The Country Vet. Eleanor Jones

like when Jake’s mother and daughter were around.

      Entering the kitchen, Cass saw the two men at once. They were deep in conversation, their heads lowered as they studied something on the table. She stepped inside, taking in her surroundings. The room was large and bright with sunshine, a lovely, homey place despite the clutter that crowded every available surface.

      “Hi,” she called awkwardly.

      Donald glanced up, smiling. “We’re just looking at stud books. There’s coffee in the pot. Help yourself.”

      Cass poured a mug and added milk, sipping it slowly without looking at Jake. “So...” she said. “I guess you’re a breeder.”

      Jake ignored her, but Donald filled the gap. “Only a couple of foals a year at the moment, but he buys and sells a lot of young stock. Don’t you, Jake?”

      Forced to join in the conversation, Jake met her gaze. His eyes were like his dad’s, but without the sparkle. “Just trying to make a living,” he said.

      The sound of Donald’s chair scraping across the floor as he stood up broke the ensuing silence. He reached for his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder. “Come on then, Cass,” he told her. “I don’t mean to make you rush your drink, but I’m supposed to be in Doncaster by early afternoon. I’ll see you soon, Jake, hopefully in better circumstances.”

      “Is he always so antisocial?” Cass asked as she and Donald clambered into his four-by-four.

      Donald concentrated on the narrow lane ahead of them, slowing down and pressing on his horn to chase away a small, black-headed rough fell sheep. It stood in the road and stared at the vehicle with yellow-ringed eyes.

      “You’d think they owned the road,” he declared as it sauntered off.

      “I guess they do around here,” Cass remarked thoughtfully. “Was it long ago, the accident that killed Jake Munro’s family?”

      “About twelve months, almost to the day. Lucy was a lovely little girl, only five years old. Her gran, Gwen, was one of those salt-of-the-earth people who would do anything to help anyone. Such a tragedy. He has a son, too—Lucy’s twin, Robbie. He went to live with his mother after the funeral. The whole business totally destroyed Jake. He gave up competing altogether, but he’s still a top-class trainer, specializing in problem horses.” A wry grin flashed across his face. “I think it’s the horses that keep him going, but as you already know, he doesn’t have much time for people.”

      “You can say that again. He doesn’t even seem to have time for his dad.”

      Donald frowned. “I don’t think either of them has half begun to get over their loss. He’s a great guy, Bill. He used to be in on all the local action, you know, committees and things. He raised a lot of money for charity a couple of years ago. Now I guess he’s just kind of empty.”

      “It takes a long time to get over a tragedy like that,” Cass said. “If you ever really do, that is.”

      Donald pulled over outside the vet clinic, leaving his engine running. “Oh, Bill will get there,” he insisted. “Jake, now, I’m not so sure about. Anyway, thanks for your company, but out you get. I’m late as it is. You’ll have to come and have dinner with us one night. Meet the brood. I’ll get Jenny to give you a call.”

      Cass got out of the vehicle, glancing back inside before she slammed the door. “Thanks, Donald,” she said. “I’d like that.”

      Somehow it felt as if she’d just made a friend.

      CHAPTER THREE

      TODD WAS IN the surgery going through some paperwork. He looked up when he heard Cass come into the room, peering impatiently at her over his glasses.

      “How did it go?”

      She shrugged. “I knew how it would go. The poor little pony was in a bad state.”

      He went back to his work, leaning forward over the desk.

      “Well, that’s good then. Oh, and Mary Park is in the waiting room. Would you mind having a look at her dog? She doesn’t have an appointment but she’s a bit upset, says someone ran him over.”

      “Of course,” Cass said, pulling on a white coat and pushing open the door into Reception.

      The woman sat on a chair that was too small for her large frame. A bright-eyed Yorkshire terrier she clutched wriggled in her arms.

      “Mrs. Park, is it?” Cass asked with her best professional smile, pushing all thoughts of Jake Munro and his tragedy out of her head. “What can I do for you?”

      “Mary,” she said, struggling to her feet. “Call me Mary. It’s Poppy here. He ran into the road in front of a car...”

      “Well let’s go into the examining room and I’ll check him out,” Cass suggested, already leading the way.

      After a thorough examination of Poppy, Cass looked up at his worried owner with a broad grin.

      “Well, Mary, you’ll be pleased to know there’s absolutely nothing to worry about. He has a scuff on his shoulder, that’s all, and he may be feeling a bit bruised.”

      The woman’s round, pleasant face contorted into an expression of pained relief. “But are you sure?”

      Cass picked up the little dog, settling him in his mistress’s outstretched arms.

      “One hundred per cent. Now don’t let him run out into the road again. He might not be so lucky next time.”

      Todd appeared just as they were leaving the examining room.

      “I’m glad that Poppy seems to be okay,” he said.

      “You’ve taken on a good vet this time Todd,” Mary told him. “She’s sorted my Poppy out good and proper.”

      “Glad to hear it.” He held the front door to let her out.

      “There wasn’t actually anything wrong with him,” Cass admitted as it shut behind them.

      Todd grinned. “You’ll soon get to know Poppy—he’s one of our most regular visitors. Oh, and...” He paused. “I know you aren’t really supposed to be on surgery, but I’m afraid I have to pop out, so would you mind? There’s a bit of a line building up, I’m afraid.”

      * * *

      BY LUNCHTIME CASS had seen two cats with fur balls and one with a ripped ear, an elderly, bedraggled hamster, five more dogs and a parrot that was pulling out its feathers.

      I can really identify with that parrot, she thought as she started to tidy up. Suddenly a sit-down and a coffee seemed very appealing. She was about ready to leave when Sally, the receptionist, popped her head around the door.

      “You have a visitor,” she said. “And he doesn’t seem to have a pet.”

      Cass frowned. Whoever would be visiting her at the clinic? She didn’t even know anyone around here yet.

      Sally hesitated.

      “I’ll send him in, shall I?”

      “He?” Cass echoed as Sally’s perfectly made-up face disappeared again. Could it be Jake Munro coming to apologize, perhaps? Fat chance of that. Cass’s mind wandered back to the moment when she first saw him, and something tightened in her throat. He had seemed... What, she asked herself, what had he seemed?

      “We meet again,” said a familiar voice, and Cass looked up in surprise to meet...not quite the icy blue eyes that kept haunting her thoughts, but something very similar.

      “Bill,” her visitor announced, holding out his hand. “Munro. Remember, from Sky View,” he added, as she stood with her mouth open.

      “Of course.” She placed her hand in his calloused palm. “How could I ever forget? What can I do