Rachel's Coming Home (4 page)

Rachel was glad to see that Anthony had appeared from his bedroom and was once again working on the cleaning. It was going to take a bit of effort to keep him to the task – any task – but she was sure she was up to it. It would do him good to apply himself. And it was about time he realised he had to contribute to the family, not just take. If money matters were as bad as they appeared, her parents wouldn't even be able to pay him for his time. She wondered if she could find him a job in Boroughbie, to help tide them over. Something else to think about as she turned again and headed to the higher moors.

It was when she turned back that things went wrong. She decided to take a different route down, turning east through the neater fields of the neighbouring farmer. Here the original large-scale fields had been separated into a smaller patchwork with new barbed-wire fences. The presence of a digger indicated drainage work was in progress. This land was certainly very well cared-for. The grass looked lush after the heather and bracken of the higher slopes and, although she couldn't immediately see any livestock, Rachel decided it was time to put the dogs back on the leash.

They had enjoyed the wild runs in the windy upper reaches, chasing the occasional hare and numerous imaginary animals. When she called them they turned immediately to caper back. They were such good dogs, she was really impressed. She had always thought collies would be hard work, but these two were a pleasure. Maybe she should get a collie dog herself, when the time came. She smiled at the thought.

At that moment she realised that Ben had somehow got himself stuck on the other side of one of a barbed wire fences. She called a warning to him to stay there until she could find a gate but he seemed desperate to get back to her side. He threw himself over the top most wire with his usual exuberance, just as she shouted ‘No!'

For a moment it looked as though he would make it. He had taken a running jump and certainly had enough energy to fly right over. But somehow that thick coat got caught on one of the barbs and he twisted in mid air, yelped, and then landed with an ungainly crash.

He rose to his feet immediately but Rachel could see that something was wrong. He limped towards her, tongue lolling apologetically.

‘Good boy. Come here and let me have a look.' Even as she crouched down, Rachel could see the blood dripping on to the grass and he yelped at her touch. He whined and leant against her and Bill pushed in as well, sensing something was wrong.

Rachel could feel her heart beating erratically in horror. She tried to lift the animal, but he was bigger and heavier than he looked, and didn't appreciate her effort. Reluctantly, she let him down and he limped along beside her. The journey home was going to take a long time.

What a fool she was, to let something like this happen. Rachel shuddered as the full import of what had happened sunk in. She had allowed one of the precious visiting dogs to injure himself. She would need to take Ben immediately to the vet. Then, once she had a diagnosis, she would have to phone the impatient Mr Milligan and explain what had happened. Her first impression of the dogs' owner was that he wouldn't let this pass without an enormous fuss.

Even as she thought these depressing thoughts, an angry voice broke in to them. ‘Get those dogs off my land! How dare you walk them here? I have young lambs about and if anything should happen …'

Rachel turned to face the angry farmer who had appeared over a crest in the hill. She knew his name, Freddy Smith, and had seen him once or twice in the distance. Her parents said he was nice enough but kept himself to himself. He wasn't being very nice now.

‘I'm very sorry,' she said, searching the field for the mystery sheep. She still couldn't see any. ‘I would never run them loose with livestock around and in any case, as you can see, they're both on the lead.' Not that poor hobbling Ben could have gone far from her even if he had wanted to.

‘They weren't on the lead a few minutes ago, I saw you. And what's happened to that one? He's injured. Can't you look after your animals?'

‘It was an accident,' said Rachel faintly, pulling the dogs back towards her. They were too friendly for their own good and desperate to say hello to this stranger.

‘I don't want injured dogs on my land. Nasty, unpredictable things they are.' The man made a shooing gesture with his hands and the dogs, finally realising they weren't welcome, cowered back against Rachel.

Rachel thought the man was being ridiculous, but she managed to hold her tongue. She apologised again and led the dogs as quickly as Ben could manage onto a nearby lane. It made the walk home somewhat longer, which wasn't good for the collie, but she didn't think Freddy Smith was concerned about that. ‘And don't come back!' he shouted after her. ‘I'll call the police if you do, so I will.'

