A Country Affair (19 page)

“I’m glad you got yourself together again. It would be churlish of me not to wish you every success. If at any time you want to go out on a call in your spare time, just say so.”

“Thank you, I’d like that.”

“I think you should let the others know when the opportunity arises, just to clear the air. Meanwhile, you’re reception and accounts, so you’d better get back to it and please do your best to keep the atmosphere pleasant for all concerned. I value Lynne just as I value you, and Stephie and all the others. Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Thank you for letting me stay on.”

Joy sat back in her chair and pushed her fingers through her hair.
Would you believe it? Kate hoping to be a vet. Well, well.
She should have guessed. She’d make a lovely vet; she truly would. Such a pleasing girl. A girl she would have liked to have had as a daughter. When she’d married Duncan, he had declared he didn’t want children and she was so distraught at Mungo’s marriage to Miriam that at the time she hadn’t cared two hoots about anything except easing her broken heart. She’d always known that Duncan had loved her deeply when they’d first married, but she’d been the cheat, longing for it to be Mungo when she and Duncan made love and him realizing it, and finally allowing her obsession to spoil everything for them. Well, now it was too late for children but perhaps not too late for the two of them to make a real marriage of it. Duncan was making an effort and so too must she.

Joy went to the mirror in the staff restroom and gave herself a frank appraisal. Not bad for fifty-three next birthday—skin still clear and unwrinkled, eyes still bright, not a single strand of white hair showing, figure slightly full but comely. She imagined Duncan standing beside her. Did people ever notice that he was nine years younger than her? Not really. He looked gaunt and older than his years with his hollow cheeks and his deep-set eyes, and that stoop from bending over his computer all these years. She’d better keep herself in trim, though, in case this was her decade for beginning to show her age. Where would she be if a few weeks’ striding up Beulah Bank Top every day restored Duncan’s good looks and revitalized him?

T
HAT
night Duncan told her the second episode of the story of the man in the beige anorak. “He must have watched me yesterday and seen which way I’d come because as soon as I reached the stile where Beulah Bank Top really begins he was there, leaning on it, waiting. He looked cold, as though he’d been waiting quite a while. I climbed the stile and we set off, him behind me because the path is narrow there. I know it sounds odd, but we walked almost all the way to the top without speaking. I stopped in my favorite place and so did he, and we shared the boulder and ate our lunches in silence. Today he’d brought a can of lager. I looked at him and smiled, saying nothing.

“‘You don’t say much,’ he said.

“‘Neither do you,’ I replied.

“He stared into the distance.

“I said, ‘I’m willing to be quiet if that’s what you want, or you can talk if you wish.’

“He waited awhile and then looked hard at me. ‘My problem is I have no job. I was elbowed out by someone we all nicknamed Motormouth. Lot to say but did very little. I was sure I’d get the promotion; I told everyone I would. Which was stupid.’ He eased the knees of his business suit so they wouldn’t crease. ‘That’s why I’m wearing this suit. I’ve not told anyone I’ve lost my job. I go out of the door each morning, dressed for work with my lunch in my briefcase and a wave to my mother.’

“‘You mean she doesn’t know?’

“He nodded. ‘She doesn’t know, and I can’t tell her.’

“‘Can’t tell her? Why ever not? What the hell!’

“‘If you knew my mother.’ He said that so vehemently I was nonplussed. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

“‘Get another job?’

“‘I’d never get one that pays as well. I’ve so few skills.’

“‘There are companies crying out for loyal, hardworking, reliable staff. I bet you could get a job tomorrow.’

“For a moment I saw a glimmer of hope cross his face and then it disappeared. ‘You’re nothing without a job.’

“‘Right at this moment I don’t know if I shall ever work again, but you can see it isn’t bothering me.’

“He looked me square in the face. ‘Is it?’

“‘No. Because I’ve every confidence that the world is my oyster. There’s work out there for everyone if you’re a trier. I bet right now, somewhere, you are just the man someone is wishing they could employ.’

“‘Really?’

“‘Oh yes. Then you can go home to your mother and tell her that the promotion you got didn’t fulfill your expectations and you decided to get another job.’

“‘I could?’

“‘Of course. She doesn’t have to know, does she? There are things mothers shouldn’t be told.’

“‘There are?’

“I nodded. ‘Oh yes.’

“‘I see.’

“I can’t say the twitching stopped, but it lessened.

“‘I’m ready for the top, are you coming?’ I asked.

“‘Yes, I am.’”

