“No, Story, it doesn’t. Which is why you’re standing outside the vets, Glenda waving you in, and with half of Valentine Nook staring at you as she does.”
“Then get a move on.”
“Urgh. Fine.”
Pulling up my big girl knickers, I dodge a couple of shoppers and run up the steps to the vet before anyone else can see me.
“Hello, dear. How’re you doing?”
I heave the basket onto the countertop and put onmy best cheery face, like it’s perfectly normal for me to visit the vets on a Saturday. “Not bad, thank you, Glenda. How are you?”
“Smashing. Absolutely smashing, and so lovely to have you back. Bet your mum and dad are pleased. How is your dad?”
I think back to this morning and my dad yelling, “Where’s my bloody crutch?”
My mum walked out because she’d had enough, muttering, “You better hope you don’t find it because I’m going to knock you around the head.”
“Oh, he’s on the mend. Been down at the yard a lot?—”
“Yer mum left me a couple of pints of milk yesterday. Will you thank her for me?”
“I will do.”
“Now, how can I help you? Heard you had a dramatic evening on Thursday?”
I nod, smile, and chuckle, just as Glenda is doing. “Just a little. These are for the patient if he’s still here,” I add, patting the apples. I don’t actually know he’s here, because while I want to see him, they’re a pretense to come for who I really want to see.
I am so lame.
“He is. It was best we keep him here to stop him from tearing his stitches by running around the village. You know, Eunice can’t keep him in his stable because he always escapes.”
“Can I go see him?”
“I’m sure he’ll be delighted.” She grins. “Go through the back theater to the recovery room, and he’s there. Maybe don’t give him the whole basket, though, dear.”
“Don’t worry. Just a couple.” I wink. “And . . .er, there’s no one else here?”
She shakes her head. “Nope.”
“Cool. Won’t be long then.”
Churchill looks about as pleased to see me as a goat can possibly look wearing a pair of striped pajamas.
I forgot we put him in them, but after he woke up, Hendricks said it would keep him calm if he woke again.
“Hi, darling.” I grab a couple of apples from the basket and leave the rest on the side, then walk over to the little enclosure we made for him.
I thought he might still be a bit dopey, but after he jumps up from his—very comfortable, I might add—bed and tries to butt me, I decide he isn’t. And seeing as it’s a more playful butt than anything aggressive, I also decide he knows exactly who I am—namely, his savior.
“You’re welcome, Churchy. And I brought you something to cheer you up.” I hold out the apple, which he immediately snatches and gobbles down. “Think we need to work on our manners.”
They’re no better the second time around. I hold out a third. “Gentle, this time.” But then the door swings open, startling him enough that he snatches it and nearly takes my fingers off in the process. “Ouch. Fuck. Sorry, Glenda, just teaching Churchill some manners.”
It’s not Glenda.
Hendricks smirks, a barely there lip quiver that makes my heart stumble. “You’re trying to teach a goat manners?”
Passing the last apple to Churchill, I push up off my knees and stand in front of Hendricks. Me short, him tall. “Manners are important.”
