I turn my attention to the cow, which is exhausted, lying flat out with her head resting on the ground.
‘It’s got a heartbeat,’ I overhear Leo say. ‘I’m not giving up on it yet. Come on, breathe.’
‘There we go,’ says Cecil as the calf utters a tiny cough. ‘It’s breathing now.’
‘Leo, please can you look at mum?’ I ask urgently. ‘She’s bleeding. Look.’
‘Are you sure you trust me to do that?’ Leo is being sarcastic. ‘It’s all right, I can see.’
‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ I say, as Leo and I study the blood that is pooling at the rear end of the cow and staining the straw.
‘That doesn’t look too good.’ Leo slips a fresh glove over his right arm and kneels down to examine her. ‘It was a traumatic birth. Maybe you were right and I should have gone for a Caesarean delivery.’
‘No, you were right, I was being unreasonable. It was the correct decision at the time.’
‘How do you work that one out?’ Leo is still fishing around with his arm inside the cow.
‘The calf coming backwards like that – it would have died before you got the epidural in.’
‘Probably,’ Leo agrees.
‘Can you feel anything? A tear?’
‘Nope.’ Leo withdraws his arm, which is covered with blood. ‘I’m going to give her a shot of something to encourage the womb to contract right down and a bottle of calcium into a vein. She’s showing signs of milk fever.’
‘Do you think she’s going to get up?’
‘Let’s wait and see, shall we?’ Leo speaks to me more gently. ‘Is she always this impatient, Cecil?’
‘Stevie’s her father’s daughter,’ Cecil says, pressing his fist into the small of his back as if he’s in pain, coming out in sympathy with the cow. ‘Mary and I often say so. That’s why they don’t always get on – they’re too alike.’
‘I hope I’m nothing like him,’ I say, more cheerfully now I know Honeydew and her calf both seem to be safe. ‘Cecil, go and put your feet up for a while. I’ll finish up here.’
‘Well, thank you. I’ll do that.’ I’m surprised he acquiesced so quickly, I think as he shuffles away. He must be sore again.
‘Tea would be lovely, thanks,’ Leo says, as he stands running the calcium into the cow’s jugular vein.
‘I’m sorry, I should have offered before.’ I relax a little. ‘That must have been thirsty work. How do you take it?’
‘However it comes,’ he says, amused, and I wonder if he’s referring merely to the tea.
‘Milk and sugar?’
‘Milk, no sugar, thanks.’
I wonder about inviting Leo into the house, but decide against it because my father will only want to join in and I like the idea of having him to myself. I fetch tea and we settle on bales of straw to watch the calf and its mother. I steal a sneaky glance in Leo’s direction just at the same time as he steals a glance in mine. Caught out! He flashes me a grin as if to say, ‘I saw that.’
‘You know my reasons for coming back to Talyton St George …’ I begin. Well, how about yours? Why did you choose to come to work here? It’s so quiet and … well, a bit of a backwater in many ways.’
‘I saw the ad in the Vet News and I thought, ‘Why not have a few months in the West Country?’ I admit it’s been a culture shock, having to take life more slowly, but it’s a pleasant change.’
‘You miss things when you rush about.’
‘Like what?’ he asks.
‘Oh, never mind.’
‘Go on.’ He frowns, his forehead lined under his thick black curls, and I wonder what it would be like to run my fingers through the hair on his head and tangle them in the dark curls on his chest, which are visible where the top buttons have come undone on his shirt. ‘Tell me.’
‘Okay, now I know this sounds silly, but this morning after the rain, I saw a snail leaving its shiny trail down the wall from the eaves of the cowshed, and a pair of blackbirds building their nest in the honeysuckle.’
‘It isn’t silly,’ Leo says. ‘No, it’s the people who drive me mad – not you, I hasten to add. I’m not talking about you.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. You know, you can always move on if you dislike Talyton that much. I suppose that’s another good reason for being a locum vet – as well as being able to leave if you upset someone or make a mistake.’
‘That’s a bit harsh,’ he says, and I apologise for overstepping the mark. I don’t know what’s got into me today. I pick pieces of straw from my fleece top. I’m a bit scratchy.
