Summer with the Country Village Vet. Zara Stoneley
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that she’d shoved her bum into his crotch so they were now spooned in the kind of post-sex intimate position that you just didn’t do with clothes on. Or in broad daylight with a stranger.
He froze, then leapt away from her as though he’d been stung – almost throwing her off balance again.
‘Sorry.’ His tone was nearly as clipped as his action, and when she half-turned he was studying a spot about six inches above the top of her head. ‘You were in its path. Bolting horses can run blind.’
Wow, he was tall, dizzyingly tall, and solid looking.
‘Oh.’ Suddenly light headed she bent over and rested her hands on her knees, and was shocked when he squatted down and peered up at her, studying her intently as he threaded his fingers through his mussed up hair.
‘Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?’
She blinked at the soft tone which was in total contrast to the brusque edge she’d heard seconds before.
‘Fine, I just need to get my breath.’ She tried to smile. ‘I’m not used to being almost run down by galloping horses.’ Or being grabbed by strong, attractive men. There was a bit of a shortage of them in city centre primary schools. Sexy men, and horses. Not that he was responsible for her current light headedness – that had to be the danger, the nearly being killed. The thrill…. No, not thrill. Danger. Adrenaline – that was the word she was looking for.
‘Don’t apologise. I would have a sit down if I were you, shock can have a strange effect.’
Something was having a strange effect, but she had a horrible feeling it was more to do with finding herself pressed against the groin of a man, than the risk of a trail of hoof prints being left across her body.
‘You look pale.’
She felt pale. Avoiding his gaze she glanced downwards. Bloody hell, his blood supply seemed to have redirected round his body again and headed southwards, right into the spot she’d been nestled against. She looked back up guiltily, straight into his eyes. Mistake. Maybe she was better shutting her eyes, concentrating on her own blood flow which seemed to be located solely in her heart which was still hammering away ten to the dozen.
He wasn’t reacting to her, it was a male thing. Danger turned her into a wobbly blancmange, and men into, well into, well it could just turn them on.
‘Hey.’
He was still waiting for a reply, and probably worried she was going to keel over on him. ‘I’m fine. Thank you.’ She studied his feet. Much safer than looking at his groin, or into his eyes.
‘Good.’ He stuck his hands into his pockets. He knew. The earth just had to swallow her up, whisk her away. ‘Great, well if you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll be off.’ He stepped back almost nervously. ‘Work to do.’ He was doing his best to edge past her, squeeze between her and the car. She stepped back, feeling awkward. ‘Sorry about grabbing…’
‘No problem, thanks for…’
‘Sure.’ And he spun on his heel, and was off before she could say another word.
Lucy sank down against the bonnet of her car and watched as he set off down the road, his long legs swallowing up the ground as though he couldn’t get away quickly enough. Wow. Nobody on Emmerdale looked like that, or on The Yorkshire Vet, or on Countryfile. Not that she really watched programmes like that. Home makeover programmes were more her thing.
She glanced at her watch out of habit. ‘Bloody hell.’ She’d almost forgotten what she was doing here, she was going to be late for her interview. She was never late for anything. Ducking back into her little car she started up the engine and pulled out. Following the left hand fork, she passed the Taverner’s Arms, and then pulled up outside the school that lay just beyond it.
Smoothing her hair down with a slightly shaky hand, she tucked the loose tendrils behind her ears. All she had to do was remember to breathe and be natural, confident. Everything she wasn’t feeling.
But she could do this with her eyes shut. She knew she could. Teaching in a small village school had to be easy after the day-to-day battles she’d fought in a failing city centre one.
It was fine, if she didn’t get this job there would be others.
Lucy had applied for the temporary cover position at Langtry Meadows out of a sense of desperation. She’d actually wondered how the hell she was going to be convincing in an interview. One, she didn’t want to work in a village, two she wanted to work within commuting distance of her home, and three she was over qualified for the post. But as she got out of her car and gazed in awe at the pretty primary school she realised she actually wanted this job. Maybe if she could do this, she could banish her past forever. Not just hide the hurt, but beat it down. Face up to it, and prove it no longer had a hold over her.
Which made it all the more nerve-wracking. She couldn’t ever remember feeling quite this nervous, but that was probably because all of a sudden she knew it mattered. Really mattered.
Colourful stepping stones marked a path across the playground, leading up to a doorway which had ‘Boys’ etched into the arched brickwork above. She stared up at it – wondering if she’d somehow been transported back in time – when a young woman, with cropped trousers, a floaty blouse and paint covered hands appeared on the step.
‘Hi there! You must be Lucy.’ The woman smiled. ‘Come in, come in. Oh, don’t worry about that.’ She’d followed Lucy’s gaze. ‘This school was built back in the days when they thought pre-marital hand-touching was a sin, we’ve got a girl’s entrance over there.’ She pointed to another entrance at the other end of the playground. ‘We use that for open days, and everybody dives in through this one the rest of the time. You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve been helping Reception Class with finger-painting.’ She wriggled red and yellow fingers, and Lucy felt some of the flutters disperse. Just some. ‘Mrs Potts is about somewhere, she’ll show you round while I get myself cleaned up. Good journey?’
She paused for breath and Lucy smiled back.
‘Great thanks.’ Better not to mention the wrong turnings.
‘I’m hopeless, I always get lost even with a satnav. I’m Jill by the way, classroom assistant and chief bottom wiper. I won’t shake hands – not with fingers like this. If you sign in there and grab a visitor’s badge I’ll find Liz, she’s probably gone to buy some biscuits. Best part of an interview day,’ she grinned, ‘candidates have biscuits and we get to finish them off, we usually get bourbons and cream custards, much better than the normal digestive biscuits. Ah, here she is, I’ll leave you in her capable hands, and get back to painting caterpillar pictures. Catch you later.’
Liz Potts was frighteningly capable. After checking that Lucy had signed herself in properly, and had made a note of her car registration correctly, she gathered up her bunch of keys and set off on the introductory tour of the school at a speed totally at odds with her appearance. She reminded Lucy of Mrs Tiggy-Winkle. Which could have been down to her rather rounded appearance, sharp nose, and tiny feet. Or the speed they were scuttling down the corridors at.
Lucy was being whisked through the school with a ruthless efficiency, and a nod to left and right at various classrooms which Mrs Potts seemed to consider superfluous to teaching.
‘Reception and Class 1 here on the right… and the dining room is there… this is our little library… Class 2 here, rather a big intake, it must have been a bad winter.’
‘Sorry?’ Lucy craned her neck, trying to peek inside at the children who seemed remarkably engrossed in their work.
‘Snow, a hard winter always results in a flurry of autumn births don’t you find?’
It had never occurred to Lucy, but there again there was probably less to do here than in the middle of Birmingham, which very rarely saw snow anyway.
The corridors seemed eerily quiet compared to what she’d been used to at her previous