Rachel kept her head down and hurried on. It was the worst possible thing to have happened. Somehow, in the same afternoon, she had harmed one of the dogs and upset their nearest neighbour. This wasn't the right way to restore the reputation of the kennels.

By the time she and Ben arrived at the vet's in Boroughbie, Rachel was almost in tears. Her mother's concerned sympathy had only made her feel worse. Anthony had offered to accompany her in the car, which would have been useful, but she needed him to keep an eye on Bill who was not at all impressed at being separated from his brother.

‘I'll be fine,' she had insisted, but each mile that passed and each whimper that poor Ben emitted made her wish she had brought him with her to hold the dog. How could she have been such a fool? Poor, poor Ben, what if he was badly hurt?

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and tried to concentrate on driving.

The vet practice was not normally open at this time on a Sunday afternoon but her mother had phoned ahead and been assured that someone would meet Rachel there. Sure enough, a jeep was drawn up at the open back door and as she parked her car a man appeared.

He was dressed in corduroy trousers and an open-necked shirt, with the inevitable Wellingtons on his feet. He was younger than the vets Rachel remembered seeing previously but looked confident and competent, exactly what she needed.

‘I'm so sorry to trouble you on a Sunday,' she said.

‘Not a problem. I'm just back from a couple of farm visits so your timing is excellent.

Rachel was sure it wasn't, but smiled her appreciation at his tact. She opened the rear door of the car and tried to persuade Ben to climb out slowly and sensibly. The dog didn't seem to know what sensible was and launched himself joyfully at the stranger, then staggered and winced as his back leg hit the ground.

The vet swooped down and swung the dog into his arms as though he weighed scarcely a thing. ‘Not wise to go throwing yourself around like that,' he said cheerfully. ‘Let's get you inside and have a look at that leg, shall we?'

Ben licked his face and Rachel heaved a sigh of relief. Much as she prided herself on being able to cope, injured animals weren't her forte. At last the poor dog was in safe hands.

The vet introduced himself as Charlie McArthur and chatted easily with her as he lowered the dog onto the table and began to examine the wound. Rachel held Ben's head. He was a well-behaved dog but even he wasn't too keen on someone touching his sore leg.

‘Caught it on barbed wire, did he?' said Charlie. ‘It's quite a long cut but not too deep, probably thanks to all this fur. I'll cut a bit of the fur away and clean it up. I don't think it'll need stitches but we'll see.'

‘Let's hope not,' said Rachel. This injury was going to take some explaining to Philip Milligan. Stitches, which would undoubtedly require a general anaesthetic, would be a nightmare.

‘I was such an idiot, letting them run loose up there,' she said regretfully.

‘Don't worry about it,' said the vet, giving her an encouraging grin. ‘It could happen to anyone. Young dogs like this one are so exuberant they're always getting themselves into trouble. Even if you'd had him on a lead what's to say he wouldn't have twisted his leg in a rabbit hole or caught it on a bit of hidden wire? Believe me, I've seen worse injuries than this from the most minor mishap.'

‘You're very kind,' said Rachel. She would be a lot more careful in future, but it was nice to hear someone say she wasn't entirely to blame, especially after the way Freddy Smith had spoken to her.

She rather liked this vet with his ruddy, wind-blown face and muddy boots. He was part of the solid country life that she was looking forward to joining. It was good to remind herself that not all locals were rude or unfriendly. Now, if she could just get through the telephone conversation with Philip Milligan, telling him the not very good news about his dog, she would be able to relax and look forward to the future once again.

Chapter Four

Anthony was probably glad Rachel had come home. He knew Mum appreciated her help. And he was grateful for her extracting him from the police station, and saying nothing to their parents about his troubles. But he did wish she wasn't so bossy! She'd always had this tendency to tell him what to do and it had become worse since she became a teacher. Why did everyone think he couldn't make decisions for himself?

Actually, he wasn't quite sure what to do just now, but he knew he definitely didn't want to spend one more minute cleaning the kennels. The only way to avoid that was to get out of the house so he set off down the road.

