by Lucy Daniels
‘Everything sorted?’ she asked, looking from Mandy to Helen and back again. ‘We could go and chat over a cup of tea,’ she suggested, and together, the four of them trooped back through the cottage door and into the kitchen. ‘So how did you get on?’ Emily handed mugs out and set her own on the table before sitting down. ‘Was there anything you thought of that would be helpful?’
‘There were a few things,’ Mandy confessed. ‘Mostly from the work I’ve done with Samantha in Leeds.’
‘Is she the vet who’s into dentistry?’
‘Yes,’ Mandy said. ‘She’s shown me loads of techniques for removing teeth, but you need different sized elevators and luxators. There only seemed to be a few here.’
Emily raised her eyebrows. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘That sounds reasonable. I’ll have a look at that tomorrow, if you can show me.’
‘And for pain relief,’ Mandy said. ‘Back in Leeds, we used several drugs in combination. Fentanyl and ketamine and lidocaine when we’re doing painful surgery, all in different bags with an infusion pump for each.’
Emily frowned. ‘We use fentanyl sometimes,’ she said. ‘But neither your dad nor I have had training in using those combinations.’
‘It’s easy, Mum,’ Mandy insisted. It was simple, but she remembered it had seemed daunting at the beginning. She should give her mum time. It was probably better not to suggest Helen’s new monitor for now.
‘Thanks for the tea.’ Mandy lifted her mug and took a sip. ‘I can do evening surgery tonight, if you like.’
Emily looked grateful. ‘That would be great,’ she said. ‘I could get some sewing done. It’s been ages since I’ve had the time.’
Remembering that she still had some unpacking to do, Mandy finished her tea and stood up. ‘I need to sort out my stuff from Leeds,’ she said. ‘Helen and I are going to the Fox and Goose later.’
‘Okay.’ Emily pushed back her chair. ‘We’ll eat in about an hour,’ she said. ‘There should be time before surgery begins.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ Mandy walked over and opened the door. ‘See you in a little while.’
The sound of the door closing behind her was achingly familiar, and Mandy had a sudden rush of joy that she had come home. Properly home, not as a child, but as a fully qualified vet. Animal Ark has always been where my heart is! she thought as she ran up the stairs two at a time.
Chapter Eight
Mandy looked around the Fox and Goose as Helen went to the bar with their order. On the other side of the room, at a table beside the fireplace, she could see Tommy Pickard, who she remembered as a boy a bit younger than James. Years ago, he had worn a cub-scout uniform almost every day, but now he was smartly dressed in a shirt and chinos and sat sipping a pint of bitter. Over near the window, she was amused to see the head of a Bernese Mountain Dog peeking from under one of the larger tables. His owners, she realised, were Liz and Sam Butler, who had visited Animal Ark years ago with their dog Dylan, also a Bernese.
Catching Liz’s eye, Mandy gave a small wave and Liz nodded and raised her glass. Behind the bar, Gary Parsons was pouring a pint for an old man Mandy didn’t recognise. Next to Gary, Bev bent to grab two bottles from the brightly lit fridge and wielded her bottle opener over the fresh orange Helen had ordered.
The door opened and another two people walked in. One was a thickset man with a ruddy face; it was Bert Burnley, the farmer who had opened a campsite for city kids. His crinkly hair was white now, and Mandy watched as he pulled up a stool and joined the old man at the bar. The other newcomer, a younger man with deep-set brown eyes and short hair that stood rakishly upright, walked over and stood behind Helen, who was reaching into her purse to pay for the drinks. Sitting this close to the bar, Mandy could overhear everything that was said.
‘Evening, Bert,’ Gary said. ‘And you, Seb.’
Bert Burnley murmured a greeting, but on hearing Seb’s name, Helen spun around with raised eyebrows. ‘Hello!’ she said to the young man with spiky hair. ‘Would you like a drink?’ She was regarding him, Mandy saw, with the same brisk affection she showed towards Lucy, her retriever. Helen seemed to approach everything with a calm enthusiasm that was difficult to define and Mandy found herself wondering if the nurse ever felt overwhelmed by anything.
Seb’s face lit up at the offer of a drink. ‘Yes, please,’ he said. He glanced around the bar. ‘Are you here on your own?’
