Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Rhys
Eating lunch while sitting in the wild garden is lovely. Alone with a coffee and sandwich on my grandfather's bench, no sound except a bird twittering nearby.
Thirty minutes of bliss before I return for more surgery. I never realized I missed proper lunch breaks until my bossy little kennel hand got too big for his boots and banned a working lunch.
The same kennel hand is promoted to chief of everything. I don't resent him. I admire him.
I head back inside, check on Poppy's recovery from her lump removal, and then head to the office to check on…
Well, I'm not sure exactly, but I check every day.
“How's your day, Martha?” I greet, which is code for how is my practice doing.
Usually she understands the objective, but today I literally hear about her day.
“Pumpkin is such an adorable girl.” She talks more to the dog at her feet than to me. “She is so friendly. I hope we're finding homes with people who don't work.”
“Not my department, but you've met Noah, right? Can you see him letting them go to anyone who wouldn't be besotted and devoted to them?”
“Or people who work in dog-friendly environments and could have them sitting under their desk all day.”
I can take a hint; the question is, do I want to? If I say yes to Martha, I have to say yes to everyone. And if I say yes to everyone else having one, that is practically promising Noah can have ten.
“Dr Calder.” Claudia hurries through. “Noah is taking a lunch break.”
She sounds overly concerned about Noah’s mealtime, but I'm sure the practice can survive for thirty minutes without his presence.
“There is a man in reception demanding to see Noah.”
Well, that is a totally different matter. My posture changes instantly. I straighten, tapping a little too deeply into my darkness. I head out into the waiting area, currently empty for ten minutes before afternoon appointments begin. The man is late forties, wearing a well-fitting dark suit.
“Can I help you?” I call. Just because he isn't our shadow man from yesterday doesn't mean he isn't connected.
“No, thank you. I'm here to see Noah.”
“I own this practice, and we have certain policies in place to protect my staff because of the filming we do here. One of those is requesting all visitors identify themselves.”
“It's personal,” he replies, turning away from me to examine a display of brightly colored dog leashes.
“Then you cannot conduct personal matters on professional property. You can wait until his shift finishes.”
I turn to walk away. This arrogant man can dismiss me all he likes; he isn't getting anywhere near Noah without my approval.
“Now wait here a minute, we're his parents,” the man snaps. “We have a right to see our son.”
“And I own this building. I have the right to know who wants to see my staff while on the clock.”
“Henry Humphries, and my wife Elizabeth is just parking the car. Now, can we please see our son?”
On cue, the wife appears, equally well-pressed and glamorous. These do not look like Noah’s parents.
“I'll see if he's free.”
I find Noah in Honey's kennel, playing with her puppies more than anything useful, but giving the dog attention is good for her mental health.
“Noah, do you know anyone called Henry and Elizabeth?”
“Oh. Right. Yes. Um.” Noah buries himself deeper in the kennel. “They're my parents.”
Okay, fine. But knowing them doesn't make me any less wary.
“Do you want to see them?”
“I suppose I should. It's the easiest way to get rid of them.”
“No.” I'm not sending Noah out there like a lamb to the slaughter. “You keep running everything for this afternoon's broadcast. I'll give your parents a tour.”
“Sure.” Noah sounds calm as he nods gratefully.
I return to collect Mr. and Mrs. Humphries, stating Noah is busy but I'll show them around. It seems getting what they want triggers a personality change.
“We saw Noah on the news. We're so proud of him.” Elizabeth walks behind me, beaming with pride for her son.
“He was very brave coming forward to save all those dogs,” I nod in agreement, opening the door to the prep room.
Noah isn't hiding in the dog kennel now.
He's hiding behind his clipboard. The camera is in position; the first dog is led through.
This one is significant, as she's the first. The first of 24 females and 2 males to be neutered and rehomed.
It's a big day for Noah, and now his parents get to share it.
He's on fire, metaphorically, giving directions like a pro.
But when Floofy gets spooked, he's that overworked kennel hand again, on his knees, reassuring her like he's the only human she's seen in her life.
He is her world, and her tail wags so hard that her body is skidding on the floor.
With his hand stroking a Mohican-style tuft of fur, he slips back into his organized role.
