Summer with the Country Village Vet Page 7

  ‘It is a bit of a no-no going to the other practice, you know what village politics can be like.’ Now she was making it even more difficult. Understanding made him feel tetchy, and for some reason he couldn’t quite fathom he felt almost like he was letting her down. Christ, he had enough problems with all the other people he felt he’d let down – and now he was doing it with a complete stranger. ‘I’m sure you’ll come up with something. I’m not here for long anyway, as soon as Eric is back on his feet I’ll be off.’ He couldn’t do it, better to make that quite clear. ‘I’m sorry, I really am.’

  ‘No problem.’ Her tone was light, but he still felt bad.

  ‘It’s just…’ He hesitated, not quite wanting to leave it like that. But any discussions about how he should be involved in the village school were off the agenda. Some things he could do – being surrounded by young children he couldn’t. Not yet. The health of the village pets was his responsibility, the kids weren’t.

  She was looking at him quizzically, as though she was expecting him to say more. Offer an explanation, at least finish his bloody sentence, which was perfectly reasonable. But this was why he shouldn’t have come back here. Why he should have buggered off to Australia. He wouldn’t have these bloody problems then, he didn’t need to feel irrational guilt on top of everything else. And he couldn’t explain.

  The silence lengthened between them and he felt awkward.

  This was getting ridiculous. He was looking ridiculous.

  He was just trying to come up with something to say when she smiled, stood up. ‘I better get back to moving boxes. Thanks for the coffee and chat, lovely to meet you properly.’

  ‘You too.’ And he was surprised just how much he meant it.

  As she left the surgery, his positive mood seemed to go with her. Talking about his return to Langtry Meadows reminded him just why he’d had to move on. Rolling his shoulders, he tried to ease the tension that had instantly grabbed hold of his body.

  He wandered into the recovery room, determined to shake his mood. Being busy always helped. Stroking the little black cat that was stretched out on its side in one of the cages, he instantly felt his blood pressure drop as the faintest of purrs rumbled through its chest. Charlie smiled as it raised its head slightly, asking for more.

  He loved these quiet times, with a patient that had turned the corner. This was the good bit; this was what the job was all about. It didn’t matter where in the world he was, animals were animals and moments like this made all the long hours and difficult decisions worthwhile.

  ‘Ready to face the wrath of the Langtry Meadows women are you, Charlie?’

  Charlie gave the cat one last rub behind the ear then glanced up at Sally, his receptionist, animal nurse and general answer to all his prayers.

  Two months earlier he’d arrived at the Langtry Meadows Veterinary Centre expecting to be faced with the same officious, bossy receptionist he vaguely remembered from his childhood when he’d sneaked into the surgery to see the animals, borrow his dad’s bag of tricks and pretend to be a vet – although that was pretty silly as she’d been considerably older than his father. He’d still been pleasantly surprised to meet the ever-friendly, and amazingly helpful Sally.

  Her mid-length brown hair hung in straight, glossy sheets either side of her solemn face which lit up when she smiled, her large brown eyes as steady as a Labrador’s and the frown lines on her forehead evident whenever she was concentrating. Within a few days Charlie had fallen in love with her, in a totally un-romantic way. She was efficient, kind and knew everybody in the village – which smoothed the path and allowed him to concentrate on the animals. Which was just how he liked it. Perfect.

  Eric had played a masterstroke the day he had persuaded Sally to join the small veterinary practice, and Charlie hoped he realised it.

  He rolled his eyes, and secured the catch of the cage. ‘How many?’

  ‘Only three so far.’ Sally giggled. ‘Don’t worry, once you’ve been here a few months they’ll lose interest, but we don’t often get a hunky new man in the village.’ She tipped her head on one side, ‘and the fact that you’ve come back means the nosey old bags want to come and interrogate you as well.’

  ‘I’d have thought they’d got more interesting things to think about.’

  Sally laughed. ‘You’re the talk of the village shop, and the pub, and in the doctor’s waiting room …’

  ‘Shush.’ He held a hand up to stop her. ‘I don’t think I want to know.’ At least Lucy, the other newcomer in town, had the advantage that she had no history here, so there was no gossip to be had.

