straight off, it’s not serious. You managed to bring her in just in time.’
‘What’s wrong with Stanley?’ the girl asks.
Becky points to the small white spots on Stanley’s fin. ‘Fin rot,’ she explains. The girl’s big blue eyes widen. ‘But no need to worry!’ Becky quickly adds. ‘Thanks to your vigilance, Stanley will be just fine.’
The girl smiles, lighting up her young face.
Her mother squeezes her shoulder. ‘See? What did I tell you?’
Becky watches them, unable to stop herself feeling a tinge of jealousy. ‘So,’ she says, clearing her throat. ‘Do you have some salt at home?’
The girl peers up at her mother, who nods.
‘Good. That’s how we’ll treat Stanley. A few teaspoons of salt in her tank each day and she’ll be as right as rain within the week.’ Becky turns away to tap some notes into her computer. ‘It’s just as well Stanley has such a loving owner. Fish are so important. You know they were here first, way before us, even way before dinosaurs? And yet look at them,’ she says, gesturing towards the tank. ‘They’re still here. Quite a feat.’
‘They’re the best pets in the world,’ the girl says stoically as her mother places the tank back in the box.
‘I’d agree,’ Becky replies. ‘But my three dogs might get a bit upset. I think that’s it for Stanley today. Just call if you have any problems.’
‘You’ve been brilliant, thank you,’ the girl’s mother says as they walk out to the reception area. ‘Say thank you, Jess.’
‘Thank you,’ the girl says in a shy voice.
‘A pleasure!’
When they leave, Becky returns to her consulting room and sinks down into her chair, yawning. She likes to do this at the end of the day, just close her eyes and relax for a few seconds. She’s done her best to make the consulting room as homely as possible. One wall crowded with cards from grateful patients, her small, tidy desk adorned with photos of her three skinny suki whippet crosses, Summer, Womble and Danny.
Above the desk is a shelf of books lined with the usual suspects: a wide range of medical reference books. But mixed in with them are romance novels, given to Becky by patients as gifts after Kay let slip to one that Becky is a secret fan of romantic fiction. It is a running joke now, with books gifted to her by regulars each Christmas, or when an owner wants to thank her. The truth is, Becky does love the novels, devouring them whenever she is lucky enough to have a break.
But that is just about the extent of the romance in her life. It has been ten years since she was dumped by the boyfriend she’d had since school, just before their tenth anniversary. There have been a succession of bad dates since, but recently, she’s begun to think a life with just her and the dogs would be perfect, despite what Kay thinks.
Becky’s eyes stray towards the photo at the end of the row of books. It’s her on the day she graduated from veterinary college five years ago. Her dad is standing stiffly beside her, a hint of pride on his face. She ought to feel pride herself when she looks at that photo but, instead, she often finds herself thinking of who wasn’t there that day: her mum.
Becky drives thoughts of her mum away, focusing instead on her dad. God, she misses him. Even their lunches, when they would both sit and eat in complete silence, comfortable with each other after years of being in each other’s company. At least he is happy now. That’s what’s important, even if he is many miles away in Wales with his second wife, Cynthia.
Becky smiles at her dad’s proud face in the photo then grabs her pale blue rucksack and slings it over her shoulder, walking out into the reception area.
‘Last patient of the day, thank God,’ Kay says, standing up and stretching. ‘Has seemed like a long week this week. Must be the heat. Any plans for the weekend?’
Becky shrugs. ‘The usual.’
‘Long walks. Dinners for one—’
‘Four,’ Becky says, interrupting her.
‘Ah yes, the dogs. Then, let me guess, some reading?’
Becky laughs. ‘You know me so well.’
‘You know you can pop by any time if you find yourself getting lonely.’
‘Thank you, but I honestly never feel lonely.’
Kay shoots her a cynical look. ‘Either way, remember to go shopping for a new dress for my party next month.’ Becky opens her mouth to say something but Kay puts her hand up. ‘I refuse to hear any excuses. I’ll be fifty. Fifty! If you really like me as much as you say, then you’ll come. Plus you’ll get the chance to meet the family I bitch about every day!’
Becky gives her a faint smile. She can’t think of anything worse than a huge family party, even if it is for her friend. ‘I’ll see how Summer gets on.’
‘That’s a yes then,’ Kay says with a wink.
They both laugh, going through their nightly routine of switching lights off and locking the place up. Then they step out into the searing evening heat, the field stretching out before them.
‘Have a good weekend!’ Becky calls out as Kay rushes off down the path, no doubt needing to get back to take one of her teenage kids to a football match or dance class.
But Becky doesn’t need to rush. Instead, she takes a moment to stop, breathing in the warm air infused with the scent of flowers and grass. It’s one of the many luxuries of not having to rush home to people like others have to, she thinks. She’ll always be able to take the time to enjoy the simple things, like breathing in the beauty of a hot summer evening.
After a few moments, she heads across the fields and down a path created from grass well-trodden by dog walkers. Kay lives near the cobbled high street five minutes in the opposite direction, but Becky lives out of the way, in one of four cottages that sit in a row and overlook the field. Each of the cottages are tiny but their gardens are huge with gates that lead onto the field, ideal for the dogs. She still remembers her dad driving them through this very village on the way to their new home in Busby-on-Sea after her mum left. That was over twenty-five years ago now. ‘This is a pretty village,’ Becky remembers saying to him.
‘Too small,’ he’d replied. ‘Busby-on-Sea is much better, you’ll see. It even has a leisure centre! Plus, your grandparents are there.’
One shop and no leisure centre sounded perfect to her, even then. But she knew her dad needed to be around family. She remembers asking her dad when her mum would be joining them. She knew she wouldn’t be, they’d had ‘the talk’ just a few weeks beforehand. But she still had to ask, just to be sure.
‘Mummy’s not coming with us, remember?’ her dad had replied, a confusing mixture of sadness and anger on his face. ‘But she’ll visit. I think you’ll be happy in Busby-in-Sea, I really do, Becks.’
As Becky thinks of that, she gets another flash of memory. The sound of waves. Sand in between her toes. Her mum smiling down at her, nose freckled from the sun, blue eyes sparkling.
‘I
