I didn’t stop to question why I thought that making an effort with my appearance was going to help my case, I just knew it wouldn’t hurt either. I pulled on a pair of dark indigo jeans and a fluffy red jumper that suited my colouring.
I’d checked the veterinary surgery website for their opening hours, so I expected the car park to be busier than it had been the other day, but I was totally unprepared for having to circle it several times before eventually finding a space. People were emerging from vehicles all around me, pulling reluctant dogs with tails tucked between their legs, or carrying baskets with scrabbling cats who sounded like trapped banshees. Did no oneeverwant to go inside here, I wondered, as I walked nervously towards the entrance. The pulse beating at the base of my throat revealed I might be just as reluctant as the four-legged visitors.
The surgery had a light, airy reception that was surprisingly large. It was also surprisingly full. There were three people queueing at the desk, waiting to be seen, and a quick glance at the waiting area showed that every seat was already taken. Too late, it occurred to me that turning up in the middle of morning surgery might not have been such a good idea.
I waited in line behind a woman cradling a cute-looking puppy, a teenager with a rabbit and a man with a noisily squawking bird. Finally, it was my turn.
‘Good morning,’ said an attractive red-haired receptionist with brisk efficiency. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I’d like to see Mr Forrester, please.’
Her eyes flashed across to her computer screen. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘No. I’m sorry, I don’t. But I only need to see him for a few minutes.’Sixminutes actually; that was how long it took for me to get through my prepared speech.
The woman was shaking her head as though I had just said something totally implausible.
‘I’m afraid Mr Forrester’s schedule is fully booked for this morning.’
I’d imagined all kinds of obstacles that I might need to get past, but naively this hadn’t been one of them. How foolish of me to have thought I could simply rock up and get seen. But I hadn’t come all this way to give up so easily.
‘Is there no way at all that he could see me? Could you possibly squeeze me in? I don’t mind waiting.’
The woman’s gaze flashed meaningfully to the room full of clients and their accompanying pets, all of whom had bona fide appointments. ‘As you can see, we’re incredibly busy today. Is it an emergency?’
I bit my lip. ‘In a way yes, it is.’
I was irritating her, I could see this, and if veterinary surgery receptionists were anything like their doctor counterparts, I realised that was a really bad thing to be doing.
‘What sort of animal do you have with you?’ she asked now, rising slightly in her seat to examine whatever might be sitting beside me.
‘Erm, actually I don’t have an animal. I don’t even own a pet. That’s not why I’m here.’
‘Well, I’m terribly sorry,madam, but as you can see, we’re right in the middle of morning surgery at the moment.’ Back in the States, I rather liked it when people called mema’am, but the receptionist had said it as though I was something unfortunate that one of the clients had done on the floor. ‘Perhaps you could come back another time, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to see him today.’
‘Won’t be able to see who?’ asked a voice that made us both jump. In unison, the receptionist and I turned our heads towards a corridor beside the desk.
Nick Forrester was smiling easily at the pretty young woman on reception, and the irritated, long-suffering expression I’d been on the receiving end of evaporated as though it had never been there.
He switched his gaze to the other side of the counter and there was a moment when time seemed to stand still as his eyes fell on my face. Did he recognise me, I wondered suddenly? I certainly looked more presentable than the flushed-faced, ponytailed jogger he’d met on the beach.
‘It’s you,’ he declared in surprise, as I released the breath I hadn’t even known I was holding.
‘Itisme,’ I said stupidly. I could feel the receptionist’s eyes on me like tiny little lasers and I was pretty sure half the waiting room were also focused on the interesting little scene being played out before them.
‘I tracked you down on the internet,’ I said unthinkingly. It was a comment designed to make any sensible person run for the hills, or instantly want to take out a restraining order. ‘I mean, the practice. I tracked down where you worked.’ I wasn’t making this any better at all.
‘How interesting,’ said Nick Forrester, his brow furrowing above the black-framed glasses, the ones that made him look both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. ‘Why were you looking for me, exactly?’
I was blushing now; I could feel the flush of blood rising up from my neck to my cheeks and not stopping until my face was exactly the same shade as my jumper.
‘It’s… it’s kind of personal,’ I said, glancing around at our captive audience. I’d spoken as softly as I could, but I’d definitely ignited the interest of the waiting room now.
‘Oh, I see,’ Nick said, taking off his glasses and bending lower to read the receptionist’s computer screen.
‘Is Mr Barton here with Dusty yet?’ he asked, peering at what I could only assume was the appointment system.
Even when she scowled, the receptionist was annoyingly attractive. ‘No. Not yet,’ she said reluctantly.