Country Wives (27 page)

“Right. Thanks.” Mungo held out his hand. “Let’s shake hands on it.”

W
HAT
really amazed Mungo that night was Letty’s surprising response to his news. They’d agreed for Zoe and him to meet at Colin’s house, and when they were seated, all with drinks in their hands, Mungo outlined what his proposals were. “I know there was a lot of opposition to Dan when he first came, but I’m rather hoping that you’ve all had a change of heart. There’s no doubt about it that he’s made changes which we didn’t care for, but which have proved excellent once they were up and running. His knickknack idea has proved a winner from day one, and the changes he suggested to the small animal clinic hours are making that side of the practice pick up rapidly. Now we’re faced with another big change. A fourth partner joining us, with capital, and transforming us into an equine practice. We musn’t stand still … we’ve got to keep on going upward.”

Zoe held out her glass for a refill and while Colin obliged, she commented, “We don’t want change just for the sake of it, though.”

“Absolutely not. But our premises cost thousands to maintain, and we’re not out of the woods yet financially with the capital cost of the building. Dan’s money would be a real boost. Plus the added income from Lord Askew, plus any more equine we might pick up …”

Colin interrupted with, “Don’t be asking me to step in if he’s away. I haven’t done horses since I qualified. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

Letty patted his knee. “Colin, don’t underrate yourself.”

Zoe was struck dumb with astonishment, and Mungo thought he hadn’t heard correctly and had to ask her what she’d said.

“I said he musn’t underrate himself.”

“Oh no, certainly not, quite right, though I do see his point. I’d be alarmed myself, I have to confess.” Then Mungo noticed what Miriam had told him, that Letty did look different: younger, less acidic, more friendly somehow. And it wasn’t just her clothes and her makeup, though they were a vast improvement. It was something about her, a kind of melting, a sort of surrender. He shook off his analytical mode, thinking he was getting as bad as Miriam, and found that Zoe was being difficult.

“He’s arrogant, that’s his trouble; that’s what gets my back up. He’s always so
right
.”

“But he is.” This from Letty, which almost made the others’ jaws drop in amazement.

“He is?” Mungo asked.

“Oh yes. Diagnostically he can’t be bettered; let’s face it.”

Colin smiled a secret smile. “She’s right.”

“She is?” Mungo felt there was something going on he didn’t understand.

“Oh, I am. I know I didn’t like him to begin with, and he was very rude doing that Nazi salute when he saw me, but I deserved it. I was rude and very aggravating too.”

Mungo now felt he was swimming in thick soup. “You were?”

“Oh yes. When really he’s a very hardworking man putting in all the hours while we’ve been shorthanded. And to get Lord Askew back … and his horses to boot, is nothing short of
miraculous.” She downed the remains of her whiskey and held out her glass to Colin for a refill.

Colin continued to smile his secret smile, and Zoe and Mungo were still nonplussed while Letty, completely unaware of the surprise the others were experiencing, sat dreamily gazing into the gas fire. Out of nowhere she said, “We’re thinking of having this fire taken out and fitting a wood-burning stove instead. Much more homely and welcoming, don’t you think.”

“Good idea,” said Zoe. “But it’s not for me. I don’t like the work.”

“But think of the pleasure.”

Mungo decided he’d better get the discussion back online before he finally lost the plot. “So if I go ahead with this meeting, you’d be in agreement to have Dan as a partner I take it?”

Letty nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Well, it’s for Colin to say really, of course, he’s the partner. But he does agree, don’t you, Colin?”

“I most certainly do.”

“Zoe, what about you?”

“Well, all things considered, I suppose I shall say yes. Let’s hope he’s sound financially, otherwise …” She gave a thumbs-down to indicate it was impossible without his money to back him up. “I’ve got a bit remote from practice politics since I’ve been at home with Oscar, but I’m back next week and I expect I’ll be glad to have his support.”

Mungo agreed with her by nodding his head. “He’ll be buying a house, so the assistant’s flat will be free. Shall we sell it, or keep it for an additional member of staff.”

“With the poor state of farming at the moment, to be quite blunt, I can’t honestly see us wanting to take on another vet for large animals. But I think hanging on to the flat would be prudent. Perhaps a member of the lay staff could use it for a while till we see some improvement.” This from Colin, who for once
in his life had made a decision without first getting it approved by Letty.

