Page 33 of The Twelve Days of Christian
“Three. I did it part-time—nights and weekends—while I worked at a clinic.”
“Which proves you’ve also got some determination there. Hell, I couldn’t stick with something that long.”
She silently plucks at another stitch. Her face is all concentration, but there’s a whirl of trouble in her eyes.
“Look, it’s not that I couldn’t do it. I’m good at the practical stuff.”
“I can see that.” Her hands are steady, her touch gentle but confident.
“The study doesn’t bother me. With Mum and Dad on my case right through school, I learned how to do that.”
“Then what’s stopping you? Is it the time? Like it would be five years, wouldn’t it?”
“Probably four. My vet nurse diploma would credit across for some. Four or five years, it’s all the same. It’s not happening.” Her sigh is deeper, sad and resigned. When she meets my eyes, there’s a defeated expression there. “Do you know what it costs?”
It’s obvious now. I’m such an idiot. I may not be rolling in cash right this minute, but there’s a steady inward stream of pounds into my bank account. I can’t wildly throw money at big items, like a flash car, but I can sleep at night free of any financial worries. Unlike many people. Unlike Haley. I shake my head, feeling an awkward flush at my insensitive probing.
“Around nine thousand pounds a year,” she says. “And I’d have to give up work. I did the vet nursing diploma on the job. But you can’t do a degree like that. Sure, I might be able to squeeze in a few hours’ work each week, but that’s not going to get me through.” She blinks at me, dark lashes fluttering, pink rising on her cheeks. “Christian, this past year has been hard. I had a few changes in my living arrangements that put financial pressure on me.”
I suspect I know who caused those problems. I’m fairly sure she lived with that creep I met down at Ollie’s country house one time.My face is a blank, masking the hatred for the prick that flares from this knowledge.
“Staying here in London, trying to be independent, having too much pride to be a twenty-something moving back in with her parents—well, it wasn’t the smartest move.”
She shuffles uncomfortably under my sympathetic gaze.
“I had debts up to my eyeballs. It’s only moving in here that’s allowed me to claw my way back. I’ve almost finished paying off my student loan. I can’t put myself back in that position again. Not now, when I’m finally almost free of it.”
“I get it,” I say. “But that’s a shame.” I can’t help but tell her what I see, an intelligent woman who could be so much more if she just had a chance, and would be brave enough to take it. “You would make an amazing vet. You remind me of the woman who saved Jet. Good hands and a big heart. That’s what really counts, right?”
She nods, turning her attention back to the job, but I see her hands shake a little now.
Yes, I regret saying anything because I’ve upset her. But I despair at how circumstances hold this capable woman back, denying her what I have, what her brother has; the chance to wake up every day and do the thing you love. For Haley, being a vet nurse, must be like it would be for me if I was a sound tech, watching the music happen but not allowed to make it. There must be a way out for her.
“Your parents wouldn’t…”
“No way I’d ask that of them.” She tries to shut me down.
“Didn’t they put Ollie through?”
I’m still not prepared to let this go. I love Ollie like a brother, but it’s become all the more clear over the time I’ve spent here that Haley stands in his shadow. I don’t think they meant to do it. TheTempletons are good people, but while helping their famous golden boy reach his dreams, they’ve neglected their other child, someone just as talented, and just as deserving of their pride.
“Ollie was eighteen when he went to the Academy. I’m twenty-five. I’m not their responsibility.” There’s a fierce independence in this woman, and while I admire it, I’m disappointed there’s not some way for her to honour that spirit while still chasing her dream.
The flash of her eyes and the terse tone tell me this conversation should end now. There’s no good will come of it. But I can’t leave it alone; it seems so wrong. There has to be some way. As if she reads my mind, she fixes me with a determined look.
“Just let it go, Christian. I have. Now, can you please hold Tully still?”
The dog’s head has been swivelling between us, following the conversation, as if watching a game of ping-pong.
“Not much more to go, girl.” I stroke her velvety ears. “Good girl.”
That’s what Haley is, too. A good girl. Never rocking the boat. Never demanding anything. Supporting everyone else. Taking care of them. But who’s taking care of her? I want it to be me. So I shut my mouth and let her think that’s the end of it. But it’s not.
Over this last week, so much has changed. I arrived here on Saturday as someone Haley knew, but didn’t, really. Some of what she knew was great: Ollie and I are good friends, I love my music, I’m committed to the band. And then there were the things she thought she knew, like everybody else; all those lies and the shade cast on me simply because it makes a better story.
Spending these days together, we’ve become friends, confidantes. There’s trust between us. I’ve let myself share stuff with her I’d neveroffer even a glimpse of to anyone else and she’s received it with a wide open heart and a generous spirit. I’ve always avoided making myself vulnerable. A glowering expression and a prickly attitude is an effective set of armour against the world. Here with Haley, I don’t feel any need to put it on. What it would be to wake up every morning like this and for a few hours each day, just be me.
It’s not purely selfish. Haley has let me in too, and I’m starting to wonder if there are things I know about her she doesn’t normally share, either. I suspect her friends don’t know about this dream of being a vet she’s put aside as out of her reach. I bet Ollie doesn’t realise she won’t accept help from her parents like he did.
