The Difference a Day Makes (20 page)

‘No such luck.’

His good friend puffed unhappily.

‘If Mrs Tilsley said that my date looked like a bit of a dog, it was because my date was
actually
a dog.’

‘You have very little fun in your life, Guy,’ Cheryl complained.

‘Tell me about it.’

‘Why don’t I fix you up with one of my friends?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘It’s not good for a man to live alone.’ He wasn’t about to confess to Cheryl that he’d recently come to that conclusion himself. It would be round Scarsby before lunchtime and he’d never be able to lift his head in Poppy’s Tea Room again.

‘I’m not the dating kind,’ he insisted.

‘That’s because you don’t make any effort.You could be quite presentable if only you’d shape yourself.’

Guy laughed at that. ‘Is there much in the book today?’ he asked, in an attempt to change the tack of the conversation and drag it firmly back to the realms of work. He’d already finished his morning calls and there’d been no emergencies as yet. But the day was still young.

‘Standard stuff,’ Cheryl said. ‘Bitch to be spayed. Collie with an arthritic hip. Yada, yada.’

‘What time’s the first appointment?’

‘Not until two o’clock.’

‘I’ll go and get a sandwich now, then I’ve got some stuff to sort out in the practice. I need to look at our patients too.’ In the cages in the surgery there were a number of in-patients, all of whom needed his attention.

‘Think about what I said about seeing one of my friends,’ Cheryl said to his retreating back. ‘I’m sure there’d be one or two willing ladies.’

He didn’t like to tell her that he might have found a willing woman of his own. That would save for another day. For now - briefly, he knew - it would remain his little secret.

He was about to go out of the door when his mobile rang.

‘Uncle Guy?’ Tom’s voice said. The boy sounded worried.

Guy felt his blood run cold. ‘What’s wrong, Tom?’

‘Can you come and see Mummy please.’ He sounded like he was crying. ‘She’s not very well.’

 

 

 

G
uy hands me a plate of hot buttered toast and a mug of steaming tea and we sit in my draughty, depressing kitchen together.

‘I don’t know what happened,’ I say, hanging my head. ‘I lost it completely.’

‘It’s hardly surprising,’ Guys says sympathetically.

‘I can’t even blame it on Hamish this time that I’ve lost another potential buyer for my house.’ Having given Guy the customary greeting of nose in the nether regions, the dog now thumps his tail happily on the floor at the mere mention of his name. ‘This one I cocked up all by myself.’

‘You’re being very hard on yourself, Amy.’

‘Not hard enough,’ I correct. ‘How could I have let myself go like that? What about the kids? How can I have neglected them so badly?’

‘It was for a few days,’ he says. ‘A minor aberration.’

As soon as Guy arrived, he took the situation in hand. The children were sent upstairs to shower and get themselves ready for school. I watched as Guy straightened Tom’s collar and tenderly combed Jessica’s hair and I wept.

The minute they’d left, Guy ordered me into a hot bath and told me to stay there while he made me something to eat. Now I’m dressed, hair freshly washed, and am feeling distinctly more human. I’ve even put on some mascara.

‘The animals haven’t been fed or watered either.’William must be turning in his grave to see what I’ve become in such a short time. I haven’t nurtured his dream at all. I’ve just trampled all over it.

‘Don’t worry about the animals. It’s all sorted now,’ he assures me. ‘They’ve come to no lasting harm. Though Daphne, Doris and Delila might not speak to you for a few days.’

I give a teary laugh at that. ‘You’re too kind to us,’ I say. ‘And I was horrible to you the other night after you’d done so much for me.’

‘I can completely understand why,’ Guy says. ‘That’s not what you need right now. But, if it’s any consolation, it was very well intentioned.’

‘I know that,’ I say with a sad smile. I’m so glad that I haven’t messed up this friendship. Guy is the only person I have to lean on here. ‘I do know that.’

‘All this, it’s a delayed reaction,’ he tells me.‘You’ve been trying to cope with everything alone. That’s not easy.’

‘And look at the sort of job I’ve made of it.’ I feel so ashamed of myself. I’m letting Will down. ‘I’m going to call my sister and see if she’ll come up here for the weekend. Serena will give me a good talking to.’

