Chapter 26 #2
Bets studied Jack’s bowed blond head, all his attention on the scruffy moggy.
She looked at the clock, noting that Jack hadn’t so much as glanced that way.
She’d forgotten his endless patience and how he stuck up for the underdog.
He was a good man and she was in danger of remembering all the lovely things about him, as well as the tender way he’d taken her to bed and loved her body with gentle thoroughness.
The decision to turn him down might have been the right one but it didn’t make things any easier.
Those pesky feelings she had for him were, unfortunately, as strong as ever.
Straightening her back, she gave herself a stern talking-to.
If she gave into them, she’d never be anything more than she was.
It was the right decision. If she and Jack got back together, they’d lapse into the same inequitable relationship as before.
She didn’t want to ride on anyone’s coattails or be the minor member of a partnership.
She wanted to know herself and be proud of herself.
Jack took the gloves off, one by one, and handed them to her, before depositing the almost relaxed cat in her arms.
‘Hold tight,’ he warned and, before Ginger could react, he quickly clipped the twisted claws on his right paw.
The cat struggled a little but Jack had already moved onto the next paw.
Within two minutes the job was done. Ginger hissed and spat his thanks as Jack gently returned him to the pet carrier.
‘Love you, too, fella,’ he said, latching the door closed.
Bets laughed, though inside she was thinking how wonderful he was.
That was allowed. She could admire him. Jack always managed to lighten the mood; he was the complete opposite of his brother, who always took everything very seriously.
She enjoyed working with both of them but she’d forgotten the deep well of compassion within Jack.
‘Until next time we do battle.’
‘Devon suggested that he could be declawed,’ ventured Bets, knowing it was a highly contentious solution.
Jack shook his head. ‘Not on my watch – and Devon was probably only offering it as a possibility to his owner to save her the trauma of going through this every couple of weeks.’
Bets knew this was true.
‘Far better for us to get a couple of scratches than the emotional stress it would cause poor old Ginger.’
Bets picked up the carrier and walked out to reception to return him to his owner, who sat perched on the edge of one of the chairs.
‘Is he all right?’ she asked, anxiety leaking out of her.
‘He’s fine,’ said Bets.
‘And the vet?’ Her eyes widened with worry.
Bets laughed. ‘He’s fine. Ginger didn’t manage to draw blood today, so we’ll count that as a win.’
Jack appeared in the doorway and held up his hands. ‘Unbloodied and unbowed,’ he said, winking.
‘I’m so grateful, Mr Jack. He’s normally good as gold.’ She got up to leave and Geoffrey, who was coming through the door, held it open for her. Exchanging a brief word with her, he then strode into reception, stopping when he caught sight of Bets, his eyes lighting up.
‘Bets! Well, you’re a dark horse, aren’t you?’ His loud bellow stopped everyone in their tracks and Bets felt Margaret at reception, Diane in the hallway, Jack en route back to the consulting room, and the combined waiting pet-owners all prick up their ears.
‘Mmm,’ she said, non-committal, unsure what he was going to say. Surely he wasn’t going to comment on her date with Jamie as well.
‘Stand-up comedienne, eh? Well done, you. Can’t wait to see that.’
Bets’ heart sank.
Everyone stared at her.
‘What?’ asked Margaret and began to laugh. ‘I don’t believe it’.
‘Bets is going to be one of the new comedians opening the comedy festival,’ announced Geoffrey.
There was a silence in the waiting room as the news was absorbed by every last visitor as well as half the staff of the practice. Bets wanted to sink through the floor and never come back up again.
‘Really?’ asked Diane. ‘What on earth made you do that? Are you having a mid-life crisis or something?’
‘You?’ Margaret said in a positively accusing sort of way. ‘You’re going to do stand-up comedy? Why? Are you mad?’
‘That’ll be a laugh, seeing you make a right tit of yourself,’ cackled Terry Edwards, one of the local troublemakers, currently barred from the pub for brawling – again.
‘Girls are never funny. Will you be doing’—he did quotey fingers—‘menstruation jokes? Or “I’ve been dumped by my man, boohoo” observational crap? ’
‘What do you want to do something like that for?’ piped up Mrs Glen, one of the shop volunteer regulars.
The barrage of questions came thick and fast, reverberating with consternation, surprise, mockery and outright amazement. For a moment, she froze, not sure which way to turn or who to answer first.
‘Mrs Wilkinson and Scamp, do you want to come through now?’ Jack’s voice cut through the noise as he invited the woman and her dog into the consulting room. ‘Bets.’
She followed gratefully. This patient wasn’t from the village and she didn’t know the owner or the dog.
As the door closed behind them, she could hear everyone discussing her. Terry’s voice was the loudest, ridiculing the idea that she’d have the temerity to try to be funny.
‘Now let’s have a look at Scamp. Been sick, has he?’
‘Yes, ever so and the diarrhoea…’ She shuddered and stroked the dog’s head.
Bets wasn’t really required as Jack gently palpated the unhappy spaniel’s stomach. Scamp was docile and extremely sorry for himself, but she held his collar and stroked the soft fluff of his ears while Mrs Wilkinson described how poorly the dog had been.
Her own stomach churned with the shock of everyone’s opinions. She hadn’t expected such a strident outburst of interest.
After a thorough examination, Jack pronounced that there was nothing seriously wrong with the dog. He’d probably eaten something that didn’t agree with him.
‘Keep him on a diet of plain chicken and rice for the next day or so. And I’ll give you some kaolin to settle his tummy.
If there’s no improvement in a day or so, phone the surgery, but I think he should be fine.
He’s a bit sad now, but he should bounce back and be his usual, bonkers spaniel self in a matter of days. ’
His owner smiled. ‘Thank you. This isn’t like him at all. I thought it was something serious.’
Jack fondled the spaniel’s ears. ‘I imagine a young pup like this one has bags of energy and it’s a bit scary seeing him looking so miserable.’
‘Thank you so much, vet,’ she said. ‘I’d be lost without him. He’s my constant companion.’
‘No problem. Come with me and I’ll get you the medication.’
Bless Jack. That was normally her job. Why did he have to be so lovely?
With a brief nod he indicated that Bets should stay put, shielded from the audience in the waiting room and the rest of the staff.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who normally needed rescuing but the fact that Jack had seen, on this occasion, that she did need some support made her heart melt a little.
Maybe he did know her better than she’d given him credit for.
He returned a few minutes later as she was wiping down the table with disinfectant, ready for the next patient.
‘You okay?’
‘Fine,’ she replied, not looking up as she finished her task. She waited for him to ask more but he didn’t.
‘Ready for the next patient?’
She nodded.
They worked through until lunchtime and by the time they were done the waiting room was empty. Margaret was the only member of staff about and she was busy on the phone.