A Country Affair

by Rebecca Shaw

  So Miriam must never know. She’d have to be very careful in future, though, because breaking Miriam’s heart would be too big a responsibility for her to take. Before she left, Joy took another glance at the kittens who were just beginning to stir. The one with the pointy ears looked up at her; its muzzy blue eyes had that slightly square look that kittens’ eyes always have when very young, and there and then Joy lost her heart to it.

  Duncan, somehow or other, was getting a kitten.

  THE following week, Kate had a day off and was spending it in the shopping mall, choosing a birthday present for Mia and a wedding anniversary card for her and her dad. Well, it wasn’t just for that reason. She also wanted to see about collecting some brochures for a holiday the next summer and, last but not least, she had a new textbook to buy for chemistry.

  For Mia some new earrings. Kate went to the ethnic shop on the first floor of the mall and found instead of earrings a necklace, all fine silver, delicate and Indian, and she knew it would suit Mia and though it was dearer than she’d intended, she bought it. For someone as generous as Mia, nothing was too good. Kate wished she were wealthy so she could buy her a studio and some marvelously up-to-date equipment, and set her up for her miniatures good and proper, though it couldn’t make her paint any better. Mia was on the brink of making a name for herself and Kate was very proud of her.

  At street level the mall boasted innumerable card and gift shops and Kate went down the escalator to choose Mia’s card and another for the anniversary. The mall had been furnished with several wooden seats, planned in cozy groups to give a kind of village green effect. As she passed through a group of seats, she spotted Miss Chillingsworth huddled in the corner of one, looking despondent. Kate had never noticed how old she was till now. “Why, Miss Chillingsworth! What a nice surprise.”

  Miss Chillingsworth looked up blankly at first, then recognition dawned. “It’s Kate, isn’t it? How are you, my dear?”

  “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, dear, thank you.” Miss Chillingsworth looked anything but fine to Kate, but she didn’t comment. “Not working today?”

  “My day off. I’m working Saturday this week.”

  “You sound as if you enjoy it.”

  “I do. May I sit down?”

  Miss Chillingsworth patted the seat beside her. “I’d be delighted. It’s nice to have someone to talk to who’s congenial. How are things at the practice? I miss seeing you all.”

  “We’re terribly busy at the moment; one of the nurses is on holiday and we’ve got three kittens to look after. They’re running about now and we’ve to be so careful because of Perkins. He reckons kittens equal rats and he’s such an escape artist we have to watch him like hawks.”

  “Why have you three kittens to look after?”

  Kate explained and while she did so a brilliant idea sprang unbidden into her mind, an idea complete the moment it was born. “It wouldn’t be fair to separate them until they’re a bit older, you see, so we have them for another two and a half weeks at least.”

  Miss Chillingsworth listened with growing interest. “How kind you all are. So very kind. I’ve never forgotten Mr. Murgatroyd’s little talk when . . . I lost Cherub. He was so good to me. I can see it must be hard work. That Perkins is a real character, isn’t he?”

  “He’s a love, but so naughty and then, when you’re cross with him, he looks up at you and you fall in love with him all over again. He’s the only dog I know who laughs like a person. Miriam would love to have one of the kittens, but Perkins would very likely mistake it for a rat and then . . . I can’t bear to think.”

  “That’s what Airedales were bred for.”

  “What is?”

  “Clearing riverbanks of vermin. Water rats and things.” Miss Chillingsworth shuddered. “I can’t bear the thought of him getting at a kitten and one couldn’t be angry with him if he did, could one? He would only be obeying his instincts.”

  “Exactly. But it’s getting more and more difficult the more active they become.” Kate left a silence while Miss Chillingsworth had a think.

  “Is there no one who could take them all home?’

  “Not really. My stepmother has asthma and she’s about the only one who is home most of the day. All the others are out following careers and the like.”

  “Of course, that’s the problem nowadays. You say they have homes to go to?”

  Kate nodded and counted off the homes on her fingers. “Oh yes. The black one is going to the client who found them on our doorstep. One tabby, the one with ginger in its stripes, is going to Joy’s husband and the other tabby is going to a cousin of Mr. Price’s.”