  ‘Though if it’s any consolation the magazines in the surgery are so old, and Dr Jones is so bloody slow, it’s no wonder they’ve had to resort to talking about you. Last time I was in there the other hot topic of conversation was whether Jim Stafford was cheating at the last gooseberry show, apparently his were massive. Swollen out of all proportion.’

  ‘Thanks, Sal, I feel much better now you’ve lowered my level of importance to an over-inflated soft fruit.’ Jim had actually seemed quite protective of the cover teacher. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who was affected by her light floral perfume and softly curved body. He shook his head to dismiss the thought. She wasn’t even his type. She was more what you’d call athletic than womanly, and she was blonde, and a bit well, well he couldn’t put his finger on it, but not his type. Definitely not his type.

  He’d never been a player, but maybe that was the antidote he needed. Except not with her. A teacher. The prickle of sweat that sprang up on his brow left him feeling clammy. He really had to get a grip.

  ‘Talking of soft fruit, Holly rang to say she wants that colt of hers castrated.’

  He switched his brain back to concentrating on work, his saviour. ‘Why doesn’t she go to the large animal practice in the next village? Most of the farm clients go there, and they’ve got a great horse vet.’

  ‘It’s you they love.’ Sally winked. ‘And you’re getting quite a reputation as the man to go to for,’ she made a snipping gesture and he winced, ‘snipping off testicles.’

  Balls were what he felt like he’d been lacking himself lately. Agreeing to come back here, and admit he was a failure professionally as well as in his private life wasn’t doing him any good at all, not that any of them knew about the private bit. Yet. She’d looked at him like she knew though, Lucy. And he’d nearly said more than he’d intended.

  ‘I remembered this place as a quiet backwater, full of farmers with tight wallets who never visited a vet unless they had to.’ If he was honest, he’d expected to be bored witless, and in need of a hobby.

  ‘Ahh, you thought you could put your feet up, didn’t you Charlie boy?’ He hadn’t actually wanted to put his feet up, keeping busy was what he needed now, but he’d never expected it to be this hectic. ‘Thinking of taking up golf were you?’ He shifted guiltily. ‘Well in case you’ve missed it, most of your clients are females, and they don’t tell their hubbies until the bill needs paying.’

  ‘Well I wish they’d at least book appointments and not turn up at all times of day and night.’ He’d got used to the way his town centre practice had run like clockwork, efficiency itself. Here, the waiting room was constantly busy, often between surgery hours when he was struggling to catch up on operations and paperwork. ‘They seem to think I haven’t got a life.’

  Sally arched an eyebrow, obviously trying not to laugh.

  ‘Okay, I haven’t got a life. I admit it. But can’t they at least take the farm animals up the road?’

  ‘They’re loyal to Langtry Meadows, Charlie. They want to support Eric, and anyway, there’s been bad feeling between us and them, since they pulled that stunt at the county show.’

  He held up a hand. ‘I don’t want to know.’ He was going to keep a professional distance, not be dragged into village politics. ‘But we had a trailer load of piglets the other day, and a very persistent man with a lamb in the back of his estate car.�
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  ‘They think it’s quicker to come to you, than call you out. You have to admit they’ve got a point.’

  ‘And since when did we have alpacas in the village? I’m sure it wasn’t like this when Dad was here.’

  When he thought about it though, his dad had been in and out on calls constantly, but he’d just taken it for granted. His mother had always been there for him, even if his father hadn’t been. And he’d loved it when Dad had brought home a stray lamb, or a dog that needed careful monitoring and a warm spot by the Aga.

  ‘I suppose I better make a start then.’

  ‘Geriatric hamster, or the cat from hell first?’

  He peered round the door, trying to see if he recognised anybody in the waiting room. ‘It depends on who owns them.’ Dealing with the animals was the easy bit, keeping some of the owners at arm’s length was a different matter. ‘Oh hell, Serena Stevens is in again,’ he withdrew, and dropped his voice to a whisper, ‘what is it this time?’

  Sally giggled. ‘She wants to discuss babies.’

