Page 79 of Fundamentals in Flirting

Attagirl.

“Sometimes we just need to believe in ourselves, block out the mean things people say, and go out there and show everyone what you’re really made of, Amelia. That’s the best revenge in the world.”

“I really want to be a vet too, you know,” she blurted out, before ramming her fist into her mouth in horror, as if the admission was a dirty secret that she shouldn’t have let escape into the world.

Empathy had never really been top of my emotional intelligence checklist, but the desire to help her engulfed me like a wave.

“Pop in to the surgery after school next week and let’s see if we can sort out some work experience for you. There might be a lot of cleaning up of poo and gross things to do, but you’re ok with that, yeah?”

The delight in her face shone out.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Check with your parents, but I’d be happy for you to shadow me to see if it really is what you want to do. And Betsy, our veterinary nurse, is always grateful for an extra pair of hands in the clinic.”

“Thank you!”

Tentatively, she stepped forwards and hugged me, and I patted her back awkwardly before she bolted from the queue and back to her family. They smiled warmly as she obviously relayed our conversation to them.

The whole time I’d been talking with Amelia, my mother had stood by, amazingly and unexpectedly silent. When I finally looked at her, all she said was, “You were bullied about your freckles?”

“Yes. The whole way through secondary school.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have got you some make-up and taught you how to conceal them properly.”

“That, right there, is exactly the reason why I didn’t tell you,” I replied angrily, grabbing my coffee and stomping away towards the dog show ring.

ChapterTwenty-Four

The intensity of the sun was starting to seep into the day. An uncomfortable promise of stickiness and prickly heat beckoned as I sipped my iced coffee, sitting quietly and alone at the edge of the white-roped show ring, slowly letting go of my inner rage underneath a large sign saying “Dog Show” in gold letters. The moment of solitude was welcome, and I was quite sure I was emitting “bugger off” vibes to anyone who looked in my direction, because I had been unequivocally and blissfully avoided for the last five minutes.

Across the other side of the field, in a quiet and shady spot, a battered Land Rover was parking up next to a small gazebo, surrounded by metal sheep hurdles, and my heartbeat spiked in my chest when Teddy got out of the driver’s side. He helped Agnes out of the passenger seat and then they went around to the back, opening the door and the distinctive bleating of goats plucked a reluctant smile from my lips. Agnes proceeded to lift the little ones out of the vehicle and place them on the straw under the gazebo, then she turned to Teddy and I watched their exchange with growing amusement as his posture stiffened with what I now recognised as his goat-related anxiety. After a few minutes, during which I imagined Agnes’s gently persuasive tone wearing down Teddy’s resolve, he reached into the dark recesses of the Land Rover, emerging with Deidre in his arms, his head turned away from her angry bleating, back straining in his shirt as he placed her in the pen with her kids. Agnes gave him a little hug and glanced over in my direction. She waved when she saw me, making Teddy turn as well.

Facing him, even at this distance, made me hot all over – molten lava level hot. His little wave and smile caused a barrage of internal somersaults inside me, and I realised I was nervously jiggling my leg, causing me to spill some coffee on my knee.

“Shit!”

“Hannah? How lovely to see you!”

Mrs Fraser appeared behind me, dressed in a beautiful flowery summer dress and wedged heels and looking like she’d just flown in from a week on the Côte d'Azur. She beamed at me, then waved at her son, who now seemed to be staring in our direction, frozen to the spot.

“Hello, Mrs Fraser.”

“Fiona, please,” she replied, warmly. “Are you ready for the dog show?”

“I’m judging the first class.”

“Oh? I thought you were doing all the classes?”

“No, we have a guest judge who’s far more impressive and important.” I tried to keep the blade of bitterness out of my voice, but the eyeroll was evident to all around, and Fiona’s sharp-eyed gaze was no exception.

“So you’re free from about eleven?”

A slightly devious expression crossed her face.

“Er, well, I was going to…” My voice drifted off. What was I going to do? I hadn’t planned my next steps after I’d employed advanced level ex-boyfriend-avoidance techniques and secured my exit strategy from this latest shitshow.

Fiona waited patiently for me to carry on.

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