Chapter Twenty-Four

Hal

I get to my knees, zip up my shorts, then rise to my feet. I’m so angry I knock the bottle of water over the blanket, but I don’t stop to pick it up. Christ, poor Izzy. She’s going to be so embarrassed. I stride across the grass to where Rosie’s standing, underneath another tree.

“What the fuck?” I yell at her.

It’s a knee-jerk reaction; only now I’m up close do I see her properly for the first time. She looks as angry as I feel. Her eyes are blazing, and her face is red.

She draws back a hand, and before I can move, she slaps me across the face, hard.

“Jesus Christ.” My cheek stinging, I step back before she can hit me again. “What the hell?”

“You stopped paying the rent,” she says. “The landlord’s throwing me out. He’s given me a week to come up with the money.”

I calculate in my head and realize the last payment that would have come out was fourteen days ago. “I told you I’d cancelled it. I told you that you needed to find somewhere else.”

“You fucking bastard. I’m going to be fucking homeless!” She yells the words.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I say impatiently. I’m not going to take the blame for this. “You’ve got hundreds of friends you can stay with, or your parents. Why would I continue to pay the rent on your house?”

“Because your fucking cousin sacked me.”

“Okay, yeah, he did do that. But have you remembered why? If you hadn’t made such a scene at the Ark, you could have carried on working there.” I don’t add that I’m glad she did, because it’s much easier now she’s gone.

“You’ve got so much money,” she says. “Why can’t you just keep paying the rent?”

And that’s when it sinks in, like a stone tossed into a vat of treacle. She’s furious because she’s lost the chance of being married to a billionaire.

It might sound dumb, but I don’t think about money. It’s not an issue for me, and it doesn’t enter my head. With girls I don’t tend to advertise that I have it, although they’ve often guessed, but I’ve never told any of them how much I’ve got. Izzy knows, always has done, and I honestly don’t think she cares. Rosie knows because we lived together, and it’s hard to keep that sort of thing from a partner.

I have no doubt she had feelings for me. But it’s obvious now that losing the money is a huge part of her problem.

I don’t have time for this. I know Izzy’s going to be terribly upset by what’s just happened, and she’s the only thing that matters to me right now. “I don’t give a fuck,” I tell Rosie. “We’re done. We’ve been done for a long time. And you need to move on.”

She steps closer, and I force myself not to move back. “I hate you,” she whispers.

“I’m not very fond of you either, at this point.”

“I loved you,” she says, and she looks a mixture of tearful and furious. “I gave you everything and you threw it all away.”

“I threw it away?” I give a humorless laugh. “Sweetheart, you’re the one who cheated on me. So get off your high horse and direct your anger elsewhere, because I’m sick of bearing the brunt of it.”

“This isn’t the end,” she says, but I’m already turning away.

I groan as I see the blanket empty, and when I look toward the Ark I can see Izzy, running down the lane toward the surgery. “Shit.” I stride away from Rosie, back to our tree, shove the remainder of the food back in the cool bag, then pick up the blanket.

“I hope she’s good,” Rosie says from behind me. “I hope she’s worth it.”

“Fuck off.” I’ve never hit a woman before, but I’m so angry I want to punch something, and it takes all my self-control to walk away from her in the opposite direction.

“I hate you!” Rosie screams after me.

I ignore her, hoping I’m not going to get a rock in the back of my head. But I return to the Ark untouched, and I go into the veterinary center, opening the door with such force that it bangs on the wall and starts all the dogs in the waiting room barking.

Ignoring everyone, I put the cool bag on the reception desk and march over to Izzy’s room. She’s already in there, looking at a poodle as she talks to its owner.

I stand there with my hands on my hips.

“Not now, Hal.” She doesn’t look at me—she just continues examining the dog.

I turn and walk out of the center.

*

Leon finds me about ten minutes later, sitting in the hotel with Miss Daisy on my lap. My stomach is like a hot mud pool, bubbling away and spitting boiling globs of mud into the air. But I have to stay calm for Miss Daisy, and gradually my pulse is slowing.

“What happened?” Leon asks.

I shake my head.

“Em rang me,” he says. “Said she saw Rosie outside the fence, crying. And Izzy’s white as a ghost and won’t talk.”

I close my eyes. “It was awful.”

“Did she have a go at Izzy? I thought she’d be able to handle that. C’mon, Hal. I can’t help if I don’t know what happened.”

“Izzy and I were making love out on the cliff walk. Unbeknownst to us, Rosie watched the whole thing.”

