by Rebecca Shaw
Dan opened the door. “Take care, Mr. Tucker. Bring him back when he’s feeling happier. I’ll get him for you, and then I’ll see to the cat.”
When Mr. Tucker came back into reception holding Bingo tightly, the ambulance had just arrived and Mrs. Parr was being taken out in a wheelchair. Mr. Tucker said to her, “I’m so sorry.”
Ashen faced, she replied, “My cat. Where’s my Muffin?”
Joy said, “We’ll take care of her; she’ll have the best of attention. The vet’s examining her now.”
“Thanks. I really don’t need to go to hospital. I only fainted. I think I’ll just go home.” She made to get out of the chair.
Joy gently pressed her back. “Believe me, it’s best to have a checkup just in case. And it will make me feel easier in my mind that you’ve been looked at. I’ll ring tomorrow and let you know about Muffin, or if you feel up to it, you ring later today. I’m so sorry this has happened.”
After Mrs. Parr had gone, Stephie said, “Why were you so insistent that she go to the hospital? There was really nothing wrong with her.”
“You’re a doctor, are you?”
“You know I’m not.”
“And neither am I. Best to make sure in case of legal proceedings.”
“But she’s nice; we’ve known her for years.”
“She’s never had her cat attacked before though, has she? She might feel she could be safe to bring her cat here, which is quite right, but today she wasn’t … so … you never know.” Joy wagged her finger at Stephie and disappeared into the back to find Dan.
He had carried the cat into a consulting room and was gently examining her. She wasn’t in the best of moods for a close examination, and Dan was having to be very careful not to stress her more than necessary.
Dan glanced up at Joy as she watched his sensitive hands moving so sympathetically over the cat as he assessed her injuries. “She’s been punctured here, look, one of his fangs. She’s in deep shock. We’ll have to set up a drip, can’t do anything until she stabilizes. Nothing broken, I think.”
“I’ll set up the drip. The girls are all busy.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. If Mrs. Parr had brought her in a cat carrier, none of this would have happened.”
“Exactly. Mr. Tucker says the dog’s as soft as butter usually. Just cats he can’t stand.”
With a wry smile Joy said, “That’s plainly obvious.”
“Even so, I’ve warned him to keep an eye on him. It really was a nasty attack.”
Mungo took a couple of minutes between clients to find out what was happening. “No farm calls this morning?” he asked.
“None so far. Colin’s out, but he only has three calls.”
“So what about the cat? How is she?”
“Shocked. Joy’s setting up a drip. I’ve found a hole where his fang caught her, but she’s too shocked for me to do anything about it.”
“New client, was he? Didn’t recognize the owner.”
“Yes. Claims the dog can’t abide cats. Otherwise no problem.”
Mungo shook his head. “Rose not pupped yet then?”
Dan laughed. “Not yet. You’d better not say that to her; she wouldn’t find it funny at the moment.”
“Exciting times we live in, eh?” Mungo clapped Dan on the shoulder, added, “Thanks for that just now. Got a client. Must go.”
Muffin the cat was an exceptionally beautiful Siamese, and one after another the staff came to see her. “Isn’t she gorgeous? Just gorgeous,” Stephie said, and Annette thought she was utterly beautiful too and very take-homeable. “Hope she’s going to be all right. The poor thing. I hate big dogs.”
“Muffin. It’s a poor choice of name for such an elegant cat. Sounds like a name for an ordinary cat, not an aristocrat.”
Rhodri came in at this point.
Stephie turned to greet him. “Good morning, Rhodri, come to see our new patient?”
“Who organized this?”
“Dan did. You had a client, and we had to do something quicko.”
“I see. Did no one think to consult me? I am the only small-animal vet on duty this morning.”
This outburst silenced the two girls because they honestly didn’t know how to answer him.
Rhodri turned on his heel and went back to his consulting room.
Stephie looked at Annette and they both pulled a face.
“Honestly! He gets worse. It’s always poor Dan he has his knife into.”
• • •
HALFWAY through the morning, Dan went home to Rose, promising Joy that if a farm call came in, he would go. Rose was seated in her favorite chair by the French windows, looking out to the garden. Beside her on a small table was the book she’d put down the moment she heard him coming. “Darling! What are you doing home at this time? How lovely.”
“It’s one of those strange mornings when there are no calls for me. It can’t last, I’m quite sure. You all right?”
