Authors: Rebecca Shaw
“But that’s what he doesn’t…”
“I bet one of his eventers would have had quicker treatment than this, no matter the cost.”
“Yes, but you see …”
“It may surprise you to know that cows feel pain just as much as horses.”
Dan, having assessed the cow’s problem, went back to his vehicle and picked out the drugs which past experience told him he would need. He returned and concentrated on treating the cow. While he waited for an injection to bring down the milk into the infected quarter to take effect, he gave the cow antibiotics into the vein. After a few minutes he was able to strip out the milk and give the cow some relief. “I would normally suggest that I leave you some antibiotics for you to give her for the next three days; but in view of your reluctance to call us in, I’ll be back in the morning myself first thing. Right?”
Angered by his attitude, Chris said, “Right. Perhaps next time you might let me get a word in edgeways.”
Dan turned back. “I’m so sorry, please … be my guest.”
“His lordship gets wild if I call in a vet too early or if he considers we could have managed without. It’s the money, you see. It all goes on the horses. It’s more than my job’s worth; I’ve a wife and children, and we’re living in a tied house and that. If I upset him we’ll all be homeless. Scott knew that and made allowances.”
“I beg your pardon. I was angry; it always affects me like that when pain could have been avoided. I’ll clear it with …” The clatter of hooves and a loud, braying voice interrupted him.
Quietly Chris said, “That’s him back.”
“Right. See you tomorrow.” Dan, emerging from the archway, saw a splendid black horse skittering about on the cobbles; and mounted on its impressive back was a giant of a man in immaculate riding kit. From under his riding hat a thick swath of snow-white hair framed a ruddy, well-fleshed face with a prominent pulpy nose dominating it.
“Mornin’ to you. Who might you be? Here, Gavin, take him for me.” Lord Askew dismounted and eyed Dan up and down. He was a head taller than Dan, so the word giant was very apt. His shoulders were wide, his chest built like a barrel and his arms were thick as tree trunks.
Dan held out his hand. “I’m Dan Brown from Barleybridge.”
Lord Askew ignored his outstretched hand. “Seeing that damned cow of mine, I’ve no doubt. Eh? More cost. Coming back tomorrow, are you, on some flimsy excuse? More money. Never ending it is.”
Dan deliberately kept his voice low in sharp contrast to his lordship. “You have a herd of over a hundred cows and you can’t expect them to produce milk at the rate they do without needing attention from time to time …”
“Eh? Speak up. Can’t hear.”
Dan raised the level of his voice but kept the same quiet determination in his tone. “I’m sorry to have to say this, but I should have been called earlier. In fact, to be honest, I’m annoyed your stockman has felt compelled to leave it so late.”
Lord Askew began to bluster. “I damn well don’t know who you are, but whoever you are you’ve too damn much to say for yourself. Too damn much, and I shall be having a word with Mungo Price about you. What’s yer name, you say?”
“Dan Brown. You can have as many words as you like, but Mungo will agree with me that she shouldn’t have been left for
so long. As I have several other calls to make this morning; if you will excuse me, I must leave right now.”
“Damned impertinence! There’s no need to come back in the morning. My stockman can see to her.”
“Either I take responsibility for her or I don’t, you can’t have it both ways. I shall be here tomorrow. By the way, that roan”—he nodded his head in the direction of the roan now tethered to a ring in the stable wall—“has a problem with its front feet.”
Lord Askew’s face registered shock bordering on horror. “Eh? Eh?”
“Good morning to you.”
Dan drove away seething with temper and well aware he’d made a big mistake tackling Lord Askew in the way he had, but people like him made his blood boil. Mungo would be rather less than pleased to have that blustering idiot complaining on the phone, though. Well, if it cost him his job so what? He had his principles; and that poor stockman, tied hand and fist because of his domestic circumstances, couldn’t be allowed to take the blame. Dan Brown was probably heading for the biggest apology of his life.
On his way to Tattersall’s Cop he called in at the practice for the results of the specimens he’d sent to the laboratory, to be faced by an indignant Joy. She beckoned him into her office with a schoolmarmish finger. “I have had Lord Askew on the phone. What on earth have you said to him, as if I need to ask.”
“I’ve no doubt he explained very thoroughly, Joy, and I shall make a point of apologizing to him tomorrow when I go.”