Orders are given, Floofy is lifted onto the table, and he is right there with her as she is prepared for her surgery.
“We're neutering five of his dogs today. Bitch 24, Harriet. Bitch 16, Pepper. Bitch 13, Floofy. Bitch 7, Zoozoo. And Bitch 22, Apple. Noah will do their re-homing visits next week.” I read from the whiteboard where we list all the day’s tasks, but I sound like I know all of that as well as Noah does.
“We don’t care about the dogs. We want to see Noah.”
I know they don’t care about the practice, but Noah is busy and I’m not good at making up distractions.
Finally, I move forward with his parents.
“Noah, your parents were just telling me how proud they are of you.”
“Oh, yes.” Elizabeth tells the room in general. “We always knew he'd work with animals when he started adopting three-legged stick insects.”
“You remember how we used to find the babies crawling across the walls,” Henry reminds his wife.
“And then we see our boy on the TV. What a surprise.” Elizabeth tells my staff exactly how she felt seeing her boy on television. Henry informs everyone how he knew his boy had it in him.
And Noah just keeps his focus on Floofy as I sedate her, ready for the operation, like he hasn’t heard a word. I hate myself for it.
I have to leave Noah out here without me while I operate on his first true loss.
After I cut into Floofy’s abdomen, there’s no going back. Her future is fixed.
This outcome has been fixed since I slid that needle into Noah’s neck, but this will hit him hard. I have to leave him with his parents instead of staying with him.
Fortunately, spays are quick; forty-five minutes and Floofy is done. I clean my hands, change my apron, and scrub back in. The next dog is already ready, and I'm cutting into her own minutes after Floofy is moved into recovery.
I'm done in just under four hours. It's nothing unusual about that, but everything seems to run smoother.
I leave the cleanup to my scrub nurse and step out of the theatre. I'm greeted by a very welcome coffee and a chair.
They call it resting post surgery, I call it observing.
I love watching my practice thrive around me, but today, I only have one target.
Noah. He's working hard, just taking everything in.
Questioning everything. Does Poppy have a discharge appointment with Tree?
Is the aftercare pack made up ready? Has anyone updated Ginger's owner since we admitted him?
Does Chloe have enough coffee? How is Figgy's labor?
He's interacting with everyone.
Everyone except his parents.
And they are interacting with everyone except him.
Every word out of their mouths is about Noah, rather than to him.
It's the strangest parental relationship I've ever seen.
My parents ignored me. I went to boarding school, then college, then out into the world with very little interaction from them. But Noah appears to be just as invisible physically, while being the center of his parents' attention.
“Mr. Humphries, do you have accommodation arranged, or are you travelling home tonight?” I cut my break short to encourage our interlopers to the door.
“We're staying with Noah tonight,” Elizabeth answers confidently. “We'll be staying for a few days. I'm sure the nation wants to know all about Noah growing up. We brought baby photos.”
“Did you ask Noah if you could stay before making this arrangement?”
“Noah won't mind. He's a good boy.”
“He's renting a single room. He isn't allowed guests overnight.
“I don't see what this has to do with you?” Henry's tone instantly turns the moment he doesn't get what he wants.
“It has nothing to do with me. I'm just telling you the facts. You are not staying with Noah.”
“We…”
“Are just leaving. I suggest you find somewhere in town, or go home.”
“You can't just push us out. Noah is taking us to dinner.”
Another arrangement I'm sure he does not know of. I forced a smile, wishing I could remove these people from his life personally. He doesn't need them now; he has me. But that side of my life has no place here.
“This is a workplace, and I have been very accommodating by allowing you in here, but now it's time for you to leave. Whatever you have arranged with Noah after his shift is none of my business, but until he clocks out, he has work to do.”
“We won't get in anyone's way,” Elizabeth protests, a sickly sweet smile on her face.
“Absolutely, plenty of space in the car park,” I agree.
“We're not leaving,” Henry folds his arms, standing firm.
“Dr Calder…” Noah calls nervously as he slides closer.
“This is private property. You have overstayed your welcome in a theatre. I will ask you one more time to leave. After that, I stop asking.”