Emma with trivial matters like microwaves when she’s made it perfectly clear she wants to concentrate on getting ready for the baby. I’m glad I didn’t utter that thought aloud – it sounds petty, grudging, when all I want is for her to enjoy this magical time that she believed would never happen.
‘Would someone mind telling me what on earth’s going on?’ Wrinkling her nose, Emma gazes at the smoking blanket. ‘I’ve been away five minutes and the place is on fire.’
‘Shannon cremated the chicken,’ I say, my eyes drawn to the man whose silhouette appears in the doorway. ‘Everything’s under control.’
Apparently satisfied, Emma waves the man through.
‘Meet Drew,’ she says, and I watch Shannon’s expression of abject despair turning to curiosity as she eyes up his deep tan and blond curls. He’s wearing a plain grey suit that seems too small for him, and carries a khaki man-bag slung over his shoulder.
‘Hi, I’m Maz.’ I hold out my hand to him, surprised at how tall he is, at least six foot two, and unsure whether to greet him with a handshake or a high five.
He smiles, his blue eyes lighting up like a summer sky.
‘Hi,’ he says in a sultry, sun-drenched voice.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Emma says. ‘I’m sorry it was such short notice.’
‘My current boss was glad to see the back of me for a couple of days.’ Drew tilts his head to one side. ‘He said he was looking forward to some peace and quiet.’
‘Oh?’ I say. What does he mean by that? I wonder. Is he very loud, or difficult to get on with? I glance towards Emma, who’s smiling and nodding, apparently unconcerned.
‘Would you like coffee, Drew?’ she says. ‘We can have a chat over doughnuts fresh from the bakery along the road, then give you the guided tour.’
‘I could kill for some caffeine,’ Drew says brightly. ‘The overnight sleeper is a bit of a misnomer if you ask me. I didn’t sleep a wink on that train.’
‘This way, then,’ Emma says, showing him through to the staffroom. I follow, pausing in the doorway to watch Drew approach the sofa where the two cats, Tripod and Ginge, are sleeping, one at each end.
‘Shoo them off,’ Emma says, hunting around for three clean mugs, but the cats are ahead of her. As Drew’s figure looms over them, they fly off in opposite directions, Ginge whisking out past my legs and Tripod running behind the sofa to hide.
‘I don’t think I’ve made a good impression on the cats,’ he says, smiling.
‘Oh, Ginge doesn’t like anyone except Maz,’ says Emma. ‘How do you like your coffee?’
‘Milk and one sugar,’ Drew says, sitting down. He opens his bag and pulls out a plastic wallet. ‘I’ve brought the references you asked for,’ he goes on, handing them to Emma in exchange for a mug of coffee and a doughnut.
‘Well, the most important thing for me is that you can start with us very soon,’ Emma begins, once we’re settled. ‘As you can see’ – she strokes her bump – ‘it won’t be very long before I have to cut my hours, and we’re really too busy here for one vet to cope alone.’
‘I don’t mind being busy,’ Drew says, ‘so long as I have some time to take in the sights, see a bit of surf.’ He takes a bite from his doughnut. The jam inside haemorrhages out onto his tie. ‘What’s the surf like here?’
Emma looks at me and I can tell what she’s thinking. Should we tell him or ignore it to save any embarrassment?
‘It’s pretty good,’ Emma says, ‘not that I know much about waves.’
I get up and grab a piece of paper towel, handing it to Drew.
‘Your tie,’ I say.
‘Thanks,’ he says, grimacing as he wipes it. ‘My boss isn’t going to be too pleased. I borrowed it, along with the suit.’ He looks up again. ‘Now, where were we? Oh yes, the waves …’
‘I don’t suppose the surf down at Talysands will be quite what you’re used to,’ I say, recalling those Old Spice adverts that used to be on
‘Would someone mind telling me what on earth’s going on?’ Wrinkling her nose, Emma gazes at the smoking blanket. ‘I’ve been away five minutes and the place is on fire.’
‘Shannon cremated the chicken,’ I say, my eyes drawn to the man whose silhouette appears in the doorway. ‘Everything’s under control.’
Apparently satisfied, Emma waves the man through.
‘Meet Drew,’ she says, and I watch Shannon’s expression of abject despair turning to curiosity as she eyes up his deep tan and blond curls. He’s wearing a plain grey suit that seems too small for him, and carries a khaki man-bag slung over his shoulder.
‘Hi, I’m Maz.’ I hold out my hand to him, surprised at how tall he is, at least six foot two, and unsure whether to greet him with a handshake or a high five.
He smiles, his blue eyes lighting up like a summer sky.
‘Hi,’ he says in a sultry, sun-drenched voice.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Emma says. ‘I’m sorry it was such short notice.’
‘My current boss was glad to see the back of me for a couple of days.’ Drew tilts his head to one side. ‘He said he was looking forward to some peace and quiet.’
‘Oh?’ I say. What does he mean by that? I wonder. Is he very loud, or difficult to get on with? I glance towards Emma, who’s smiling and nodding, apparently unconcerned.
‘Would you like coffee, Drew?’ she says. ‘We can have a chat over doughnuts fresh from the bakery along the road, then give you the guided tour.’
‘I could kill for some caffeine,’ Drew says brightly. ‘The overnight sleeper is a bit of a misnomer if you ask me. I didn’t sleep a wink on that train.’
‘This way, then,’ Emma says, showing him through to the staffroom. I follow, pausing in the doorway to watch Drew approach the sofa where the two cats, Tripod and Ginge, are sleeping, one at each end.
‘Shoo them off,’ Emma says, hunting around for three clean mugs, but the cats are ahead of her. As Drew’s figure looms over them, they fly off in opposite directions, Ginge whisking out past my legs and Tripod running behind the sofa to hide.
‘I don’t think I’ve made a good impression on the cats,’ he says, smiling.
‘Oh, Ginge doesn’t like anyone except Maz,’ says Emma. ‘How do you like your coffee?’
‘Milk and one sugar,’ Drew says, sitting down. He opens his bag and pulls out a plastic wallet. ‘I’ve brought the references you asked for,’ he goes on, handing them to Emma in exchange for a mug of coffee and a doughnut.
‘Well, the most important thing for me is that you can start with us very soon,’ Emma begins, once we’re settled. ‘As you can see’ – she strokes her bump – ‘it won’t be very long before I have to cut my hours, and we’re really too busy here for one vet to cope alone.’
‘I don’t mind being busy,’ Drew says, ‘so long as I have some time to take in the sights, see a bit of surf.’ He takes a bite from his doughnut. The jam inside haemorrhages out onto his tie. ‘What’s the surf like here?’
Emma looks at me and I can tell what she’s thinking. Should we tell him or ignore it to save any embarrassment?
‘It’s pretty good,’ Emma says, ‘not that I know much about waves.’
I get up and grab a piece of paper towel, handing it to Drew.
‘Your tie,’ I say.
‘Thanks,’ he says, grimacing as he wipes it. ‘My boss isn’t going to be too pleased. I borrowed it, along with the suit.’ He looks up again. ‘Now, where were we? Oh yes, the waves …’
‘I don’t suppose the surf down at Talysands will be quite what you’re used to,’ I say, recalling those Old Spice adverts that used to be on
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