59 GAV

Gav was sweating. Every breath he took hurt, but nothing ached more than his heart.

‘Take a seat, Mr MacAdams,’ the receptionist said. ‘Hovering over me isn’t going to make things go faster.’

‘She’s in an awful lot of pain,’ Meg said, her face earnest as she clutched Tyrion to her chest. Gav no longer saw her open, honest face and classed her as a country oik. Not after the roundhouse kick she’d delivered to that kid’s head.

‘What happened?’ the nurse said, standing behind the middle-aged battleaxe stationed at reception.

‘Some little sh— kid kicked her.’ Gav lowered his brow in a way he knew intimidated people who didn’t know him. And terrified those who did.

The nurse nodded to the receptionist. ‘See which appointments can be moved. We’ll need to X-ray her and see what, if anything, is broken.’

Gav understood the more frightening words left unspoken – internal bleeding.

The nurse retreated through the back door, while the battleaxe did her best to ignore him. He looked at her name tag, memorising it. Joanna Hoey. Well, he’d make sure that Joanna Hoey would understand who she was talking to. He glanced at the mousey woman beside her. The one who hadn’t lifted a finger to help. Freya Willis.

‘Let’s sit down, Gav,’ Meg said, her soft hand on his arm. She led him to a row of chairs, whose only occupant was a young man with a wicker carrier on his lap and crazy hair like from a Japanese cartoon.

‘Scoot over, Cat Boy,’ Gav said.

‘My name’s Ethan,’ Cat Boy said. A slight flush stained his cheeks, but he scooted one chair over so that Gav and Meg could sit together and turned his body towards the wall.

Gav eased himself into the chair, stroking Violet’s soft fur. Hope blossoming when she growled at the cat peering out through a hole in the wicker.

Gav acknowledged this with a slight nod, whispering reassurances to Violet – hoping that he wasn’t lying to her – and staring at the two surgery doors, wondering which idiot he would need to trust to save her.

‘She’ll be fine.’ Meg’s soft voice was calm, her hands moving over her dachshund’s body, trying to calm him. Gav knew not everyone liked the vet’s. She didn’t have to be here. Didn’t have to wait with him. But he was glad she was and gave her an abrupt nod.

One of the surgery doors opened. A young man emerged with a brown-and-gold cocker spaniel sporting a Cone of Shame. He glanced at Gav. ‘Stupid dog. Fourth time in two years he gets a foxtail stuck so far in his ear that he needs surgery. Gonna be another £500.’

The battleaxe smiled. ‘It’s a dangerous operation. We needed to anaesthetise Fabio.’

‘Dumbass dog,’ the man retorted in a low tone, but this time he went down on one knee to stroke Fabio’s head. He leaned in close to whisper to him, ‘Lisa’s already bought you a present – a snood to keep the bloody foxtails out of your ears. Won’t you just hate that?’ The words were harsh, but the tone was soft.

Dogs didn’t like snoods any more than wearing the cones. Gav figured their mates made fun of them, but he heard the love in the man’s voice. Understood it.

‘Violet MacAdams?’ Dr Singh had emerged from one of the doors and spoke as if he were shouting across a loud, crowded A & E ward, instead of a small surgery with only Cat Boy, Meg and Gav sitting in the waiting room chairs less than a metre away.

Cat Boy looked like he was about to protest, until a glare from Gav set him straight.

‘Let’s go, darlin’.’ Gav stood, cradling Violet. He felt Meg stand and follow behind him into the examination room.

‘Only one person at a time,’ the battleaxe said.

‘Sod off,’ Meg replied cheerfully, winking at Dr Singh.

‘It’s all right,’ the vet said and stepped back to allow them to enter. ‘Tell me what happened.’

Gav explained, leaving out anything not directly related to Violet’s wounds. The vet didn’t need to know about the previous attack on him. He might tell the police, but even that was up for debate; there wouldn’t be anything they’d do about it anyway.

‘Okay, so first we’re going to X-ray her. See what’s broken. Check for any internal bleeding. Once we know more, we’ll tell you what we can do for her.’

‘Do whatever you need to,’ Gav said, his voice breaking.

Dr Singh nodded and picked up Violet, walking towards the door behind him. When Gav made to follow, Dr Singh turned. ‘I’m afraid you can’t come in the back. Either of you.’

‘What? She’s hurt. She’s scared. She needs me with her.’

‘I am sorry, but it is our policy.’

‘Sod the policy,’ Gav growled.

‘Best you go home, sir,’ Dr Singh said. ‘We’ll telephone you when we know more.’

Gav looked him square in the eye. He knew what the outcome would be if he went home. ‘I’ll wait.’

‘So will I.’ Meg’s soft voice held a hint of steel.

Gav returned to his seat next to Cat Boy. He leaned back against a poster warning against canine and feline obesity and sighed. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, he handed it, unlooked at, to Meg.

She adjusted Tyrion in her arms, glanced at the screen and felt her blood run cold.