‘We’ll get you back on track,’ Guy promises.

‘What if I can never sell this place? How will I manage?’

‘Maybe you could just lick a few things into shape to help you along.’

‘I should do that. But I haven’t a clue where to start. It just all seems so overwhelming.’ The tears well up again.

‘Look,’ Guy says, ‘this is where I
can
help. There are all kinds of grants available from the EU to help set up small-holdings. I’m sure I could get you some funding to tide you over.’

‘You think you can do that?’ I sip on my tea, thoughtfully. ‘That really would be useful. Wouldn’t the fact that the house is on the market make me ineligible for any grants?’

‘You let me worry about that. I’ll make the application, fill in the forms for you.’

‘Thank you, Guy. I do appreciate this.’

‘No one here wants to see you struggle,’ Guy says. ‘You just have to be a bit more open to accepting help.’

‘You’re so right. I should get out and integrate more. I’ve been receiving a regular stream of food parcels, I should go round and thank everyone. They’ve been so kind. We’ve all been living like hermits and it’s not fair on the children.’

‘They’re really good kids, Amy. They understand. Believe me.’

I only wonder how I can make it up to them for my stupid behaviour over the last few days.

‘If you’re serious about getting out more, then you should come along to the village hop next weekend. Can’t remember what this one’s in aid of, but it’s normally a pleasant evening, nothing too taxing. It will give you a chance to meet some more of the neighbours.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘You should do. People would love to see you there.’ Then I see him glance surreptitiously at the clock.

‘Guy, I shouldn’t keep you any longer. You must have work to do.’

‘I have to get back for the afternoon surgery,’ he admits. ‘There’ll no doubt be a queue of herniated hamsters and sickly snakes waiting for me.’

‘It’s a very good job that you do.’

‘To prove that I really am a good person, I’ll even take this boy with me for a few days to give you a break.’ He flicks a thumb at Hamish.

‘You’d do that?’

‘Yes.’ Guy claps his hands. ‘Come on, lad,’ he says to the dog, who is immediately on his feet and bouncing happily. If only I had half the energy that mutt has.‘You’re going on a little holiday with your Uncle Guy.’

‘I hope he doesn’t get you into quite as much trouble as he did last time,’ I tease.

‘You must be feeling better. You’re making fun of me.’

‘I am. Much better.’ I see Guy to the door and, as he leaves, I reach up and give him a peck on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s what friends are for, Amy.’ He returns my kiss. ‘Don’t forget that.’

And as I wave him goodbye, I realise how much I miss a strong, caring man in my life. William is going to be a hard act to follow.

 

 

 

G
uy pulled up outside the row of small farm cottages. He turned to Hamish. ‘I have a dilemma now,’ he said sternly. ‘Are you going to cause more trouble if I take you with me or if I leave you in the car?’

Hamish woofed amiably.

Perhaps he ought to think about getting another dog on a permanent basis, Guy thought. It was good to have the company and made him look less mad when he was talking to himself.

After a moment’s indecision. Guy tied Hamish’s lead tightly to the headrest. ‘Stay here. Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be five minutes.’

Guy jumped out of the car and knocked on the door of the tidy little home. Moments later a tall, gangling man opened the door, stooping as he did.

‘Alan,’ Guy said, ‘I wondered if you could do me a favour?’

The man stood aside and let Guy pass.

Inside the small lounge it was like a time capsule. Crocheted lace protectors covered the arms of the chintz sofa and graced the top of the highly polished and very dated coffee-table. Alan Steadman was a widower and a retired farmhand. He lived in the same cottage he had lived in with his wife, and had maintained it meticulously ever since she’d died three years ago. Guy saw Alan every now and again at the surgery when his elderly Jack Russell, Bill, had needed some attention. Now Bill had passed on too and Alan cut a forlorn figure. Whatever time of the day, whatever season of the year,Alan could be found wearing a tweed jacket, hand-knitted waistcoat courtesy of Mrs Steadman - God rest her soul - a tie and a flat cap. He’d worked at Brindle’s Farm for years and was a valued and reliable farmhand. Now he was retired and didn’t quite know what to do with himself. The odd bit of gardening kept him from becoming a total recluse. Alan was a man of few words.

