter?’

‘It’s a bit drastic, isn’t it? How’s Izzy going to cope? We need a receptionist to greet clients and answer the phone.’

‘We’ll have to manage. There aren’t all that many clients anyway, especially after Old Fox-Gifford’s radio broadcast. Frances told me we had three more transfer to Talyton Manor yesterday.’

It’s pretty worrying, I think, as I go on, ‘Why do I have to speak to Frances? Isn’t it the practice manager’s role?’

‘It’s better if it comes from you. I’d hate Frances to hold it against me – I mean, I’m going to be living in this town long after you’ve gone. I’d rather she held it against you.’

‘Thanks a lot.’ I pause, catching sight of Frances drawing up in the car park in her battered Morris Minor. ‘How am I going to tell her?’

‘I’m delegating the whole process to you, Maz.’ There’s a splash and Nigel’s voice fades out then back in again. ‘I’ve got to go – I think I’ve got a bite.’

A bite? I’m not sure what he’s talking about but then I remember that he’s gone fishing. I don’t approve. I can’t see what fun there is to be had in sticking a hook through the mouth of a living creature, but then I won’t eat anything which has eyes, potatoes excepted.