  “If they hadn’t, I couldn’t do it. I can’t replace Cherub just yet.”

  Hardly daring to breathe Kate said, “Couldn’t do what?”

  “Take them home till they’re old enough. They could sleep in Cherub’s basket by the stove and I could train them to the litter tray she used at night when she got older, and they could have the run of the kitchen, couldn’t they?”

  “Miss Chillingsworth, what a brilliant idea. You’ve so much experience with cats you’d be ideal. The practice would provide all the food, of course. We wouldn’t expect you to have that expense. Would you really do it for us? We’d be so grateful and it would be so much better for the kittens.”

  Miss Chillingsworth nodded and beamed at her, and Kate continued, “I could kiss you.”

  So she did and Miss Chillingsworth kissed her back. “I haven’t been kissed for years. Shall we go?”

  “Right now?”

  “No time like the present. We could catch the bus.”

  “I’ve got my car.”

  “All the better.”

  Kate left Miss Chillingsworth in reception and went to explain the whole idea to Joy in her office. Joy said, “But they’re not all spoken for, that other tabby . . .”

  “I know, but she daren’t take on the job if any one of them is homeless, because she’s not ready to have another cat yet. So I told a white lie. Remember, it’s a cousin of Mr. Price’s who’s having the other one.”

  “Kate! Honestly!”

  “It’s in a good cause. She so needs something to throw herself into. Losing Cherub has been devastating for her; she’s aged twenty years at least. We’re sure to find someone willing to have one before long. Say yes. Please.”

  “All right, then. It would be a great help, wouldn’t it? Clever girl!” Joy stood up. “We’ll go for it.” Together they went to speak to Miss Chillingsworth.

  “Miss Chillingsworth! How very kind of you to offer to have the kittens. Come in the back and take a look. They’ve had their dinner and they’re asleep at the moment. You’ll love them when you see them.”

  The three of them had fallen asleep in a heap of fluffy toy mice and brightly colored squeaky toys, and looked almost unbelievably appealing. Miss Chillingsworth gasped with delight. “They are so sweet. Oh, my word! So sweet. Of course I’ll take them. Gladly. The poor little dears, abandoned. I’ll make it up to them, you’ll see! How shall I get them home?”

  Kate volunteered to drive her home. She loaded tinned kitten meat, milk formula and cat litter in the back, leaving Miss Chillingsworth to put the kittens in a carrier with their toys.

  WHILE Miss Chillingsworth fussed around getting Cherub’s basket out and finding a piece of blanket to line it with, Kate sat on a chair in the kitchen waiting with the cat carrier beside her. Poor Miss Chillingsworth. “Genteel poverty” were the only words to describe the circumstances in which she lived. Everything was tidy and extremely clean but so threadbare: The tapestry seat of the chair on which she perched had holes in it; the rug on the floor was patched to such an extent there was hardly anything of the original left; the curtains were so faded but when new had been of fine quality; the doormat was almost bald. It didn’t take much intelligence to know that Miss Chillingsworth didn’t always get enough to eat.

  “There we are, Kate, my dea
r. I’m ready. Let’s lift them out. I’ve put a hot-water bottle in the basket to make it feel like home.”

  The kittens tumbled out of the carrier and skitter-scattered on the shiny floor, their tiny claws finding it difficult to walk on. Miss Chillingsworth picked each up in turn, pressed it to her cheek, then plopped it down in the basket. Having been thoroughly awakened by the car journey, the kittens had no inclination to sleep, and they hopped out immediately and began to investigate.

  “I’ll bring the tins in.”

  By the time Kate left, Miss Chillingsworth had shed the years that Cherub’s death had heaped on her shoulders and she looked up at Kate with shining eyes. “Thank you, Kate, my dear, I’m going to have such fun. You’re a dear girl.”

  Kate left her kneeling on the floor, the kittens spilling around her skirts.