“So if Lord Askew and Dan and I make music at this meeting, I shall formally ask Dan to be a partner.”

T
HE
prospective partner in question was sitting in the flat on the sofa which had once been Miriam’s and Mungo’s, brooding. Partly wishing he were a fly on the wall in Colin’s house and thereby knew what was going on, and partly cogitating about his life outside the practice.

To be frank, he hadn’t got one. It was this blessed yearning for Rose which was hampering everything he did. He wouldn’t for the world not have known her, but the fallout from their relationship was coloring his life to such a degree that it was hardly worth living. Then he remembered how happy she always was, how totally wholesome and scrumptious she was in bed, giving every inch of herself to loving him, with nothing held back, and how she’d taught him to do the very same. Dan thought about how unspoiled she had remained, despite the wealth and political power of her stepfather. He’d given her everything money could offer, and yet she’d remained so very sweet.

Unconsciously his hand reached out to touch her as though she were there with him on the sofa. He could almost smell her perfume, feel the swirl of her hair as she turned toward him: that long, ash-blond hair he so loved. She wore it plaited and pleated and under control when she went out, but when they were alone she’d have it hanging loose, scented and squeaky clean.

She’d inherited her coloring from her mother. The domineering old bitch had protected her only chick with a viciousness which had to be witnessed to be believed. How Rose had ever managed to survive her dominance and become such a
sweet, loving person he would never know. By all the rules Rose should have been mean-minded, devious, greedy and shallow, but she was none of those things, and he’d loved her with a passion that he knew would last to the end of his days. He couldn’t cast her off.

He pulled her photograph out of his wallet, remembering the day he took it, the shimmering heat outside, the chill of the air-conditioned house, the almost frozen precision of the furnishings and decoration: the untouchable, sterile chairs, the stark barrenness of the dining hall, which killed one’s appetite stone dead. All of it mirrored the destructive, strangling characteristics of her mother.

Whom could he find to replace his beloved Rose? He knew the answer before he formed the question: no one.

His phone rang and he snatched it up from under the cushion beside him like a drowning man grasping a lifeline. It was Phil Parsons babbling incomprehensibly something about Sunny Boy and Hamish, and could he come?

Glad of a diversion, Dan leaped to his feet and roared off in the Land Rover to Applegate Farm. Phil was standing, hopping anxiously from one foot to the other, in the farm gateway. “He’s gone mad. Completely mad! He needs a jab.”

Despite Phil’s anxiety, Dan took time to put on his boots and some protective clothing. “Come on, hurry up!” As they strode together across the pitch-black yard an ambulance chugged heavily up the lane and parked behind Dan’s vehicle.

“God, Phil! What’s happened? An ambulance?”

Phil shouted to the ambulance men, “This way. This way.” He waved his arm in a wide, sweeping gesture. “This way!” Dan switched on his torch to light the way through the gloom for the crew.

“Hurry up!” shouted Phil. “He’s in a terrible mess.” He led the way into the cow barn. Being winter, the so-called dairy
cows were housed inside, and they were panicking. Lying to one side in the deep straw was Hamish, with Blossom kneeling beside him holding a bloodied towel to his chest. “Here he is. Please, save him! He’s only a boy.”

“Can we have more light?”

Phil hurtled about, lighting a couple of Calor gas lamps and hanging them from convenient nails in the beams. “Hurry up! The lad’s dying.”

As Dan’s eyes became accustomed to the light he saw that several of the cows were gashed here and there as though they had been attacked. Streaks of blood had run down their flesh and were beginning to dry. In the ghastly silence which followed, the crew started work on Hamish. Then Dan could hear savage crashing and banging coming from Sunny Boy’s stall.

Before he could question Phil about it, Blossom flung herself onto Dan, weeping and wailing. He put a protective arm round her shoulders and muttered comfort to her, though he’d no idea if his words were of any use because the ambulance crew were working with a kind of desperate energy which boded ill. His veterinary training made him able to turn his attention to the cows and he was pleased to find that none of them was in urgent need. A stitch here and there would suffice. It was the sound of Sunny Boy’s frantic distress which really panicked him.

