Country Wives (7 page)

Dan studied him for a moment and said, “Has he been off color?”

Phil shook his head.

Out of the gloom came Blossom. “Right as a trivet when Phil came in to say goodnight before we went to bed. Just stop that awful noise, please; Phil can’t stand it. Nearly out of his mind, he is.”

“Find him like it just this morning? No signs of it last night?”

Phil shook his head.

“I wonder. He’s beginning to bloat; look, there’s a lot of gas in there. He might have swallowed something, and it’s jammed in his throat.” With his eyes still on his patient, Dan observed the saliva pouring from the bull’s mouth. Obviously, his throat was completely blocked. He asked, “His temper. What’s it like?”

“Like a baby. Sweet as a nut.”

Through the gloom Dan thought he saw Blossom look a mite skeptical; but whatever, he had to do something about it, and now. “Has he a name you use for him?”

Filled with consternation that Dan didn’t know his name, Phil said, with reproach in every syllable, “It’s Sunny Boy. That’s his name.”

Very calmly Dan opened the stout gate to the stall and slipped in quietly. He laid a hand on Sunny Boy’s neck and said, “Well then, Sunny Boy. You’re not too good this morning, are you?” Sunny Boy shuffled from one foot to the other in apprehension; strangers weren’t welcome, he was saying. Over half a ton of bull not taking a liking to him made Dan excessively careful. He let his hands slide down Sunny Boy’s neck and throat, feeling gently as he went.

Phil watched his every move.

Aware he was being expected to work miracles, Dan tried again, feeling with sensitive hands for an obstruction in the massive throat. “I’ve an idea I’m right. Not sure, but it’s worth a try. I’m going for a gag to hold his jaws open while I feel down inside. You secure his head with a rope through his nose ring and I want two ropes, not just the one, from his halter to hold him firmly.”

“He’s not used to being tethered.”

“Well, if you want him cured, you’d better tether him. I can’t put my arm down his throat with him free to move about. Anchor him good and proper, if you please.”

But the whole exercise was fraught with problems: Sunny
Boy, despite his kinship with Phil, refused to respond and tossed his great head this way and that trying to avoid the ropes. In his struggles he briefly stood on Phil’s foot, which brought a halt to Phil’s efforts. When Dan came back, he was still only tethered by one rope through a ring in the wall; and his breathing was growing worse.

Dan joined Phil in the stall, equipped with a gag, a powerful torch and a meter-long piece of fence wire bent into a narrow U-shape. “Give me the rope.” Phil hobbled back a few steps, leaving Dan with the rope. “Now, see here, my lad, that will do.” He said this in a loud authoritative tone and, to his surprise and Phil’s, Sunny Boy stopped tossing his head and allowed Dan to slip a rope through the ring in his nose. “Now, Phil, tie him up. Both sides.”

With Sunny Boy’s head virtually immobilized, Dan, inch by inch, got his jaws open and fixed the metal gag in place. Sunny Boy was now a model patient, though sweat was pouring off Dan. This warm, moist mouth edged with those great yellowing teeth and with half a ton of restless bull behind it was no place even for a vet to be hanging about in, and with Blossom holding the torch and Phil positioned ready to push on Sunny Boy’s neck below the obstruction, Dan swift as light slipped the wire down his throat, slowly guiding the loop over and behind whatever it was jammed in Sunny Boy’s throat. “Now, Phil, start pressing upward from behind as I pull.”

He manipulated and fiddled and twisted and lost his grip and tried again, and slowly he began to get a real grip on whatever it was; and against a background of Sunny Boy’s labored breathing, he got the wire right behind, dislodged the object and brought it out. He threw it out of the stall, removed the gag and left Phil to release his patient. “I’ll hang about to make sure all that gas which has accumulated in his rumen does come up, just in case.”

Blossom picked up the object and examined it in the light of Dan’s torch. “Why, good heavens, it’s a kiddie’s ball. Where did he get that from?”

But Phil wasn’t listening to her. His Sunny Boy, the pride of his life, had been saved. Had Dan been able to see Phil’s eyes, he would have seen tears of joy. As it was, they soaked unseen into his balaclava. He came out of the stall, bolted the gate behind him and, taking Dan’s grossly slimy, dripping hand in his, shook it vigorously. “Brilliant. You’ve saved his life. Brilliant! I can’t thank you enough. Blossom, get that kettle on; we’ll have a coffee.” Phil wiped his hand on his jumper.

