‘Dragan?’ she asked, mystified.
Clearly—despite living next door to her—Dragan hadn’t introduced himself. Which didn’t surprise Nick in the slightest: Dragan really guarded his privacy. ‘The man who lives here,’ Nick explained.
‘Oh, him.’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘He’s off somewhere with Blondie and Hopalong.’
It took Nick a moment to realise that Natasha meant Melinda and Bramble. And although he didn’t like the idea of anyone making fun of the quiet, serious doctor he’d come to rely on more and more since Marco had gone back to Italy, he acknowledged the aptness of her remark. Melinda’s hair was striking, and the dog was still limping slightly despite the pins and plate that held her broken leg. ‘Never mind, I’ll catch him at the surgery tomorrow.’
‘You’re a doctor?’ She looked surprised. ‘You don’t look like one.’
He knew she was angling but he couldn’t resist it—this might be fun. And he could do with some fun in his life right now. ‘What do I look like?’
‘The kind of man who sails fast boats.’
He laughed. ‘I haven’t done that for a long time.’
‘Maybe,’ she said, ‘you ought to. I know someone with a boat. Come out with me tomorrow.’
Her mouth was incredibly sensual. If they weren’t so shortstaffed at the practice, he could’ve been tempted. Seriously tempted. ‘Sorry, I’m on duty.’
‘Ah. The kind of dedicated doctor who won’t play hookey.’
‘Is that such a bad thing?’ he asked mildly.
‘Maybe not.’ She looked at him through lowered eyelashes, and he noticed again what an intense green her eyes were. ‘But if you work hard, you need to play hard to balance it out.’
A definite offer. And if there were no strings—why not? ‘Have dinner with me tonight, then.’
‘That,’ she said, ‘might be…interesting.’
Nick felt his libido stir. A pub meal at the Penhally Arms would hardly be to the tastes of a woman like Natasha. ‘There’s a nice little restaurant in Rock.’
She wrinkled her nose. His surprise must have shown on his face because she added, ‘I’m from Rock. I eat there all the time. Bor-ing. How about somewhere different—somewhere local?’
The Anchor Hotel, then: the most upmarket that Penhally had to offer. ‘Sure. I’ll pick you up at…’ he glanced at his watch ‘…seven.’
She smiled. ‘It’s a date.’
Melinda’s mobile phone rang. She made an apologetic face at Dragan as she answered it. ‘I’m on call. Sorry,’ she mouthed.
‘It’s fine. I know what it’s like,’ he reassured her quietly.
‘Melinda? Oh, thank God. It’s Violet Kennedy. I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s my Cassidy. He’s not at all well.’
Even though the parrot was the elderly widow’s closest companion, Melinda knew that Violet wasn’t one to panic. For her to call out of hours, the parrot must really be ill.
‘Try not to worry,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll come out to see him. Now, if you tell me his symptoms, if I’m not sure what’s wrong I can talk to one of my former colleagues, who’s a specialist in birds, and he’ll give us advice.’
She took a notepad from her handbag and scribbled down the list of symptoms. ‘I’ll be with you very soon, I promise.’ She ended the call, then turned to Dragan, who had pulled into a layby. ‘Sorry, I don’t think we’ll be having dinner out after all. Do you want to drop me back at the surgery?’
‘You don’t have the same patient confidentiality rules that I do—I’ll come with you, if you like,’ he suggested.
She smiled. ‘You’ll be my assistant?’
‘Well, I can drive you while you’re talking to your colleague. Do you need me to take you back to the surgery for your contact book?’
She waved her phone at him ‘It’s all here. But you are an angel. Do you know Violet Kennedy?’
‘She’s one of my patients, actually—so, yes. And I know the quickest way to get to her house from here.’
‘Bene.’ She leaned over and kissed him. ‘You will be the perfect vet’s husband.’
He smiled. ‘And you’ll be the perfect doctor’s wife.’
Dragan turned the car round and drove them back to Penhally as Melinda rang her former colleague. ‘Hello, Jake? It’s Melinda Fortesque. How are you?’
‘Fine. Long time, no hear.’
‘I know. I’m terrible. Listen, Jake, I’m sorry to bother you, especially out of hours, but this is your field and I need a specialist in exotics.’