“Right. Let’s get him to hospital. We’ve done what we can here.”

Blossom screamed, “Hamish! My baby!” She left Dan and hurled herself toward Hamish, reeling back in shock when she saw the oxygen mask and the unconscious Hamish with his deathly white face and the ambulance man padding his chest in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. As they carried him out, she staggered after him into the cold night, wearing only a tiny cropped short-sleeved sweater and a skirt which just covered
her bottom. “I’m coming! I’m coming, Hamish!” Her long, black-stockinged legs seemed to vanish from beneath her as she wobbled across the dark yard, so only the Day-Glo skirt and sweater appeared to be stumbling along behind the stretcher.

Phil stood in the barn, rigid with distress. Dan couldn’t think of a word to utter. What was there to say? “They’ll pull him round.” “He’s in the best place.” “If anyone can save him, they will.” Or the classic, useless, “Try not to worry.” All this against a background of the noise coming from Sunny Boy’s stall.

Dan cleared his throat. “We’ll leave the cows here to settle a bit and then I’ll inspect them and stitch any that need it. First, it’s Sunny Boy. What the hell happened, Phil?”

It was only when he faced him that Dan realized Phil’s balaclava below his eyes was soaked with tears. Silent, painful tears he couldn’t control. As usual, only one eye matched up with the slits in the balaclava and Phil, with his one-eyed stare, said, “He went berserk.”

“I see. What set him off?”

“Don’t know. It just happened. Been all right with Hamish ever since the day he came. He went to give him his tidbits before he shut him up for the night while I checked the cows, and wham! Sunny Boy went for him. He’d got careless, had Hamish, bit too casual yer know, not brought up with animals he wasn’t … isn’t … and he’d gone in his stall and left the gate open. First I knew, Hamish was running in here with that damn great beggar after ’im, wild with temper, and before I knew it, he’d got Hamish cornered, got ’im down and stamped on ’im. The cows all took fright and he went for them, but they’re more hurt by crashing into the walls and that than ’im.”

Phil paused for breath. He gave a great shuddering sob and stood head bowed. The cows had stopped milling about, and all they could hear was Sunny Boy trashing his barn. “If Hamish … dies … Blossom ’ull never forgive me. God ’elp me.” Phil took
out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “She loves him like a son. And so do I.” His shoulders heaved in sorrow.

“About Sunny Boy…”

Phil warned him. “Don’t say it…”

In a low voice so as not to provoke him more than he could avoid, Dan said, “I have to say it. I’d be irresponsible if I didn’t.”

“Don’t say it.”

“I shall
. There must be something terribly wrong with him for this to happen. Like a brain tumor or BSE, whatever, he can’t be trusted ever again.”

Phil’s chin was almost touching his chest.

“In fact, hard though it is for me to say this, I don’t know if I want to be responsible for his health when he’s so unpredictable.”

Phil shook his head despairingly.

“That boy’s life is hanging by a thread because of Sunny Boy’s unpredictability.”

Truculently Phil growled, “He should have shut the gate.”

“If he had shut the gate, then Hamish would more than likely have been dead. Mangled dead. I’m serious, Phil. You’ve a big decision to make here.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if it was someone you loved like I love Sunny Boy. You’re a hard man. You don’t understand pain, you don’t.” He thumped his chest with his clenched fist. “It’s right here.”

“I understand the pain all right, believe me.” Privately Dan was thinking
I’ve got to persuade him to have Sunny Boy put down, but who the hell but me is there to do it?
They both listened and each thought the crashing about seemed to be getting worse. Dan said, “Well?”

“You asking me for a decision right now?”

Dan nodded. “How did you get him back in his stall?”

“I didn’t, he went himself. He did a couple of turns round
the yard, then went in his stall; and I rushed and banged the gate shut, like as if he knew where he would feel safe.”

“You were very brave. He could have turned on you.”

“On me? Naw. Not me.”

“I won’t challenge you to prove that, just in case, but it seems to me he’s gone totally irrational. Somehow I’m pretty sure it isn’t BSE; the behaviour pattern isn’t right. These cows are calming down now. Before I stitch them up, I’m going to climb up on something and have a look through that nicely cleaned window in Sunny Boy’s barn and see what he’s up to.”