After the paramedics leave, I reconfigure the tables and chairs and tidy the—
Winnie-the-Pooh is face down on the floorboards. Sammy the Slippery Seal was face down on the pavement. Mum fell over and she didn’t get up.
Suddenly lightheaded, I grasp the bar. Black and white marble. Green and white coasters. Sparkling copper taps.
Blake puts a hand on my arm. ‘I’ll take Prim home.’
‘I … s …’ Pink and grey galahs forage on the footpath near the bins. ‘I … w …’ More galahs. ‘I promised to read …’
Lacie takes my hand. ‘Winnie-the-Pooh.’
Blake doesn’t want me to stay, but it’s clear that Jock is in a far worse state than I am. The girls share one of their two single beds, Thomasina lying on her back at one end and Lacie lying on her side at the other. Their little feet, bumps in the blankets, meet in the middle. Jock and I sit side by side on the second bed.
‘All night? You need to sleep.’
He holds out trembling hands. ‘PTSD from my army days.’
‘It’s no wonder.’
‘I can’t do much harm pulling beers but as a parent …’ His voice breaks. ‘My lord, I was careless. I could have lost her.’
‘Should I have taken the girls … straight to bed? Do you blame Kevin for giving them peppermints? Was it our fault?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Then don’t blame yourself. What happened … was an accident. Thomasina is okay.’
‘This might play on her mind,’ Jock says. ‘I’ll encourage her to talk to a professional, someone trained to know the right things to say.’
‘You’re a great dad, Jock. The best. That’s … why your girls love you so much.’
‘They don’t want peppermint toothpaste any more.’ Half-crying, half-laughing, he wipes away tears. ‘I’ve quite gone off it myself.’
I smooth the doona on the bed. ‘I’ll … sleep in here tonight. If Thomasina is unsettled, there’ll be two of us to take care of her.’
Jock insists on staying with the girls while I make a cup of tea. Daisy clatters up the steps of the balcony as I wait for the kettle to boil, bleating at the door as I find a mug and chamomile tea bag.
After a few more pathetic bleats, I give up and walk to the shed. ‘I’m sure Jock would have fed you before he went to work.’
Daisy denies what I’ve said, butting against my legs as I shake out handfuls of hay.
I consider my phone. Eleven-thirty. Too late to call Blake?
He picks up on the first ring. ‘How is she?’
‘Better than Jock.’
‘And you?’
‘I … w …’
‘I’m good.’
‘I’ll pick you up. You shouldn’t drive.’
‘Because I lose … words?’
‘You’re tired.’
‘I told Jock I’d stay.’
Silence. Then, ‘I understand.’
‘Blake? You’re going to London, aren’t you?’
‘I’m fitting a week’s worth of work into the next three days. I’ll be at the zoo tomorrow.’
‘There’s … something else … we have to talk about.’
‘What?’
I swipe tears away, muffle my sniffs. ‘Tomorrow.’
In the first few weeks after Mum went away, I cried a lot. At home. At school. Anywhere, really. Phoebe hid tears from me and Patience, but we’d hear her crying late at night. Patience would never admit that she cried. She’d storm into the garden and sit by the pond and when she got back her eyes would be puffy and red.
My sisters never said it was wrong to cry, but they explained that, because I loved our mother, I should try to think about what was best for her and what would make her happy. Dad couldn’t care for her, and we were too young to do it. She was content in New Zealand, living on the farm where she’d grown up. Her sisters loved and cared for her. As she was happy, I should be happy too. It’s what she’d want.
Keep quiet. Don’t hurt someone you love. Your pain won’t last forever.
Blake is going to London, and then he’ll go to Kenya. He’ll be gone for two or three weeks and then he’ll come back to finish his work at the zoo. He might stay longer because he cares about me, but how long will he stay? How long could he be happy here?
I live in a corner of the world. My world is small. My words are small.
Merrylegs doesn’t care about that. Neither do Eeyore or Juniper or Bonny. Harry and Darcy definitely don’t care. I have my sisters. They’ll love me forever.
Serena said, Don’t let him break your heart. Has Blake broken hearts? Would he have broken Serena’s heart if he’d let her get close?
Blake sends a text at six in the morning: I’m at the zoo. Are you all right? How is Thomasina?
All well. I’ll go to the Coach House, then I’ll be at the cottage.
At two o’clock, another text: See you in an hour.
I’ve done my washing and my accounts. The house is tidy. I’ve packed my four-wheel drive ready for tomorrow. I’ve showered and my hair is neatly plaited. Harry and Darcy are tethered far from the driveway and—
When Harry bleats plaintively, I kick into boots and run down the steps.
‘Harry!’
Instead of eating his way through the blackberry bushes to get to the grass near the pines, he’s clambered over the top of them. His chain is tangled and he’s surrounded by prickly leaves and thorns. He shakes his head and stamps a foot.
‘How am I supposed to get you out of there?’
I gingerly make my way through the thicket. A branch flicks back and scratches my ankle. ‘Ow!’
After I cut away branches to free the chain, Harry forges ahead, clambering even further into the thicket until he reaches the grass on the other side. In addition to the scratch on my ankle that’s bleeding through my jeans, I also have a scratch on my arm.
Blake turns into the driveway. A different kind of pain.
Darcy has a long runner topped with bright green leaves sticking out of the side of his mouth. When I walk to the strawberry patch and grasp his collar, he reluctantly gets to his feet.
‘Prim?’
I keep my face averted. ‘I … won’t be long.’
‘Can I help?’
Blake’s shirt is out. He’s paler than usual, scruffy and weary. He told me my gaze was caring and loving and tender when I looked at the calf. If I did dare to look at him again, my gaze would be caring and loving and tender.
