Eleanor Jones - The Country Vet

Down in the valley, lights were beginning to twinkle, bright pinpoints in the distance, homes where families were gathering after a busy day, smiling, communicating. Families! Cass felt suffocated as she thought about her own family. It seemed ages since she’d seen her parents, Tim and Molly. Her mother had rung just last night to tell her about the lump she’d found in her breast. It was benign, which was of course a huge relief, but the fact that she hadn’t even told her about it until it was all over had upset Cass.

She knew why her mum had kept quiet, of course, and it was so typical. “I didn’t want to worry you if it wasn’t really necessary,” she’d insisted.

But what if it had been necessary, Cass wondered, and she hadn’t been there to support her mother. For the last few years, all she’d thought about was her career, endlessly studying for the next exam and eventually trying to get a job. Now she had a job, a good job, so surely she should have a chance to stop and reflect, to spend time with her parents. But she was still thinking about herself and trying to get ahead. She had only just started at Low Fell Animal Clinic, but she already knew she wanted to specialize in horses.

Had she been selfish in her single-minded quest to become a vet? she asked herself, shifting down the gears. The answer sprang easily to her mind as an image of her mother’s face settled into place, her tired blue eyes filled with love and kindness. Her mother was always working and always worrying about her only child.

Yes, Cass realized with a lurch of guilt, she had been selfish, yet she knew her parents would not have had it any other way. She had arrived in the world as an afterthought, disrupting their world when they’d both turned forty. Fitting in a baby around running the busy village store her parents had bought when they were first married had been quite a feat, according to Molly. Cass had spent most of her early years in a corner near the vegetables, first in a pram and later in a playpen.

Cass’s heart twisted as she thought about her mother’s recent health scare. The diagnosis could have been serious, and she wouldn’t have known. And Cass bet her mum would have barely taken a day off work. Her parents loved running the store, though. Their customers were their friends, and there was nothing Molly and Tim liked better than to pass the time of day with them, bragging a little about how well she was doing. So at least she’d done that for them. She sighed, peering at her surroundings. At least she’d made them proud.

The sign appeared suddenly, jumping out at her from around a curve in the lane and jerking her from her reverie. Sky View Stables was boldly written in an arc above the noble head of a black horse. Cass spun the wheel and swung her hatchback down the gravel drive, suddenly apprehensive about what she might find here.

* * *

BILL MUNRO PULLED at his whiskered chin. Why did it have to be Rosie, and where the hell was Jake? He had found the little chestnut pony out in the far meadow. She was in a bad way, sweating and kicking her belly, her head covered with cuts where she’d been thrashing on the ground. He had tried to ring Jake, of course, but got no signal, so he’d called the vet before managing to persuade the reluctant pony back to the yard. He had settled her down in a deep bed of straw, but it seemed that all the fight had left her. That was what worried him most—her despondency. He’d seen the signs before, and it didn’t look good.

Car wheels crunched on the gravel. The throb of an engine sputtered and died as the vehicle slithered to a stop. Bill ran out into the yard, waving his arms.

“Over here!”

* * *

CASS CLIMBED FROM her car with controlled urgency, reaching for her bag and breathing deeply to slow the heavy beating of her heart. This was her job and she was well trained to do it. She turned toward the old man, noting the fear and panic in his blue eyes, and took control of the situation as professionalism kicked in. Her voice sounded firm and calm in her ears, as if she was watching herself from afar. “Right, now tell me the symptoms clearly and slowly.”

“It’s Rosie,” the man responded, already heading off across the yard. “She’s bad. Been like that a long time, I think.”

Cass followed hurriedly, running the procedure in her mind.

The pony was standing with its head lowered, sides heaving and a dead look in its eye. Cass’s heart sank—twisted gut in its final stages. She went through the motions, checking the pony’s heart rate and respiration and trying to ease her pain, knowing in her heart that it was already too late.

“Are you the owner?”

Bill Munro’s face was gray, his response stilted. “She belongs to...my son.”

Cass looked at him, her hand upturned in a gesture of helplessness. “I think you know she’s in a bad way. I doubt she’d make it to surgery, even if you wanted to try.”

“Twisted gut?”

She nodded sadly. “I’ve seen it before in old ponies. It could be a bit of fatty tissue that’s twisted itself around the gut. Surgery is always an option, but it has to be fast, and to be honest...”

Bill finished the sentence for her. “You don’t really believe it would be worth putting her through it,”

Cass nodded again, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “I am so sorry.”

Bill pulled out his phone, dialing Jake for the twentieth time. No signal. He thrust it back in his pocket, making the decision. “Just do it.”

“You’re giving me permission to euthanize her?”

“Yes.... Don’t worry. I’ll take the rap.”

Cass’s heart ran cold as she looked at the pretty little chestnut mare whose eyes were dull now with pain and fatigue, her sides straining with the effort to breathe. Cass brushed her hand across her eyes. This wasn’t why she’d trained to become a vet. Her quest was to save life, not end it. She drew the drug into a syringe, automatically tapping out the air bubbles, searching for a vein. She met no resistance from the exhausted pony.

* * *

JAKE STAYED OUT on the hillside as the sun sank slowly downward, lighting the sky with red and gold. Carlotta trotted, eager for home, and he let out a heavy sigh, turning her face back down the steep slope as darkness settled around them.

No matter how bad he felt inside, there were still horses waiting to be fed and chores to do. Life went on remorselessly, and he knew that he would, too—what else was there to do? He’d coped for the past year and he would cope for the next, and the one after that, going through the motions of his empty existence while always believing that if he’d dealt with things a bit better after Tara left, then his mum and Lucy would still be here. His life would still have meaning, and they’d all have a future together.

Jake saw the car as Carlotta jogged sideways through the gate into Sky View. A hatchback, dark green, abandoned in the center of the yard. He reined in, leaping to the ground and drawing the reins over the mare’s head in one smooth, easy movement. Who was here, and what did they want? The gray mare ran eagerly into her stall, diving into her hay net as soon as he removed her bridle.

“I’ll come back and brush you in a bit,” he told her, sliding home the door bolt and depositing her tack on the ground before striding toward the car.

Rosie’s stall door was ajar, he noted with a sudden jolt of alarm, peering into the sweet-smelling darkness of her empty stall. Voices trickled over from across the yard. There was someone in the barn. A light shone through the half-open door, casting a glow into the evening gloom and bringing a glisten of gold to the feathers of the ruddy-brown chicken that squawked its displeasure at being disturbed. What was going on? He hesitated, suddenly afraid of what he might find in the barn.