  “SO you see, Joy, we’ve done her a good turn. I’ll call at the end of the week and see how she’s getting on, and if it’s all right with you, I’ll take her some more tins and some more milk formula. There’s no way she can be expected to pay for their food; she’s so poor.”

  “The dear old thing. Good idea of yours. Now all we have to do is find a home for number three.”

  “We will, I’m determined.”

  Joy laughed. “If you’ve said you will, I know it’ll happen. Off you go and get on with the accounts, Kate; you did a good day’s work yesterday with the kittens.”

  “Thanks.”

  Kate took coffee out to Stephie and Joy on the dot of ten and stopped for a chat. Joy took her mug from Kate and complained it was too hot. “Here, look, I’ll leave it there where Mungo can’t see it.”

  Stephie began drinking hers immediately. “I’m ready for that. I do miss going in to play with the kittens, don’t you, Kate?”

  “I do, but as Lynne said, they were terrible time-wasters. Do you know anyone, Stephie, who might fancy a kitten?”

  “I don’t. But there’s sure to be someone who has to have a cat put down in the next two weeks and that’s the moment to strike.”

  “Sounds a bit callous, but I know you’re ri—My God!” Kate felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck; her scorching hot coffee spilled over her hand, but she never felt the scalding, for coming in through the door was . . . a man gone raving mad. A man hurling himself in through the glass doors, wearing a black balaclava and brandishing a billhook. Stephie screamed. Joy went stark white and Kate dropped her mug. Most of the clients screamed and, far quicker than it takes to tell, Graham and Rhodri shot out of their consulting rooms to see what was amiss.

  The madman screamed, “Where is he? Where is that damned traitor? Just let me get at ’im.”

  The voice sounded familiar, but in the panic Kate couldn’t place him.

  “Just let me get my bloody hands on ’im, I’ll bloody kill ’im.”

  Not one of them could find a voice, so getting no reply, the man surged around the reception area peering at each petrified client in turn, waving the billhook too close for comfort to their faces, but it was difficult for him to see, for the balaclava didn’t allow both his eyes to look out at the same time. The clients were close to hysteria by now and seeing their fear made Kate find her voice. “Who is this person you want to kill?”

  The madman veered back toward the reception desk and leaning over it, snarled, “That bloody Aussie! That’s who!”

  “He’s out on call.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “Not with that in your hand, you won’t. Give it to me.” He made no move to hand it over. “I said give it to me.”

  The madman, responding to the authority in her voice, looked down at his weapon. “I’m not giving it up.”

  “You’re not staying in here if you don’t. That’s an offensive weapon and I shall call the police if you won’t hand it over.”

  “Call the police! Nay.”

  “Nay nothing. Try me.”

  The madman looked at this slip of a girl ordering him about and some of the humor of the situation hit him and the anger in him began to evaporate. “I’ll wait, though.”

  Kate took the billhook from him saying, “You’ll have a long wait, but you’re welcome to sit down. Coffee?”

  He nodded and Kate took Joy’s mug from behind the computer and gave it to him. He sat on the chair nearest the door and though his hands were still shaking with his temper, he managed to drink from Joy’s mug. “I can’t forgive ’im for what he’s done to me. I thought him and me was friends. Who needs enemies with friends like ’im. Stabbed in the back I’ve been.” He sat, shaking his head in despair.

  Stephie whispered, “Scott’s coming back in any minute, with some urgent samples to be mailed.”

  Joy, standing with her back to the madman, asked, “Who is he?”

  Kate answered, “From something Scott said, I think it’s Mr. Parsons.”

  Stephie whispered urgently, “He’ll be back any minute. What can we do?”

  Joy queried, “What’s Scott been up to, Kate? My God! It’s not Blossom, is it?”

  “Heaven alone knows.”

  Stephie said even more urgently, “He’ll be here!”

  Catching the sound of the Land Rover, Kate said, “That sounds like him now.” She rushed out to the back to catch Scott before he entered.

  They each arrived at the back door at the same time. Kate opened it and pushed Scott out, slamming the door behind her. “I think we’ve got Mr. Parsons waiting to see you. He’s absolutely livid and swears he’s going to kill you. He arrived brandishing a billhook, which mercifully I’ve got from him, and . . .”