‘Perhaps it’s because the reality of being the lady farmer has suddenly hit me,’ I say. ‘It’s quite daunting.’
‘You’ve made plenty of improvements and the cows are looking much better, apart from this one.’ He looks towards the cow – she’s still down and the calf is up on its feet, nuzzling her mother’s shoulder for milk.
‘That’s the wrong end,’ Leo says wryly, standing up. ‘We need to make sure this calf gets the first milk if we can.’
Honeydew struggles to her feet with a little encouragement and the calf suckles.
‘Where were you working before you came here, Leo?’ I ask, keen to know more about him. There’s an attraction between us which is most definitely mutual.
‘I finished at a practice in South Wales last month.’ He smiles. ‘I was there for most of the lambing season. Before that, I did a stint in Norfolk and prior to that … well, I’m beginning to lose track.’ Leo falls silent as if he doesn’t want to talk about it, and I let it go for now, although I’m curious as to why he doesn’t seem to want to settle in one place.
‘I’ll get some more straw,’ I say, and I fetch a barrow of straw to add to the bed, tie up the gate across the shed and check the water. The buckets are empty so I get the hose and fill them up.
‘I’m glad I’m not a farmer,’ Leo says above the sound of the water. ‘There’s always something not right in a farmer’s life – the weather; too much rain, too little rain.’
‘It isn’t all bad.’ I smile as I watch the cow and calf. They’ve both made it, thanks to our amazing farm vet. ‘How are things up at Barton Farm?’
‘About the same.’ Leo shrugs. ‘Can you promise me you won’t say anything?’
‘Depends on what it is.’
‘Well, I don’t want to offend Lynsey and Stewart, but I’m looking for somewhere else to stay for the rest of the summer. If you hear of anything, would you let me know?’
‘Yes, of course. Have you tried the small ads in the newsagent’s window or the Chronicle?’
‘I’ve had a look but they want long-term tenants. I’m waiting for a call back about a holiday let.’ He takes a last mouthful of tea. ‘I’d better go. I’ll see you around, Stevie. Good luck with the heifer – and your plans for Nettlebed Farm.’
‘How do you know about those?’ I ask.
‘It’s common knowledge. You’re supposed to be establishing a zoo and wildlife park, according to the gossips in the baker’s, or a theme park if you listen to that mad woman from the garden centre.’
‘Fifi Green? Do you know her?’
‘She introduced herself when I moved here – she came to Barton Farm one evening with leaflets about the church, art club and useful local contacts – and I dropped in to the garden centre for a cream tea.’ Leo picks up his box of equipment. ‘Anyway, which is it to be: the zoo or Nettlebed Towers?’
‘Neither, because it’s going to be a petting farm.’
Leo smiles again. ‘I know we talked of diversification, but I reckon you would do better sticking with the cows, Stevie. Have you thought about the health and safety issues that arise when you put animals and children together? You’ll have to put in measures to reduce the risk of bites and the transfer of diseases. It’ll be a complete nightmare.’
As when James tried to put me off, I refuse to be deterred. I smile back. ‘You’ll be able to help me then, seeing how you know so much about it.’
Chapter Nine
Third Time Lucky
It’s the beginning of May and the hawthorn is in blossom. It’s time for the afternoon milking and I’m getting the cows in with Bear. I pull a piece of hazel from the hedge and use it as a tickling stick to make sure the stragglers keep moving.
‘Come on, Domino, old girl. Your milk will go off before you get to the parlour,’ I sing out to her. She’s always last, but today she’s slower than ever, holding up the traffic on the lane. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mouth to the first motorist in the queue and a cyclist who wobbles precariously to avoid a cowpat. Bear nips at Domino’s heels; she stamps one foot and turns to stare at him with a pathetic expression on her face, as if to say, ‘Don’t hassle me; can’t you see I’m ill?’
Driving her on, I wait until we’re safely in the farmyard before I take a closer look at her.
‘Domino’s off her food again and her milk was down this morning,’ Cecil says, joining me. ‘Maybe I should have kept her in, but I thought I’d give whatever it is a chance to pass over.’