I open my eyes to see his reaction, waiting for him to laugh, but instead his face darkens. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah.” I’m embarrassed and angry at the thought of her observing the intimate moment I shared with Izzy. Rosie could have been standing there watching while I aroused Izzy, and she would definitely have seen me sliding inside her. She would have watched me come inside my girlfriend. This is going beyond a hurt ex who’s desperate to reunite. This is fucking weird.

“Do you want me to talk to Anne at the station? Ask her to get one of the guys to go around, give her a warning? It might shake her up a bit, make her realize you’re serious.”

I shake my head. “She’s hurting, that’s all.”

“She’s a fucking nutcase. You’ve got to do something.”

“I need to think about it.”

“Think hard, Hal. You don’t want it affecting you and Izzy. I’ve never seen you this happy. Don’t fuck it up.”

I stroke Miss Daisy’s ears. Her sores have nearly healed, and her coat is thickening and turning glossy. She’s timid, but she responds well to me. I’m thinking of adopting her.

“Have you told Izz about Hawke’s Bay?” Leon asks.

I nod.

“And?”

I sigh. “She’s not sure she wants to go.”

Leon frowns. “Really? I thought she’d jump at the chance. The two of you could really do some good there.”

“I don’t know. She’s nearly thirty, Leon. She’s put down roots here. She loves the Ark and she has a lot of friends. She’d be giving up all that, and for what?”

“For you, you idiot. She loves you.”

“Yes, I think she does. But she doesn’t believe I love her. Not in the same way. She thinks I’m going to get bored with her, and then she’ll be stuck on the other side of the country while I go waltzing off with my next conquest.”

“Ask her to marry you,” Leon says. “That should convince her.” I look up at him. He shrugs. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“I was going to,” I tell him. “But we’ve only been dating a couple of weeks. I’m not sure she’ll say yes.”

“You won’t know until you ask.”

“That’s true, but… I don’t want her to turn me down.”

Again I wait for him to mock me, say Grow a pair, Hal, something like that. But he doesn’t. Instead, his expression turns curious, puzzled. “You’ve really got it bad for her.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“What are you going to do about Rosie?”

I kiss Miss Daisy’s nose. “I don’t know yet. Maybe what happened today will be the end. I think she’s got the message that we’re not getting back together.”

“Hal…”

“Don’t start.”

“You’re sticking your head in the sand.”

“No I’m not.”

“You are. You’re an outrageous optimist who’s famous for ignoring impending doom, and it’s not going to end well.”

I put the Collie down and get to my feet, brushing off my shorts. “I’m not sending the police around to Rosie’s place. I fucked up, Leon, I should have ended it months ago. It’s my fault she’s struggling, and I’m not going to make things worse by calling the cops—that would be using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.”

“Not this nut. I think you need a wrecking ball to sort Rosie out.”

I leave Miss Daisy’s pen, trying to ignore her pitiful eyes and wagging tail, and walk out into the sunlight. “It’ll be fine,” I tell Leon as I walk off. “She was blowing off steam and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Famous last words,” Leon calls after me, but I ignore him and head for the surgery. At least Rosie won’t come into the Ark. I’m safe while I’m at work.

*

I do need to make things up with Izzy, though. I see a dozen patients, and then when there’s finally a lull, I go into Izzy’s surgery. The first thing I note is that she’s changed her clothes—she’s now wearing jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and she’s pinned up her hair tightly. She felt vulnerable in the shirt and skirt. She looks pale and stark in the black tee, hauntingly beautiful.

“Come for a walk?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. She’s sitting at her desk, looking at her laptop, and she doesn’t look up. “Not now, Hal, I’m busy.”

I look at Em, who gives me a rueful smile. “Can you give us a minute?” I ask her.

“Em—” Izzy goes to ask her to stay, but Em slips out of the door and closes it behind her. Izzy stares at her laptop, then closes it, leans back in her chair with a sigh, and finally looks up at me.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly, perching on the edge of her desk.

She drops her gaze to the desk and scratches at a piece of label stuck on it.

“I know that was horrific,” I tell her. “I’m embarrassed and angry, and I can only imagine how you feel.”

“I feel ashamed,” she says quietly.

“Ashamed?”

“Humiliated. She saw us, Hal. She saw everything we did.”

“I know.”

“It’s not meant to be shared,” she says fiercely. “It was between me and you. It was private. I didn’t want to do it outside anyway, and now I feel… dirty. And not in a good way.” Her gaze dares me to make a joke out of that.

This situation couldn’t feel less funny. I knew she was uncomfortable having sex outdoors and although I didn’t exactly force her, I did make it difficult for her to say no. I was trying to encourage her out of her comfort zone, and instead all I’ve done is make things worse.

