‘I’m fine, thanks, but can I sit for a sec?’ She pointed to the spot beside me, which I immediately patted.
‘Of course. How have you been?’ I said.
‘Good, thank you. I just wanted to say goodbye. I wish we’d been able to spend more time together.’
‘Me too,’ I say, thinking there are so many things I wish I’d done more of here. ‘We should have had lunch or something.’
‘Next time you visit,’ she said, and I didn’t want to say there wouldn’t be a next time, so I smiled and agreed.
‘I wondered if you’d seen this,’ she said, pulling a book from her bag. ‘Mrs C. told me Elliot left suddenly and that there was some problem with the shop takings.’ Anjali was biting her lip, waiting for my reaction as I took the text book from her hands.
‘Into the Wild: Adventures in Veterinary Care, by Elliot Desvaux?’ I said, reading the title. There was a picture on the front of what were unmistakably Elliot’s hands holding a tiny kitten and feeding it milk through a plastic syringe. I turned the book in my hands, feeling a lump rise in my throat.
‘I thought you should see it,’ Anjali continued. ‘You might be finding yourself wondering who he is, and this might help answer some of your questions.’
I nodded and she told me the book was mine to keep.
‘Really?’ I said, astonished. When I opened the hard, glossy cover I saw the book was signed and dedicated to Anjali.
‘Oh,’ she laughed, ‘I asked him to sign it the other day when he came to check on Aldous. He was a bit of a hero of mine when I was a student.’
I smiled and ran my fingertips over Elliot’s signature in sweeping black Sharpie; his name was written large and somehow delicately too.
There was a dedication printed on the second page. It read, ‘For Mum and Dad, I hope this book makes you proud.’ How could they not be proud of him, I wondered. ‘Wow,’ I said, flipping through the pages, wishing the answers to all my questions about him really were somehow in here amongst the diagrams, charts, descriptions of surgical procedures and diagnostic advice.
‘I know what the village thinks of him,’ Anjali said, ‘that he stole some money and ran away, but I don’t believe it.’
‘I don’t either,’ I told her.
‘He’s a good person, I’m sure of it,’ she added. ‘I was gutted when his YouTube channel disappeared. It was so helpful in the clinic, for training up the new staff, and you know, it was just kind of nice to look at him too,’ she conceded with an awkward laugh.
I laughed too. I had to agree with her there.
‘Do you know what happened to him? Why he deleted the channel? Why he ended up here?’ I pushed.
Anjali shook her head. ‘I always figure if people want to keep a secret from you then it’s their secret to keep, isn’t it? You can’t pry it out of them. They need to be willing to share.’
I nodded, wanting to cry, wishing Elliot had been willing to share with me.
‘Anyway, I thought it was important to let you know how I see things, just in case you’re… regretting anything,’ said Anjali, and we both looked out over the harbour mouth to sea and fell silent for a moment. ‘Hah, look!’ she said suddenly, pointing to something sticking out of the water.
At first I thought it was someone swimming, their head popping up over the gentle waves, but the round shape turned on its side to reveal it was actually flat before sinking again beneath the surface and re-emerging once more. ‘What is it?’ I said.
‘Sunfish. They float on their sides and stick their fins out of the water, worshipping the sun.’
‘Wow,’ I said, noticing there were two of them – no, three – all flapping and turning as the light died, as though saying goodbye to the sun for another day.
‘They’re jellivores, you know?’ Anjali’s voice crackled with delight.
‘Huh?’ I’m really intrigued now.
‘They come to these waters every summer to eat jellyfish.’ Her eyes sparkled and I thought how surely no one who loves nature and devotes themselves to understanding and caring for creatures can be a bad person.
We smiled and watched the flipping fins in silence before Anjali got to her feet, saying she’d better get home. I stood too and hugged her, thanking her for the book, and for the little injection of faith she’d given me.
‘Come back one day, OK?’ she said, her hand on my arm.
‘I will,’ I lied.