Jake gave a resigned sigh. ‘Hit me with it, then.’
‘African grey parrot, we think about forty years old. He’s being sick and has diarrhoea—and I think his owner’s panicking a bit about bird flu.’
Although Dragan wasn’t consciously listening in and he was concentrating on driving, he couldn’t help overhearing the conversation. And Melinda was just as he’d expected her to be with her colleague—warm, friendly, open—and her answers were concise and thorough. No longwindedness.
‘No, it’s just him and his owner,’ Melinda said. ‘No, just his normal diet—bird seed, apples, bananas and sweetcorn.’ She paused. ‘Yes, I have some at the surgery. Crop needle? Oh…’ She grimaced. ‘Yes, you did teach me. OK. Yes. I’ll do that. Thank you.’ Another pause. ‘Are you sure?’ She smiled. ‘You are a wonderful man. I will make you my chocolate and hazelnut torte. Really, I will. Thank you.’ She ended the call. ‘Dragan, can we go back to the surgery so I can pick up some powders and some equipment?’
‘Of course.’
‘Jake was the head of my old practice in Exeter. He specialised in exotics—there’s nothing he doesn’t know about parrots. He thinks the bird’s probably eaten something when his owner wasn’t looking.’
‘So what are the powders you were talking about?’
‘Electrolyte replacement.’
‘The same sort of thing I’d give a child with sickness and diarrhoea to stop dehydration,’ Dragan said thoughtfully. ‘Except the dose would be different.’
She nodded. ‘It’s good stuff—it helps to flush the kidneys into proper working order again.’
When they’d collected the equipment, he drove them out to Violet Kennedy’s towards the edge of the village.
Violet opened the door, her face lined with worry. ‘Thank you so much for coming, Melinda.’
‘That’s what I’m here for. I have an assistant with me,’ she said with a smile. ‘I believe you know him.’
Despite her obvious worry, Violet smiled at him. ‘Dr Lovak, how nice to see you.’
‘And you, Mrs Kennedy.’
The parrot, which was usually strutting on its perch, showing off its glorious black and crimson tail feathers or throwing a toy around, and which greeted all visitors with a piercing whistle and ‘’Ow do, m’dear?’ before shocking them with a barrage of ripe language, was hunched in the corner of the cage, absolutely silent. Dragan cast a worried look at Melinda. If the bird died, he really wasn’t sure that Violet Kennedy would be able to cope. Since her husband’s death, she’d lavished most of her love on the parrot; her children and grandchildren lived in London, so she didn’t see anywhere near as much of them as she’d like.
‘Oh, Cassidy, tesoro, what have you done to yourself?’ Melinda crooned, and rubbed his poll. She gently lifted him out of the cage and felt his feet. ‘Violet, do you have a hotwater bottle, please? I need to keep him warm and that’s the best thing. I need some hot water, too, please. And two small cups, a bowl and a spoon, if I may?’
Violet looked grim. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. So do you think it’s bird flu?’
‘No, I don’t,’ Melinda reassured her. ‘There haven’t been any reports of dead wild birds in the area, there are no problems at the local poultry farms, and to be honest he’s an indoor bird, not kept outside in an aviary—so even if there were problems outside he’d be at very, very low risk.’
‘So what’s wrong?’ Dragan ask
ed, keeping his voice low.
‘His feet are cold. That’s not good. I’ll need to start treatment for the dehydration now, but Jake said if his feet are cold I’ll be better off looking after him at the surgery in a heated cage.’ She bit her lip. ‘Violet really isn’t going to like this.’
‘She’ll understand if it’s best for Cassidy.’
Violet returned with a hot-water bottle. ‘Where do you want the other things?’
‘In the kitchen, please. I need to mix up some powders—they’ll help replace the salt and sugar in his blood and make him feel better.’ She paused. ‘Has Cassidy eaten anything other than his normal diet? Could he have, I don’t know, taken something from your plate while you answered the phone or something?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Violet looked thoughtful. ‘The grandchildren were visiting until yesterday and they had one Easter egg I’d given them.’
‘And they fed some chocolate to the bird as a treat?’
