Tess was on her hands and knees on the spotless linoleum of the smallest examination room, the one that would technically be her office from now on. The dark green material of her scrubs felt familiar, like maybe her life hadn’t actually changed beyond all recognition. Meanwhile, there was a six-month-old tabby kitten wedging himself under the medication locker in the corner, and his owner was already panicking that he’d escaped the table.
“Does this often, does he?” Tess asked.
“He gets into everything,” the kitten’s owner groaned, trying to juggle the bags she was carrying and a toddler who thought hide and seek with kitty was the funniest thing he had ever seen.
Tess suspected that Mr Giggles up in his mother’s arm was probably what kitty was hiding from, far more than the vet. “Come on, little fella,” Tess encouraged, wedging her hand under the cabinet and scraping her knuckles through her latex glove in the process. It was worth it when she got hold of the loose skin at the back of his neck.
In a protesting jumble of fur and skinny legs, the tabby rejoined them in the world.
Tess snuck a peek at his back end while transferring him back to the metal table to examine him. “Vaccinations today, yes? But he’s getting quite mature. You’ll need to book him in to get neutered.”
The owner pulled a face. “My husband says we shouldn’t do that to him,” she explained. “Says it’s cruel doing that to any man.” She smiled at Tess as if she should agree and find it just as cute.
“Due respect, Mrs McDonald, it’s your cat I’m after neutering, not your husband.” Looking at the sticky toddler hands getting all over Mrs McDonald’s sweatshirt, Tess wondered if she should offer it as a favour anyway. It was all just a little snip and a stitch.”
“Does he really need it done?”
“Only if you like your house not marked with stinky sprays every time a new smell comes into it. And you don’t want your garden overrun with pregnant girl cats and their kittens.”
“Oh. Well, yeah, I’d better book him in, then. I’ll just tell my husband after the fact.”
“Glad to hear it. These days, we give them the good drugs for it, so he’ll be happy enough when he wakes up.”
The chatter had let her pet the tabby into a purring state of contentment with her ungloved hand. He was a sweet little thing, even if he was called Neville, poor cat. Now it was time to quickly betray his newly won trust, and Tess reached for the needle she’d prepared before his great escape attempt.
“Right,” she announced, and the injection was over before he could squirm away. “He might be a little drowsy later, so don’t worry if he’s slow about his food or sleeps more. He might not be in the mood to be around the kids, either.”
“Oh, they never leave him alone,” Mrs McDonald said. “So curious, especially at this age. He’s very patient, though.”
Tess resisted the urge to scoop the kitty up and adopt him. In truth, he would be fine. Plenty of family pets endured the grasping-kids phase with no problem. She just always felt a bit sorry for them, much like when she took Waffles around to her nieces, who had only just outgrown trying to ride him like a pony.
With Neville in his carrier, Tess showed the little family back to reception.
“How’s it going?” Margo asked. “You’re not too disappointed to start with domestic pets, are you?”
“Me? No,” Tess said, although it wasn’t entirely truthful. It wasn’t like she expected to be wrangling pigs and sheep on day one, but part of the appeal of coming back to a country practice was getting out in the fields and dealing with challenges a little bit heftier than gerbils. “Got plenty of practice with kittens.”
“Well, this next one might be more interesting.” Margo nodded at Tess’s tablet that displayed her next patient’s details.
“Thunder?” Tess called out to the reception room. None of the waiting patients looked much like a Thunder. Then the internal doors swung open, and a Great Dane came bounding in from the patio.
Tess just managed to brace herself in time before giant paws were on her shoulders and a happy face was inches from her own.
“Down, Thunder,” said a weary voice from somewhere behind, and the dog complied with a soft whine.
“Right, let’s take you in here, big fella,” Tess said.
With Thunder out of the way, his owner came into view. He was a short man, not much taller than Tess herself. He followed Thunder as though the dog were the one taking him for a walk, the sturdy leather leash only just keeping them connected.
Now this was a bit more like it. Tess fished out a fresh set of gloves and checked her pockets for the healthy dental treats she liked to dish out.
Adam was in the staff room when Tess slipped in for a brew, reading the Guardian on his tablet and half-watching the sports news muted on the decent-sized television mounted on the wall. “How’s it going?” he asked, barely looking up. “Finding everything okay?”
“Oh yeah. Turns out you and Margo organise things the same way I do.” Tess flicked the switch on the kettle. “Like a home away from home. Or something like that.”
“How’s it all coming along with your London affairs?”
Tess shrugged. “It’s the usual boring whatever. Sign this, pay for that. Selling my flat was the easy part, but there’s always something from the practice. Every time I think it’s finalised, there’s one more form, one more letter.”
“That can’t be much fun.” Adam came over to nudge Tess aside with a gentle bump of his hip. “Margo told me how it went down with Caroline and all. She really did you dirty, and I’m sorry.”