Domino stands in the yard away from the others, looking really sorry for herself. Her back is arched, her eyes sunken and her skin seems to be sticking to her bones, as if she hasn’t been drinking either.
‘What do you think, Cecil?’ I ask.
‘I reckon she’s got a twist in her stomach. Look at the way she’s blown out at the side.’
‘So it’s a job for the vet.’ More money, I think. The farm is like a dripping tap, constantly leaking cash. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m making the right decision holding on to the flat.
‘We could have a go at running her up Steep Acres. Tom and I have done that a fair few times before.’
‘Does it work?’
‘Once in a blue moon,’ Cecil responds. ‘Or we could put her in the trailer and take her for a bumpy ride – that’s supposed to sort it out.’
‘We could have a go,’ I say, looking at Domino and wondering how on earth we can make her run in her condition.
‘We’ll just chase her up the field. It won’t take us five minutes. If it doesn’t work, you can call the vet out.’
‘I’m not sure she’s going to run anywhere, least of all uphill,’ I say doubtfully, ‘and what about you, Cecil? You shouldn’t be running with your bad back.’
‘You and Bear can do the chasing,’ Cecil says with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I’ll hold the gate for you, my lover.’
Looking up at the ground that rises steeply to the ridge, the earth stepped out in terrace fashion, I use my stick of hazel to chase Domino up the field, she won’t move faster than a slow amble and I end up hot and bothered while she looks just the same.
Guy is driving his tractor on the other side of the fence. He toots the horn and leans out of the cab. ‘I’ve seen it all now,’ he yells, ‘my crazy neighbours are training a cow for the next Olympics.’
Before I can explain that I’m testing one of Cecil’s theories, the tractor is roaring away straight up the hill towards the ridge. I walk back in the opposite direction with Domino and Bear, calling Talyton Manor vets on my mobile and hoping Leo will come.
‘Hi Leo, it’s—’
‘Stevie,’ he says, ‘I recognised the number. What’s up – or should I say, what’s down, seeing as it’s probably another cow, knowing your luck?’
‘It’s Domino, the cow who had the Caesarean.’
‘I hope she isn’t worrying about her bikini line,’ Leo says flippantly. ‘I thought my stitches were amazing. I’m sorry, Stevie. What’s wrong with her?’
‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m ringing you,’ I say, equally flippantly. ‘She isn’t right again.’
‘Is it urgent?’
‘I don’t think it will wait until tomorrow. I’d prefer someone to see her fairly soon.’
‘Okay, I’ll be over in twenty minutes.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, but he’s already hung up. Whether it’s down to the running or something I ate for breakfast, a dodgy mushroom perhaps, but I throw up in the long grass alongside the parlour. I ask Cecil to carry on with the milking and check there’s some of Jennie’s lemon drizzle cake – which I bought from the bakery – left, in case Leo should make an exception and stay for tea. Then I shut Bear in the lean-to where he howls to be let out.
‘What are you doing back?’ Dad asks from his chair when I pop my head around the door to the sitting room. He’s watching an episode of Friends.
‘I’ve had to call the vet out.’
‘You’ve what?’
‘I’ve had to call the vet for Domino,’ I repeat.
‘I beg your pardon. Stevie, you really need to learn how to make yourself heard.’
‘Turn the telly down and you’ll be able to hear me, you silly old fool,’ I shout at the top of my voice in annoyance.
‘Hey, I heard that. What kind of a daughter are you?’
‘It doesn’t matter because I’m the only one you’ve got. I don’t see your precious son here. Where is Ray? How often has he been to see you?’
‘Don’t you have a dig at Ray. He has three farms and a haulage firm to oversee.’
‘Good for him,’ I say snappily. ‘He’s chosen his wife’s family business over Nettlebed Farm after all you did for him.’
‘That’s just sour grapes on your part.’
‘I’m here. Ray isn’t.’
‘What’s wrong with Domino?’ Dad says, changing the subject. He doesn’t like to talk about his son, it seems. Does he feel guilty for putting Ray before me when it came to the farm, or is he still harbouring resentment for the way Ray cast him and the farm aside when he married Gabrielle?’
‘I’ll be sure when the vet comes.’
