Summer with the Country Village Vet Page 9

  ‘No it’s not.’ She looked affronted, but he had known her far too long to take that at face value. ‘That girl is lonely and doesn’t feel needed.’

  He sighed. ‘I can’t help that, now can I? I’m only here for a few weeks, you know that as well as me. It’s temporary, to help Eric out, and cash to bridge me over until…’

  ‘Until you run away to Australia?’

  That was about it, yes. He could lose himself in the vastness of a cattle station, so it wasn’t all about him and his mistakes. So he would just be a small blip on the horizon. Invisible.

  ‘You never struck me as a coward, Charles.’ She straightened her skirt. ‘You still don’t. Now,’ her voice took on its normal brisk edge, ‘I’m sure you’ve heard enough from me, and are dying for a pint of beer. You can see yourself out, I trust?’

  Chapter 5

  ‘It would be a lot easier if you could talk.’ Lucy stared into the cardboard box at the hen, which glared indignantly back.

  The move to Langtry Meadows had actually gone more smoothly than she’d expected. She really wasn’t a gypsy at heart at all, she liked her home comforts, liked what she knew – and this move was a step outside her comfort zone. But things had been going okay, and she’d been surprised to find that she was already feeling quite at home.

  In fact, the inside of the cottage had been quite a revelation. It was as organised and tidy on the inside as it was wild and disorganised on the outside. The sense of order had wrapped itself round her in a comfortable hug, and Annie had even left a folder that answered almost every question she could have ever thought of, and many she couldn’t. There was also a welcome box of food, and a lovely homemade cake.

  From the day she’d moved in she’d been far too busy clipping back bushes and feeding Annie’s menagerie to feel at a loose end or lonely at all. In fact, the way things were going she wouldn’t have time to fully prepare everything that she wanted to for the first day of term on Monday.

  All had been going well until she’d spotted the hen, which was behaving quite differently to all the others. Annie’s folder didn’t help at all.

  She’d rung the veterinary surgery, hoping that the friendly looking Sally (as opposed to the grumpy looking Charlie) would be able to give her some advice. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Charlie, but they seemed to rub each other up the wrong way. One minute he seemed to be rescuing her (though she hadn’t needed rescuing from the van, if he hadn’t sneaked up like that there wouldn’t have been a problem) and the next moment he couldn’t get away fast enough.

  Maybe that was his problem, that he actually didn’t like her. Or maybe it was just because he seemed to have an aversion to children, so being around her was his worst nightmare.

  Sally sounded as friendly and welcoming on the phone as she had in the car park though, which was instantly reassuring. ‘Oh, pop in, it’s a quiet time and much better to be safe than sorry. Annie practically lives down here when she’s home. I’m sure there’ll be a box, or a cat basket in the house to bring it in. If not we can lend you one.’

  ‘What time are consultation hours? I thought it said on the board…’

  ‘Oh don’t worry about that. Friday afternoon is a quiet time, Charlie’s not too busy. Come now.’

  Which was why she was sitting in the empty waiting room with a hen on her knee, wondering just how irate Charlie Davenport was going to be when he realised she’d turned up outside his consultation hours. He really didn’t seem keen on her anyway, there’d been an undercurrent when they’d met. He was going to like her even less now.

  ‘Miss Jacobs?’ He didn’t sound cross, more preoccupied, and professional, which for some strange reason left her feeling slightly deflated.

  The run in they’d had in the car park had been ridiculous though. I mean what was wrong with the man? What did he think she’d been doing with the van? It had seemed pretty obvious to her, and sensible. Parking on the road and causing an obstruction would have been stupid.

  She’d bumped into him three times now, and two of those times she’d somehow ended up in his arms, then he’d looked like she was a massive inconvenience. The first time she’d been thrown back in the road like a hot potato, the second he’d backed off so quickly she might have had something contagious. He had offered to show her round the village, but some time obviously meant way into the future. But he wasn’t really to blame, he’d offered on impulse to make up for not coming into school, then probably instantly regretted it, and it wasn’t his fault she’d actually been quite looking forward to it (to an almost stalker-ish degree – did strolling past the surgery most days with a pig on a lead count as normal?).

