‘Straight up the hill from the harbour, we’re half a mile on the left along the Rosehill road. I’ll wait for you out in the car park.’
He’s as good as his word. Never in my wildest nightmares have I ever imagined I’d be pleased to see Ross. But as the car tyres scrunch across the gravel towards a long low converted barn with a sign that saysVeterinary Surgery, and I catch sight of a familiar figure, jeans sliding down off his hips, I’m close to ecstatic.
As I pull to a halt he opens the back door of Charlie’s runaround and takes Diesel, and by the time I’m out of the driver’s side he’s already got Pancake’s basket out too. It’s a good thing he’s got his hands full, because it helps me to hold back from throwing my arms around him. Instead, as he strides off towards the door saying not to bother locking the car, I’m running to keep up.
‘Come on in.’ Somehow he hangs onto both animalsandholds the door open for me.
I scoot past getting a blast of something that’s disturbingly more man-scent than vet disinfectant. It’s only as I inhale that it hits me – I ran out of the flat without a thought. My mouth is still operating with no input from me. ‘Excuse me being covered in cat wee.’ That probably overrides that I barely brushed my hair today.
‘It goes with the territory.’ He gives a sardonic grimace and leads the way through a lofty white-painted waiting room and into a smaller side room and we come to a halt either side of a tall table. As the door clicks closed behind me Ross wipes down the table surface and checks the details he’s brought up on a screen. ‘We’re short on state-of-the-art equipment here, but hopefully the care makes up for that.’ He’s already easing Pancake out of her basket. ‘So what have you been up to, old girl?’ He hooks his stethoscope in his ears and starts moving the other end around Pancake.
I’m spouting random snippets that might help. ‘She’d been off her food and sleeping a lot, then I picked her up and she exploded.’
He’s squeezing her tummy, then he lifts her tail and pops a thermometer into her bottom. ‘You should protest a lot more about this too, Pancake.’ He turns to me after a couple of minutes. ‘Her chest is clear, but she’s running a temperature. I’d say we’re looking at a bladder infection. A urine sample will confirm that, but in the meantime we’ll give her an antibiotic injection and some painkillers.’
I’m stammering. ‘So she’s n-not going to b-burst and she’s not going to die?’
‘Hopefully not this week.’ As he moves her over to some scales on the windowsill he’s so laid back, I’m asking myself if I’ve made the wrong call here.
‘And it could have waited until morning?’
He shrugs. ‘It’s always best to get them checked out sooner rather than later.’
‘Especially when they aren’t yours.’ It’s not lost on me. On the way here I was working out how the hell I’d break the news to Charlie if anything happened to Pancake. As Ross looks down to read the numbers off the scales, my eyes are glued to the stubble shadows on his jaw. His hair curling over the collar of his polo shirt. Obviously I wouldn’t usually be careless enough to stare but I’m just so damned thankful Pancake’s okay, for now I mind less.
His cough makes me look up again. ‘She’s a heavy lady. That was a lot of stairs for you to carry a five-kilo cat down with Diesel in tow too.’
‘It was totally fine.’ My arms did literally feel like they were going to fall off my shoulders. And every time I changed hands with the cat carrier Diesel’s lead tied my knees together. But it was still better than having a house call.
As I watch Ross drawing up an injection, there’s a tiny alarm bell ringing in my brain. If he’s questioning my capability again, I can’t let it go.
I clear my throat. ‘I’m hugely grateful for you stepping in like a hero and helping Pancake out tonight. But it’s not fair to imply I can’t cope, just to twist things to your advantage.’
He pulls up a piece of Pancake’s fur, pushes in the needle, then rubs it as he pulls it out again. Then he draws up some liquid from another bottle, squirts that into her mouth, and slips her back into her basket again.
He carries on without a reply. ‘Come through, I’ll get you some syrup to take with you.’
‘Thank you.’ I follow him into what looks like an office-cum-kitchen where he unlocks a tall cabinet and picks a box off a shelf. ‘So is there an upstairs?’
He blinks. ‘The sloping ceilings are the giveaway. The operating suite is at the other end, and that’s it.’
‘So where do you sleep?’ If I’m asking it’s out of sheer puzzlement, not nosiness.
He pulls a face as he sets off the printer. ‘There’s a drop-down bed.’
‘Charlie mentioned you slept in a cupboard, that’s all.’
There’s another shrug. ‘Nothing so luxurious. The bed gets the cupboard, not me. Then there’s a microwave, and I share the fridge with the vaccines.’
There’s barely room for the desk chair, let alone a bed. ‘I get why Clemmie’s flat seems so attractive, even with all the drawbacks.’ The stairs, the teensy size, me being there. It’s good to get this properly in the open.
His eyes narrow then his voice goes up. ‘You surely didn’t thinkthat camefrom me?’
‘It’s hardly come from anyone else, has it?’
He lets out a sigh. ‘I’m used to roughing it, a few more weeks makes no odds to me. Staying at Seaspray Cottage is the last thingI’dsuggest.’ He takes a label from the printer, presses it into place and holds out the box.
‘Great to know we’re on the same page with this.’ Then I see the knots of red skin inside his fingers and my stomach clenches. ‘And that’s your hand again.’