Duncan fell silent, so Joy asked, “Is that it, then? Didn’t you say any more?”

“No. He left me at the top and I watched him walking away with a firmer stride, not so jerky, you know.”

“Well, send for Duncan Bastable, freelance psychiatrist. Let’s hope it works.”

“I hope so for his sake.”

“And you still don’t know his name?”

Duncan shook his head.

But Joy had a niggling thought that she wasn’t putting two and two together.

Chapter
12

“H
ello, Scott here. Is Kate about?”

“Yes.”

“Get her for me, there’s a darling, Lynne.”

Lynne slapped the receiver on the desk and went to find Kate. “It’s lover boy, wants a word.” She spoke abruptly with something of a sneer on her lips.

Kate went to the desk and picked up the phone. “Hello, Scott. Got a problem?”

“I’m on my way to Applegate Farm. I wondered if you’d like to come with me? You finish early today, don’t you?”

“I’d love to. I’ll be ready to leave in about half an hour.”

“I’ll pick you up. I’ve got to go past anyway. See you, sweet one.”

Lynne watched her from the comer of her eye. “Got a date?”

“No. Just going with him on a visit.”

Lynne nodded her head, remarking sarcastically, “Oh, of course, the budding vet.”

“OK, Lynne, enough. It is in my own time.”

“I know. Just wish it was me.”

“I wish it was too.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. I genuinely do if that’s what you’d like.”

“No hope of that, I’m afraid. Science wasn’t exactly my favorite subject at school.”

“What was?”

“English.”

“Ah! Well.”

“Exactly.” A client came to the desk and their conversation had to be put on hold. By the time they resumed it, Kate was waiting for Scott to appear.

“In any case, I couldn’t be doing with all that muck and mess. Operations would turn my stomach, believe me.”

“Good thing we don’t all want to do the same things. There’s always college or evening classes. Maybe you could improve your grades or something. Find a whole new career.”

“Perhaps. I’ll think about it.”

They heard a banging on the back door. “That’ll be Scott. See you Monday, Lynne.” Kate picked up the boots she’d borrowed from Joy and went out.

“Fling your boots in the back. I’m running late; get in.” Scott rode hell for leather along the country roads, up hill and down dale at a furious pace.

Kate had to protest. “Scott! Please! We’re going to have an accident.”

“Sorry.” He slowed a little and took the next comer at a steadier pace.

“What’s the matter?”

“Tired of the cold, that’s me.”

“We all get tired of the cold and then as soon as the hot weather starts, we all complain. English people are never satisfied where the weather is concerned.”

“You’re right. But somehow it feels depressing. Oops! Sorry!” Scott swung the wheel over quickly to avoid their going head first into a ditch.

“Please, Scott! Your driving is going from bad to worse. Slow down!”

“OK, OK.”

“Look, here’s the turning.”

The Land Rover slid to a halt just past the road to Applegate Farm. Scott reversed a few yards, then pulled on the steering wheel and maneuvered into the opening to the lane.

“You’ll have to pull yourself together, or were going to have an accident.”

Scott slowed right down to a crawl and then drove into the side. Switching off the engine, he turned to face Kate and said, “It’s no use. I’ve got to say it.”

“What?”

“I think I might have fallen in love.”

“With whom?”

“Who do you think?”

“I don’t know, do I?” Kate stared out of the window watching the wind blowing through the tattered winter grass. He wasn’t going to mess up their whole relationship with some wild statement of undying love, was he?

“You.”

“Me?” She turned back to face him. “I think not.”

“If you don’t know it’s you, how can you say you don’t think so? It’s not logical.”

“No, it isn’t. But you don’t.”

“I think of you night and day.”

“You don’t, Scott.”

“I do. You’re the first girl I’ve ever met who occupies my thoughts all the time.” He leaned forward and placed his lips on hers, kissing her with great gentleness. “See?”

“I’ll tell you why I occupy your thoughts all the time, shall I?”

Scott nodded.

Looking directly at him Kate said, “Because you know I have no intention of falling into bed with you at the first opportunity. My resistance has to be overcome and that’s a challenge for you, and that’s what makes you think of me all the time, not love.”

“Kate! That’s not fair.”

“The truth isn’t always fair.” Not for the world would she tell him how much she longed to make love with him.

“I’ve always said you were different from the others.”

“Is that what you told Bunty? That she was different?” If she wasn’t careful, it would show.