It was sunny again, almost too hot for walking. He realised he hadn't been away from the house for the two days since his almost-arrest. He stretched his shoulders and looked around. It was good to be out, even if he didn't have a clue where he was going. He didn't even have money for a bus fare into Boroughbie, but he meandered along in that direction and hoped something would occur to him.

When he spotted Gemma Smith at the bus stop his heart skipped a beat. Gemma! He hadn't seen her for ages. She'd been in the year below him, and before he left school, a year ago now, the two of them had caught the bus together every day. They had been friendly in a casual way. It was only when he stopped seeing her so often that he realised how much he liked her.

‘Hiya,' he said, off-hand, coming to stand beside her. ‘Been waiting long?'

‘Ten minutes.' Gemma glanced sideways at him and let her straight, dark hair fall over her eyes. ‘If the bus doesn't come soon I'll be late for work.'

‘Have you got a job?' asked Anthony, surprised and impressed.

‘Just for the summer holidays. I'm waitressing at the Boroughbie Arms Hotel. I'm hoping to go to uni in September.'

‘Oh,' said Anthony. ‘So am I. I mean, I'm supposed to be, but I'm still not sure.'

‘Haven't you got a place?' Gemma seemed more at ease as the conversation progressed. Her interest warmed him.

‘I'm supposed to be doing IT in Edinburgh, but now I'm not sure it's the right thing.' Anthony sighed. He'd taken a whole year out to try and decide what was the right thing for him and he still didn't know. His parents were keen on this course because they said it would lead to a proper career. Anthony wasn't sure that was a good enough reason to sign up for four years of boredom.

‘Your results must have been good, to get in to Edinburgh,' said Gemma appreciatively.

‘They were OK.' Anthony knew he could have done a lot better if he had tried. ‘And how about you? What are you planning to do?'

‘Business Studies at Glasgow Caledonian. I've been offered a provisional place, but it all depends on my Maths grades.'

‘You'll be fine. You're good at maths, aren't you?' Anthony was pleased he remembered that.

Gemma shook her head nervously. ‘I don't know. I just wish we had the results and I could stop worrying.'

Anthony had been in the same position a year ago and sympathised. ‘You'll be fine,' he said again, and then, to change the subject because he had hated it when people asked him about his exams, said, ‘How does your father feel about you going away?' He didn't know Gemma's father well, except that he was seriously scary and very protective of his only child.

Gemma pulled a face. ‘He's not keen. He says he's pleased and it would have been what Mum would have wanted, but really he'd prefer it if I just stayed at home. But I can't do that for ever, can I?' She looked at him beseechingly.

‘No, of course not. Everyone has to branch out.'

‘Exactly. That's why I got him to agree to this waitressing job; it's good for him to see me being a bit independent. And look, here's the bus. Thank goodness, I'd almost given up.'

Anthony had forgotten all about the bus. He watched it draw up with disapproval. He had been really enjoying talking to Gemma.

‘Are you coming?' she asked as she climbed on board.

‘No. I, er, I've just remembered something I've got to do.'

Anthony raised a hand in a casual farewell and turned for home. It was time he did something to sort out his finances, it was ridiculous not even being able to afford a bus fare. And he had just remembered Dad was due home from hospital that afternoon, probably a good idea if he showed his face.

Rachel and her mother had worked hard to make the house perfect for John Collington's homecoming. They set off immediately after lunch on the Monday to collect him, taking her mother's car as it was more spacious for the invalid. There was no room for Anthony as well, but Rachel had hoped he might be there to welcome them when they got back. He hadn't visited their father in hospital since Rachel had taken over his chauffeuring duties.

‘Welcome home dear,' said her mother as her father gently eased himself out of the car. ‘It's wonderful to have you back. You see how Rachel has looked after the hanging baskets for you and tidied your raised beds?' She was still chattering excitedly as she led the way inside, trying simultaneously to manage her own walking stick and help her husband with his crutches.