‘Oh, right.’ He gently placed his daughter back on the ground, being careful not to grimace or wrench himself further. ‘So how did it go? Was it good? Did you make friends?’
She nodded. ‘Lots and lots.’
She proceeded to list them as they walked back to the car. There seemed an awful lot, and to his ears it sounded as if she’d just memorised the register, but he nodded and smiled at her as she told him about Hattie with the bright pink glasses, and George who had held her hand as they’d walked to assembly.
They were soon home. Nathan still had half their life packed away in boxes after the move, but he knew they’d get there eventually. All the important stuff was unpacked. And Anna’s room had everything. He’d done that first. Everything else could wait for when he had the time. He just had to decide where he wanted it all to go.
The house was brand-new, so had none of that old-world character the rest of the cottages in the village had. He had tiles on his roof, not thatch. A modern fake fireplace rather than an old rustic one with real flames. Flat, smooth walls rather than whitewashed ones with crooked oak beams.
Still, the place would get its character eventually.
‘I’m going to see if Lottie missed me.’ Anna ran through the house towards the back door, so she could go into the garden.
‘Not yet, young lady,’ he called after her. ‘Go upstairs and get out of your uniform first.’
‘Daddy, please!’
‘It was raining this morning, Anna. I’m not having you getting your uniform covered in mud and straw. Please go and get changed.’
She pouted, but only briefly, and then she ran back past him, clambering up the stairs as he took their bags through to the kitchen, pinned her painting to the fridge with a magnet that was shaped like a banana. He’d picked up some vegetables from a farm shop, so he popped those in the fridge, then switched on the kettle for a drink.
Upstairs, he heard a small thunk as Anna kicked off her shoes and soon enough she was trotting back down the stairs, wearing a weird combination of purple corduroy skirt, green tee shirt and a rather loud orange and yellow cardigan.
‘Nice... I’m liking your style.’ He was keen to encourage her to wear what she wanted and to pick her own clothes. He’d learned that it was important—it helped Anna to develop her independence and allowed her to express herself. And he needed Anna to be a strong character. He wanted to encourage her at all times to feel happy about herself and her own decisions. To feel valued and beautiful. Because she was beautiful. With her mother’s good looks but thankfully none of her character.
‘Will you do me a juice, Daddy?’
‘Sure thing, poppet.’ He watched her twist the back door key and trot out into the garden. It wasn’t huge out there, and as theirs was one of the original show houses it was just plain grass, with one side border of bushes. Nothing too impressive. Nothing that needed that much work. Something he figured he’d get to later. Maybe in the New Year.
But it had the rabbit hutch. The main reason for Anna to go and play outside. He was hoping to get her a trampoline, or a bike, or something. Maybe for Christmas.
He was just diluting orange juice with some water when he heard his daughter let out a blood-curdling scream.
‘Daddy!’
‘Anna?’ His body froze, his heart stopped beating just for a millisecond, and then he was dropping the glass into the sink and bolting for the back door. What on earth had happened? Why had she screamed? Was she hurt?
Oh, please don’t let her be hurt!
‘Daddy!’
She ran into his arms, crying, and he held her, puzzled. What was it? Had she fallen over? What?
‘Let me look at you.’ He held her out at arm’s length to check her over, but she looked fine. No scuffed knees, no grazes, no cuts. Just a face flooded with tears. What the...?
‘Lottie’s bleeding!’ She pointed at the hutch before burying her face in his shirt.
He looked over the top of her head and could now see that the hutch had a broken latch and poor Lottie the rabbit sat hunched within, breathing heavily and audibly, with blood all over her and in the straw around her, as if she’d been involved in some sort of weird rabbit horror movie.
‘Oh...’ He stood up and led Anna away and back into the kitchen, sitting her down on one of the chairs by the table. ‘Stay here.’
‘She’s bleeding, Daddy.’
‘I know, honey. We’ll need to take her to the vet.’
He didn’t know if the poor thing might have to be put to sleep. There was a lot of blood, and Lottie looked like she might be in shock. He dashed for the cupboard under the stairs, where they’d put Lottie’s carrier and got it out. Then he grabbed some latex gloves from under the sink and headed for the garden.
‘I’ll get Lottie. Can you get your shoes on for me? And your coat?’
‘Where are we going?’
‘The vet. The animal doctor. She’ll need to check her over.’
‘What if she dies, Daddy?’ Anna sobbed, almost hiccupping her words.
He hadn’t imagined this. He’d agreed to have Lottie knowing that rabbits lived for around ten years, hoping that they wouldn’t have to face this day until Anna was in her teens. But not this early. Not now. He wasn’t sure how she’d handle a pet’s death at this age.
‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. Get your shoes on. We need to get her there quickly.’
Nathan headed into the garden, slipped on the gloves and picked up the poor, shocked rabbit and placed her in the box. Normally she fought going in the carrier. But there was no fight today. His heart sank at the thought of having to tell his daughter her rabbit might die. Had Anna not been through enough?
He pulled off the bloodied gloves and quickly discarded them in the bin.
He could only hope that the veterinary surgery was still open.
IT HAD BEEN a long, tiring day. After her doctor’s appointment Sydney had come back to the surgery and seen her first ten patients, and then she’d got round to her surgeries—a dental clean, two spays on cats, a dog to be neutered. Lunch had been quick, and then there had been more appointments: kitten visits, puppy checks, suture removals, an elderly dog that had had to be euthanised. Then she’d returned phone calls, given owners blood test results and now she was finishing off her paperwork. Filling in records. There were three animals being kept in overnight, but Lucy, her veterinary nurse, was giving them their final check before they left for the evening.
‘I’ll be ready to put my feet up tonight. Have you seen my ankles?’ said Lucy.
Sydney smiled sympathetically. Lucy did seem to be suffering lately.
Almost all the lights were off, except for in her office and at the surgery entrance, and Sydney was just debating whether to have a cup of tea here or go home and have it there when she heard a loud banging on the surgery’s front door.
A last-minute emergency?
She hurried through, switching on the lights as she went, and stopped when she saw who was on the other side of the door.
Dr Jones.
Oh.
Her pause was barely noticeable. At least she hoped so. Then she was rushing to the door, her cheeks flaming at having to let in the dishy doc. Though, judging by the look of worry on his face, he wasn’t here to continue his conversation about warm milk.
She