‘Um, I’m not sure. Let me go and look in the fridge in Kennels.’ Shannon stands up and straightens her uniform. Her cheeks are red, her expression anxious.
‘I’m sorry for the delay,’ I say, when she disappears through the door into the rest of the practice. ‘There must have been a mix-up when they unpacked the delivery.’ It would be a first though, I think to myself. I know Shannon’s been allowed to check the deliveries, but I can’t imagine Izzy allowing any mistake to slip through.
Suddenly, I hear Izzy’s voice and the sound of feet pounding back along the corridor towards the consulting room.
‘It’s no good, Shannon. There’s no excuse for this. How many times have I told you to check and double-check? You’ll have to apologise. Maz …’ Izzy hesitates as she comes in. ‘I didn’t realise you wanted the vaccine right now, this minute.’
‘So there’s no puppy vaccine in the practice?’ I surmise. I turn to Jan. ‘I’m so sorry about this, especially as you’ve all been inconvenienced.’ I think quickly. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to rebook you. Naturally, there’ll be a discount.’
‘I should hope so. It’s a real pain,’ Jan says. ‘I wanted to get this lot vaccinated, and out and about as soon as possible.’
Jan and her entourage return to make another ultra-long appointment with Frances, while I head for the staffroom where Izzy is continuing her rather one-sided discussion with Shannon. Izzy is understandably furious because it reflects on her as head nurse. Steam rises from a cup of coffee beside the kettle. Metaphorical steam is coming out of Izzy’s ears.
‘You’re lucky,’ Izzy says. ‘Frances says Old Fox-Gifford used to throw his mug at her, if anything went wrong.’ Frances used to work for Talyton Manor Vets – Old Fox-Gifford accused Otter House of poaching her, and I don’t think he’s really ever forgiven us. ‘What did go wrong, Shannon?’
‘There’ll be time for the inquest later,’ I cut in. ‘Shannon made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes.’ It’s a shame it had to be this one because we need that vaccine. I’ve rechecked the list of clients booked in for the rest of the day, and there are three, if not four, more dogs for their annual jabs. We need to get hold of some dog vaccine, otherwise I’ll have to cancel, and that is going to be expensive, and have a knock-on effect on bookings for the rest of the week. We’re lucky in that we’re always fully booked, fitting in extra patients when they need to be seen, often at the end of routine consultations. BG, Before George, I used not to mind, but it gets difficult when I have to pick him up from nursery before they close.
‘What are we going to do?’ says Izzy. ‘I can order more now, but it won’t come until lunchtime tomorrow.’
‘I’ll check with Alex first, but I expect he’ll have some we can borrow.’
Having contacted Alex, and seen the last patient before lunchtime, a cat well on the road to recovery after a bout of flu, I drive back to the Manor. I could have asked Shannon to go as penance, but the Fox-Giffords’ practice is in such a mess, it’s almost impossible to find the fridge, let alone any vaccine.
I clear a pathway through the Talyton Manor surgery, moving a box of dental equipment, gags and files for rasping horses’ teeth, and a stack of business journals that neither Alex nor his father can have ever read, to reach the doddery old fridge. Inside, I find three boxes of dog vaccine, one of which is way out of date. I also discover a Creme egg from Easter, half a ham roll squashed in cling film, and a couple of blood samples, congealed in their tubes and of no use now.
‘Will you really use all that today?’ Alex says, coming into the surgery.
‘Under normal circumstances, I’d say no, but we’ve got three or four booked in already, and Will’s got a habit of using two vials when one should do.’
‘How does he manage that?’
‘He’s been squirting the vaccine right through from one side of the scruff to the other.’
Alex grins. ‘Perhaps you’d be better off employing George as your assistant.’
‘We might have to get rid of Shannon too, if this happens too often,’ I say, but I’m joking. Shannon is working really hard for her exams, it’s no wonder she’s forgetting the on-the-job routine. I wonder if she should have some time off to study. I change the subject. ‘Alex, you really need to take your father in hand. Look how much you’ve wasted. You’ll never use all that. How many dogs do you see in a week?’
‘A couple.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I expect it was on offer – he can’t resist a bargain.’