  Scott looked shocked. “A billhook? Hell!”

  “He’s furious. What the blazes have you done?”

  Scott, his hands full of samples for the laboratory, tried to demonstrate his innocence with outstretched hands and almost dropped the lot. “Nothing. I haven’t been near the place since I treated Sunny Boy’s foot that time. What does he say I’ve done?”

  “He hasn’t.”

  Scott dithered on the step, trying to make up his mind what he should do. Ever one for a challenge he asked, “You’ve taken the billhook off him?” Kate nodded. “Good on you, mate. Then I shall face up to him. Here, take these samples. Joy knows where they should go. Tell her they’re urgent.” He happened to be still wearing the tie Mungo insisted on when he went on visits. He straightened it, pulled his collar tidy, tucked his shirt in and made sure his pullover was in order. Kate opened the door for him and tootled a trumpet call under her breath. Scott grinned, saluted her and marched inside to his fate.

  In a loud, cheery voice he called out, “Phil! How nice of you to call. What can I do for you, mate?”

  Mr. Parson’s fury had abated, to be replaced by a moroseness so deep it was a wonder he could speak at all.

  Scott went to sit beside him. “Do we need to go somewhere private?”

  A quiet groan trickled around the waiting clients. Were they going to miss all the drama?

  Mr. Parsons shook his head. “You know you said you could report me for selling milk illegal-like to the campsite and passersby and that?”

  Scott nodded and was about to deny vehemently doing any such thing, but Mr. Parsons didn’t give him the chance. “On reflection, I know it wouldn’t be you, because we’re mates, aren’t we? You and me.” Scott nodded. “Well, someone has. Some interfering sod has reported me and I’m in deep water. They spied on me and set me up and caught me at it. There isn’t a better drop of milk anywhere in Britain than mine from my cows. Even the queen’s cows couldn’t produce no better. Natural, wholesome milk is mine, no modern messing about with it. My Blossom and me, we drink it every day of our lives and what’s wrong with us?”

  “Nothing. But I did say you wouldn’t pass a single hygiene test, didn’t I?”

  Mr. Parsons lifted his head and managed to look at Scott with one of his eyes. “You did. But they’re all ’ealthy, aren’t they?”

  “You’re right there, Phil.”

&
nbsp; “You couldn’t speak up for me, could you?”

  “As a friend, there’s nothing I would like better, but honestly, I have told you before about your lack of hygiene and I’m afraid that on that basis I would have to be truthful. I couldn’t support your selling milk.”

  “Ah, well. I understand. It’s only right. But I know it’s good milk. I’ve got proof. There was a baby in the village not thriving, premature she was, and the doctors couldn’t find a remedy for her. She was sinking, slowly I admit, but sinking. Her mother started giving her milk from my cows, in desperation I’ll grant you that, and the blessed little thing began to put weight on and now she’s running about like a good ’un. What better testimonial can you have than that?”

  Scott shook his head. “None.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. I’ll be off. Where’s my billhook? That sparky young lass took it off me. She’s a grand girl, she is. Spirit she’s got, that’s what I like in a woman. Spirit. Same as my Blossom.”

  Mr. Parsons took the billhook from Kate and gave her a wink—well, she thought he gave her a wink; it was difficult to tell.

  “Bye-bye, Mr. Parsons. Nice to have met you.”

  “And you. At least I’ve livened up your morning.”

  “You have indeed.”

  Mr. Parsons wagged a finger at her. “You could do worse than that Aussie. He’s a grand chap.”

  The big outer doors were shut this morning because of the cold and they all waited until he’d closed them behind him before they began to laugh. The laughter ripped through the reception area like a whirlwind, swirling and twirling back and forth, bubbling and frothing, clearing away the panic and the fear. Joy had to wipe her eyes and Stephie was taking great gulps of her coffee to help her pull herself together. “I have never witnessed anything like that before. Heck! Was I frightened! And you, Kate! You were so brave.”