Читать книгу The Country Vet - Eleanor Jones - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

CASS DROVE BACK to the clinic on autopilot, her heart heavy with a dull ache that spread through her whole body. She’d had no choice, she knew that, and so did the old man who’d given his permission. Healing the pain of innocent animals was the whole reason she’d become a vet. The taking of life was the dark side of her job, but sometimes necessary. It had been a sad relief to see the pain-misted eyes of the sweet little pony glaze over. Surely the man...Jake...must have understood that. Then why had he been so hostile? Or was that just his way of dealing with pain?

The older man, Bill, had followed Cass to her car, still trying to explain. Rosie had been Jake’s daughter’s pony, he said, his last real link with her, so obviously he was upset. Normally, the only vet Jake ever allowed near his horses was Donald, which didn’t help the situation.

What had happened to his daughter? Cass wondered, looking out for the sign to Little Dale. She would be glad when today was over and she could forget about Jake Munro and the poor, unfortunate pony—not that there was much chance of that, she realized. The memories were already crowding back. What was it about the man that had made such an impression on her, anyway?

She would never forget the echoing ring of horse’s hooves on the hard surface of the yard, breaking the awful silence of death in the barn and giving her an excuse to escape from the emotion that threatened to suffocate her. She had stepped out into the dusk of evening in a daze, blinking to focus in the half light as Jake Munro appeared from the shadows, looming above her. For some reason, it was his scuffed tan boots that she’d noticed first. Her gaze had settled on their well-worn toes, traveling up jean-clad legs to finally meet his glittering blue eyes, eyes that had held hers with such a fierce intensity it seemed for a moment as if the world stood still. And for one crazy, endless second she had wanted to run into his arms and release all the agony of the last half hour.

Cass blinked hard, focusing on her driving—anything to cut out the embarrassment of that moment. Was she going absolutely crazy, reacting like that to a total stranger?

“Cass Truman,” she told herself out loud. “You need to get a grip. It wasn’t the first time you’ve had a hard task, and it sure won’t be the last, so get over it.”

The sign for the clinic loomed ahead. With a sigh of relief, she pulled into the cobbled yard behind the huddle of buildings and cut the engine, allowing her thoughts to go back to the poor old pony once again. Damn Jake Munro. She’d done what she had to do, she knew that, and if he demanded a postmortem, then he would know it, too.

* * *

“BIT OF TROUBLE TODAY, Cassandra?”

Todd Andrews, her boss at Low Fell Animal Clinic, looked up with a quizzical smile as Cass walked in. Despite his pleasant expression, she could see that he wasn’t happy. Her heart sank. She was still on probation here, and she could do without upsetting the boss on her first day.

“Not really. Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “It had to be done, and if the pony’s owner was upset, I apologize. I’m here to care for animals, though, not people.”

“Whoa...pony? I was talking about Tom Alston.”

An image of the angry, muddy farmer flashed back into her mind and she rolled her eyes, shrugging. “He doesn’t like new vets, that’s all. Especially slightly-built female ones, I guess, as he kept harping on about me not being strong enough to do the job. Well, I am strong enough, and I can’t do anything about my gender, can I?”

Suddenly Todd grinned, his expression relaxing. “Look Cassandra,” he began.

“Cass,” she cut in. “Sorry, I hate Cassandra.”

Todd ignored her comment. “You’re bound to have the occasional problem with the older farmers around here, I’m afraid. Some of them are still living in the 1960s. Could you just try and charm them a little? It might help.”

“I’m not that good on charm,” Cass replied. “But I will try. Men like Tom Alston drive me nuts, though.”

“He’s just a struggling hill farmer, like a lot of others around here.” Todd sighed, running one hand through his curly gray hair. “He’s trying to make a living in the same way as his father and his grandfather did before him when it’s hardly possible anymore.”

Cass’s face softened. “I guess,” she agreed. “It’s just that I hate being bullied.”

“So what was the problem with the pony then?” Todd asked reluctantly. The phone rang before Cass could complete her explanation. Todd held the phone away from his ear and Jake’s raised voice boomed out into the room.

“How could she have been so sure it was a twisted gut? She should’ve called for backup...rung you...anything!”

Todd’s thick, dark eyebrows drew together, meeting in an arc above his nose. Cass found herself concentrating on them as she listened to her boss’s calm, deep voice assuring Jake that she was well qualified and promising a postmortem first thing in the morning.

Todd hung up and sighed again. “He wants Donald to do the postmortem.”

