She turned away, but when she reached the door, she hesitated and looked back over her shoulder. Our eyes connected. An expression I couldn’t read flitted across her face. It was gone as quickly as it came.
The corners of her mouth lifted faintly. ‘Bye, George.’
She darted out of the room and was halfway down the staircase when I muttered into the empty office. ‘Bye, Rosie.’
7
‘I j-j-ustwanted ‘im to have a treat.’ Tears so big they could have drowned him dripped down the four-year-olds reddened cheeks. His mum placed a hand on his shoulders and looked about as scared as her son, only for entirely different reasons. I placed my stethoscope around my neck and caressed the King Charles Spaniel’s ginger fur. His head lolled on the exam room table, too lethargic to hold it up properly.
‘I know,’ I said, in my best kid-friendly tone. ‘But unfortunately, dogs can’t always eat what humans can. And that chocolate bar has made him quite poorly.’Or could have killed him…but I kept that thought to myself. The little boy hiccuped as fresh tears splashed down his face.
‘It h-h-had raisins in it. Mum’s al-always saying they’re good for me. I thought they’d be good for Charlie.’ A snot bubble burst from his nose, which he wiped with the sleeve of his stained jumper.
‘He’s going to have to stay here for a few days whilst we make him all better. Then you’ll be able to take him home.’
I gave him and his mum a polite smile as I scooped up thepoor dog, who put up no protest, and cradled him in my arms. Seeing his brand new puppy so limp was too much for the boy to take, and he burst into a fresh round of tears. This wasn’t my area of expertise. Animals, big or small, I could handle. But, kids? Absolutely not. His mum bent down and talked in a soothing tone. All this seemed to do was cause the boy to get more and more worked up until his eyes were scrunched, and he looked like he was struggling to breathe through his sobs.
Turning all my attention to the pup in my arms, I left the mum to deal with her son’s rising panic and took Charlie to the treatment room at the back of the clinic. We weren’t busy, so only a few animals were housed in the crates against the far wall.
‘Come on, there you go, pup,' I cooed, laying him down on the metal bench in the middle of the room.
‘What’ve we got here?’ Alistair strolled in from a different exam room, removing his latex gloves and tossing them in a bio waste bin. Lines of intrigue crossed his black skin, widening his eyes as he looked at the dog on the exam table. Dark, curled hair faded above his ears. A Scottish man in his mid-thirties, whose skin was littered with tattoos and a jawline that could cut glass, made him an enormous hit with patients. Little kids thought he was the coolest vet they’d ever seen, and the parents drooled over his flirty banter. The only thing I cared about was he was a fucking good vet.
I slotted an IV into the tiny dog’s leg, taking a deep breath as I did so. ‘Chocolate.’
Understanding dawned on Alistair’s face. He came over and grabbed everything we needed to flush the poison out of his system.
‘Ah, little kid?’ He guessed as we both fell into a rhythm honed by years of working together.
I nodded. ‘Another scratch on the card of why I won’t be having them.’
He exhaled a muted laugh. ‘Right there with you.’
An hour later, Charlie was asleep in his crate, tuckered out but on the mend. I gave him a few soft strokes along his back before closing the door. Round brown eyes slid closed as he fell asleep.
‘Making a coffee, want one?’ Alistair called from the other side of the room, arching his back and stifling a yawn.
‘God, yes.’ I practically moaned at the suggestion.
By the time I’d finished cleaning up, he was pushing back through the doors, two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands.
‘Still tastes like fucking sewage to me.’ He passed me a mug and wrinkled his nose as he brought his own to his lips.
‘As long as it’s black, I really don’t care.’ Taking a grateful sip, I let the bitter liquid scorch down my throat, hopefully giving me more energy than I currently had. The coffee machine in the staff room was a hundred years old, and our attempts to get a new machine were met with a sharp scolding from our boss, Lawrence. A no-nonsense Yorkshireman who saw no reason to spend good money on a new machine when it still worked.
It did…barely.
Alistair sat on one of the squeaky office chairs and propped his legs on the desk, crossing his ankles. A lull had finally come after being rushed off our feet all morning. We both took advantage of the quiet. My phone buzzed on the counter next to him. Without glancing at the screen, he handed it over.
‘Thanks,' I strode over to him, taking it. A lead weight dropped into my stomach when I saw the notification. Last night, after tossing and turning for hours churning over this stupid bet and my admittedly questionable life decisions lately, I impulsively signed up for a dating app. After swipingaimlessly for a few minutes, I had my fill of gym bros flexing in the mirror, and pictures of dead fish held up by mediocre-looking men. I’d thrown my phone across the room and snuggled down with Roxy. The German Shepherd taking up all the room in my king sized bed. And quite frankly, theonlycreature I’d ever consider sharing a bed with.
‘Why do you look like you just squeezed a dog’s anal gland?’ Alistair asked, as I slumped down onto the seat next to him.
‘A terrible pickup line.’ I turned the phone around to show him the message that had popped up. He leaned forward to read.
‘Something must be wrong with my phone… it doesn’t have your number in it.’His face screwed up in distaste as he sank back into the chair.‘Jesus. Why the hell are you online dating? What happened to “men are the cesspool of humanity?”’
My brow furrowed. ‘I never said that.’