  She stood up and followed him through to the consulting room, hoping there was actually something wrong with the chicken, and she wasn’t just using it as an excuse to come here. But it was walking in a funny way. Very funny, even for a chicken.

  He was peering over his glasses at her, looking very serious. Like he had in the car park. Hadn’t even James Herriot had a sense of humour, a good bedside manner? Or was she thinking about somebody else?

  His hair was more tousled than it had been when she’d seen him before, with a bit sticking up that her fingers were itching to straighten. She curled her fingers into fists to stop herself, he wasn’t a child in her class, he was a grown man. A very grown man. His chin had a darker shadow than last time she’d seen him. Very Poldark. From the firmness of his chest last time he’d grabbed her, she’d say he’d probably look quite good stripped to the waist, swinging a stethoscope rather than a scythe.

  Even the glasses made him look sexy. Oh God, since when had she fancied the studious type? She had to get out more.

  Luckily he didn’t seem to notice that she was mentally undressing him, tidying his hair or slowly removing his specs. He was more interested in the sorry looking chicken that seemed to have lost its cluck.

  The hen melted into his hands as he took it out of the box, which wasn’t at all how it had reacted when she’d put it in. There had been flapping and the threat of its sharp little beak. It glanced over at her reproachfully as it sank down on to the black, rubber topped table, as though to say that’s how you handle a hen. She glared back with a silent you’ll be accompanying stuffing and roast potatoes soon if you’re not careful.

  ‘Settling in okay?’ Charlie interrupted their staring competition, and she wasn’t sure if it was directed at the hen or her, as he was studying it so intently. The hen’s head sank further into its shoulders. He glanced up, and she had a brief glimpse of his dark brown eyes before he looked away.

  ‘Er, yes, thanks. Fine.’

  ‘And what seems to be the problem?’

  ‘Well nothing, oh sorry, the hen. She looks, er, well she’s not happy, and she’s been waddling like a penguin.’ She put her arms out, about to do an impression when she realised she wasn’t in school now and stopped abruptly.

  He nodded, so she carried on with the speech she’d rehearsed while she’d been waiting, which was sounding pretty strange even to her own ears, but it was the best she could do. ‘She’s been, well squatting and, this might sound silly,’ definitely not the time to demonstrate, ‘it’s as if she’s constipated.’ Staring at the chicken seemed the safest bet, but she risked a quick look up to see if he was laughing. He wasn’t. He was still looking very professional. ‘I’m afraid I don’t really know much at all about hens, well any animals if I’m honest.’

  ‘Well I’d say that’s a pretty good description of an egg-bound chicken. Very succinct.’

  She flushed, embarrassingly pleased at the praise, which made a change from being pushed out of the way as he rushed off to handle an emergency.

  ‘Annie left feeding instructions?’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘And you’ve followed them?’

  ‘To the letter.’ She could feel herself bristling, if there was one thing she was good at it was following instructions.

  ‘Plenty of water?’
>
  ‘Plenty. Would you like to check?’

  He didn’t even bother looking at her, but carried on examining the hen. ‘It feels like it’s just a bit on the large side, if you can just hold…’

  She must have looked horrified.

  He picked the hen up in large capable hands, and it settled against his chest, practically cooing. She couldn’t blame it, she’d felt quite safe and secure when he’d done the same to her…oh hell, she’d promised herself she would not think about that again. ‘I’ll just take her through and get Sally to give me a hand, see if we can get it out. If that’s okay?’

  Well that brought her back down to earth. She wasn’t exactly squeamish but there were limits to how far into this looking after livestock thing she was going to go. ‘Fine. Good.’ Holding a hen while a vet prised an over-sized egg out of its rear was not on her to-do list at all.

  ‘Take a seat in the waiting room if you like, won’t be long.’

