Free Vets in Love by Cathy Woodman Page A

time to argue over the status of our relationship. I suspect he’s never going to let me live this down.

Chapter Five
    A Horse of a Different Colour
    WHEN I’M DEBATING whether to walk or drive to the pub, my mother texts me to say she’s going out. I’d forgotten in the excitement of the day. ‘Keep in txt,’ I text back. I don’t mention that I’m going out too, because I don’t want to spoil her date.
    I eat eggs on toast, then shower, throw on cropped denims and a top, and keep everything simple with mascara and lip gloss. I check my look in the mirror – not bad for someone who was up at five. I grab my bag and drive to the Talymill Inn.
    It’s already eight-thirty, and I can see it’s busy because it’s a Saturday night and peak summer holiday season when everyone flocks to sunny Devon for the beaches and moors, the cream teas and cider. By now, every static caravan at Talysands and every pitch in the surrounding campsites will be taken. As I turn into the car park, there are several children and their parents on the verge outside, feeding a small fat ponywith feathery feet, and I think OMG, I know who that pony belongs to, which can only mean my mother is here on her second date with her latest ‘just a friend’, the Roger Moore lookalike.
    I suppose I should have known better because there can’t be many pubs where you can park your pony and trap outside while you pop in for a drink.
    I park the car alongside Matt’s four-by-four and head inside the pub, an old mill that has been restored to its former glory by the previous owners, a couple from London, who sold it on to Tony and Max, a couple of young entrepreneurs who made their money buying and selling hotels along the south coast.
    Matt is waiting for me, watching the door from the bar.
    ‘Nicci,’ he calls.
    ‘Nicci!’ My mum doesn’t so much call my name as yelp it, such is her surprise. She touches her throat. ‘What are you doing here?’
    Acknowledging Matt, I walk towards the bar via the table where Mum’s sitting with the man I assume is Robert. She’s glammed up in a sundress and pale yellow shrug, and sitting beside – well, I say beside, but she’s practically on his lap – an old man who was probably quite handsome in his youth. His hair is thick and salt and pepper grey, and he has magnificent bushy sideburns, lively blue eyes and a ruddy, outdoor complexion. He wears an old denim shirt, black trousers and shiny shoes.
    ‘I’m meeting Matt,’ I say sheepishly.
    ‘Why didn’t you think to mention it to me?’
    ‘He isn’t a stranger. Everyone knows Matt.’
    ‘Harold Shipman was a doctor, and he turned out to be a serial killer.’
    ‘Mum, you’re overreacting.’
    ‘Which is what you did when I said I was meeting Robert.’
    ‘Okay, I’m sorry. I should have mentioned it, but Mum, it isn’t a date. We’re two acquaintances having a drink.’ I lean closer and add in a hoarse whisper. ‘So please don’t go buying your hat just yet.’
    ‘I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t,’ she says glibly. ‘Why don’t I treat us all to the next round? You and Matt must come and sit with us. There’s plenty of room around the table.’
    ‘I’ll get them,’ says Robert.
    ‘No, it’s fine,’ I say. ‘Thank you, but Matt’s at the bar. We’re going outside. It’s a lovely evening.’ To be honest, it’s chilly and overcast, but there’s no way I’m going to be seen ‘double-dating’ with my mother.
    ‘Let me introduce you to Robert before you disappear,’ Mum says. ‘Nicci, this is Robert. Robert, this is my daughter, Nicci.’
    The lonely farmer nods at me and smiles. ‘I’ve heard all about you.’
    I can feel myself blushing. How could this have happened?
    ‘We’re having a drink to celebrate Willow’s win, that’s all. I’ll see you later.’ I touch Mum’s shoulder. ‘Have fun.’
    ‘Oh, we will, won’t we, Robert?’ she says, with fartoo much certainty for my liking. ‘Do you want me