“I’m fine. Absolutely fine. So you’ve had an idle morning then?”
“No, not really, just a bit of an upset at the morning clinic.”
“Dresden china I am not. Please tell me.”
“Sorry. Huge great dog attacked a cat in the waiting room. Total uproar.”
“Poor thing.”
“I had to tackle it to the floor and then drag it out and tie it up.”
“You didn’t have to put it down?”
“It did occur to me that perhaps it would be for the best, but one can’t just rush about putting dogs down; it’s not done and it would give the practice a bad name.”
Rose grinned up at him. “It most certainly would. I shall have a dog or a cat sometime. I always wanted a pet, but mother would never let me. Too messy, she said.”
“Then you shall. You can choose, so long as it’s not a huge one like a Saint Bernard. This cottage isn’t big enough.”
“Could you get me a glass of water, Danny, please? Save me having to heave myself out of this chair.”
“Of course. Nothing stronger?”
“Like orange juice?” Rose smiled at him. It was a smile he had missed those months while they’d been apart. He should never have walked out on her. But the blazing row he’d had with her mother over an entirely mythical “woman” she swore he had hidden away had hurt him beyond belief. There had never been anyone but Rose. He found a glass, turned on the cold tap and let it run to make sure it was cold. As he watched the torrent of water gushing out, he remembered looking for Rose at that time and finding her climbing out of the pool after her daily dozen lengths. She had stood in front of him, water streaming from her, and said, “You’re still here, then? Just go away. I can’t bear it. Go away.”
Dan hadn’t been able to come to terms with the fact that she sided with her mother. “You know there isn’t anyone else. No one. On his earth. No one but you,” he’d told her.
He’d seen her hesitate, but a lifetime of agreeing with her mother had overcome her natural inclination to believe him. Fortunately, she’d soon discovered the truth.
He turned off the tap, took the glass to her, and as he handed it over, he bent to kiss the top of her head. “Love you.”
Rose drank the glass right to the bottom before she said, “I don’t deserve you, my darling. I simply don’t.”
“Clean slate, we said. You stay right there, and watch me mow the lawn. Got to do something. Can’t sit about. I’ll open the window. If you need anything, give me a shout.”
He glanced at her once or twice and saw she’d picked up her book again. Then the next time he checked, the book had slipped off her knee and she was asleep. Do her good. She didn’t get much sleep at night now. It was just what she needed. He paused for a moment to admire her. Everywhere she went people stared. And no wonder. She really was beautiful. Halfway through cutting the lawn his mobile rang. It was a call to Tattersall’s Cop. One of Callum’s goats was ill, and he was worried. He didn’t want to bring it in be
cause his wife, Nuala, who was very ill, couldn’t be left. Dan left the mower where it was, wrote a note and put it on the table beside Rose and left.
To get to Tattersall’s Cop, Dan had to cross the river in the center of Barleybridge by the Weymouth Bridge and then take the left fork, called Cop Lane, in Wootton. He was struck once again as he approached Callum’s farm by how smart it looked. Dan sometimes thought that Callum spent too much time keeping the premises in order. While that was commendable and something other farmers could do well to think about, keeping the farm immaculate didn’t fill the coffers.
“Good morning, Callum. What’s the problem?”
“It’s little Sybil.”
Callum had bought the complete stock of a goat farmer who’d died, and among them were seven pygmy goats—perky, bright versions of full-sized goats, born with more than their fair share of curiosity. They’d been brought into a pen close to the house, and leaning on the gate alongside Callum, Dan paused to study them for a moment before going in. “They all look fit. Which is Sybil, then?”
“The all-black one.” All seven of them were springing around the pen on a familiarization tour. They were a mixture of black, white and fawn, and looked as though they’d all been in the washing machine that morning, so fresh and smart did they look. What with their appealing looks and their cheeky antics, Dan couldn’t help but smile at them.
“Settling down nicely, are they?”
“All of them are. Think they’d been getting a bit neglected toward the end. Nothing serious, mind, but neglected.”
“What did you want them for, Callum?”
“Fancied a change and Nuala was keen.”
“How is she?”
Callum didn’t reply for a moment, and then he said, “You’ll see for yourself in a minute; she’s coming out to see you. Wants to know about your wife.”
“I see. So why am I here? There doesn’t seem much wrong with Sybil.”
“I reckon it’s worms. Appetite like you wouldn’t believe.”