“I don’t care what Jake Munro says,” she snapped. “Or what his excuses are. The pony was suffering—his father could see it. He agreed with me. I could have done the postmortem there and then, shown him the proof. I offered.”

“He will only have Donald,” Todd repeated. “He’s our best horse vet, after all.”

Hot color flooded Cass’s face. “I’m really sorry for going on about this, but I know I did the right thing. I suppose the whole situation upset me, to be honest. The pony was so sweet.” She held up her hands, smiling apologetically. “I know that’s not very professional.”

“There’s nothing wrong with caring,” Todd said.

“Well, do you think I could at least go along with Donald tomorrow? I’d really like to see this through.”

She twisted her fingers together, wondering if now was the right time to tell her new boss about her ambitions for the future.

“I really want to specialize in horses, as well, and it would be good experience.”

Todd smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad to hear that. I like to encourage ambition in my staff. It will have to be very early tomorrow, though. He has to be in Doncaster by afternoon.”

“Thanks.” Cass removed bottles of medication from her bag, putting them carefully back into the refrigerator. “And I’m sorry for upsetting your clients.”

“Oh, they’ll get used to you eventually,” Todd said.

* * *

CASS SLICED CHEESE on a piece of bread and doubled it into a sandwich. But after the events of the day, she couldn’t even think about cooking—or eating—at all, she decided, placing it back on the plate.

A vivid memory of the sweet little pony filled her mind and sadness welled up inside her. There was nothing more she could have done, however, and tomorrow would prove it.

Flipping open her phone case, she pressed Home on her contacts list. The ringing droned in her ears and she canceled the call, scrolling down to her dad’s cell number. When she heard his familiar voice, warm and vibrant, tears pressed against her eyelids.

“Hi, Dad, it’s just me. How’s Mum?”

Her jovial tone sounded forced, and he obviously knew it.

“You really don’t need to worry, Cass. It was just a scare, a false alarm. She wouldn’t even have told you at all if I hadn’t insisted.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Dad. I need to know these things. She should have told me right away.”

“That’s what I said, love. Anyway, how are you, and how’s that new job of yours going?”

By the time Cass had related her experience at Sky View to her dad and made him chuckle at her story about the manure-splattered farmer, she felt a whole lot better.

“Now don’t you worry about us,” her dad told her. “Just concentrate on your career. We might come over to see you soon, if we can get anyone to mind the store for a day or two.”

Feeling calmer after talking to her dad, Cass finished her light meal and called it a night, expecting to find sleep elusive. However, her eyes closed as soon as her head hit the pillow, and the next thing she knew, the school bell was ringing in her dreams, calling her in to lessons. She jerked awake, reaching out to turn off her alarm clock, totally in the present as the events of yesterday came back to her.

The sun was hardly over the hills when Cass and Donald set off for Sky View Stables.

The middle-aged vet glanced across at her. “You’re very quiet,” he remarked, nosing his large four-by-four up the narrow lane.

Cass might have been sitting beside him but her head was definitely elsewhere.

He tried again. “You okay, lass? Don’t let Jake upset you.”

Cass started, her thoughts rushing back to the present. “Oh, I’m not letting him upset me. I was just miles away.”

“I could see that. In a nice place, I hope.”

“I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer, I’m afraid—one of my worse traits. To be honest, I was thinking about my mum. She hasn’t been well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Noting the kind expression on his face, she felt a flush creep up her cheeks. “Thanks. And...look, I’m really sorry about you having to do this postmortem. I could easily have done it myself yesterday.”

“No worries,” Donald said. “I think I need to apologize on Jake’s behalf. He can be a bit touchy, but he does have his reasons.”

“That’s exactly what Todd said,” Cass murmured. “But surely there’s no excuse for downright rudeness?”

Donald smiled. “I heard that Tom Alston was pretty rude to you yesterday, too, but that doesn’t seem to have got to you.”

Cass twisted around to face him, her interest raised. “What is this reason, for Jake Munro’s attitude? Or is it just an excuse?”

Donald put the vehicle into gear. It juddered violently, throwing Cass into the window.

“Hey,” she cried. “I do want to get there, you know.”

“Sorry, this old vehicle could do with some attention. Anyway, are you sure about that, after yesterday...getting there, I mean?”

Cass’s mouth set into a firm line as she glanced at him, catching his eye.

“Yesterday would have been a tragedy no matter who owned the little mare. I did what needed to be done. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”

“Good for you.” He nodded. “And I guess you’ll be looking forward to saying ‘I told you so.’ Is that why you wanted to come?”