‘Not tonight,’ Helen replied. ‘I’m with Mandy Hope. Adam and Emily’s daughter.’ She turned and smiled at Mandy, with tacit acknowledgement that she knew she could be overheard. Behind Helen’s back, Mandy thought she detected disappointment in Seb’s face, but it was gone by the time his eyes met hers and he walked the few steps to their table and held out his hand.
‘Hello, Mandy,’ he said, taking her hand and shaking it with a firm grip. ‘I’m Seb Conway. I’m the local animal welfare officer from Walton.’
Mandy sank back into her seat. ‘Mum mentioned you,’ she said. ‘You brought in Kehaar.’
‘I did,’ he replied, and he half stood as Helen arrived at their table with the drinks on a small tray, only settling back down when Helen was seated.
‘Did I hear you mention Kehaar?’ the nurse asked, once she was comfortably ensconced on the banquette beside Mandy. ‘Crazy gull!’ She shook her head.
‘What did he do?’ Mandy asked. She had checked with Emily on her return to Animal Ark that the bird had been safely released, and her mum had assured her he had.
‘Well, we set him free,’ Helen said, ‘and he stood in the garden, just looking at us. We’d been careful not to handle him much, but even so, he didn’t seem to want to go. We didn’t want to leave him on the lawn in case one of the cats came.’ The nurse glanced at Mandy and Seb before she continued. ‘He did eventually fly away, with a bit of encouragement …’
‘You mean with you flapping a towel at him?’ Seb put in.
‘Yes, with me flapping a towel,’ Helen admitted, ‘and we thought that would be an end to it. But he turned up every morning for the next week and a half, landing on top of my car and making an awful racket.’
‘But that’s lovely, isn’t it?’ Mandy said. ‘He was grateful enough to come back and see you.’
‘Well, it would have been …’ Helen’s mouth tightened: half grimace, half grin. ‘Except that every single time he left a gift of seagull poo right down the side of my car. Always on the driver’s door, too.’ She let out a guffaw that was so loud people in the bar turned and glanced their way. Mandy couldn’t help but laugh. The sound was infectious, easily as funny as the mental image of the gull and his daily presents.
‘He was a generous bird, all right.’ Seb was smiling at Helen’s reaction as he watched her. Noticing the warmth in his expression, Mandy felt a stab of sadness that Simon wasn’t there. She had caught him looking at her that way when he thought she wasn’t watching.
When the door opened, for a moment she was caught in a surge of ridiculous hope, but instead of Simon, a short, petite-framed girl with long blonde hair appeared. Spotting Helen, her face lit up and she came and stood beside their table.
‘You must be the new vet,’ she said, grabbing a stool from a neighbouring table and sitting down.
‘Hardly new!’ Before Mandy could say anything, Helen was speaking. ‘Mandy’s been here way longer than us!’ She turned to Mandy and said, ‘This is Gemma Moss. She’s been running the village store since Mrs McFarlane retired. She does the most brilliant chocolate-coated ice creams.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Gemma said immediately. ‘Of course you’re not new. Helen told me all about you. How wonderful you’ve come back to Welford.’
‘I feel very lucky,’ Mandy agreed.
‘Do you like horses?’ Gemma asked. ‘My gelding Jarvis needs his flu vaccination soon. He’ll be glad to have another female vet around. He’s terribly suspicious of your dad.’
Mandy laughed. ‘Quite right, too,’ she said. ‘And yes, I love horses.’
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br /> ‘That’s good,’ Gemma said. ‘That makes two of us.’ She looked up as Seb stood and motioned at the almost empty glasses.
‘Anyone for another drink? What would you like, Gemma?’ Having listened to the order, he strode to the bar and Gemma leaned in towards Helen.
‘You’ll never guess who I ran into today,’ she began.
Helen took a moment to glance at Seb to make sure he wasn’t listening. ‘Who?’
‘Jimmy Marsh!’ Mandy could tell the answer was no surprise to Helen. This was an ongoing conversation. ‘I was up on the bridle path that goes through Sam Western’s wood and he was there, chopping logs with his shirt off!’ Gemma declared.
Helen’s eyes glittered as a grin spread across her face. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘And you didn’t text me to let me know?’
Mandy’s phone buzzed in her pocket, and she left Helen and Gemma marvelling at the wonders of Jimmy Marsh while she headed outside to take the call.