“No, I did not. I told you it was mostly her fault. No, that’s not right. It was fifty percent me, of course. She tempted me and I was feeling . . . well, I was feeling a mite homesick, would you believe, and I was looking for comfort. But that night she was that woman in the Bible. Jezebel.”

“Oh, dear! Poor Scott.” Until she met Scott, she wouldn’t have known how to play a shameless woman like Jezebel, but now she would.

“Look, why won’t you take me seriously?”

Kate looked at her watch. “You’re running late. Mr. Parsons will have something to say and Blossom will be anxious.” Her old headmistress firmly believed that it was the female side of a relationship that dictated how far and how fast it went, so here she was, firmly applying the brake.

“Please don’t mention Blossom Parsons in the same breath as you and me. I may be . . . well . . . overfriendly with certain people, but I do draw the line at Blossom.”

“Drive on.” Some instinct, deep down, warned her to keep him at a distance because nothing but terrible hurt could result from falling in love with Scott. Maybe she was already in love, maybe not, but Kate knew she was right. Beneath his complaints about the weather she sensed a longing for home and she knew he’d be gone one day without so much as a backward glance.

“What is Mr. Parsons’s problem?”

“Scouring.”

“I trust you mean one of his cows?’

Scott laughed. “Yes. It’s Christabel. We can’t stop it. Kidneys, you know. She’s no use to him as a commercial proposition—she’s far too old—but he can’t bear to see her go. He’s such a sentimental fool; I just hope he’ll face up to it today without too much stress.”

“I like Mr. Parsons.”

“So do I. He’s great. He’ll never make a fortune, but there you are. Right, boots. Please.” As he reached into the footwell of the passenger seat to get his own boots, he made it an excuse to kiss her.

“Scott!”

“You sound like a schoolteacher.”

“Well, someone has to keep your urges in check.”

Scott grumbled as he struggled to put on his boots in the confines of the driver’s seat. “No heart, you haven’t, none at all. Hard as iron.”

“I have a heart all right, but it’s not yours for the taking.” Tempted by the vulnerability of the nape of his neck, she kissed it before he straightened up.

“Wow! She’s kissed me!” He pretended to fall out of the open door with the shock, and stood in the lane looking up at her, grinning. “Come on, then, you temptress. Let’s be having you.”

They strode across to the cow barn amicably, sidestepping as best they could the filth that, despite his constant promises, Phil had never cleared up. He appeared like a specter through the gloom of the barn, almost colliding with them as they entered. “She’s down. Went down an hour ago; that’s when I rang. That’s it, isn’t it? I can’t get her up.”

“Let me look. I did warn you two days ago that the stuff wouldn’t cure it, Phil. At her age there isn’t much hope. I did say. You’ll have to brace yourself, mate.”

Scott took out his stethoscope and bent over Christabel to give her a thorough examination. He shook his head. “We could put a sling under her and get her up between us. Kate is pretty strong and if Blossom helped us . . . But I really don’t think . . .”

Phil took out his handkerchief and pressed it to the gaps in his balaclava. Blossom appeared in the doorway. “I heard you come. All up, is it?”

Scott nodded. “It would be kinder, you know. Her heart’s . . . you know . . . what with that and the kidney problem . . .”

Blossom burst into noisy tears. Phil desperately tried to smother his sobs, but they wouldn’t be stilled. Between them he said, “She’s been my favorite all these years.” He looked at Kate. “She knew me, yer know. Knew me, she did. Bless her. Came when I called.”

Kate weighed in on Scott’s side, saying as gently as she could, “I understand how fond you are of her, but you’d be doing her the best of all kindnesses by letting Scott put her to rest. You can rely on him. He wouldn’t put her to sleep a moment too soon. For her sake, it feels almost cruel to prolong the decision.”

Phil Parsons looked at Kate from inside his balaclava. “You’re right. I can’t let her suffer, can I? That’s not the way a friend would behave. I’ll just have a moment with her before you . . .”

Kate and Scott went to stand in the yard. Quietly Kate said, “This is dreadful. Are all farmers like this?”

“No, not all. No farmer likes having an animal put down, but Phil takes it all so personally. They’re his friends, you see.”

“I’ll be crying next.”

“Lean on me, sweet one, you can cry on my shoulder.”

“OK, then. Thanks for the offer.”

“Scott!” Phil shouted from inside. “All right. Let’s get it over with.” He burst out through the door and marched without looking back into the farmhouse. Blossom teetered after him, her high heels slipping and sliding on the cobbles of the yard. Over her shoulder she hissed, “Get it done, and quick, before he changes his mind.” She followed him into the house.