  The back of his neck went clammy, then common sense kicked in. He really should be able to handle any talk of babies and young children by now. ‘Babies?’ The word was raspy, and Sally gave him a strange look.

  ‘Puppies! I don’t think she’d risk seeing her own boobs droop. She rather thinks that Twinkle should experience motherhood before it’s too late, she wants her to experience sexual thrill and maternal joy.’ The sparkle of laughter was back in Sally’s eyes. ‘You should see your face! Anyway, don’t worry, even if she is broody I don’t think she’s signed you up as sperm donor yet, and I’ve got your back, I won’t let her get her wicked way with you.’

  Some people lived their dreams vicariously through their children, Serena was intent on living it through her dog – a very sensitive long-haired Chihuahua who lived a life of luxury, mainly in one of Serena’s large designer tote bags.

  He was just wondering whether he could get away with referring her to another vet, on the grounds of his complete lack of understanding when it came to such delicate matters, when the buzzer on the door announced another customer.

  Holding the door open, and peering in was a girl in jodhpurs. ‘Soz to bother you, it’s just that Jasper’s caught himself. You couldn’t whip a quick stitch in could you?’

  Jasper was a horse. The same horse that was often seen bolting through Langtry Meadows, the animal that had been responsible for his very unconventional introduction to the new primary school teacher, the thought of which made him come over all hot and bothered again.

  He took a deep breath and looked at Holly. She smiled back in a winning way. She was the capable, unflustered type, so he knew ‘a quick stitch’ could be shorthand for ‘he’s bleeding all over the car park and could drop dead if you don’t hurry up’.

  He was ashamed to realise though that even stitching up a hyper-horse was actually far preferable to discussing sex with the immaculately groomed Serena.

  ‘Of course we can have a look, Holly. How are you?’ Sally was already tapping away at her computer and Charlie saw a busy day ahead. ‘What’s he done now?’

  ‘Overreach, the silly sod. If he concentrated on what he was doing instead of being so bloody nosey then he’d know where his feet were.’

  Ahh, not so bad then, the downside being that he was going to be stitching an area well within kicking range.

  ‘Typical male.’ Sally smiled.

  ‘Thank you for your continued efforts to keep my feet firmly on the ground.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Mr Davenport.’ She looked back in Holly’s direction. ‘Are you still up for drinks tomorrow night?’

  ‘Sure am. Eek, stop it Jasper.’ She was yanked backward, the door clanging shut behind her and they heard a clatter of hooves on the tarmac. Two of the customers got up and tried to peer through the window.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on shall I ladies? I’m sure you won’t mind waiting a few minutes while Charlie sorts this urgent case out?’ Sally scanned the waiting room with a professional eye. ‘You can watch him in action of course.’ Serena glanced at her watch and made reassuring cooing noises at Twinkle who was growling in indignation.

  ‘Of course not, I do like to see a man in action.’ The owner of the cantankerous cat, who’d also got a cantankerous husband always loved an excuse to stay out of the house as long as possible.

  Serena gazed admiringly. ‘You’ve got such sensitive hands, you really shouldn’t have to deal with such big, dangerous animals.’

  Charlie stared blankly at the computer screen. Being cornered by a herd of rampaging bullocks was a safer bet than Serena and her Chihuahua.

  ‘Oh no, no, not at all, do you want a hand with the coffee?’ A slim woman in her thirties, who Charlie had never seen before, stroked a hand over her son’s head and looked down at the box he was clutching. This had to be the geriatric hamster, and from the look of discomfort on the woman’s face she was obviously expecting the worst – and was more than happy to put the moment of judgement off. The trouble with hamsters, Charlie knew, was that with a life span of rarely more than three years they had a habit of leaving grieving children in their wake. ‘Do you want to sit here with Mario, Harry?’ Harry nodded, and shooting Charlie a distrustful look clutched the box even tighter.

  Another clatter of horseshoes on tarmac reminded Charlie that Jasper wasn’t going to be an easy customer. With a sigh he went into the operating room and sneaked out through the back door to examine his patient.