Violet shook her head. ‘I don’t think they would. And they know I keep chocolate in the drawer, but…no, they wouldn’t have done that.’
‘Can Cassidy open drawers with his beak?’ Melinda asked.
Violet was silent for a moment, her brow crumpled. ‘He’s a clever old bird. Maybe.’ She pulled open one of the dresser drawers. ‘Oh! The children wouldn’t have ripped open a packet of chocolate buttons and left them like that. They’re little monkeys but they’re not bad kids.’ She shook her head. ‘Well, I never. He must have opened the packet, eaten some, and closed the drawer again.’
‘As you say, he’s a clever bird,’ Melinda said. ‘And chocolate buttons could well be what’s making him feel so ill now. One thing my colleague told me, parrots can’t eat avocados or chocolate. They’re both poisonous for parrots.’
‘Poisonous?’
She nodded. ‘It doesn’t take much—only fifty grams of chocolate, just one small packet of buttons, could be fatal. So I’d keep them locked away in future, if I were you, or in an airtight container you know for sure he can’t open.’
Violet went pale. ‘Is he going to die?’
‘Not if I can help it. Because I promised to teach him Italian—did I not, tesoro?’ She rubbed the bird’s poll again. ‘Come on. Let’s get you feeling better.’ She smiled at Dragan. ‘I wasn’t joking about you being my assistant, by the way.’
He spread his hands. ‘Just tell me what to do.’
‘OK. We’re going to make up some powders for Cassidy, and I’m going to feed him through a crop needle and a syringe so I can make sure he gets enough.’
‘A bit like when babies are too sick to eat and they need feeding by a tube,’ Dragan added, seeing the worry on Violet’s face. ‘It’s a very common procedure and it doesn’t hurt.’
‘Essatamente,’ Melinda said. ‘And just to make sure—do you have any olive oil, Violet?’
‘I’ve got sunflower oil,’ Violet said.
‘That will do nicely. I need to put it on the needle—he’s dehydrated and his throat will be dry, so the oil will lubricate the needle and make sure it doesn’t hurt him.’ She nodded to the bowls on the table. ‘Dragan, can you put the hot water in the bowl for me? And, Violet, I need you to cuddle Cassidy with the hot-water bottle. Bene, just like that.’
Dragan noticed how she involved Violet and talked her through the treatment without being patronising. She would’ve made a fabulous doctor for human patients too, he thought.
She was gentle with the bird, but even so when she’d finished the old lady was clearly only just holding back tears. ‘My Cassidy. What will I do without you?’ she whispered.
‘I want to take him back to the surgery with me,’ Melinda said gently. ‘It will take him a few days to get over this. He needs to be in a heated cage so he doesn’t get cold, and we’ll need to feed him this mixture twice a day until he’s able to eat normal food again. And then I’ll bring him home safely to you, I promise.’
‘Cassidy’s been with me for years,’ Violet said. ‘My husband got him for me when he was in the navy. I…I can’t imagine not having him.’
‘I’ll bring him home to you as soon as I can,’ Melinda reassured her, ‘and you can visit any time you like.’ She rubbed the bird’s poll. ‘We’ll have you back with your mamma soon. And while you’re at the surgery I can teach you some words of love in Italian—then you can charm people instead of swearing like a sailor and making your mamma turn red every time the vicar calls round, yes?’
The bird—which Dragan knew from experience would usually tell her where to go in extremely colourful language—made no response.
And he could see just how worried Violet looked. He squeezed her hand. ‘Try not to worry. Melinda knows what she’s doing.’
‘I know you’ll do your best,’ Violet said, her voice slightly shaky.
‘Normally I’d suggest transporting him in a cage,’ Melinda said, ‘but as he’s so ill and so cold, he’s not going to move around much. He can sit and have a cuddle on my lap on the way to the surgery, if you don’t mind lending me that hotwater bottle until tomorrow. And Dragan will drive us very, very carefully. I’ll call you when we’re back at the surgery so you won’t have to worry. And I’ll call you tomorrow morning to let you know how he’s doing.’
Exactly the same kind of care and reassurance that he gave his own patients, Dragan thought. And he could’ve hugged her for it. Just as Lizzie had said the previous day, Melinda was a gem. She recognised that the family had needs as well as the patient.
