Summer with the Country Village Vet. Zara Stoneley
Читать онлайн книгу.
glass in hand she picked up her mobile.
‘Mum, I’ve got a new job.’
‘Oh how lovely.’ There was a pause. ‘But I thought you loved the one you had, darling?’
‘There’s been a re-organisation, but this one’s in a gorgeous village school.’
‘Village?’
‘It’s sweet.’
‘And it’s not too far to drive each day? You work such long hours as it is, without a long journey on top of it.’
‘Well no, I mean yes, it is too far to drive. I’m going to rent a place there for now. It’s only for a while, and I’ve found a lovely cottage where the owner has pets she needs looking after so the rent is really reasonable.’
‘So you’ve got your own house and a place to rent? Can you afford that dear?’
She could almost see her mum’s worried frown. ‘Yes Mum, it’s just short term.’
‘But I thought you were too busy to have a pet, darling? And didn’t you say you liked keeping the house neat and tidy? When I came over with your Aunt Steph you made her tie Bono to a tree at the bottom of the garden.’
Lucy rolled her eyes as the memory of Bono, a very shaggy bearded collie who’d just been for an unscheduled dip in the canal, came to mind. ‘I had just bought a new cream carpet, Mum.’
‘That’s the trouble with these modern plain carpets, you need a pattern dear, hides a multitude of sins.’
Maybe that’s what her busy job had done, hidden the cracks in her life, but she didn’t want to ponder on that one. What was the point? ‘I like plain.’ Keep it simple. ‘Anyway, this job will be different, I don’t need to commute.’
‘And I hope you won’t need to be working those long hours any more. When I was your age…’
Lucy gritted her teeth, but some part of the retort she was biting back must have escaped and travelled over the airwaves. Her mum might not have worked long hours at her age, but she’d made up for it later on in life. Surely it was better to put all the effort in now? To be independent and secure.
‘Well yes I suppose times have changed.’ She could imagine her mother’s pursed lips. ‘But you work too hard, being a teacher used to be a nice job for a girl and now it’s all rushing round and paperwork. I always wanted an easier life for you, love.’
‘All jobs are like that, it’s about accountability.’ And Ofsted.
‘Well that is nice anyway dear,’ she could tell her mother was about to brush over that. ‘It’ll be nice for you to get out of the city for a bit. You did have fun when you were little in Stoneyvale, do you remember?’
‘It was horrible. I hated it.’ The words were out before she could stop them.
‘Oh, Lucy.’ Lucy felt a pang of guilt at the regret in her mother’s voice. ‘You didn’t hate it. There were some good times, I used to love our time feeding the ducks, and picking you up from school. It was a pretty place, even if life wasn’t quite as perfect as I’d hoped.’ She sighed. ‘You were such a happy toddler.’
‘Yeah, and then I grew up.’ And life had been turned upside down, and all her friends turned out to be nasty, small-minded people who only cared about themselves.
‘It wasn’t all bad, Lucy.’
‘Mum, I didn’t belong there, I didn’t have any friends.’
‘Oh you did, darling. It was just, after your party when your father got a bit cross I think some of their parents thought it better if they didn’t come round to play. He just didn’t like…’
‘The mess, yeah I know.’ She’d blocked that party out of her mind. Dad had been so cross to come home and find sticky finger marks on the table, and cake crumbs on the sofa. He hadn’t shouted like some of the other dads did, he’d just laid the law down very softly. Even as a child she’d sensed the slight menace, the uncomfortable air as her mother had wiped her tears and shooed her up to her room. She hadn’t thought about it before, but that was probably when it had all started to go wrong. When children stopped coming round to play in their garden. When all the party invites started to dry up.
‘He never really wanted me to have people round, did he?’
‘Well no,’ there was a crackle and silence, and she wasn’t sure if it was a bad line. She hated silence, silence at home had always meant bad things, so she’d grown up wanting what some people would think of as chaos.
‘Mum, are you still there?’
‘I am. But you still had friends, didn’t you dear?’ There was a hopeful note to her mother’s tone which she didn’t want to kill. So she didn’t say anything. ‘You saw the others at school. There was lovely little Amy, and…’
‘Exactly.’ She sighed. ‘Just lovely little Amy, and even that was an act.’
‘Lucy, it wasn’t you, your dad…’
‘Forget it, Mum. I have. Langtry Meadows isn’t Stoneyvale, and I’m only there for a few weeks, I like working in the city.’ She did. It was less claustrophobic, more impersonal. Where people came and went, where nobody was an outsider.
‘Anyway,’ her mother’s voice regained its normal no-nonsense brisk edge, the ‘let’s make the most of life’ tone. ‘A bit of country air will do you good, you’ve been looking a bit peaky lately. A change is as good as a rest, as they say.’
Lucy chatted to her mum for a bit longer then pressed the end call button and stared at her phone, suddenly wishing that she hadn’t told her mum to forget it.
She hadn’t, she couldn’t.
There were questions that had peeked their heads over the self-protective barrier she’d built around herself as she’d driven home. Questions about her dad she’d never dared ask. Questions that the absolute peace and quiet of Langtry Meadows had poked out of their slumber at the back of her mind. Questions about the almost obsessive tidiness that her father had insisted on.
It hadn’t hit her until today just how different their new life had been. As though her mum had been determined to wipe every last trace of Stoneyvale out of her system.
But maybe it was time she tried to move on. To shift the ache that had settled in the centre of her chest once and for all.
Charlie stared at the small white van. Whoever had parked, or should that be abandoned it, at such a crazy angle, couldn’t have done a better job of blocking him out if they’d tried.
He was knackered. All he wanted was half an hour’s peace with his feet up and a cup of coffee before his patients for the day started to arrive – and some delivery man had decided there was nothing wrong with blocking the entrance to his surgery.
His day had started at 5 a.m, a farm dog had been run over, and despite battling with every bit of experience and knowledge he had, they’d lost it. However long he did the job, he hated that bit.
Losing a battle to save a life that was ending far too early always left him feeling he’d failed. Owners that understood and thanked him destroyed him even more. They shouldn’t have to be thanking somebody for losing the battle, and along with the sour taste in his mouth there was always the curdling doubt in the pit of his stomach. What if he’d missed something obvious? What if he’d acted quicker?
The farmer had offered sweet tea, and a bacon sandwich, apologising for calling him out at such an ungodly hour. He’d not wanted to churn out the same old words – for the best, not suffering now – but