‘You should have gone in with us and we could have split the order,’ I suggest.
‘It’s a great idea, Maz, but you know Father wouldn’t have it.’
‘Even if it saved him money?’
‘You know what he’s like. My boss doesn’t like getting into bed with the competition, whereas … Let’s say, I find it a lot of fun.’
‘Alex! I don’t know what you mean,’ I go on archly. I put one of the in-date boxes into a cool-bag that I’ve brought with me, thanks to Izzy, and head back towards the exit, towards Alex who’s waiting for me in a rumpled shirt and grass-stained trousers, his lightly tanned arms held out to catch and embrace me.
‘Kiss?’ he says, pressing me gently against the wall.
I look into his eyes.
‘It’s very tempting …’ I murmur, ‘but I’ve got to get back.’
‘Maz …’ My name seems to catch in his throat. ‘Five minutes …’
‘No, Alex.’ Fighting my instinct to say, oh, what the hell, I press my palms against his chest. ‘I really have to go.’
I can feel Alex’s reluctance as he slowly releases me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, reading a touch of resentment in his expression. ‘Don’t blame me. Believe me, I’d stay if I could.’
‘Perhaps we should amalgamate the two practices as well as the vaccines, then we could spend more time together,’ Alex says, his tone lightening slightly.
I smile. ‘There’s no way. Look at the state of this place. Seriously, Alex, don’t you ever worry about health and safety?’
‘It isn’t all that bad, Maz.’
‘That’s because you’ve grown used to it. Alex, it’s appalling.’ I think of the walls in Otter House, cleaned meticulously every week by Izzy and Shannon. ‘I couldn’t work here.’
‘It’s lucky you don’t have to then. I’ll see you later,’ Alex says gruffly.
‘Later,’ I agree. It’s no use asking when. Neither of us will know. ‘It would be good to catch up. We need to book the reception. For the wedding,’ I add, when Alex stands there, frowning.
His face cracks into a smile. ‘Gotcha, Maz,’ he chuckles.
I give him a dig in the ribs. ‘This is serious. The Barnscote might be booked up for Christmas. We’ve left it a bit late.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. The Dog and Duck will have room for us.’
‘The Dog and Duck. I hadn’t thought of that one. Yes, that could be perfect.’
‘But it’s such a dive,’ Alex says, incredulous.
‘Gotcha back,’ I say, laughing. The Dog and Duck is one of the local pubs where the clientele is as old and faded as the flocked wallpaper. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’
‘One last kiss then,’ Alex says.
‘One …’ I say, but when I get back to Otter House and check the time, I realise that it may have been four, or five. I see the next few appointments before catching up with Emma in the staffroom. Will is upstairs in the flat with his creepy-crawlies, Izzy is clearing up after the ops and Shannon has gone out to do some shopping. Frances remains on duty at Reception.
Emma sits perched on a stool, sipping at some kind of herbal tea.
‘I couldn’t find anywhere else to sit,’ she says, grinning.
Although Emma once decided that we wouldn’t have any practice animals, Tripod still lives here, keeping Emma’s Border terrier, Miff, who comes to work with her, in order. Miff belonged to Emma’s mum before she died. S
he’s middle-aged now, with a grizzled coat and growing grey at the muzzle. Emma treats her like a baby, buying her new collars and raincoats. She’s wearing a pink collar today, printed with red love hearts.
As Emma anticipated, the animals have rather taken over. In fact, they’re lying on the sofa together.
‘Shuffle up,’ I tell them, but Tripod rolls over, showing his belly, and Miff opens one brown eye, giving me one of her looks that means, I’m not here. Really …
I pick her up and shift her along so I can sit down. She wriggles up against my side, asking to be stroked.
‘You are so smarmy,’ I tell her, at which she wags her tail. We’re good friends now. I look after her when Emma and Ben go away. ‘How was your day?’ I ask Emma.
‘All right, once I’d got Will under way with his first bitch spay. I was going to leave him to it, but I stayed in the end. Izzy asked me to, on the quiet.’
‘She worries too much. She complained about the first few ops he did. The holes were too big, he put in too many stitches and used too many swabs.’