‘Well, I hope it’s one who knows what he’s talking about. Is it Old Fox-Gifford?’
‘It’s the locum, Leo,’ I say, concerned. ‘Old Fox-Gifford’s been dead for a while, Dad. His son runs the practice.’
‘Alex?’ Dad rubs his chin with his good hand. ‘I remember now. Of course I remember.’
I worry about his memory. Is he tired? Did the stroke irreversibly damage some essential parts of his brain? Is he going senile? I’m not sure I could cope with that. I worry too that he doesn’t offer to come out and interfere.
Still feeling queasy, I head back outdoors where Leo is parking his four-by-four in the yard as the door into the parlour slides open, letting five of the queuing cows inside to be milked.
‘Hello.’ Leo leans out of the window. ‘Where’s the dog?’
‘Safely locked away,’ I say as Bear starts howling all over again.
Apparently reassured, Leo jumps out. He’s wearing a grey T-shirt, navy work trousers and green wellies.
‘Where’s the patient?’ he asks, pulling a set of overalls and stethoscope from the back of the vehicle.
‘I’ve left her tied up in the cowshed. She isn’t happy.’
Leo follows me to where Domino stands looking forlornly in the direction of the other cows. I stand at her head while Leo examines her from nose to tail. He taps at her belly, and listens with his stethoscope at the same time.
‘Do you want to have a listen?’ he asks. ‘Can you hear the ‘ping’?’
Holding the bell of the stethoscope against Domino’s belly, he hands me the other end and I listen, aware of his proximity and his masculine scent of musk and antibiotic.
‘Well?’ he says, tapping the cow again.
I nod. I’ve heard it before, but I don’t say so. I rather like getting up close and personal to Leo.
‘It’s characteristic of a displaced—’
‘Twisted stomach, as Cecil says,’ I cut in, stepping back and handing over the stethoscope.
‘I don’t know why you called me out,’ he says good-humouredly. ‘Who needs a vet when Cecil can treat it with one of the traditional methods?’
‘We’ve had a go at running her up the hill. It didn’t work – all it did was prove how unfit I am.’
L
eo looks me up and down. ‘You look pretty fit to me, Stevie.’
I don’t know where to put myself. ‘Are you coming on to me?’ I say, blushing.
‘I’m paying you a compliment.’ He arches one eyebrow. ‘I’m not expecting anything in return, although it would be nice.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, not giving anything away as to the state of my feelings.
‘Getting back to the matter in hand …’ Leo hangs his stethoscope around his neck. ‘What do you want me to do? It’s your call.’
‘You mean we should cull her?’ I look at Domino and my eyes begin to prick with tears. ‘I’m not sure that’s an option after all she’s been through.’
‘Hasn’t she been through enough recently? Besides, she’s one of the older members of the herd, so she probably hasn’t got much productive life left.’
‘I know, but it seems a shame to give up on her now. I’d like to give her another chance.’
‘Are you absolutely sure?’
My mind is made up. ‘If you don’t want to do it, I’ll call someone else out.’
‘There’s no need to do that.’ He thinks I’m overreacting, but I would do anything for our cows.
‘Will you operate?’ I’ve seen enough cases like these before to know that surgery is an option.
‘I’ll try casting her first. It might save you some money.’ He looks me straight in the eyes, making me feel uncomfortable. ‘I’m afraid you’re getting a bit of a reputation with the practice.’
What does he mean, I wonder as I scratch Domino’s bony back, urging her silently to get better. Exactly what rumours are circulating around town?
‘Alex says I’m to warn you we can’t keep coming out like this if you don’t pay your bill in full with interest by the end of the month,’ Leo says, looking embarrassed.
‘I’m sorry.’ Does he know we haven’t paid a single vet’s bill for six months? ‘I’ll sort it out this week, I promise.’
Leo fetches a length of rope from his vehicle.
‘Let’s give this a go,’ he says. ‘I’m going to cast her and roll her onto her back to see if that fixes it. If I drench her with some calcium, it might just work. If it doesn’t, then you really should put some serious consideration into culling her. She isn’t going to produce her quota of milk this lactation or have another calf within a year, which means you’re losing out all the time.’
Country Loving Page 13
