We Can Laugh Together Too (Walnut Grove Trilogy) Read Free Page A

was her favorite, but tonight she discarded it, it wasn’t right. Her face in
the mirror looked tired and drawn, with dark shadows beneath her eyes.
Something simpler, she decided.
    Matt arrived on time driving a silver Ford Edge – the pickup
truck he had used earlier belonged to the practice, he explained. His attire
was casual: jeans and a crisp blue shirt which appeared to Livi to be brand
new. She was glad she had foreseen how he would dress and in the end chosen
just slacks and cowl-neck silk top for herself.
    They drove to an Indian restaurant in a small town on the
coast, about fifteen miles away. They were seated at a quiet corner table, and
discussed the menu, their faces lit by candlelight. Matt ordered a shrimp vindaloo,
while Livi opted for chicken korma. After further debate, they settled upon a
bottle of Californian Pinot Grigio.
    “I love spicy Indian food,” Matt confessed, a trifle self-consciously.
“Shades of my misspent youth I’m afraid. After graduating from high school a
buddy and I bummed off around the world, and one place where we stayed for a
while was Goa; we virtually lived on the beach for a few months. Vindaloo is
practically a staple there. We were two years traveling before eventually settling
down and going to university.”
    Livi was fascinated. “What a wonderful experience,” she exclaimed.
“It sounds as if you were a bit of a rebel.”
    “Oh, I was. As soon as I finished high school I just wanted
to get away from books and studying, and do my own thing for a while. My family
was none too pleased, I’m afraid being a beach bum didn’t figure especially
high in their expectations. Thinking back though, it was the right decision. I
got it all out of my system, and then settled back down to five solid years at
college. I really don’t think I could have stuck it out without that two-year
break.
    “My parents were teachers – they’re retired now -- and they
had high hopes of my following in their footsteps, but I’m afraid an academic
life wasn’t on the cards for me. Throughout my childhood I collected pets and
read travel books; my mind was made up by the time I was about ten: I was
either going to become a vet or a photographer taking pictures of exotic
animals for National Geographic. I suppose it was a no-brainer when eventually they
gave up and encouraged me along the veterinary path.”
    Livi was unable to suppress a laugh. “Oh I don’t know, I can
see you on the Serengeti plains taking pictures of lions and cheetahs and
leopards.” She hesitated before putting into words, a question which had been
bugging her. “Do you mind if I ask why you’re a locum and not in practice for
yourself. Surely you don’t still have a wanderlust at . . ?”
    “Forty one,” Matt finished for her. “No, I’m not a locum
because I have itchy feet. It’s through circumstances, unfortunately. For more
than ten years I was a partner in an equine practice in Florida, close to
Calder and Hialeah and a lot of the breeding farms. For the last two I was in a
close relationship with another partner which ended, shall we say,
acrimoniously, more than two years ago when, I discovered she was having an
affair behind my back with a trainer; a married trainer at that.”
    He toyed with his napkin. “I flipped and I’m ashamed to
admit I just upped-sticks and left — walked out on everyone and everything, and
behavior like that doesn’t look too good on my résumé. Unreliable, volatile, unpredictable.
Ten years for zilch.” He swallowed some water and smiled wryly.
    “Since then I’ve applied for partnerships all over the place,
but no-one’s interested. On the other hand, signing up with an agency as a
locum was easy. They figure I’m good for stints of a few weeks; two or three
months even.”
    A waiter interrupted by arriving with their wine, and for a
few minutes they sipped and lapsed into silence. Finally Livi said, “Doc Blair
is well into his sixties, his practice will