  The waiting room was bright and airy, modern and completely at odds with everything else in the village. There was a polite notice displayed prominently on the desk, next to Sally’s computer, stating that payment for all treatment had to be made on the day. To the left was a neat notice board, with a photo of some adorable terrier puppies needing good homes, a missing cat poster, and a notice about the annual May Day celebrations. There were also posters about the need for annual vaccinations, and one with a very creepy looking picture of a tick. She diverted her gaze towards the display stand that had a variety of dog toys, along with brushes and combs, and a stack of convalescence cat food.

  ‘All done! One much happier hen.’

  She started guiltily. Sally was holding the hen, which did indeed look relieved.

  ‘Here you go.’ Charlie held up a very large, and slightly misshapen, egg. ‘It’s probably just a one-off, but if it happens again then we’ll look at their diet.’

  ‘So, it’s nothing I’ve done?’

  ‘No.’ Sally grinned reassuringly as she put the hen back in the box, then nodded towards the May Day poster Lucy had been looking at. ‘I’m counting on you to make sure the kids don’t tie themselves in knots round the maypole this year, I swear Timothy lets them do it on purpose so he can sneak off for a pint.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Oh yes, hasn’t the crafty devil told you yet?’ She giggled.

  ‘I’m beginning to wonder just how much he hasn’t actually explained.’ She looked pointedly at Charlie, who shook his head. But this time there was a hint of a smile.

  ‘And before you ask again, the answer is still no, I’m not coming in to talk to the kids.’ He paused. ‘Sorry, if I was a bit brusque the other day though when you were with Jim, it’s just it was a bit of a life and death thing, well I thought it was.’

  ‘Life and death!’ Sally rolled her eyes. ‘Can you believe it? Serena rang to say little Twinkle was dying, and it just turned out she’d come into season! Oh gosh,’ she put a hand over her mouth, ‘I really shouldn’t say things like that.’

  ‘I only have two words to say.’ Charlie raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Client confidentiality.’ They both chimed together, but Sally didn’t look at all put out.

  ‘We all know she’s just trying to get her wicked way with you though, lure you over there. One day you’ll arrive and she’ll be in a negligee.’

  ‘Who’s to say it hasn’t happened already?’

  Lucy could have sworn there was the slightest hint of a blush spreading along Charlie’s cheekbones as he spoke.

  She was also slightly shocked to see this light-hearted side of Charlie, who was more relaxed in Sally’s company than she could have imagined. Maybe there was something going on between them, and the moment he was alone (or with her) he’d revert to type.

  ‘If it had happened, you’d be locked in your operating theatre and have battened down the hatches, Charlie Davenport.’

  ‘You know me far too well, Sal.’ He dropped the egg into Lucy’s hand. ‘I’m looking forward to May Day already.’ His tone was grave, but there was the slightest hint of a humour in the crinkles that fanned out from his eyes.

  Sally giggled. ‘Never work with animals or children, isn’t that what they say Charlie?’

  ‘And that, Sally, is why I steer clear of the school. Animals on their own are no problem at all, it’s the owners and the children that scare me.’ He took a step back, towards the safety of the counter that divided his world from the public. ‘You did the right thing bringing her in straight away, if you’re worried at all, call.’

  Sally leaned in as Lucy picked the box, and chicken, up. Her voice was low. ‘You know what? I think you’ve got a chance of winning him over, you know. He’s weakening.’

  ‘He is?’ He didn’t exactly look weak to her.

  ‘He is. Yet again, Timothy Parry plays a blinder. That man is smarter than he looks.’

  Two days later on her first day at Langtry Meadows primary school, Lucy had to admit that head teacher Timothy Parry was indeed sharper than his unassuming manner suggested.

  ‘Staff meeting in ten minutes ladies, and then we can all have a cup of tea and a biscuit.’ He gazed at the classroom display, which she’d nearly finished putting up with the help of Jill. The classroom assistant was currently balanced on a chair, hanging on to the end of some colourful bunting with one hand, had a drawing pin in the other and a picture of a duck between her teeth. ‘Splendid, all hands to the pump eh? Very good.’

  She rolled her eyes at Lucy, who giggled.

