What Will Survive by Joan Smith Page A

an automaton, coming to life only when two teenage boys opened a cardboard box to reveal a brightly-coloured marine iguana, which they said — shifting their feet and avoiding Olivia’s gaze — they’d bought from someone called Baz. Olivia’s eyes widened and she launched into a matter-of-fact explanation about the life cycle and habits of iguanas, alarming them to the point where they promised to take it to London Zoo. ‘The things people keep as pets,’ she said, when they left in a minicab, and Ricky had to admire the skilful way she had manipulated the boys. He liked Olivia a great deal more than her partner, Tony, who seemed to regard having a veterinary student around the place as little more than a source of cheap labour.
    When surgery had finished, just after eleven, Ricky asked Olivia if he could nip home and pick up the charger for his mobile, explaining it took hours to charge up. His girlfriend, Lerissa, was on holiday in Italy and the payphone at home in Shepherd’s Bush ate up coins faster than he could feed them in. Olivia nodded, unclipping her shoulder-length dark hair and tying it up again with a flick of her wrist. With a grin, she added that she was glad to see he’d rejoined the human race in the last hour or so.
    On his return, feeling quite a lot better and expecting to help Olivia during a couple of routine procedures, Ricky found the surgery in the middle of a full-scale emergency. Olivia and Alice, the older and more experienced of the practice’s two veterinary nurses, were already bendingover a very large Alsatian-cross which had escaped from its owner and been hit by a car. Alice leaned forward, frowning with concentration as she anticipated Olivia’s actions, and Ricky hurried to join them on the other side of the stainless-steel table. The dog’s hind leg was badly gashed and not for the first time, Ricky had to concentrate very hard not to throw up, a terrifying reaction he had not yet dared mention to anyone: how could he finish his training, if watching anything but the most minor operation made him feel sick and faint? At one point, Olivia stopped to wipe sweat from her brow and caught sight of his ashen face; to his horror, Ricky saw a question forming in her eyes, but then Alice drew her attention to the dog’s breathing and the danger moment, as he saw it, had passed.
    The only person Ricky could face telling was his mother, when she got back from the Middle East — certainly not his father, who couldn’t understand why he wanted to be a vet in the first place. He knew that Aisha would listen without going nuts or saying something sarcastic, and even if she didn’t have an immediate solution he knew he would feel better just for talking to her. In the meantime, he made sure he’d thought up a couple of questions for Olivia as soon as the dog — stitched, bandaged and still deeply sedated — had been moved to the recovery room where Alice could keep an eye on him.
    It worked. As Olivia stripped off her latex gloves and binned them, Ricky spoke first, so quickly she had put up a hand to fend him off.
    â€˜Hold it,’ she said. ‘I need a break.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Christ, is that the time? How about a quick curry at the Anapurna, if they’re still serving?’ Ricky hesitated.
    â€˜What’s up?’ Olivia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Actually, you did look a bit queasy back there—’
    â€˜I’m fine, really. Too much Stella last night.’
    â€˜Well, a curry will either kill or cure you. You up for it?’
    â€˜Sure.’
    â€˜OK, meet you out front in five.’
    Ricky was heading for the toilet to retrieve his jacket when Lisa, the very young receptionist with blonde hair and a strong New Zealand accent, appeared from the High Road end of the building.
    â€˜Is Spencer gonna be all right?’ she asked, and Ricky had to think for a moment, not