It was Simon. ‘Hello, you. How did your first day go?’
‘It was fine,’ Mandy said. ‘I spent most of it with Helen. You know, the nurse I told you about.’ Loyalty to her parents stopped her from sharing her frustrations about the lack of modern equipment, or having to do a stock-take instead of going out to see clients. ‘Helen invited me out to the Fox and Goose,’ she went on, wondering for a moment if Simon would be annoyed that she was out socialising, but if he was, he didn’t show it.
‘That’s great,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’re making friends.’
‘How’s your day been?’ Mandy asked.
‘Oh, so-so.’ She could hear him mentally shrugging. ‘Lots of first opinion cases, ten vaccinations and one guinea pig which needed its teeth rasped. I was glad to hand that over to Samantha.’ Mandy knew Simon’s real interest lay in his surgical cases, that consultation left him bored.
‘How’s my diabetes case?’ she checked.
‘Samson’s doing well. His blood glucose is under control and he’s eating reliably. I think we’ll be able to send him home tomorrow. His owners came in today to do their first injection.’ It was normal for owners of diabetic dogs to inject their pets with insulin, and Mandy knew that Simon wouldn’t let the animal home until he was sure the owners could manage.
‘That’s good,’ she said.
‘So are you able to come over at the weekend?’ he prompted, and Mandy belatedly remembered their conversation from last night. She winced.
‘I can’t,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve only just arrived. I need to be here this weekend to give my parents a break.’
‘Oh well,’ Simon said. ‘That’s understandable, I suppose.’ He sounded resigned. ‘Promise me one thing though,’ he went on.
‘What?’
‘The next weekend after that is mine. Promise me you’ll come home.’
Home? Or back to Leeds? Mandy wondered. ‘Yes, of course I will,’ she said out loud.
‘Great,’ he said. ‘I could line up some properties to look at, if you like.’
Mandy bit her lip. ‘Let’s see how things go,’ she said carefully. She didn’t necessarily want to spend her first weekend off trawling around industrial premises.
‘Sure,’ said Simon, sounding as if he was mostly sure about finding half a dozen potential clinics for her inspection.
When they ended the call, Mandy felt deflated. She missed Simon’s company, but his obsession with the new clinic was starting to wear her down. She only felt she had enough energy to settle into the routine at Animal Ark. She couldn’t summon up any enthusiasm for planning beyond her stay.
Before she had time to put her phone back in her pocket a vehicle approached, round headlights dazzling in the gathering dusk. It was a Jeep Wrangler, and as it drew up opposite, Mandy caught sight of an Outward Bound logo on the bonnet and branding for the new Upper Welford Hall Centre plastered across the sides. The gaudy red font seemed out of place against the backdrop of Welford village green.
As Mandy watched, Jimmy Marsh pushed open the driver’s door and dropped lightly to the ground. A peal of laughter reached her through the half-open window of the bar and Gemma’s admission of spying on Jimmy topless in the woods galloped into Mandy’s head.
As Jimmy strode towards her, she felt a wave of warmth spreading upwards from her neck, turning her face scarlet.
‘Hello,’ he said. His gaze was quizzical, as if he wondered why she was standing there. ‘It’s good to see you again. Welcome back to Welford.’ The heat in Mandy’s face seemed to shift inwards to her core, and she felt a stir of irritation. The village was her home, not his. Who was he to welcome her?
‘Hello,’ she managed, her mind unable to think of a retort that wouldn’t sound churlish. She was relieved when he passed her and headed into the bar. Breathing out, Mandy leaned against the wall, listening to the babble of voices through the window. The idea of stepping back into the warm hubbub seemed less appealing now. She heard Helen’s distinctive laugh again. Peering around the edge of the open window, she saw Seb showing something on his phone to Gemma and Helen, who were leaning against each other, their faces creased with amusement.
Mandy felt a stab of loneliness. Simon had been a near constant presence in her life for the past year. Though they had socialised separately now and then, he had always been there to go home to. She should have been kinder to him when they talked.
Turning her back on the Fox and Goose, she made her way down Main Street, turning right into the lane that led to Animal Ark. There was a chirruping overhead and Mandy looked up. Bats were flitting in and out of the trees that lined the lane. Her eyes fixed on the darkening sky, she let her footsteps lead her by instinct under the wooden sign and into the driveway before she lowered her eyes to the house. The light was on in the front room, but right now, Mandy didn’t feel like having company.