Dan climbed over the gate and was immediately mobbed by all seven of the goats. Dan crouched to examine Sybil and found himself with pygmy goats endeavoring to raid his pockets, steal his mobile, climb on his back, and generally get in on the act by making their own diagnosis.
“How long have you been farming, Callum?”
“Fifteen years or thereabouts. Why?”
“Don’t you know what happens when you put a billy in with nanny goats?”
Callum’s eyebrows shot up when he’d absorbed what Dan had said. “Oh, God! You don’t mean …”
“I do. Sybil’s in kid.”
Callum rubbed his hands with glee. “No! Never thought it might be that. Nuala’ll be delighted. Delighted. Well, I never. That’s great. Sure it is.” His tanned face almost split in two with delight.
“Not long to go, I shouldn’t think.” He stood up, trying to escape the goats’ attentions without knocking any of them down. “In fact, this one looks as if…”
“That’s Cassandra, she’s Nuala’s favorite.”
“ … she might be too.”
Callum’s Nuala came out of the house and walked slowly toward them, every delicate step an effort. Dan hoped his face didn’t register the shock he felt when he saw her. She was emaciated beyond itself. It didn’t seem possible that she was still able to stand upright.
Dan touched his cap. “Good morning, Mrs. Tattersall. I’ve just been giving Callum some good news.”
Callum interrupted. “Let me tell her. Sybil’s expecting!”
“Really!” Nuala’s face burst into life, and the small spark of what was left of her lit up her beautiful blue eyes. “Well now, isn’t that good news, for sure. When?”
“Within the week, I would have thought.”
“Within the week!”
Dan watched Callum hug her as though she were made of the finest glass. So tenderly.
“I might just see that. Yes, I might. They must look so sweet.”
“They do, Mrs. Tattersall, nothing sweeter.” Dan noticed a grimace cross her face. Immediately Callum said, “I’ll take you in.” He picked her up as easily as he would a baby, and set off for the house, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll call you when she’s in labor. Can’t afford to take any risks.”
“Right. ’Bye, Mrs. Tattersall.”
“Bye, Dan. My love to your Rose.” Her feeble voice just reached Dan, and he was glad she couldn’t see his face, because he felt so distressed. He looked at Sybil and said quietly, “You’d better hurry up or she won’t see that kid of yours. Do you hear me?” Sybil, however, had other things to think about, as Callum had left the goats some tidbits in the feed trough, and she was concentrating on getting the major share.
Dan was almost home when he decided to ring the practice to see if there were any more calls for him, but found he must have left his mobile in the goat pen. One–nil to the goats. He just hoped Rose hadn’t been trying to ring him. He drove all the way back to Tattersall’s Cop, parked his Land Rover, intending to knock at the farmhouse door, but saw a doctor from the medical practice in Barleybridge just going in. So he went quietly to the goat pen to find his mobile laid abandoned and unharmed in the long grass by the fencing.
It had a text message on it from Rose. “Baby started.”
Also by Rebecca Shaw
WELCOME TO BARLEYBRID GE!
A Country Affair 1-4000-9820-3 $12.95 paper
YOUNG, inexperienced, and somewhat shy, Kate Howard arrives in Barleybridge to begin a job as a receptionist at the Barleybridge Veterinary Hospital. As Kate learns the ins and outs of her job, handsome Australian vet Scott Spencer takes an interest in her and encourages Kate to pursue her dreams to become a vet herself. His advice is solid, and his charm is intoxicating, but Kate is well aware that she is hardly the only woman to fall under the dashing doctor’s spell. Add to this the pressure of her longtime but rather dull boyfriend, Adam, who is not at all happy about her newfound aspirations to return to school, and Kate has some decisions to make, decisions that are growing more complex at every turn.
Tender, funny, and full of warmth and simple joys, A Country Affair is the perfect introduction to a delightful place and its witty and lovable inhabitants.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2001 by Rebecca Shaw
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Three Rivers Press, an imprint of the
Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.crownpublishing.com
Originally published in Great Britain by Orion Books, Ltd., London, in 2001.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Shaw, Rebecca, 1931–
Country wives / Rebecca Shaw.—1st American ed.
p. cm.
1. Veterinarians—Fiction. 2. Dorset (England)—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6069.H388C685 2006
823′.914—dc22 2006012674
eISBN: 978-0-307-49464-1
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