Dan said, “That sounds good. I’ll wash up first. Where’s the tap?”

Tremulously Blossom breathed, “You were so masterful with him, Dan. ‘That will do,’ you said; and he did just as he was told. It was like a miracle.” She clung to his arm. “Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know what Phil would have done if Sunny Boy had died. Kettle, right. Milk and sugar? No, we’ll have cream today. Yes. Celebrate, that’s what we’ll do.”

Dan washed his arms under the outside tap using the bar of soap he always carried with him. “You’ll have to warn your children about leaving balls near your beasts, Phil.”

“Ain’t got none. It’s them damn kids from the trailer park. There was a load of ’em here yesterday buying milk. It’d be one of them.” He went to lean his arms on the wall of Sunny Boy’s stall and wallow in admiration. Dan joined him. “I have to say this, Phil, he’s a grand beast. Beautiful creature. Where did you get him from?”

“Born right here in this stall. Absolute fluke. His mother was Christabel. I bought her as a heifer and found she was in calf, and it was this great beggar. Few weeks back Scott had to put her to sleep—old age, really. Poor Sunny Boy was right upset when I told him. Off his food he was.”

Dan realized there was a great deal of good, sensitive heart in Phil and that he needed careful handling. Instructing him to clean up the place could be counterproductive. While they both gazed in admiration at Sunny Boy, now cheerfully munching his hay, a cat slipped under the bars of the gate and entered the stall.

“Get out, you daft beggar, I’ve told you before. Come on. Puss, puss, puss.”

“Nice cat. Good-looking.”

“Come on, see what your Phil’s got in his pocket for you. Come on. Puss. Puss.” The cat changed her mind and squeezed out under the gate again. Phil gave her a jelly bean. “Them’s her favorites. Blossom calls her Scott and reckons she’s hers, but she isn’t. She belongs to me. Her and me’s mates. Bit older and she’ll be clearing this place of rats.”

“Problem, is it?”

Phil nodded.

“They’re always a problem on any farm.” Still looking at Sunny Boy, Dan continued to pursue his point: “Secret is to limit the number of places they have to hide in and not leave any animal feed available.” He eyed the sacks leaning haphazardly against the far wall.

Phil nodded, not really listening.

“You know—clearing up rubbish, sealing up holes. While your beasts might flourish, they’d do even better with more light and air.”

Phil nodded again, but this time he was listening.

“Dumpster. Large Dumpster, that’s what’s needed.”

Phil stirred.

“Placed outside in the yard, a couple of hours’ work would make a big difference.”

Blossom came with three mugs on a tray. She rested the tray on top of the wall and handed out the mugs. Dan took his first
sip before he remembered Kate’s warning. Too late now. Blossom joined them, squeezing in next to Dan, resting her arm on the wall. “Isn’t it lovely now he’s breathing all right?”

Dan continued, “Then the next thing would be to sweep down every wall, every window; get rid of all the muck and cobwebs; then a bag of sand and cement, and fill all the holes, replace the stones that have fallen out. Then paint.” He gave a broad sweep with his arm and his imagination full rein. “Everywhere. Just imagine a snow-white barn, with the beams picked out in black and Sunny Boy in pride of place with the light shining in from that window above his head. A wonderful setting for a magnificent beast. What a picture! And no more than a beast of his caliber deserves.” He paused to let the picture sink into Phil’s brain. “I can see three or four wheelie bins lined up against that far wall with the feed in. Blue, I think, would look good against the white. Imagine, Blossom. Why, you could hold tea parties in here.”

He drank down the last of the coffee, put the empty mug on the tray, said, “Thanks. Be seeing you” and left to shouts of gratitude from Blossom and Phil.

As he drove to his next call, he thought about the charity auction Mungo had asked him to attend in his place. He was obliged to go but would have preferred someone to go with. High-profile animal charity event, lots of country people there, no doubt, so whom should he ask? It would have to be someone from the practice because he didn’t know anyone else. If only Rose were here …; but she wasn’t and wouldn’t be, and he’d better close his mind to her because wishing would achieve nothing at all. Unbidden, a picture came into his mind of her striding beside him along that magnificent beach, very early one morning, almost before the sun was up … the fine, silvery sand filtering up between his bare toes … her slender fingers entwined in his, swimming naked in the sea, the chill water
rippling against his skin … breakfasting on the beach afterward. He could still smell the ripeness of the peaches she’d brought with her, and even now his forearms could feel the roughness of the sun-dried towel she lay on … pain shot through him at the thought of her. He quickly closed the door on Rose and bent his mind to solving his problem.