Bypassing the cottage door, she made her way into the back garden. During evening surgery, she had admitted a rabbit that had stopped eating. With Helen’s help, she had managed to get a catheter into its ear vein so she could give the little animal some intravenous fluids. Peering around the garden, she managed to find what she was looking for. Despite Adam’s best efforts, there were several dandelions growing near the compost heap. Picking a few, Mandy made her way back to the in-patient unit and let herself in.
The little rabbit seemed more cheerful already. Instead of lying still, he stood up when the light went on and lolloped from one side of the cage to the other. When Mandy opened the door, he didn’t cower away. Perching on the edge of the kennel, Mandy offered a dandelion leaf, but after sniffing it for a moment, the rabbit turned its head away.
‘Poor little Arthur,’ she murmured and, reaching out, gathered him into her arms. He had a fine soft coat, blended light and dark like a wild rabbit. When she buried her face in his fur, he smelled of hay. It was essential he started eating as soon as possible. Small animals really couldn’t cope with going without food for long.
Setting Arthur back on his bed, Mandy stood up and went to the dispensary. In the back of the cupboard, she had seen some sachets of small animal food replacement. Grabbing one, she picked up a food bowl and made her way to the sink. The contents of the packet were a muddy brownish colour when she stirred them with water. The mixture looked unappetising, but Mandy pulled the plunger from a syringe and spooned some of the sludge into the barrel, reassembling the syringe without losing too much of its contents. Back in the kennel, Arthur snuggled into her arms and she cuddled him for a moment, before turning his head so that she could feed him. Nudging the tip of the syringe past his upper lip, she dribbled the brown mess onto the small pink tongue, feeding cautiously as he began to swallow.
One syringeful. Then another. Arthur started to wriggle, and Mandy knew if she continued, she might choke him. Fetching some paper towel, she wiped his small face clean. Then she straightened his bedding and popped Arthur gently back into his cage before walking to the sink to wash her hands.
Her eyes wander
ed around the prep room, from the white coat that hung on the back of the door (though no one had worn it for years) to the new autoclave. Behind the desk, someone had hung a picture, a child’s drawing of ‘Vet Adam with My Dog’. There were photos, too: a proud farmer brandishing a rosette beside his prizewinning cow, a woman trotting her horse along a road. Mandy sighed. This was her place; these people her world. Despite the difficult evening, despite missing Simon, she was a part of this community.
Simon. He would be in Leeds, having a last drink before bed. Tomorrow he would go into the clinic, put on his surgical gloves and perform miracles under the theatre lights. Mandy tried to imagine him here in Welford, but it was impossible. He wouldn’t be happy tending to sheep in a windswept field or coaxing reluctant bunnies to eat. Turning her back on the images, she switched off the lights and made her way back into the cottage.
Chapter Nine
‘Would you like to come with me today?’ Emily suggested to Mandy across the breakfast table. ‘Your dad is doing the small animal surgery this morning. I thought you might like to get out and about, seeing as you were stuck inside yesterday.’
‘That would be great,’ Mandy said. She had always loved the farming side of the practice, and though she was looking forward to seeing patients alone, it would do no harm to start out alongside her mum. ‘Where will we be going?’
‘It’s quiet so far,’ Emily said. ‘There are two cows to see at Sam Western’s. One has gone off her feed and the other is lame.’
‘Anything else?’ The more calls Mandy could get under her belt, the better it would be when she started to tackle things herself.
‘There’s a rather odd one,’ her mum admitted. ‘Do you remember Jennifer McKay?’
‘Dr McKay’s wife?’ Mandy said.
‘That’s right.’ Emily nodded. ‘Well, she came in first thing this morning. Apparently, she went for a walk last night through Lamb’s Wood and saw a couple of sheep that didn’t seem to have been shorn. She thought maybe they’d been missed, but when she went to take a closer look, she noticed one of them had overgrown feet. It was very lame, she said. She went back with her husband, but they couldn’t see the sheep anywhere and by then it was late. She said she barely slept thinking about the poor animals and she wondered whether we could pop up and have a look.’