  ‘You’ll love the May Day celebrations,’ Jill’s words were muffled by the duck which flapped up and down in her mouth as she spoke the words, ‘it’s great fun, the whole village turns out. And this bunting can stay up for the rest of the year if you like.’ She fastened it into place and jumped off the chair. ‘Still not persuaded Charlie boy to come in?’ The duck was assaulted with the staple gun and the two girls stood back to admire their handiwork. ‘He’ll cave in eventually, men always do, anything for a quiet life.’ She paused, ‘although I’m surprised he’s refused, he used to be pretty easy going.’

  ‘You knew him before?’

  ‘Oh yeah, he lived in the village until he went to Uni. He moved on to bigger, better things after he graduated, but still came back to see his parents. Now,’ she adjusted the maypole which was looking a bit like the leaning tower of Pisa. ‘We normally let the kids do pictures of themselves to pin them round the pole, but it’s completely up to you?’

  Lucy nodded, trying to concentrate on the job in hand, and stop wondering about Charlie and his aversion to the school. ‘Sounds like a good plan to me, it’ll help me get to grips with all the names. Although to be honest this should be easy compared to the class of thirty-five I had before.’

  ‘You’ll soon learn their quirks. It’s the twins that are the tricky bit, they swap clothes.’ Jill tapped her watch. ‘I suppose we better head for the staff room, Tim comes across as a bit bumbling and easy-going, but he’s a stickler for punctuality. It’s a control thing.’ She grinned. ‘You have to hang on to the little things in this job, don’t you?’

  Lucy smiled back. ‘You certainly do.’ The atmosphere at the school was unlike any other she’d worked in. It was gentle, easy-paced (with the exception of Liz, who scurried around as though she was on fire) and she had no problem at all with sticking to an agenda and being punctual. Control was a word she quite liked herself.

  Her classroom for the next half term was much brighter and lighter than she’d expected it to be, in such a small old building. Large windows on one side of the classroom let in the sun, and gave a view that would be hard to beat in any school. She reluctantly pulled the window shut and glanced across the field for one last time before following Jill out of the classroom.

  Next time she came in here it would be chaos; excited children fresh from their holidays, keen to test out their new teacher.

  ‘Now one final point before we wrap up for the day.’ Timothy looked
around the staff room and beamed in Lucy’s direction. ‘As our temporary replacement for Becky, Lucy will of course be taking on most of her responsibilities. I’m sure that you will give her all the support she needs as we approach May Day, two weeks preparation is a bit on the tight side, but I have all confidence in her.’

  There was a smattering of applause, and murmurs of approval. She glanced at Jill for some inkling of what was going on, and received a wink back.

  ‘Liz will of course help with the equipment.’ This was sounding scarier by the second. ‘And Jill knows the erm, ropes, as it were.’ He chuckled. ‘Or should I say ribbons.’

  Jill patted her hand reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. It goes wrong every year and nobody cares, they’re far more interested in getting stuck into the Pimms and beer.’

  ‘And what is ‘it’ exactly?’ Lucy put down her pad of paper, and looked around at the staff who had given her a warm welcome, but were now looking suspiciously relieved.

  ‘Dancing around the maypole of course,’ Liz who was up on her feet collecting cups paused by Lucy, ‘it goes up on the village green, but don’t you go worrying about that, we use the post in the middle of the veterinary surgery car park to practise. There’s plenty of space there, and Eric loves watching us, he’s even been known to join in.’

  ‘But Eric isn’t here.’ Lucy would have buried her head in her hands if she hadn’t had every eye in the staff room fixed on her. Eric might have loved it, but she had a horrible feeling that Charlie Davenport wouldn’t approve at all. So much for their temporary truce.

  ***

  ‘You look like you need a stiff drink!’

  Lucy glanced up in surprise as the deep male voice reverberated across the playground and snapped her out of the mental battle she was fighting. Her brain had turned to spaghetti and she was still trying to untangle all the bits of information she’d picked up today, and work out how she was going to fit in all the extra tasks she seemed to have agreed to.

  ‘You aren’t kidding.’ She felt the frown fade from her brow as she stepped through the school entrance, took a deep breath and looked at Charlie. ‘The kids aren’t even in yet and I’m beginning to wonder what I’ve let myself in for.’