“You won’t be going. He refuses to have you on his land.”
“Does he indeed.”
“Also, what on earth were you doing examining one of his horses? It’s hardly veterinary etiquette, is it?”
“I didn’t. It was obvious. Only a fool could have missed it.”
Joy calmed down a little and a glimmer of amusement flicked across her face. “Only a fool!”
“Yes. I must confess his lordship looked more than a little startled. I bet their so-called equine vet will be there humming and hawing this very minute. Mail come?”
“Yes. Here we are.” She handed him the letter he was waiting for and watched as he opened it.
His face lit up and he raised a clenched fist into the air. “Eureka! I knew I was right! Ha!”
Briefly, Joy couldn’t help but like him. “This won’t cancel the appointment you have with Mungo at one. He can’t see you now because he has a full list of consultations this morning, but he wants you to make sure you’re here. We can’t afford to lose a good customer, and Lord Askew has a lot of influence. It’s not just him we’ll lose; he’ll tell half the county.”
Dan, looking at her with a dead-straight face, replied, “You’re very wrong there, very wrong; he’ll tell
all
the county Nothing I did or said was out of order, believe me. I will not tolerate neglect. Must be off. This Tattersall’s Cop, is there anything I should know?”
“Beautiful, beautiful setting. Lovely people, struggling to make ends meet. We try to be economical with their bills.”
Dan raised his eyebrows. “Tut-tut! That won’t pay back the overdraft.”
There he was again, catching her on the raw. Rather tartly she answered him with “That’s Mungo’s worry not yours.”
“Indeed it is. Be seeing you at one.” As Dan went back into reception, he glanced around the seating area, catching the eye of a few of the clients and giving them a brusque nod of greeting.
After the door had closed on his departure, one of the longstanding clients called out to Joy, “He looks a bit grim, Joy.”
Between tight lips she answered, “His heart’s in the right place.”
“Well, he certainly wasn’t in the right place when good looks were given out.”
A general chortle broke out.
“Bring back Scott, I say,” another client contributed to the debate.
“All these bleeding hearts he’s left behind, nothing short of criminal.”
“It was ’is ’ands I liked, sensitive they were.”
“Did you ever see him in his shorts?” The client rolled her eyes in appreciation.
“Oops! Steady, Bridget, you’ll be spinning out of control!”
They all laughed and then resettled to discussing their animals’ symptoms.
Joy silently agreed with them. Despite the broken hearts among her own staff, Scott had brought laughter and delight with him to the practice every day and that couldn’t be bad; added to which, the farm clients loved him for his expertise. She’d an idea they would appreciate Dan’s knowledge too, but they’d never appreciate the man. And neither would she.
B
Y
a quarter to one Dan was eating his homemade sandwiches outside on the old bench by the back door. There was a powerful wind coming down from Beulah Bank Top, which seemed to slice through any clothing you chose to be wearing, but Dan preferred the peace and quiet to the banter in the staff room where most of the staff ate their lunch. Social chitchat had never appealed to him and still less now with so much on his mind. Though when he’d visited Tattersall’s Cop, his own problems had been momentarily forgotten. What a beautiful, neat little farm it was, loving care in every inch of hedging, in every ditch, in every farm building but … it seemed to Dan that Callum Tattersall dabbled first in this and then in that, never
sticking at anything long enough to get real returns on his investment. He hadn’t enough acres, not enough guts and, to be honest, not enough commitment. Bad luck had played a big part in his life too, or so Callum had said as they shared a mounting block while they drank their coffee. A sick wife needing a lot of care, a one-in-a-thousand chance of disease decimating his entire turkey flock, his scheme for producing fresh farm yogurt failing, to say nothing of the race horse he had bought a share in which, after falling at the first fence, was never fit for racing again. But you dratted well couldn’t help but like the man. A shadow fell across his legs, and he looked up to find Mungo standing beside him. Dan put the apple he was about to sink his teeth into in his pocket and shifted farther along the bench to make room for him.
Mungo broke the silence with, “Well?”