Whom to ask to go with him? Not Bunty, nor Sarah One or Two, no, he’d ask Kate. Yes, Kate. He liked Kate, liked her straightforwardness and her no-nonsense manner; and he knew she liked him, which was more than could be said for any of the others.

He pulled into the yard at Tattersall’s Cop with his mind made up. Definitely Kate. He was sure she’d say yes, if only for the chance to see the wealthy at play, and he guessed they’d derive the same kind of amusement from it too.

T
HE
auction was to be held in the newly named Lord Henry Askew Hall, a splendid edifice built at the height of the Arts and Crafts movement, with wonderfully ornate decoration, richly painted walls and dramatic paneling that required none of the specially installed lighting or the drapes with which someone had seen fit to embellish it. Vast flower displays burgeoned in every corner; and the general impression was of an overdressed, very rich, stately old lady. Originally it had been the town hall, and out of a kind of ingrained stubbornness the majority of the inhabitants still called it that. Lord Askew, however, was inordinately pleased to have the hall named after himself and made a point of attending every possible event ever held in it.

Dan and Kate arrived just after seven. They each left their overcoats in the cloakroom and emerged into the hall to find a receiving line awaiting them.

Out of the corner of his mouth, Dan murmured, “I bet Mungo never thought Lord Askew might be here.”

“Oh no! I’ve never met him. Where is he?”

“The last in the receiving line.”

“That’s him? He doesn’t look much like I imagine a lord should.”

“But he is. Here goes.”

They shook hands and introduced themselves as they went down the line, meeting the chairman of the charity and his wife and various other officials. Then finally came the moment for Dan to face Lord Askew. He took the bull by the horns saying, “Dan Brown, my lord, Barleybridge Veterinary Hospital. May I introduce my friend Kate Howard.”

Kate shook his hand saying, “Good evening, my lord.”

But he wasn’t taking any notice of her; he was bristling with indignation at Dan. His great voice boomed out, “Still here, then? Thought you’d have been gone long since.”

“Indeed not. Hopefully, I’m here to stay.”

“Mungo Price has written to me as well as you, but it’s not enough, no, not enough. I shan’t come back to you, not after your behavior. Damned insolent. Damned insolent.”

His face flushed redly but with a hint of blue about his nose and lips.

Dan played his humility card. “It was a most unfortunate occurrence, my lord, one which I very much regret, but I cannot have my professional decisions overridden.”

“Can you not! I pay the piper so I call the tune, don’t you know.”

Dan couldn’t resist taunting him. “And the roan. How is he?”

“Fine, fine …” He opened his mouth to add something else but changed his mind.

“If you will excuse us, my lord, we’re holding up the line. Perhaps there will be an opportunity to speak later.”

“Yes, yes.”

As they moved away, Dan said, “I think he’s having doubts about that horse. See his hesitation? You watch, before the night is out he’ll have found a reason to speak to me about it.”

“He’s not going to ask your advice, though, is he; do you think?”

“No, I expect not. His trouble is he’s gone too far down the line to find it easy. Let’s get a drink. What would you like?”

“Orange juice, please.”

He made no comment about Kate wanting a soft drink, took a gin and tonic for himself and found them a corner where they could stand, watching the elite of Barleybridge enjoying themselves. On a huge balcony built out over the entrance hall an orchestra was playing tunes from well-known musicals, and the whole room buzzed with pleasurable excitement.

“So, Kate Howard, this is how Barleybridge enjoys itself.”

“Only from time to time and most especially because Lord Askew is footing a large part of the bill. He’s terribly keen on hunting and can’t abide this new legislation, you see.”

“So the profits go to the campaign, do they?”

Kate nodded.

“The sad part is having to put down all the hounds.”

“They can’t be rehomed, I expect.”

Dan shook his head. “Absolutely not. They haven’t a cat in hell’s chance of being domesticated. They’re a savage lot underneath, having been brought up as pack animals. If you watch them for a while, you see which are the leaders and which are the lowest of the low, and the consequences of stepping out of line can be terminal.”