Page 25 of A Cosy Christmas with the Village Vet

He was pleased to see there was no awkwardness between them this morning. ‘I’m afraid I have to report that the house of doom was pretty cold. And, sadly, the electric’s not back on. I tried it again before I left, but something’s tripping it out and I don’t know where to start looking for the cause, though I’ve got a sneaking suspicion it might be something to do with the central heating boiler which doesn’t seem keen to fire up.’

‘Right.’ She was thoughtful for a moment, gazing out into the semi-light at the snow covered fields. ‘And are you sure there’s enough fuel – I mean calor gas or oil – to run the heating? That could be why it’s not working.’

‘Hmm. According to the bumf that came with the cottage, the central heating runs on oil. But now you mention it, checking the level’s not a bad idea.’ It was another thing to add to his list for the dratted cottage.

Brogan turned to face him. ‘You really need to find somewhere else to live, you know, Nick. That place sounds like a death trap. The Trotters should be reported for renting out a cottage that’s not fit to live in. They have one hell of a nerve, charging people for that.’

He glanced across at her to see she was wearing a serious expression. It touched his heart. ‘It really didn’t seem that bad when I first looked around it; just a bit dated, but it was always going to be a short-term stay for me until I found somewhere more suitable. And I put the fact that it was cold down to it having been empty for a while and the heating not being on.’

‘Warghh! Look out!’ Brogan gripped onto her seat, her eyes wide.

Alarmed, Nick quickly swung his gaze back to the road to see a deer leaping out in front of his car.

‘Wha—? Oh, shit!’ He slammed his breaks on, the skidding tyres setting the car spinning around full circle. Brogan let out a squeal as they just avoided colliding with a dry stone wall, before gliding slowly to a halt.

Nick puffed out his cheeks and released a slow breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

‘Phew! That was close,’ said Brogan, her breathing heavy.

He craned his neck to see the creature bounding away across the field. ‘You’re not kidding. Remind me to keep my eyes very firmly on the road around here. I missed clipping it by a nano-second.’

‘It’s a hazard of driving round here, I’m afraid. You’ll find you’re always dodging something; sheep, rabbits, pheasant…’

‘And, as I’ve just discovered, deer,’ he said, hitching his eyebrows as her eyes met his.

‘Yep, deer,’ she said. ‘And what happened to you keeping your eyes on the road? That didn’t last long, did it?’ They both chuckled at that.

‘Point taken.’ He jokingly cast her a sideways look.

‘Eyes back on the road, please,’ she said, delivering a gentle backhander to his arm.

They were the first to arrive at the surgery – being the first to arrive anywhere was a novelty to Nick and he found he quite liked the calm feeling it instilled rather than arriving late and flustered as he usually did. He checked the appointment list while Brogan headed off to get changed into her scrubs. He’d turned his phone on just before he’d left Willow Cottage and stuffed it straight back into his jacket pocket as the missed calls and messages filed in. He’d been aware of it buzzing away for most of the journey here; checking the messages had been filling him with increasing dread. He didn’t need to look to know who the bulk of the communication would be from. And he knew he’d have to face Loretta at some point today. He might as well get it over and done with, the sooner the better. With a heavy heart, he called her number.

‘Nick!’ she said, her snappy tone making him wince. ‘What excuse do you have this time for not dropping my shoes off? I really am intrigued to know. Anyone would think you were being deliberately awkward about it.’

‘Loretta, I’m honestly not being awkward. I’d planned on dropping them off last night, but I had a bugger of an evening. The electricity’s off at my—’

She huffed impatiently down the phone. ‘I don’t want your excuses, Nick, I want my shoes. Tonight. I’ve already told you how desperately I need them. I don’t know what you think you’ve got to gain by dragging it out. You’re being childish. And infuriating! You need to get used to the fact that we’re over; hanging onto my shoes isn’t going to make us get back together. Quite the opposite, in fact. As I’ve said repeatedly, leave them on the doorstep. Oh, and make sure it’s done today or I’ll be forced to come and get them myself.’ With that she ended the call.

Nick felt the start of a stress headache brewing at his temples. Since their split, he’d lost the will to stand up to her; it was too much like hard work. She’d got so that she’d never back down. Over the last six months, he’d found himself getting dragged into her way of arguing and point-scoring. It didn’t sit well with his easy-going personality and now he’d had a gut full. Slipping his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, he closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath just as Brogan walked in with a mug of tea.

‘Oh! Is everything okay?’ she asked, concerned. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d had breakfast, what with the power being off at your cottage, so I wondered if you fancied some toast, but if you’d rather I…’ She hesitated by the door.

He looked over at her pretty, earnest face. It was touching that it had crossed her mind that he might not have eaten. But he’d been so wound up about speaking to Loretta, it had quashed any feelings of hunger and left his stomach churning instead. The thought that Brogan was the polar opposite of this new Loretta he was faced with rushed into his head. His ex had gone all hard and prickly since she’d hooked up with Aaron. He’d bet she didn’t talk to his ex-best mate the way she spoke to him. She’d be all lovey-dovey, purring in his ear, not be able to do enough for him, saving her new cold side for conversations with Nick. And that hurt. Really hurt. Especially when they’d been together for three years and had been making preparations to get married mere weeks before she’d dumped him. Nick marvelled at how she’d been able to turn her feelings on and off so quickly.

He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and puffed out his cheeks, suddenly gripped by the overwhelming feeling that he’d had enough of this whole damned situation. He was weary of feeling that he was always doing something wrong; never seemed to be able to get it right. Yes, he should probably have got the shoes over to her last night – it would certainly have saved him some earache – but if only she’d listened to why it was difficult for him with the state of the cottage, maybe she could have understood. But no, she wasn’t even prepared to listen to his explanation. It was beginning to feel like Loretta got some kind of pleasure out of him “failing”; seeing it as some kind of victory over him. And boy, was he weary of the endless gut-churning confrontations with her. He didn’t want to do it anymore; simply didn’t have the energy. He’d get her precious bloody shoes to her tonight. Come hell or high water, he’d make sure she had them. That way, he wouldn’t have to endure these phone calls any longer. Then they could focus on getting the house sold. And, yes, it could be considered irresponsible of him, and he might end up regretting it later if he didn’t have enough capital to put down as a deposit on a house, but he didn’t care if the house he’d shared with her went for less than it was worth. The prospect of being free from all this grief far outweighed the difference it would make to his pocket. Yes, he thought, he’d do all he could to hurry the sale through.

It took him by surprise, how much brighter reaching that decision made him feel, the relief tangible, giving him hope that he could move on.

He heaved another sigh, felt his shoulders relax and smiled at Brogan. ‘I can’t tell you what a welcome sight you are.’

‘Oh… um.’ Her face turned crimson, masking her smattering of freckles. ‘I always feel that way when someone brings me a cup of tea too.’ She giggled, the creases lifting from her brow. ‘Here, get this down you. I bet you haven’t had a warm drink this morning. I wouldn’t be able to function without a cuppa to start my day, I’d be like a zombie. And how about that toast?’ She smiled up at him.

It dawned on him he hadn’t had any kind of drink that morning, never mind a warm one. No wonder his head was throbbing – he couldn’t attribute all of the blame to Loretta. ‘That would be lovely, though I can get it myself. I don’t expect you to run around after me.’

‘I’m happy to do it; we’re here early, making toast doesn’t take long,’ she said with a shrug, her blushes fading. ‘Jam, marmalade or just butter?’

‘Hmm. Jam, I think, would be nice.’

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