Cass’s response was immediate. “No, not at all. I came because I want to see it through. The guy was obviously very upset. Anyone would be. It still doesn’t give him the right to be so unpleasant.”

“What if I told you that his mother and little daughter were both killed in an accident a while ago,” Donald said quietly, concentrating on the road ahead. “And he doesn’t like people to talk about it, so you never heard it from me.”

A lurch of sympathy left Cass momentarily speechless. “I didn’t realize,” she eventually managed. “And of course the chestnut was his daughter’s pony.”

Donald shrugged. “Yes, but you weren’t to know. It wouldn’t have made any difference, anyway...if she did have a twisted gut.”

Cass fought back a sharp retort, staring out the window but seeing nothing. Jake would understand soon enough, and then maybe next time no one would question her.

“Was it his fault?” she asked quietly.

“Oh, no,” Donald said. “Well, at least not directly. I think he may blame himself, though. He was away, competing in Europe, when it happened.”

“Competing?” echoed Cass.

Donald nodded, carefully negotiating the entrance to Sky View.

“He used to show jump. Top level, too. He gave it up after the accident.”

“So what does he do now?”

Cass’s question fell on deaf ears as Jake Munro’s tall figure materialized in front of the Land Rover, forcing it to stop. He was just as she remembered—ruggedly handsome and fierce, his expression extremely arrogant. Was he like that before the accident? Somehow, Cass thought he probably was.

The tense line of his jaw softened when Donald climbed out of the vehicle. Jake almost smiled.

“Morning,” he called, holding out his hand and ignoring Cass. Donald took it, pumping it up and down, his soft white fingers clutched in Jake’s broad, suntanned grip.

“Bad business,” Donald remarked. “How are you holding up?”

Jake’s response was curt and to the point. “These things happen. I just needed to be sure.”

He looked pointedly at Cass, who held his gaze unflinchingly, raising her chin with an air of defiance.

“I’m already sure,” she said.

“Right, then,” interrupted Donald. “Let’s get on with it.”

Jake watched, arms wrapped across his chest and dark eyes narrowed, until Donald took out his scalpel. Then he turned on his heel and walked away to lean against the paddock fence, resting his head on his forearms. For a moment, Cass felt like going to him and placing her hand on his taut shoulders. No matter how irritating he was, the poor guy was suffering—she could see that.

“Look at this,” Donald said, getting her attention.

Cass had seen enough postmortems and dead creatures in the last few years to make her pretty hardened. They’d gone to a better place—it was only their owners who suffered now. But this pony, Rosie, had gotten to her somehow. She was glad of the blanket someone had so thoughtfully laid over her, relieved not to see her glazed eyes.

Donald was on his knees.

“Look,” he repeated. “Half the gut must have already been dead when you euthanized her. Poor little beggar.”

A shadow fell across them, and Cass glanced up to see Jake. His face was expressionless.

“Good job Cass acted quickly, as far as I can see,” Donald said. “I’ll tidy up here while you go and put the kettle on.”

“I’ll finish for you if you like,” Cass offered.

“Is that it then?” Jake said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, turning away abruptly.

“Thanks, Cass,” Donald cut in before she could respond, obviously trying to lighten the mood. He stood up, smiling. “I think I’ll take you on all my jobs.” When they both ignored him, he walked off toward the house. “I guess I’ll go put the kettle on myself, then,” he called.

Jake began to follow him, but stopped to look back at Cass, holding her defiant gaze.

“I really am sorry about Rosie,” she said quietly, her expression softening. “It must be tough for you.”

“What, no ‘I told you so?’” he retorted.

She just shook her head, turning her attention back to the job at hand, and he glared at her for another moment before striding off after Donald.

“No change there, then,” she murmured.Cass finished up and put Donald’s bag back in the Land Rover before following the two men across the yard toward the square, stone cottage. It should have been a pretty building, she thought, but the roses that had once grown around the front door looked half-dead, and the whole place needed fresh paint and some TLC. She found herself wondering what it had been like when Jake’s mother was alive.

A man’s deep voice interrupted her daydream.

“They’ll be round the back in the kitchen.”

Looking up with a start, she saw Bill Munro standing in the shadow of an oak tree at the side of the yard, one hand stroking his bearded chin.

She smiled impulsively, pleased to see the old man. He fell into step beside her.

“You were right, then?” he asked.

“You knew I was.”

He nodded slowly.