“I was polite, controlled and well mannered, and absolutely right. Like you, I abhor animals having to suffer because their owners are too mean to get treatment for them; and that’s what it is: absolute, sod-awful meanness that makes that huge well-fed lord of the manor refuse to allow the stockman to call for help when the chap knows it’s needed. I shall go tomorrow to attend the cow, in spite of being forbidden to do so, because my professional integrity is being challenged and neither you nor I can allow that. I shall, however, apologize.” Dan looked at Mungo and waited for his reply.
“The big mistake was examining the horse.”
“I didn’t. Just watching him trot across the yard I knew his problem, without doubt.” Dan grinned. “You should have seen old Askew’s face when I commented on his limp. You’d have enjoyed it.”
“Would I? You’re not wet behind the ears—I’m well aware of that—you know what you’re doing, but I’ve spent twenty
years of my life building up this practice and I don’t want to lose it all because of someone …”
“Yes?”
“ … someone who thinks he’s a clever beggar.”
Dan grunted and held back on an angry reply.
Mungo, sensing his anger, tried a more conciliatory approach. “Horses. I didn’t realize.”
“Worked for an Arab sheikh for a while. Learned a lot.”
“Interesting work.”
Dan nodded. “You’d do well to take horses on. Just that bit more money into the coffers. You see plenty hereabouts when you’re driving around.”
“Never had the inclination.”
“Worth thinking about. There’s money in it.”
“Got to speak frankly, Dan. To be honest, I’m not in it for the money. Yes, I have wages to pay and drugs to buy and a building to keep up, but my main reason for being a vet is the animals; and their needs are paramount in my mind. Do well by them and you and I will get on famously; have money as your prime motivation and we won’t, and you can leave.”
“You’re not questioning my integrity too, are you?”
“No, I am not. I’m just … telling you. Putting it on the line, so we both know where we stand.” Mungo stood up and faced him. “Watch yourself tomorrow. I dislike Lord Askew as much as you do; there’s nothing gracious or pleasing about him, but he is a client, his bills are always paid on the dot and we owe him a duty of care, and also he has a lot of influence.”
“Exactly, a duty of care and that’s just what I shall be doing when I go in the morning: caring.”
“Good, then you and I understand each other. Dinner with us tomorrow night in the flat, Miriam says, if you’ve nothing better to do.”
“Thanks. Yes.”
“Seven-thirty.”
“Fine. I look forward to it.”
D
AN
arrived at Mungo and Miriam’s at seven-twenty-nine precisely after a long, arduous day. He was the last to arrive. Waiting to greet him were Joy and her husband, Duncan; Colin and his wife, Letty; and a heavily pregnant Zoe with no husband. Something about the tension in the air made him wonder if this was to become a third-degree interrogation, because here he was, faced with all three partners.
Miriam came out of the kitchen and broke into smiles on seeing him. “Dan! How lovely!”
She gave him a great big hug as naturally as if they’d known each other for years and he responded gladly, “Miriam! Nice to see you again.”
When she released him, she asked what he would like to drink. Briefly he studied her face, saw how genuine her greeting was and felt grateful. “A whiskey and water, please.”
“Mungo, a whiskey and water for Dan. The food is almost ready.” She crossed her fingers and laughed.
Colin introduced his wife, Letty. She was short and round and pale and blond, and had the misfortune to have chosen to wear a cream wool suit and Vaseline on her lips instead of lipstick, so she appeared to have no substance at all, but her tongue belied her appearance. “Got the practice into deep trouble and you’ve only been here a week.”
“Letty!” Colin protested.
“Deep trouble?”
“Hadn’t you heard? Lord Askew has canceled his account with us.”
“No, I hadn’t heard. More fool him.”
“After your rudeness …”
Colin interrupted, “Letty! It’s none of your business. Leave it.”
Looking Colin directly in the face, she said, “Our income is my business. It cost an arm and a leg to set up this place. If the practice fails, so too do we.” In profile Dan saw that Letty’s nose was longer and sharper than any he’d seen in a long time. Unfulfilled, that was her trouble. Then he smiled inwardly at his assumption, or thought he had.
“It’s amusing, is it?”
Insulted by Letty’s thinking he was not taking the matter seriously enough, Dan answered her sharply, “No, it is not.”
“Wait till Mungo’s taken in what’s happened. You’ll be out on your ear in no time at all.”
Dan, growing angrier by the minute, asked her, “Shall I indeed?”