He drove them back to the surgery, and followed Melinda inside. She sorted out a heated cage and made the parrot comfortable, then called Jake for a quick confab about the treatment plan.
‘It always surprises me how small your theatres are compared to ours,’ Dragan remarked when she’d finished.
Melinda smiled. ‘My patients are usually a lot smaller than yours. I don’t really need a seven-foot-long table for a Jack Russell.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘Poor Cassidy. I never thought I’d see the day when this bird was quiet,’ Melinda said, looking at the parrot. ‘I really want to keep an eye on him for a while.’
‘Do you want to stay here tonight?’ he asked. With her flat being just above the surgery, it made sense.
‘If you don’t mind sharing a single bed.’
‘Now, I’m the one who’s meant to be Spartan,’ he teased. ‘Of course I don’t mind. I’ll go and get us some fish and chips, shall I, while you call Violet and let her know how Cassidy has settled in?’
She kissed him. ‘Most men would not be this understanding, Dragan. You are…’ she smiled ‘…meraviglioso.’
‘Tell me that when I’m on call and the phone goes at two a.m. and I have to go out to a patient,’ he said dryly.
‘That, I won’t mind. But then you’ll come back and warm your feet on me.’
‘When you’re all warm and soft and irresistible.’ Dragan kissed her. ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes, piccola.’
Melinda had just finished reassuring Violet when her mobile phone rang. She glanced at the screen and grimaced. Her mother. Please, don’t let this be another call about duty and how she really ought to stop playing at being a country vet and come home. Because it wasn’t going to happen: she was staying right here where she belonged. Melinda Lovak, country vet and doctor’s wife.
Which was something else she needed to tell her parents. Though she’d need to choose her words very carefully—which meant maybe not tonight. If she made the call rather than took it, she’d feel more in control and not so much on the defensive.
She pressed the answer button. ‘Buona sera, Mamma.’
‘Buona sera, Melinda. I am sorry to call you so late. But I have some bad news.’
CHAPTER FOUR
MELINDA went cold. ‘Papà?’
‘No, he is fine.’ Her mother sighed. ‘It’s Raffi.’
Here we go again, Melinda thought. Her older brother Raphael had done something
stupid and she was expected to come to the rescue—because it seemed she was the only one who could ever get through to him. Raffi ignored whatever Serena said because she was the baby; though most of the time he didn’t listen to Melinda either. ‘What is it this time? He was caught in flagrante delicto with someone and she’s sold her story to the press? He’s in debt at Monte Carlo? He raced his new boat against someone and lost it in a bet?’ Raphael had done all three over the last two years, and he never seemed to learn from his mistakes. Sometimes Melinda thought he actually enjoyed repeating them. He’d talked about sailing over to see her, but she’d been quick to give him the impression that Penhally was a complete backwater and he’d be bored, bored, bored within two seconds—the last thing she wanted was for him to cut a swathe through the female population of Penhally and leave her to pick up the pieces afterwards.
‘No.’
There was a pause in which Melinda thought she detected a sob—then again, Viviana Fortesque would never lose that much control. Melinda must’ve imagined it.
‘He’s dead.’
Dead? The word seemed to be coming from the far end of a long, long tunnel. She couldn’t take it in. Raffi, her brother who was much larger than life and more than lived every minute to the full, dead? ‘No. There must be some mistake. He can’t be.’
‘He died yesterday afternoon.’
‘What?’ She dragged in a breath. ‘What happened?’
‘He was driving.’
Too fast, the way Raffi always did. She didn’t need to be told that. Even losing his licence for three months hadn’t stopped him speeding the second he’d got his licence back.
‘He spun off the road and hit a tree.’
‘Oh, Dio. Was anyone else hurt?’
‘He was on his own in the car.’
Which was a good thing, in one sense: at least no other family was going to have to go through this aching loss, this misery at losing a loved one too soon. But all the same, her heart ached for him. There had been nobody to hold his hand at the end, nobody to tell him they loved him. And even though he’d been a selfish, spoiled brat and sometimes she’d wanted to throttle him, nobody deserved an end like that. ‘Poor Raffi. So he died all alone,’ she said softly.
Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 2 Page 4