From the back of the car, the dog whined.
‘And you can be quiet. This is all your fault.’ She could have been at home in a nice warm house, inside of being caked from head to foot in mud. ‘I’m probably going to get trench foot.’ Water seeped down her neck and her cargo pants were heading west, their sodden weight dragging them down. Diet and exercise. Ha! She glared at her padded coat and the bulging layers. She’d never been so underweight as right now.
The day officially couldn’t get any worse.
Chapter Three
‘Hi Devon, how’re you going?’ Bets, the first in for morning surgery, was opening post, being her usual cheerful self. Too bad she was the closest thing he had to a sister, as well as being an employee to boot. Wouldn’t life be simpler with a nice uncomplicated woman like her?
‘I bloody hope it’s better than yesterday. You missed all the fun.’ Rolling his shoulders, he tried to stretch out the tension.
‘I heard you had a cageful of baby hamsters on the loose.’ She giggled and then looked at his face. ‘You look like hell. Do you want a coffee?’
‘Coffee would be great.’ He followed her into the kitchen area and watched as she spooned a huge heap of instant granules into a mug. ‘Steady on, I’ll be flying with that much caffeine.’ Costing him another sleepless night.
‘You look like you need it to get through the next couple of hours. Please tell me you’re not on call again tonight.’
Devon pinched his lips together.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, what are you like?’ She shook her head, her glossy curls bouncing.
Devon suspected that next to each other they created the juxtaposition of life and death: him, dark eyed, pale and washed out, her, rosy pink and bursting with vitality.
‘Give yourself a break.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re going to work yourself into an early grave.’ Her eyes softened. ‘You need to look after yourself. When was the last time you had a proper night off?’
He shrugged. Locum work on call paid well, even if it could be traumatic. Last night he’d been called to a field of sheep, some of which were so badly hurt, he’d had to put them down. Literally torn limb from limb by some predator. Those were the calls he hated.
She poured boiling water in the mug and handed it to him with a wicked twinkle. ‘Maybe you like delivering kittens and puppies in the middle of the night. Wilsgrave’s ministering angel.’
Then she gave him an assessing look. ‘No, more like disreputable gypsy. You need a haircut.’
‘I’m too damn busy. Meant to go this morning.’ He scowled. ‘I certainly wasn’t anyone’s ministering angel when I had to put the Briggs’ dog out of its misery.’ He tugged at his sleeve under the white coat, trying to think of something other than the trust in the young dog’s eyes.
‘Oh, no.’ Bets’ face crumpled. ‘Not Essie. Poor thing. Ethel and William must be devastated.’ Bets worried at her lip, her eyes round with sympathy. Too kind for her own good.
Devon gritted his teeth, swallowing back the flash of fury. ‘Maybe they should have thought of that before letting the dog get so bloody overweight. I told them over and over – that dog needed to go on a diet. With diabetes and arthritis, poor dog didn’t stand a chance.’
Bets sighed and patted his hand. ‘And they’ll be feeling terrible about it, Devon. They’re not bad people. Just not very bright. They did really love that dog and gave it a very happy life.’
Now he felt doubly guilty because he’d given them a hard time. They should have been told before. ‘Yeah, and I had to take it away.’
‘Maybe you should go see them. See how they’re doing.’
He stared at her. ‘What?’
‘It’s good patient relations.’
‘Where the hell did you hear that? I’m running a veterinary practice, not a flaming District Nurse service.’
Bets looked innocent, or tried to. ‘It’s the sort of thing your dad would do.’
Shame Dad hadn’t been tougher with them earlier.
She gave him an encouraging smile. ‘And most likely Jack,’ she added with a wistful look that suggested she was thinking of Devon’s younger brother, currently away in the final year at Vet School.