‘I think she described the first one as a chainsaw massacre,’ Emma chuckles.
‘I hope she was exaggerating.’
‘I asked Frances if the clients like him.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said there’s been a mixed response. The older ladies think he’s charming. Aurora didn’t seem overly impressed, but you know what she’s like …’
I recall catching her in the consulting room in a compromising position with Drew, the locum, examining a rash on her chest, or so he said.
‘I’ve had a look at the takings and they’ve gone up which is great now we have an extra member of staff to pay for.’ She pauses. ‘Talking of money, have you and Alex come up with a budget for the wedding yet? I want to know how much we have for the dress – I thought we’d hit the shops at the end of the week, if that’s all right with you. Will says he’s happy to hold the fort.’ Emma’s face lights up. ‘Do you realise that’s the first time since Drew left that we’ve been able to go out together?’
I know what she means – we’ve met for dinner at each other’s houses, but we haven’t been able to go out and about as such because one or other of us has always had to be available for emergencies.
‘I could get used to this,’ Emma goes on. ‘I like having staff.’
The following day, Lenny the delivery driver turns up with emergency supplies of vaccine while I am getting ready to operate with Shannon.
‘I’m going out with Emma to try on wedding dresses on Friday,’ I say, pulling on a rather fetching theatre cap before I scrub up and slip into a gown and gloves. A surgical mask completes the ensemble.
‘That’s cool,’ Shannon says.
‘How do I look?’ I say, giving a twirl. Shannon smiles. It’s a small smile, but a smile all the same. She’s seemed down recently. What I mean by that is that, although she hasn’t got the bubbliest personality, she’s usually quietly cheerful, or has been since Drew, the locum who broke her heart, left us.
We continue with the job in hand, spaying Aurora’s dog, Saba. Saba, a black standard poodle, is one of our regulars. She had a litter of Labradoodle puppies eighteen months ago, and Aurora has decided that she can’t cope with any more litters. Shannon’s dog is one of Saba’s puppies. He’s called Seven because he was the seventh to be born. He has a harelip that meant he couldn’t feed from his mum, so Shannon took him on and hand reared him.
‘Did you manage to work out how much Daisy’s drinking?’ I ask Shannon while I start the surgery.
‘I did. I meant to let you know. It was …’ She frowns, then gives me the figure in total.
‘So, is that excessive?’ I ask. ‘Is it more than the average daily intake for a dog the size of Daisy?’
‘It seems quite a lot.’
‘Can you remember from your lectures at college what it should be per kilogram of dog?’
Shannon sighs. ‘I can’t do calculations, Maz.’
‘Of course you can.’ Shannon had good grades in her exams at school. ‘I’m not doing it for you,’ I add. ‘Divide what you’ve measured by Daisy’s weight in kilos and what do you have?’
She does some workings on the back of Saba’s anaesthetic record card, and announces the result.
‘So it’s way over,’ she says, sounding surprised. ‘Could it be the weather though? It’s been hot and Daisy’s always panting.’
‘I’d say it was more than that. We’ll have her back in for blood and urine tests.’
‘Shall I book her in for tomorrow?’
‘Make it today. The sooner we find out what’s wrong, the better.’
‘You don’t think she’s diabetic?’ Shannon asks.
‘There are lots of things it could be, but diabetes would be top of my list.’
‘You can treat it though?’
‘It’s quite a commitment, but we can get it under control.’ I continue operating. ‘Let’s not worry about that though until we’re sure of the diagnosis. Could you open a spare instrument pack and get me another set of Allis forceps, please? They seem to have gone AWOL.’
Shannon fetches a pack of instruments and opens it onto the tray so the contents slide out with a clatter.
‘Shannon, I said Allis forceps. Those are mosquitoes.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she says, red-faced and flustered. She scurries away and returns with yet another pack. ‘Maz, I can’t do this.’
‘Of course you can.’ I’m sharp with her, but halfway through a bitch spay is not the time to suffer a crisis of confidence. ‘You’re doing really well.’ Shannon hasn’t fainted since the first time she watched a major op, but I don’t like to remind her of that.
