been distressing.
So he did what he was told. He turned his back on the school and headed for the car.
To the vet?
That, at least, was easy. Banksia Bay’s commercial centre consisted of the one High Street running down to the harbour. Right on the town’s edge was a brick building set back from the road. There was a big tree out front, a large blue sign saying ‘Vet’ and a picture of a dog with a cocked leg, pointing to the tree.
He and Bailey had smiled at it when they’d arrived in town. It was barely a block and a half from the house he’d rented.
‘We could get a dog,’ Bailey had said, but tentatively because maybe he’d already known the answer.
The answer would be no. Nick wanted nothing else that would tear their hearts. He was totally responsible for Bailey now, and for Bailey to have any more tragedy…
Look at this dog, for instance-running away, being hit by a car. He didn’t know how badly it was injured. In all probability, there was still a tragedy here.
If there was then he’d lie to Bailey, he decided. This dog obviously belonged to a nice farmer who lived a long way out of town. The farmer would come and collect him. No, it’d be too far to visit…
The dog in question quivered again in his arms-the trembling was coming in waves-and he stopped thinking of difficulties. The sensible thing would be to set the dog on the car seat beside him but when he went to put him down he shook so much he thought okay, if it’s body warmth he needs, then why not give it to him?
If Miss Lawrence was here she’d hold him. She’d expect him to hold him too.
She was one bossy woman.
Strong? Independent? Like Isabelle?
Not like Isabelle. She was a country schoolteacher. She wasn’t a risk-taker.
She was…cute?
Now there was a dumb thing to think. He’d come here to set himself and Bailey up as safe and immune from any more risk-from any more tragedy.
From any more complications.
Isabelle had been dead for little more than a year. Even though their marriage had been on the rocks well before that, it hadn’t made her death less shocking. Less gut-wrenching. It was far too soon to think that anyone, much less Bailey’s new schoolteacher, was cute.
Hard not to think it, though. And maybe it was okay. Normal, even. She was a country schoolteacher and her ability to intrude on his life would be limited to teaching his son.
And asking him to take a dog to the vet.
It took two minutes to drive the short distance to the vet’s. When he carried the dog in, an elderly guy with heavy spectacles and a grizzled beard emerged from the swing doors behind Reception. His glance at Nick was only fleeting; he focused straight away on the blood-stained towel. ‘What’s happened?’
A man after my own heart, Nick thought. Straight to the core of the problem.
‘Miss Lawrence from the local school asked me to bring this dog in,’ he said as the vet folded back an edge of the towel so he could see what he was dealing with.
‘Misty?’ The vet was touching the dog’s face, running his fingers down his neck. Feeling for his pulse. ‘Misty doesn’t have a dog.’
‘No, he ran into the schoolroom while…’
But the vet had found the collar. He fingered the nylon-checked the number, winced.
‘It’s the second.’
‘Sorry?’
‘From our local Animal Welfare Centre.’ The vet took the dog from him, holding him with practised ease. ‘Henrietta gives dogs every chance, only there are never enough homes. When the dogs have stayed there for… well, it’s supposed to be ten days but she stretches it as long as she has room…she brings them to me. Three months after Christmas, cute pups turn into unwanted dogs. Yesterday morning she had a van full and some driver ran into the back of her. Dogs went everywhere. This is one of them.’
‘So…’ Nick said, and paused.
‘So,’ the vet said heavily. ‘Thank you for bringing him in.’ He paused and then craggy eyebrows raised. ‘It’s okay,’ he said gently. ‘I promise it’ll be painless.’ And then, as Nick still hesitated, ‘Unless you want a dog?’
‘I…no.’
‘You’re not a local.’ It was a statement.
‘My son and I have just moved here.’
‘Have you just? Got a house with a yard?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘Every kid needs a dog.’ It was said neutrally, probing a possible reprieve.
‘No.’ Yet still he hesitated.
‘No pressure,’ the vet said. ‘The last thing this guy needs is another place that doesn’t want him.’
‘Miss Lawrence says she’ll pay,’ Nick said. ‘For you to treat him.’
‘Misty said that?’
‘Yes.’
‘She wants to keep him?’
‘I’m not sure.’
The vet seemed confused. ‘Misty’s dog died last year. She’s sworn she won’t get another.’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know any more than you do.’
‘She won’t have realised he’s due to be put down. Or maybe she has.’ The vet sighed. ‘Trust Misty. Talk about a soft touch…’ He glanced at his watch. Grimaced. ‘I need to talk to her, but I won’t be able to catch her until after school. That’s almost three hours.’ He looked at the dog again and Nick could see what he was thinking-that three hours was too long to make a dog suffer if the end was inevitable.
This wasn’t Nick’s problem. He should walk away. But…
But he had to face Misty, the bossy little schoolteacher with the pleading eyes. Did she see this as her dog?
She’d said she’d cover the expenses. He had to give her the choice.
‘I’m going back to the school anyway,’ he said diffidently. ‘I was enrolling my son when we found the dog. I could talk to her and phone you back.’
The vet’s face cleared. ‘Excellent. Let’s do a fast assessment of this guy’s condition so Misty knows what we’re dealing with. She’s not a girl to mess me around-it’ll be yes or no. Can you give me a hand? I’ll give him some pain relief and we’ll tell her exactly what she is or isn’t letting herself in for.’
Bailey drew a great cow. Misty gazed down at the child’s drawing with something akin to awe. He was six years old, and his cow even looked like a cow.
‘Wow,’ she said as she stamped his picture with her gold elephant stamp-gold for Effort, elephant for Enormous. ‘You must really like drawing, Bailey.’
‘My dad can draw,’ Bailey said. ‘People pay him to draw pictures of boats.’
His father was an artist?
‘Then you’ve come to the right place,’ she said, glancing out of the window towards the distant harbour.
Nicholas Holt didn’t look like an artist, she thought, but then, what did she know of artists? What did she know of anything beyond the confines of this town?
Don’t think it. There was no point going down that road. For now, Banksia Bay was her life.
And for how much longer? She’d just offered to pay for a dog.
How long did dogs live?
‘Story time,’ she said determinedly. ‘Tell you what, Bailey, as you’re the new boy today, you can choose the story. Any book from the rack. Take a look.’
Bailey looked at her dubiously but he’d obviously decided this was an okay environment-this was somewhere to be trusted. And chubby little Natalie was right beside him, his new Friend For Life. ‘Choose
