‘Sorry?’
‘I phoned a vet recently. He wasn’t very helpful. It was the middle of the night, I was desperate. I didn’t know whether it was an emergency or not. I’ve never looked after a dog before. I was looking for help from a professional.’
The beer he’d swallowed seconds before stalled in Devon’s gut.
‘Ah.’ Now that explained things.
She stared at him, an eyebrow quirking in dangerous question. Foreboding gnawed at him. He was in quicksand up to his neck. Even though it was far too late to save himself, he tried anyway.
‘It was four o’clock in the morning. You woke me up.’ That sounded pathetic.
‘It was four o’clock in the morning because I was worried sick I was doing something wrong with a dog that I don’t how to look after.’ She shot him an oddly superior look which wasn’t right because he was the professional and he’d told her the facts, albeit a tad sharply. ‘Plus, it’s not my dog. I’m looking after it while Magda’s away. So if it’s overweight, which you so kindly pointed out the other day, that’s not of my doing. However, ifI’moverweight, in your opinion, not that it has anything to do with you whatsoever and I couldn’t give a . . . what you think, that’s my business.’
What the hell was she talking about now?
She tilted her head to one side, assessing. The silent study, as if she could see beneath the surface of him, made him want to squirm.
‘You don’t remember meeting me the first time, do you?’
Oh God. Cold panic flashed. As far as he knew, he’d kept track of every woman he’d slept with or tangled tongues with and there weren’t that many of them. Admittedly quite a fewdrunken fumbles at university and two unmemorable one-night stands which had reinforced his view that fleeting sex left a nasty taste and a yearning for something more. ‘I’m sorry . . . no.’
‘Up in the woods, a couple of weeks ago.’ She looked ready to punch him, her chin lifted with all the pugnacity of a boxer. ‘Told me I was fat. The dog too.’
A hot wave of shame washed over him but it didn’t stop his eyes doing that bugging out thing, which immediately he saw pissed her off even more. The woman sitting in front of him now looked nothing like the drowned rat slash bag lady he’d torn a strip off that day.
‘With that and the phone bedside manner, I’d say you copped the double whammy.’ She sat poker stiff, her mouth twisted in bitterness, but it was the veil of misery he could see in the hunched set of her shoulders and the weary distance in her eyes that held his attention.
‘Aw shit, I’m so sorry.’ He winced in self-deprecation. ‘I was bloody rude. If it makes you feel better, I felt bad about it afterwards. I’m not normally like that. Honest. I’m a nice guy really. Would it be any justification if I told you I’d been up all night and had to put down a dog that morning?’
Her eyes narrowed as she thought about it.
‘I shouldn’t have made the personal comment, although . . . ’ He racked his brain trying to remember exactly what he had said. He was pretty sure he hadn’t come out and said she was fat. The dog, yes, but not her. ‘Look, the dog I had to put down was in agony. So overweight it had developed diabetes. I’d warned the owners so many times . . . they didn’t listen. That dog didn’t need to suffer or be put down.’
Her eyes started to soften. Fractionally.
‘I don’t normally lash out at complete strangers, I was just feeling sorry for myself and took it out on you. I’m sorry. Really.’
She eyed him carefully, her nose scrunching ever so slightly as if she were weighing him up with the precision of a set of scales. Tension took hold of his shoulders, vicelike in its grip. Why should it matter what she thought? It wasn’t as if she’d be alone in having a low opinion of him. Since taking over Dad’s practice he seemed to have upset more pet owners than pleased them. If it wasn’t for Bets keeping him going in the surgery, he’d have slung his hook weeks ago. Dad was still pretending to be at death’s door but it was time to call his bluff. He’d give it a couple more weeks and then he’d be out of here. Start afresh elsewhere and no woman was ever going to derail him again. From now on he was going to focus on his career.
For a minute it was tempting to slump, let the depression break in and have its way with him.
Sheer boredom was the only reason Ella had come tonight. That and the realisation that Bets would have just kept knocking at the door until she answered. She sighed and narrowed her gaze at Devon.
One of her worst faults was this grinding inability to let a grudge go. Second only to the desire to go back to the seat of an argument and niggle at it like a tongue going back to a mouth ulcer over and over. Seeing Devon tonight was like manna from heaven, it gave her the opportunity to let out all her internal shittiness. Except he went and spoiled things by apologising and being human about being rude before.
She hated herself for the horrid small-minded meanness which seemed to have seeped into every corner of her soul. She hadn’t always been like this. Seeing that bleakness in his eyes, the sudden blankness almost devoid of emotion, made something inside her pop like a balloon. She knew the expression. She’d seen it in the mirror every day for the last few months. Abject depression. Misery. Self-loathing. The sightof it punched into her so hard it almost took her breath away. Knowing the feelings so well she couldn’t not acknowledge it.
Funnily enough, touching his hand made her feel better. His head shot up in surprise and they stared at each other. Probably the same surprise echoed in her eyes. Blind instinct. Wanting to dispel that darkness haunting his eyes made her want that human connection again for the first time in a long time. When had she become so cold and brittle? Remote and isolated from everyone? Stupid questions, because she knew the exact moment. No wonder her mother was so worried about her.
Of course, now she’d done it, it felt a bit weird. She pulled her hand back hurriedly and they both looked away, pretending the brief moment hadn’t happened.
She swallowed. So maybe he wasn’t all bad. ‘I’m sorry too. A bit all over the place at the moment.’
‘I know that feeling. Shall we call a truce?’
She nodded as they exchanged wan half-hearted smiles. Not that they’d probably run into each other that often. Before either of them could say anything more Bets bounded into view.
‘Ella, Devon, this is Richard the vicar.’ The sandy-haired vicar beamed from behind round glasses as Bets completed the introductions. For some reason, Ella immediately sat up straighter. She’d never met a vicar before.
