The new doctor was going to be on the Christmas committee. And she’d just agreed to go back. To help. She’d told them she would be there. Her heart sank at the thought of it as she neared her place of work.

Silverdale Veterinary Surgery was a relatively small building, comprised of two old cottages that had been knocked through inside and transformed from homes into a business.

Sydney loved it. It was clinical and businesslike, but still retained its old-world charm with white walls and large exposed oak beams and, outside, a thatched roof. There were even window boxes, which she’d learnt to tend. They overflowed with primulas and pansies in the spring, but right now were hung with dark green ivy and indigo lobelia. And no fairy lights. Even if everyone else seemed to think it was okay to start decorating for Christmas in November!

She’d never been a green-fingered person. Not before she’d got married. But when Olivia came along the little girl had loved being in the garden and growing pretty things. Although Sydney had managed to kill the first few plants they’d got, they’d eventually learned together and their flowers had begun to thrive. There’d been nothing she’d liked better than to watch Olivia use her pink tin watering can to water them each evening, when it was cool. And Syd’s talent with flowers had not gone unnoticed around the village either. She’d often been in charge of the flower stalls at the Christmas market each year.

When she’d been involved, anyway.

She pushed through the door and saw that her waiting room was pleasingly busy. There was Mr Shepherd, as expected, with his Great Dane, Sara with her new kitten, and no doubt in the box by Janet’s feet were her two ferrets, Apollo and Zeus.

‘Morning, everyone! Sorry to keep you waiting.’

Her anxiety was gone here. This was her home turf. Her safe haven. The place that she controlled. Was in charge of. Where there were no surprises. Well, nothing life-changing, anyway. Not to her. Here she could cure illnesses. Make things better. As much as she could.

Her clients waved and smiled and said good morning, too. They weren’t too bothered about waiting for her. And she appreciated them for that.

In the staff room, she put on her green veterinary top and prepared to start work.

This was better.

This she could do.

This she was in control of.

* * *

Nathan stood in the playground, surrounded mostly by mothers waiting for their children to come out of infant school. As always, he felt like a complete fish out of water here. All the mothers stood in little groups, chatting and laughing. They all knew each other. And him...? He was the lone male, feeling awkward. Sure that he was standing out like a sore thumb.

He could feel their eyes on him. Judging him. Assessing him. Were they talking about him? Could they see his awkward gait? His limp? Could they see what was wrong with him? It feels like they can. He almost felt as if he was carrying a huge sign naming his condition around his neck.

Silverdale Infants had seemed the perfect place for Anna when he’d first come to the village for his job interview. He’d scouted the place out and asked the headteacher to give him a tour. He’d walked through the school with her, looking in the classrooms, seeing the happy children and their paintings, listening to them singing in assembly and watching as they’d sat for storytime in their impossibly small chairs. He’d genuinely felt his daughter would be happy there. It had a good vibe. The head was a nice woman and Miss Howarth, Anna’s teacher-to-be, seemed really lovely and welcoming.

Nathan had just had his first day in his new job and this had been Anna’s first day at her new school. He could only hope that it had gone as well as his own day, and that she would come running out with a big smile on her face. Then, perhaps, the lump of anxiety in his stomach would disappear and they’d be able to go home and he’d cook dinner.

Nathan hated being away from Anna. Giving her into the care of someone else. But he had to work and she had to learn—and weren’t schools considered in loco parentis?

He was grateful for the flexible hours his new job afforded him. Since Gwyneth had left them he’d had to become both father and mother to Anna. And he didn’t think he was doing too badly. Anna seemed happy enough, only occasionally asking why she didn’t have a mummy, like other children. Those days were hard. When he could see the hurt in his daughter’s eyes. And when it happened he would curse Gwyneth inwardly, whilst outwardly he would throw everything he had at making his daughter happy.

He just couldn’t give her the mother that she wanted. He wasn’t ready to be with someone new. To open himself up to possible hurt and betrayal. To being left again. And why put Anna through the hope of getting to know someone when they might walk away and break her heart, too?

He didn’t bad-mouth Gwyneth to Anna. It wasn’t up to him to tell Anna how to feel about her mother. Anna might want to find her one day and see her. Talk to her. Ask her things. Did he want Anna to grow up resentful and hating her mother? No. Even if it was hard for him. Because Gwyneth had abandoned them both. And that hurt. Not so much now, but it still caused pain whenever he thought about his and Anna’s future.