I wipe my hands down my jeans. ‘I’d better clean up.’
‘What happened to your leg?’
Jock said, We had no idea he had training. I did know he had training, but I didn’t appreciate the significance of it. ‘It’s just a … scratch.’
He holds out a hand, drops it. ‘Can I kiss you?’
Just when I thought it couldn’t hurt more. A hand on his chest. A brush of lips.
‘W … would you like to come inside?’
Blake waits near the front door as I go to the bathroom and clean up the scratches. After I’m done, he follows me into the kitchen.
‘What’s going on?’
I open the cupboard above the stove. ‘I have plunger coffee. Or orange juice.’
‘I asked what was going on.’
‘W … was everything okay at the zoo?’
‘One of the elephants had an abscess. Andrew drained it.’
‘Chimbu?’
‘Yes. And we looked at the giraffe, Gathii.’
‘Are you going to anaesthetise him?’
‘Tuesday.’
‘What … would you like to drink?’
He scans my teapots and cups and saucers. ‘Tea.’
‘You hate tea.’
‘Not always.’ His gaze goes to my mouth.
I like the taste of tea on you. I turn away, pull out a canister. Cranberry and apple. Three teaspoons in the Dresden pot. ‘Have you heard from your parents again?’
He reaches around me to turn on the kettle. ‘I’ll get there on Wednesday, UK time.’
‘Your father … wants you to finish medicine.’
‘I’m not interested.’
‘He also said medicine … was your vocation. Your mother told me you … were passionate about it. She … said you … wanted to be a doctor despite the fact that she and Angus … were doctors.’
‘Prim?’ He touches my arm. ‘I said I’m not interested.’
I take out mugs. Country village scenes. A harvest. A wedding. ‘When you … studied medicine, did you have … surgical placements? Did you operate?’
‘Under supervision.’
‘Last night, you … would have performed a needle cricothyroidotomy on a child. Not in a hospital under … supervision, but on the floor of a hotel.’
‘You would have helped.’
‘To hold her … still … while you inserted the needle and attached the tube to keep her alive.’ The kettle pings. ‘No fuss. No drama. You … would’ve done it.’
‘If I’d had to, yes.’
‘You told me you’d only done veterinary science to … spite your parents. I still don’t think that’s true—I think you did it because of your grandfather. But now …’ I take a deep breath. ‘Maybe you should be a doctor.’
‘You should consider your options, like your father … said.’
After pouring water into the teapot, he puts the kettle down with a clunk. ‘No.’
‘There are things your mother can explain. About … what happened before you … were born, about your grandmother.’
‘You can tell me.’
‘It should come from her. For both of your … sakes.’
He hesitates. ‘To please you, I’ll ask about it.’
‘And you should talk to your father.’
‘I took my parents to the zoo. I explained what I do. I could take on any anaesthetist who practices medicine. I do a fucking good job.’
‘But you wouldn’t be an anaesthetist if you were a doctor … would you? You wouldn’t … want your patients to be asleep all the time.’
His eyes narrow. ‘I’m a vet. I like what I do.’
‘Your father feels guilty in the same … way your mother does.’
‘Angus has never apologised.’
‘He’s lost his son and you’ve lost your father. But he thinks he’s hurt you in other … ways too—you gave up the career you should have had. Your father doesn’t … want you to be a doctor for his sake. He … wants you to be a doctor for your own.’
Blake pours pale and watery tea into the mugs. He sips and grimaces, puts the mug down again. ‘I don’t care what he wants.’
‘You have to talk to him.’
‘Do you want me to leave permanently? Is that what this is about?’
‘I … want you to be happy. You might … want to live in … Scotland.’
‘Are you planning to relocate there?’
‘No.’
‘Neither am I.’
‘We don’t know … what will happen between us.’
He rubs around the back of his neck. ‘We shouldn’t have slept together.’
‘Because you don’t do one-night … stands?’
His eyes narrow again. ‘Not with you.’
I turn away, look out of the window. Harry and Darcy. My old life. ‘What if you … weren’t here any more?’
‘I’m not planning on leaving.’
‘You … won’t be at the Coach House forever. I should be looking for somewhere else to keep Eeyore and the horses. Merrylegs … will have her foal soon. They’ll need their own paddock and …’
He strides to the sink, pours out his tea and rinses the mug. Then, in the same way that I did, he looks out of the window.
‘You need more time.’ He speaks quietly.
‘I can’t afford to lean on you.’
‘You think that’s what I’m offering?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I have more, Prim. A lot more.’
‘For now.’
He scrapes a hand through his hair. ‘You still don’t trust me.’
‘I only trust my … sisters.’
‘You don’t rely on them either.’
‘That’s not true!’
‘When Farquhar went after you, you refused to let them help. You’re afraid of upsetting them. You keep them at a distance.’
I hold my pain close. ‘No. Yes.’
‘I’ve booked to go to London.’
‘I … want you to go. It’s important. As is your … work in Kenya.’
‘I’m training vets and game park officers. I can’t find a replacement.’
‘No one does … what you do.’
‘What happens when I get back?’
‘In December, you’ll finish at the zoo.’
‘You and me, Prim.’ He considers my profile. ‘What happens with us?’
Swallowing hard, I turn towards him. ‘I … want to know you’ll be happy. I … want you to be certain.’
‘You’ll wait for me? Until I get here.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘I’ll call. Text.’
‘I’ll miss you.’
‘Kiss me.’
His chest is hard, his heartbeat steady. A brush of lips on his cheek.
He finds my mouth. Fiery. Fervent.
My eyes sting. My heart aches.