  As he bent closer to make a preliminary check of the wound, Charlie was suddenly excruciatingly aware of a pair of bright pink wellingtons, which he could see out of the corner of his eye as Lucy edged closer. He was used to being observed, but this felt different, it was as though he was still back at college – trying to impress. He had to get a grip, this was ridiculous. What did it matter if she thought he was some uncooperative, incompetent idiot?

  ‘Is that the horse that tried to flatten me when I came for interview?’ She’d moved in so close he could smell her perfume again, which was far too disconcerting.

  ‘Oh you’re kidding?’ Holly put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh God, was it you in that cute little car by the pond?’

  ‘It was.’ Lucy stepped back abruptly as Jasper attempted a pirouette, and joined the rest of his clients who, keen for entertainment, had drifted out from the waiting room and were now lined up at a safe distance.

  ‘We’d just gone past those damned alpacas and one stuck its head through the fence and made faces at him, you don’t like those weird things do you honey?’ She kissed the end of Jasper’s nose and he threw his head in the air.

  ‘Let’s face it Holly, he doesn’t like much at all does he?’ commented Sally, who was standing nearby with a tray of sterilised equipment.

  ‘Is he okay with a hosepipe?’ Charlie had to concentrate on the job.

  ‘Oh yeah, sure, he’s bombproof.’

  The bombproof animal whizzed around her and Holly hung on to his bridle as Charlie very slowly unwound the hosepipe.

  The audience were to be disappointed. After a good clean up it was obvious that no stitching was required, and the amount of blood was due to the size of animal and location of wound rather than any serious problem.

  ‘That looks fine, Holly. I’ll just grab a twitch then we can tidy up that flap of skin.’

  ‘Oh he’ll be fine, I’ll hold his nose. He’s a gem, aren’t you?’ Holly kissed the ‘gem’ on the end of his nose and Charlie could see the whites of his eyes, as he shot him a warning look, followed up by a stamp on the ground in case the vet was in any doubt.

  Charlie narrowed his eyes and studied the target, wondering just how quickly he could snip the skin off and dive to the side. At veterinary school he’d been told that commando style rolls could be seen as unprofessional, but he’d always thought that they had a place. Especially when the alternative was a horse’s hoof up your backside. He sneaked a glance up at Lucy, who was watch
ing intently, and wondered if he really wanted to strike another self-inflicted blow at his manhood.

  ‘He hates a twitch, it makes him nervous.’

  Snipping flaps of skin off un-anaesthetised equines made Charlie nervous.

  Not giving himself time to think, he dived in and snipped decisively and was back on his feet before owner or animal had time to realise. There was a round of applause from his clients.

  ‘Excellent.’ Whatever you’re doing, it pays to do it bloody quick, one of his tutors had told him, apart from surgery of course. ‘I’ll give him a shot of antibiotic, and if you can keep it clean…’

  ‘Oh cheers, that’s super. I would have done it myself, but I was passing and thought I might as well pop in rather than ride him all the way home and then find out it was worse than I thought.’ She patted the horse. ‘Fab, give my love to Eric if you see him, and put it on Dad’s account will you Sal?’

  Charlie would have liked to insist on payment now, as the small sign on the counter requested. The business had a serious cash-flow problem, which was largely due to well-heeled customers who didn’t feel the need to pay until absolutely necessary, and thrifty farmers who argued over every penny and asked for a discount. Charlie had been shocked at Eric’s relaxed attitude towards money, with the price of drugs he was surprised they hadn’t gone bankrupt. It was yet another thing he really had to look into if he had time.

  Smiling at Holly, he glanced towards the surgery and was disappointed to see Lucy had gone. Along with her van.

  He sighed, feeling strangely deflated, and rolled his sleeves up. It was time to tackle a sex-starved Chihuahua and a cat that he just knew was out to get him.

  ‘You look like you’re ready for battle.’ Sally grinned. ‘Oh, and Charlie there’s a message from Mr Gibson about the cricket, and the vicar’s wife has rung again to ask about judging the village fete.’ She peered at him over the top of her notepad. ‘You do realise there’s no escape, she will hunt you down?’