He looked at her, incomprehension written into every line on his face.
Her energy evaporated.
‘Patrick, we’re done. Get out.’
She’d lost any desire to explain. He didn’t deserve to know.
‘But—’
‘Out!’ She pointed to the door. He paused.
‘Now!’
Tess padded out of the kitchen and followed her back into the lounge where she collapsed onto the armchair, staring into the empty fireplace. Patrick would never know what he’d lost. Never understand that she’d had a precious life growing inside her or the overwhelming sense of loss when she miscarried the baby. It wasn’thormonesandbeing over-emotionalthat made her wonder what the baby might have grown up to be like or whether the baby would have been a boy or a girl or what type of mother she would have been. All those things, she’d never know but one thing she did know. After months of uncertainty, it was relief to realise she and Patrick were over.
She burst into tears, letting these last few months of guilt, shame and worry come flowing out. Tess nudged at her and she put an arm around the dog, burying her head into the soft fur, giving way to full-scale sobs.
*
A loud groan from the kitchen roused her. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa, a trail of drool dampening her top. A second, longer, moan made her get up and investigate.
Tess lay on the floor, her head lifting and drooping. Next to her were the remnants of the beautiful Fortnum & Mason box. Truffle cases dotted like little brown flowers across the floor.
‘Oh no, you didn’t!’
Ella’s eyes darted from truffle case to truffle case, joining up the dots.
Shit, she’d eaten the entire box. That was a lot of chocolates. And . . . Bets had said they were poisonous for dogs.
Chapter Thirty
‘Devon,’ hissed Bets, grabbing him as he came out of an hour and a half’s surgery having just spayed a very nervous greyhound called Matilda. He was dying to call Ella and find out if she was OK.
She waited until Angela, the other veterinary nurse who assisted him, was out of earshot before adding with wide-eyed indignation. ‘Marina’s here.’
‘What? Here?’ What on earth did she want?
‘She arrived about ten minutes ago. She’s up in your office. Flounced in as if she owned the place and said she was happy to wait.’ Bets glared at him as if he were personally responsible for Marina’s behaviour. ‘And could I get her a coffee.’ She ground her teeth.
‘Right. Sorry about that.’ Although, how was that his fault?
She rolled her eyes. ‘Just so you know, I haven’t made her one and I have no intention of doing so.’
Bets tossed her curls and with indignation steaming out of her ears, marched down the corridor to the holding area where they kept animals in cages pre and post op. He could hear her muttering to one of the tabby cats waiting to have a growth removed from its nose that afternoon.
Wearily he took the stairs two at a time.
‘Devon, darling! Good news.’
Glossy and pristine as ever, she launched herself at him and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Gosh, you look done in. Another late night?’
‘Not particularly.’ He pulled away from the clutch of her hands on his upper arms and crossed to sit at his desk. ‘What are you doing here? I’m busy.’
Marina’s mouth dropped open.
‘Someone’s a crosspatch today.’
‘I’ve had a . . . busy afternoon. I need to get on. You should have phoned. I’ve got evening surgery and a cat waiting my attention.’