‘What can I do for ye, Vit?’ he said.

‘There’s a new incomer, Mrs Ashurst, living up in Helmshill Grange. She’s recently lost her husband.’

Alan nodded. Nothing was news in this place.

‘Can you spare a couple of hours every day to give her a hand? There are a few animals that need feeding and cleaning. Some odd jobs to get the house looking a bit better. The gate’s hanging off. The garden needs tending.’

Alan nodded again.

‘I’ll pay you, not Mrs Ashurst. At the end of the week. Cash in hand,’ Guy assured him. It was always the preferred currency round here. ‘But that has to be between us.’

Alan nodded a third time.

‘Can you start next week?’

‘Aye, Vit.’

‘Thanks, Alan. I knew that I could rely on you.’

Guy ducked as he went out of the tiny doorway. How Alan didn’t have a permanent bump on the head, he didn’t know.

Hamish, still sitting demurely in the car, had managed not to trash anything in his absence.

Guy smiled to himself. Hopefully, that would help Amy out. He could trust Alan to work hard at the Grange. Looking at his watch, he winced. He’d been MIA way too long. Cheryl would have his guts for garters as the waiting room would be full of restless, piddling clients - and that was just the owners. Now he really ought to head straight back to the surgery to see what was waiting for him, and later on he’d fill in those imaginary EU forms that he’d told Amy all about.

 

 

 

S
erena is curled up in a throw on my sofa. ‘It’s freezing in here,’ she says, rubbing her arms vigorously. This place is so different from my sister’s sleek Docklands apartment. That certainly doesn’t have wall-to-wall damp or a constant array of mouse innards in hidden corners.

‘I know. Sorry. I need to get some logs or something organised before winter really sets in.’ Another job for me to tackle. Topping up her wine I hope that, eventually, if she drinks enough she won’t notice the cold.

She slugs down the wine gratefully, hugging the glass to her as if it might thaw out her fingers. ‘Feels like it has already.’

‘We could go back into the kitchen.The Aga keeps that warm.’ Tom, Jessica and I normally huddle together round the stove in the evenings. It’s not ideal though. What’s the point in having an enormous house when you can’t use half of it for fear of developing hypothermia?

‘Don’t think I could sit upright on those chairs for more than ten minutes, sis. I’m knackered. I’ll need to hit my bed soon. Can your woes wait until morning?’

That makes me smile. I’d hoped that my sister would come here offering sympathy and solutions on tap. Still, she’s not long arrived after a hideous six-hour drive up here from London to answer my emergency call, so I can forgive her for feeling too drained to sort out my mess of a life for me.

‘I’m just glad that you’re here,’ I tell her truthfully.

‘Sounds like the vet came to the rescue before I did.’ Serena gives me a sideways glance.

‘He’s been brilliant,’ I say with a heartfelt sigh. ‘I really don’t know how we would have coped without him.’ For some reason, I feel self-conscious even talking about Guy Burton like this. ‘He’s great with the kids.’

‘Hmm,’ Serena says, giving me a quizzical look.‘Nothing more you’d like to tell me about this chap?’

I go and sit next to her on the sofa, snuggling into my sister and nicking a bit of the blanket. We cuddle up together, something that we used to do so often as teenagers. Then we were discussing our tortured lovelives long into the night when we should have been fast asleep, sorting out those adolescent problems that seemed so earth-shattering at the time and now seem so simple with the passing of time.

‘I’m recently widowed,’ I say.‘I’ve barely begun to grieve and yet I’m finding myself with feelings for another man.’ I lean back on the sofa. ‘Is that wrong?’ Serena strokes my hair and I rest my head on her shoulder. ‘How can I possibly feel like that? It seems like a complete betrayal of my husband. I still love William and I miss him so desperately, yet . . .’ I don’t know how to finish that sentence.

‘And does he, this vet, feel the same way about you?’

‘I think so,’ I admit. ‘We haven’t had a direct conversation about it. Or even an indirect conversation, if I’m honest with you. The minute Guy made even the hint of an approach, it freaked me out completely.’ But - and I’m too embarrassed to admit this out loud - it also made me wonder . . .