“Yes, I knew, but there’s no telling Jake. He had to see for himself.”

“I don’t suppose I’ll get an apology.”

Bill’s bright blue eyes sparkled. “You’ve already sussed him out, I see.”

Cass wanted to tell Bill how sorry she was to hear about his wife and granddaughter, but it wasn’t her business, and she didn’t want him to think she’d been prying.

Bill walked with her toward the kitchen door. “Staying around here long?” he asked.

Cass shrugged, smiling. “I hope to. I like the beautiful wild countryside and the tranquility.”

“You’re staying at the B and B, I believe?”

She glanced at him in amusement.

“Does everyone know everything around here? It’s temporary, while I look for somewhere to rent.”

“What, you mean a cottage or something?”

“Something,” she responded. “I’m not really sure, to be honest. I could do with a place for six months or so. I’m only on a six-month contract at the moment—a kind of trial period, I suppose you’d call it.”

She placed her hand on the dull brass handle in front of her, pressing it down with a sense of foreboding. The door was scratched and dirty, and desperate for a coat of paint. She looked over at Bill.

“Are you coming in?”

He turned away, shaking his head.

“Better things to do. I’ll no doubt see you soon.”

“No doubt,” she agreed.

As Cass pushed open the door, a heavy sadness weighed her down. There was an emptiness to this place, a total lack—or loss—of love. She had a definite feeling that Jake and his dad spent most of their time avoiding each other and found herself wondering what Sky View had been like when Jake’s mother and daughter were around.

Entering the kitchen, Cass saw the two men at once. They were deep in conversation, their heads lowered as they studied something on the table. She stepped inside, taking in her surroundings. The room was large and bright with sunshine, a lovely, homey place despite the clutter that crowded every available surface.

“Hi,” she called awkwardly.

Donald glanced up, smiling. “We’re just looking at stud books. There’s coffee in the pot. Help yourself.”

Cass poured a mug and added milk, sipping it slowly without looking at Jake. “So...” she said. “I guess you’re a breeder.”

Jake ignored her, but Donald filled the gap. “Only a couple of foals a year at the moment, but he buys and sells a lot of young stock. Don’t you, Jake?”

Forced to join in the conversation, Jake met her gaze. His eyes were like his dad’s, but without the sparkle. “Just trying to make a living,” he said.

The sound of Donald’s chair scraping across the floor as he stood up broke the ensuing silence. He reached for his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder. “Come on then, Cass,” he told her. “I don’t mean to make you rush your drink, but I’m supposed to be in Doncaster by early afternoon. I’ll see you soon, Jake, hopefully in better circumstances.”

“Is he always so antisocial?” Cass asked as she and Donald clambered into his four-by-four.

Donald concentrated on the narrow lane ahead of them, slowing down and pressing on his horn to chase away a small, black-headed rough fell sheep. It stood in the road and stared at the vehicle with yellow-ringed eyes.

“You’d think they owned the road,” he declared as it sauntered off.

“I guess they do around here,” Cass remarked thoughtfully. “Was it long ago, the accident that killed Jake Munro’s family?”

“About twelve months, almost to the day. Lucy was a lovely little girl, only five years old. Her gran, Gwen, was one of those salt-of-the-earth people who would do anything to help anyone. Such a tragedy. He has a son, too—Lucy’s twin, Robbie. He went to live with his mother after the funeral. The whole business totally destroyed Jake. He gave up competing altogether, but he’s still a top-class trainer, specializing in problem horses.” A wry grin flashed across his face. “I think it’s the horses that keep him going, but as you already know, he doesn’t have much time for people.”

“You can say that again. He doesn’t even seem to have time for his dad.”

Donald frowned. “I don’t think either of them has half begun to get over their loss. He’s a great guy, Bill. He used to be in on all the local action, you know, committees and things. He raised a lot of money for charity a couple of years ago. Now I guess he’s just kind of empty.”

“It takes a long time to get over a tragedy like that,” Cass said. “If you ever really do, that is.”

Donald pulled over outside the vet clinic, leaving his engine running. “Oh, Bill will get there,” he insisted. “Jake, now, I’m not so sure about. Anyway, thanks for your company, but out you get. I’m late as it is. You’ll have to come and have dinner with us one night. Meet the brood. I’ll get Jenny to give you a call.”

Cass got out of the vehicle, glancing back inside before she slammed the door. “Thanks, Donald,” she said. “I’d like that.”

Somehow it felt as if she’d just made a friend.