‘They’re staying open for me so they can take her in,’ he said. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Truffle’s clearly in pain and scared, and I’m sure she’d rather have someone sitting with her in the car. So I’ll drive you while you’re next to her. Don’t argue. It’s the very least I can do.’
The very least?
If she’d been more careful in the first place, Truffle wouldn’t be hurt now.
Part of Ryan wanted to snarl at Georgie, to tell her to go back to London and leave him the hell alone, but the more sensible part of him knew that she was right.
‘All right,’ he said, and gave Georgie his car keys, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to thank her. ‘We’ll take my car. It’s bigger and she’ll be more comfortable with more room.’
‘OK. Is the vet’s address in your satnav, or do you want to direct me?’ she asked.
‘I’ll direct you.’ He carried the dog out to his car and laid her gently on the back seat while Georgie locked the cottage, then told her where to turn to get to the vet’s in the next village.
‘Well, young Truffle, haven’t you been in the wars?’ the receptionist said when Ryan carried the dog into the surgery. ‘Linda told me you were coming in, Ryan. Go straight through. She’s expecting you.’
‘Thanks, Carol.’
Linda smiled at him when he entered the exam room. ‘Hello, Ryan. Do you want to bring her over here to the table?’
‘Thanks.’ Gently, he laid the dog down. ‘Stay here, sweetheart. Linda’s going to take a look at you.’
Linda checked Truffle’s range of movement on all her legs, soothing the dog and talking to her in a low voice as she did so.
‘I can feel movement on this leg that really shouldn’t be here,’ she said. ‘I’ll do a scan to check that it’s definitely a soft tissue problem and not a fracture, but I’m pretty sure It’s a grade two sprain. That means she’s going to need surgery to stabilise the joint properly. How did she do it?’
‘She tunnelled out of the garden, took herself off in the hills, and got stuck in a rabbit hole,’ he said. ‘I dug her out.’
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself,’ Linda said.
Not so much himself as on Georgie, but anger was still warring with guilt, so he said nothing.
‘I’ve known dogs who’ve sprained a leg by jumping off a sofa, so it’s easily done,’ Linda said. ‘When did she last eat?’
‘This morning.’
‘That’s good. Do you want to carry her over to the scanner?’
He was glad to have something to do. Waiting really didn’t sit well with him. ‘Sure.’
He stayed with Truffle, soothing her, while Linda did the scan.
‘Good news,’ Linda said when she’d finished. ‘It’s not a fracture, but I do need to stabilise the joint so I’ll operate now. She’s going to be fine. Though don’t look up the operation or anything on the internet,’ she added with a smile, ‘because you’ll panic yourself—just as I’m sure you tell your patients’ parents not to look things up while they’re waiting.’
He did. And now he knew how it felt from their perspective. Utterly, utterly horrible.
It looked as if there was nothing he could do other than go into the waiting room and—well, wait. His eyes prickled and his throat felt full of sand as he stroked Truffle’s head and saw her deep brown eyes looking anxious. Oh, dear God, this was unbearable. He looked at Linda. ‘Can I stay with her while you give her the anaesthetic? I don’t want to leave her—I don’t want her to worry about what’s going to happen.’ Most of all he didn’t want the dog to think he’d abandoned her, the way her first owners had.
Linda, who knew Truffle’s background, nodded. ‘But then I want you out of here so I can concentrate on doing the surgery and not be worrying about you, OK?’
‘OK.’ He nodded. ‘I love you,’ he whispered to the dog.
When had he last said those words to a human?
When had someone last said those words to him?
He hated every second that he stood there by the examination table, trying to keep his voice calm as he soothed his dog, stroking her head and then seeing her eyes grow dark as the anaesthetic took over.
If she didn’t make it through this he’d never, ever forgive himself.
‘She’ll be OK,’ Linda said again. ‘It’s a routine operation and I do this all the time.’
Just the sort of thing he said to his patients’ parents.
‘Go and tell Carol I said to make you a mug of tea with two sugars,’ she said with a smile.
‘Thanks.’ But he felt too sick to drink anything.
Georgie was sitting in the waiting room, her face white and her expression forlorn. ‘How is—?’ She stopped and covered her hand with her mouth when she realised he was alone. ‘Where is she?’ she whispered.
‘In the operating theatre. It’s not a fracture, it’s a sprain. Grade two. Linda—the vet—needs to operate to stabilise the joint,’ he said.
‘I’m so sorry.’
Despite his misery, Ryan knew it wasn’t fair to take out his fear on her. ‘Linda said she’s seen a dog sprain a leg like that just getting off a sofa. It happens.’ He sat down heavily next to her. ‘I just have to wait.’
‘I’ll stay with you,’ she said.
Yeah. As if anyone stayed with him for long. ‘You don’t have to.’
‘I want to. There’s nothing worse than waiting on your own.’
To his shock, she took his hand. His skin tingled where it touched hers; and it left him feeling even more mixed up. He didn’t have a clue what to do now, so he just left his hand where it was, with her fingers curled round his.
She didn’t say anything; she was giving him space, he realised. And supporting him at the same time, by just