“Well, we’d better get on with it. You and me.”

“Tell me what to do.” Kate went to Christabel’s head and stroked her forehead.

“I think the situation calls for an overdose of anesthetic.” When Scott came back with the syringe and the bottle of anesthetic, Kate unexpectedly felt ill at the thought of watching this dear old friend of Phil’s take her leave. But she continued stroking her head, kneeling down in the straw to get closer. She cuddled Christabel’s head with her arms while Scott prepared the syringe.

“Watch! Take note.” He plunged the needle into Christabel’s vein and almost in an instant she was gone.

They both went to the farmhouse door intending to say they were leaving. It was open and Scott put one foot inside and called out, “It’s done. All quiet and peaceful. She’s out of her misery. We’re going now, all right?”

But Blossom would have none of it. “Come in, even if it’s only for a moment. Phil’s having a whiskey. Would you have one too? In the circumstances, you know. Please!” They couldn’t ignore the pleading tone in her voice.

Scott glanced at Kate and she nodded. After all, at least the whiskey might be wholesome if nothing else was. She supposed that not even Blossom could do damage to whiskey. So they went in and found sparkling crystal glasses awaiting them on the cluttered, dirty kitchen table.

“Only a small for me; I’m driving. Same for Kate; she’s not used to it.”

Blossom handed them their glasses and, picking up her own, toasted Phil. He was slumped in his favorite chair by the fire, lost in gloom, his balaclava askew, his handkerchief pressed to it.

“Twelve years I’ve had Christabel. Twelve years. Never a mite of trouble she’s been. Eight calves she’s had. Eight. Mother of Sunny Boy, yer know, and for that alone she’s special. I won’t tell him tonight; best not till morning. It’ll only upset him, yer know.” Sorrowfully he shook his head.

Choked by the depth of Phil’s sorrow, Scott muttered, “Quite right.” He braced himself and found words of comfort. “She’s had a good life, though, Phil. There’s nothing on your conscience where she’s concerned, is there, Mrs. Parsons?”

She shook her head in reply. “Treated like royalty she’s been.”

What she’d said reminded Kate of little Scott. “Where’s Scott? I’d like to see her.”

“Scott? Oh, the kitten. On our bed, I expect.” She went to the bottom of the stairs and shrieked, “Scott! Scott!” In a moment little Scott came running down the stairs, a bundle of energy and well grown for her age. She wrapped herself around Kate’s legs, then Scott’s and then jumped up on Phil’s knee. She arched her back and flirted her tail, inviting him to stroke her. Phil nuzzled her with his forehead. “Christabel’s gone, old love. Did you know?”

The three of them stood in silence, watching him. Scott broke it by suggesting it was time they were off. “Thanks for the whiskey. Sorry and all that. Take care.”

Kate swallowed the last of her whiskey and said, “Good night, Mr. Parsons, Mrs. Parsons.”

“Good night and thanks.” This from Blossom because Phil was too full of grief to reply.

Before Scott unlocked the Land Rover, he stood Kate against the driver’s door and kissed her. She put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. They kissed a few more times and then stood holding each other close. “Scott, I was almost crying in there. It won’t do for a vet, will it?”

“Why not?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be one.”

“Of course you must. You handled yourself brilliantly. Is it the first time you’ve put an animal down?”

Kate nodded.

“It won’t be the last, you know. It’s all part of the job. You never do it unless it’s completely necessary, the one and only course of action. It’s never pleasant, but it has to be done.”

“I know, but Mr. Parsons was . . .”

Inexplicably, Scott was suddenly pulled away from her, and almost hit the ground but managed to save himself.

“Who the hell!” Scott turned and found he was being gripped by . . .
Oh God! No!
It was Adam, wild with temper.

“She’s my girl! My girl, do you hear! I could kill you!” Adam grabbed Scott by the neck of his jacket and tried to whirl him away down the lane, but he had not bargained for Scott’s superior strength.

Scott slid out of his jacket and made a stand. Taking hold of the front of Adam’s anorak with both hands, he hauled him to a halt. Face-to-face, Scott snarled, “What the blazes do you bloody well think you’re doing? Eh?” Eh?” Scott shook him viciously, making Adam drop the jacket in his desperate effort to stop his attack.

Kate shouted, “Stop it! Stop it!” trying to put an end to Scott’s violent shaking. But Scott wouldn’t stop. He shook Adam till his head was rocking backward and forward like a rag doll’s, his breath pushing in and out of his lungs with great grunts.