“Hey, I didn’t want to share a practice with the woman who cheated on me. So trust me, this is the best outcome.” Tess watched Adam pour the water into their two mugs rather than look him in the eye. She hadn’t done a whole lot of talking out loud about the mess with Caroline, save for a few therapy sessions that tapered off once she made the plan to move back to Scotland. “Although the least she could have done is make the process a little smoother. I think she was hoping she could frustrate me into walking away and leaving her with everything. Some people really are that entitled.”
“You think you know someone,” Adam empathised.
Tess gave Adam a considering look before sighing. “Caroline was lovely…until she wasn’t,” was the best reply she could muster. “I’ve learned a valuable lesson, at least. Whatever happens, I’m keeping business and pleasure separate. We were supposed to be equal partners—in the house, in the practice—but Caroline was pulling all the strings. It’s only now I’ve got anything that’s just mine. Independent Tess from here on in. Any chance of a biscuit with this? I’m starving.”
Adam checked the jar next to the kettle. “Fresh out. I’ll pop across the road, get something to cheer you up.”
“I’ll go,” Tess replied. “I saw some cakes in there yesterday that might just do the trick.”
Grateful for an excuse to flee talking about her ex, Tess grabbed her leather jacket from the coat rack and slipped out.
The café was much busier today, full of people looking for a mid-morning caffeine fix and, by the sounds of it, a dose of the local gossip. The low burr of shared conversations came to a sudden halt as Tess walked in, but she gave a vague sort of tight smile until everyone went back to pretending they hadn’t stopped and stared.
“Two slices of carrot cake, please, Joan.” Tess aimed for friendly. “Sorry I had to dash yesterday. Can I get a cuppa with that too?” Her tea would be going cold back at the surgery, but she was in no rush to return for more pitying looks from Adam, and her next patient wasn’t for twenty minutes.
“What kind?” Joan gestured to the selection of teas behind her. “Or did you mean real tea? Hard to tell with you big-city types.”
“London didn’t spoil my appreciation for a proper cup of tea,” Tess replied. “Never really went in for that herbal stuff.”
If it was a test, Joan’s nod suggested Tess had passed. It reminded her of her own mum, whose constant worry until she passed away five years ago was that Tess would have her head turned by too many urban and sophisticated things. Every phone call had featured at least five minutes of fretting that Tess was losing her natural accent or forgetting where she came from. Maybe if she had actually done those things, Caroline would have found her more suitable as a long-term prospect.
“Settling in okay?” Joan fetched the carrot cake from the glass display unit between them. She sliced it up with steady hands and a very big knife.
“Yeah, it’s great so far. Was a bit tired from all the driving, but I feel much better today. I’ll have to explore the village a bit. Haven’t even been to the pub yet, just raided Margo’s wine rack last night. Although what kind of name is The Spiky Thistle, anyway?”
Joan gave a haughty little sniff. She boxed up the cake and tied it with a strip of ribbon before Tess could say all the presentation wasn’t necessary. “You might want to look farther afield if you’re the drinking type.” A small gold cross glinted against the dark skin at Joan’s throat, the light wrinkles there the only outward sign she was middle-aged. Tess felt a familiar sinking sort of panic. She’d never had great luck with organised religion, and even less so in small towns like Hayleith.
“Oh, I’m not judging, silly girl.” Joan said, picking up on the way Tess had tensed. “I just don’t care for what we call a drinking establishment around here. I much prefer the Kilted Coo, two towns over. But a lot of people just drink at home of an evening. Unless there’s something on.”
Relaxing again, Tess accepted her boxed cake and waited for her tea. When the rest of her stuff arrived, she would have to dig out a travel mug or two. All these cardboard cups were a waste, and she had enough worries as it was without feeling responsible for polluting the whole planet. “I’m sure I’ll check it out,” she answered as the milk was poured in without her having to ask. The strong but milky tea was exactly how she liked it. “Can’t be going to the same place all the time.”
“Good.” There was clearly more to Joan’s dislike of the pub, but Tess knew better than to ask.
She had the strongest memory all of a sudden, of being tiny, in her school uniform with a puffy anorak over it, waiting in place after place as her mum exchanged life stories with perfect strangers. Those strange pangs of missing her had gotten less frequent in the past five years, but it still felt disloyal to remember that impatience of a little kid who just wanted to get home instead of listening to boring grown-ups.
“Thanks for this,” Tess added as she tapped her credit card on the reader. The cake box and cup carrier were in her hands a moment later. “You don’t do loyalty cards, do you?”
Joan’s glare could have reduced a lesser woman to stone, but Tess held her head high.
“I just like collecting the little stamps, that’s all. Maybe you can consider it.”
“I’ve been running this place for ten years. I know what people like,” Joan said. “And I ran the pub for long enough before that. I know what I’m doing, but thank you, Dr Robinson.”
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know! You’re fine, girl.” Joan shooed her away, her lime green nails contrasting beautifully with the dark skin of her hands. “Give Margo and Adam my love. Tell her I got in that coffee that she likes.”
“Will do,” Tess says, relieved to be escaping. “Maybe I’ll see you in that Kilted Coo sometime?”
“Maybe you will. Maybe you will.”