‘I don’t mean this.’ Shannon checks Saba’s pulse and breathing, keeping half an eye on the watch attached to her scrub top before writing her observations onto the anaesthetic record. ‘I mean my exams. I’ve been trying to learn the instruments, but I keep getting them all mixed up. I don’t know anything. I’m going to fail.’
‘Shannon, you won’t fail. Why don’t we run through some of the stuff together?’
‘Because it won’t make any difference.’
‘You don’t know that. Come on, it’ll be good for me to exercise my brain.’
‘All right,’ she says reluctantly. ‘That would be good, Maz. If you have time …’
‘I can make time.’ Actually, I wish I could create more time, an extra couple of hours here and there, so I could teach Shannon, and sit down and chat with Alex over a glass of wine more often than the odd occasion we’ve managed in the last few months. We used to do that, spend time together. Admittedly one or other of us was just as likely to fall asleep, but at least we had the opportunity, whereas now, with George acting like the passion police, any romance is wishful thinking.
I glance towards the patient’s head. Even under anaesthetic, Saba still manages to look glamorous, with her neatly trimmed fur and her perfectly manicured paws, filed and possibly polished, that stick out from under the drapes.
‘How is Seven?’ I ask. In the background, on low volume, the radio is playing ‘Who Let the Dogs Out’.
‘He’s fine,’ Shannon says. ‘He hasn’t quietened down like you said he would though.’ I feel a little chastened at Shannon’s scepticism about whether or not I really know what I’m talking about, as she goes on, ‘He’s still molesting Daisy, even though he’s had his nuts off. Are you sure you removed all the right bits, Maz?’
‘Quite sure,’ I say, amused. ‘You were there when I did it.’
‘I couldn’t actually watch, not because I’m squeamish, but because it was Seven.’
‘It’s different when it’s your own,’ I agree. I notice Shannon’s wearing more eyeliner than usual. Black doesn’t really suit her complexion. She’s so pale that I sometimes wonder if I should suggest running some bloods to check for anaemia. ‘Are you okay?’
‘It’s the exam thing, that’s all
.’
‘Are you sure there’s nothing else bothering you? Shannon, if you don’t want to talk to me, you can always try Izzy, or Emma, or Frances—’
‘Not Frances,’ Shannon cuts in. ‘She’d tell everyone.’
‘You could speak to your tutor at college.’
‘Maz, it’s nothing. Nothing much,’ she qualifies. ‘Actually, I’m worried about Mum … She’s been really down recently and she won’t go to the doctor, even though I’ve asked her to over and over.’
That seems unreasonable of Bridget, I think, considering how Shannon’s already lost her father. ‘Would you like me to mention it – in passing, I mean?’
‘I’ll deal with it, Maz. I’ve had an idea.’
Shannon says no more on the matter, so I change the subject.
‘What do you think of Will? Are you getting on all right?’
‘He seems … reasonable enough.’ She brightens. ‘He’s a bit of a geek. And all he talks about are his scorpions and tree frogs.’
‘Not really your type then?’ I say, grinning.
‘Definitely not. Maz, I haven’t got time for a boyfriend. I couldn’t anyway, not after Drew. Men are soooo not worth it.’
Shannon sighs and I smile to myself. I don’t suppose it will be long until she changes her mind.
Bridget brings Daisy in the same afternoon at Shannon’s request. Shannon and I take some blood and do a quick test for glucose before running some through the lab to check Daisy’s liver and kidney function.
‘Daisy, you look as if you’ve lost a bit of condition.’ I run my hands along her chest, where her ribs should be. ‘Shannon, we should try to get a urine sample.’ I give her a collection dish and pot, and send her out to the garden, wishing her every success.
‘You’ll be lucky,’ Bridget smiles. ‘Daisy’s very shy about that sort of thing.’
‘How is it going with the diet?’ I ask while we wait. ‘I mean, with Daisy’s diet …’ Talk about putting my foot in it. Bridget’s cheeks acquire a deeper hue. I wonder about her blood pressure – she’s far more likely to have a problem than Frances whose occasional high colour seems to have more to do with an affair of the heart than a problem with the arteries.
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