“I’m not right for you,” she says.

My eyebrows rise. “Don’t add two and two and make three thousand. What happened out there is nothing to do with us.”

“Of course it is.” She gets to her feet and walks over to the counter so she can put some distance between us. “You need someone who’s outgoing and vivacious, who knows her way around the bedroom, and who can teach you a few tricks. You want to make it exciting because I’m so vanilla, and it’s not me, Hal. I’m sorry, but it’s not.”

“Jesus, I didn’t suggest having sex outdoors because I’m bored.” I speak in a fierce whisper in case anyone has their ear to the door. “I suggested it because I couldn’t wait until this evening and I thought it would be sexy and romantic.”

I’m losing her. I can feel it. I want to pull her into my arms and tell her everything’s going to be okay, but I have a feeling she’ll push me away if I do that. I have to convince her now that I’m serious about her or we might as well call it a day.

I move around the table to stand in front of her. “I’ve already told you—I don’t care if we make love in the missionary position in bed with the lights out every night for the rest of our lives. It’s you I want. I suggest different positions or places or other things because it’s like taking you to see the Colosseum or the Tower of London—your eyes light up, and you have this look on your face that’s filled with wonder.”

I’m trying my hardest, but she won’t be mollified.

“I don’t believe you,” she says simply. “I think you believe it right now. But I know I’m not going to be enough for you.”

“How do you know?” I snap.

She doesn’t say anything.

I’m angry and frustrated. I think of Leon’s suggestion that I propose, but I know that won’t work right now. “I’m disappointed in you,” I tell her bitterly. That brings her gaze up to mine. “You’re sabotaging this relationship before it’s even had a chance to get going.”

“You’re the one talking about moving to Hawke’s Bay,” she says.

“With you, honey, don’t forget that. It’s an opportunity, not a death sentence. But forget that. You’re belittling my feelings for you when we’ve been friends for nearly the whole of our lives. I’ve known you longer than I’ve not known you, did you realize that?”

She drops her gaze.

“You’re making me out to be shallow and foolish, Izzy. What I feel for you is beautiful and timeless. I love you. And I’m going to propose to you when the moment’s right.” Her gaze snaps up to mine again, shocked. “But not now,” I tell her. “Right now I’m angry and hurt, and I think you’d say no because you’re afraid of taking a chance on me. You’re terrified of opening up and actually making a go of this in case it doesn’t work out. And you’re right—I can’t stand here and say it will work one hundred percent because I don’t have a crystal ball. I can’t say how either of us will feel in a year’s time, or in ten years’ time. All I can say is I’m prepared to stand in front of God and my friends and family and swear to love you for the rest of my life. I’ve never been so sure of anything. But I can’t do that unless you’re willing to take a chance on me. Are you prepared to do that? Or are you too afraid to take the risk?”

“I’m too afraid,” she says.

We stare at each other for a long time.

I turn and walk out.

Izzy doesn’t try to stop me.

*

It’s not easy to work just a few doors down from Izzy for the remainder of the afternoon, but we’re busy, and I hardly see her as patient after patient passes through my room.

Some days as a vet are easy. It’s all itchy skin or booster shots, and all I have to do is apply cream or give injections, make a fuss of the animal, and reassure its owner.

Other days are like today. I see one dog with terrible skin, and I have to grip the table to stop myself yelling at the owner. I’ve told her repeatedly not to feed the dog anything but its special sensitive skin food, but she admits she gives it some of whatever’s on her plate “because he asks so nicely.” I see a limping cat that almost certainly has a fractured leg that I suspect—from his owner’s guilty face—is the owner’s fault, and a coughing dog that the owner thinks has kennel cough but is probably heart disease. Finally I have to tell an old lady that I’ve taken a biopsy of the lump on the back of her beautiful Bichon Frise and it’s an aggressive form of cancer.

The old lady cries while the Bichon Frise looks up at me with eyes that say But you can save me, Mr. Vet, can’t you? And I have to tell the old lady we’ll do everything we can, while inside I know it’s likely the dog won’t make it past another three months.

I let my nurse take the dog to the hotel ready for surgery the next day, and she leads the old lady out. It’s my last patient, and I go over to my desk and stand there for a moment, knowing I need to do some paperwork I’ve been neglecting. But rage at the unfairness of life fills me, as if someone’s blowing up a balloon that’s expanding inside me until it bursts, and I sweep everything off my desk and send it flying across the room, papers, pens, folders, even my coffee mug, which meets the wall with a crash and breaks into pieces, reflecting the state of my heart.