Zara Stoneley - Summer with the Country Village Vet

She would think about this logically. Sensibly. With her eyes shut.

The redundancy money would cover the bills for a while, but she urgently needed to find another job before it ran out. There was no way she was ever, ever, going to go back to living in that horrible neighbourhood she’d been brought up in. It hadn’t been her mother’s fault that she hadn’t time to keep on top of the house or garden, and that they could never afford anything new, but Lucy wanted her life to be different.

Putting her mug of tea on the table, she flipped open her laptop. She wasn’t going to mess around, or waste another second.

She’d show David bloody Lawson. She’d get another job, a better job, a job where the headmaster wasn’t a self-satisfied arse who didn’t give a monkeys about his staff or his pupils. Blinking away the mist of unshed tears she typed two words into the browser ‘teaching vacancies’, and hit the enter key with an angry jab.

***

Lucy opened her eyes with a start. It was dark. One cheek was damp and plastered to her keyboard. She probably had an imprint of the keys on her face. She sat up slowly and blinked.

The outside security light, which must have woken her up, went off and plunged the kitchen into darkness.

She sighed and stood up, wincing as a pain shot between her shoulder blades. Her back felt stiff as a board, she had a horrible dry taste in her mouth and her hair was sticky against her cheek from either dribble or tears. Or both. So, life was going well. She’d only been jobless for a few hours and look at the state of her.

So much for the no tears strategy, she’d failed there as well. But did crying in your sleep count?

This would look better in the morning. It had to. Before falling asleep she’d looked at every conceivable (and inconceivable) teaching vacancy website and come up with a big fat zero. The trouble was, teachers were being laid off faster than they were being taken on. And even supply jobs were thin on the ground, as an increasingly large number of people (many with more experience than she had) competed for them.

She looked into the biscuit tin. My God, had she really emptied it, eaten every single one, even the broken bits? She was going to be fat as well as jobless.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be better. She’d be thinking clearly. She’d find a new job. She’d be back on track.

Lucy slowed the car to a halt. Did the satnav really want her to turn down this road?

Turn left . Yep, it did. Turn left .

‘Okay I heard, but you’re kidding me?’ The stern voice didn’t reply, but her phone did. It buzzed. Maybe it was a last minute reprieve, the agency with a much better job offer back in civilisation.

She picked the mobile up. No reprieve, more a reminder of her old job, the challenges that came with working in a city centre school.

The life she loved.

She suppressed the groan, and smiled. Didn’t they say the positivity of a smile was reflected in your voice?

‘Hi Sarah.’ She really didn’t have time to chat, but she knew what the classroom assistant from Starbaston was like. Persistence was her middle name. If she didn’t answer now she’d be getting another call mid interview.

‘How are you doing, babe?’ Sarah’s normal sing-song happy tone was tinged with concern. Okay, so maybe her megawatt smile wasn’t having the desired effect.

‘Fine, fine.’

‘Really? Then why haven’t you rung?’

‘Well no, well yes.’ Fine was relative after all. ‘I’ve got an interview, in fact I’m just on my way.’

‘That’s fab.’ Her words hung in the silence. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘I think I’m lost.’

‘You always were crap at following directions, babe. Why aren’t you using that satnav you got?’

‘I am.’

Sarah giggled. ‘And you put the right place in and everything?’

‘I put the right place in and everything. It keeps telling me I need to turn left here for Langtry Meadows and it’s this tiny lane.’

‘Where? Lang what?’

‘Exactly.’ The back of beyond. ‘Some village not even my satnav has heard of. Oh God, I’m throwing what’s left of my life away.’

‘No, you’re not, you’re making a new one, a better one. Away from this stink hole and loser Lawson.’

‘But I don’t need a new one.’ She’d quite liked the life she already had. New house, nice car, job.

‘Yes, you do, Lucy. The old one’s gone.’ That was telling her.

‘Thanks for reminding me.’

‘You know what I mean, Loo. There’s something better out there. Believe me,’ she sighed dramatically, ‘lots of better things.’ But Sarah didn’t have a mortgage to pay, bills. She lived with her mum. ‘You’re the one that always tells me everything happens for a reason. I miss you, you idiot, but you’re better off somewhere else.’

‘I know I am Sarah.’ She gazed through the car windscreen. Right now all she could see were fields and it was making her feel uneasy. Not a lump of concrete, or even person, in sight. ‘But maybe not buried up to my armpits in cows.’ She had passed plenty of cows, and was pretty confident there’d be some in Langtry Meadows – if she ever found the place.

‘Better than being buried in this shit. We’ll be back in special measures while twat face is still busy working out which politician to invite over for dinner next.’

‘Should you call your boss twat face?’ Just talking to Sarah made her feel more positive.

‘You will never guess what he’s just spent a huge chunk of our bloody budget on.’

‘Probably not.’ Lucy glanced at her watch. ‘Not teaching staff, that’s for sure.’ She needed to get to this interview, seeing as it was actually the only thing between her and eating nothing but baked beans for a very long time.

‘A metal detector.’

‘What, for the kids to look for money?’ The parents would be battling to borrow it every weekend.

‘No, you idiot, a scanner type thing to check them on the way into school.’

‘You cannot be serious? Okay Starbaston is a bit rough, but the kids are still more into flicking paper planes than knives.’ She paused. ‘They’re kids, innocent.’ Well maybe not all that innocent. But…

‘But he doesn’t know that, does he? He’s a wanker. The man buys a frigging metal detector. In a primary school when he won’t even give us any more money for tissue paper and glue.’

‘Or teachers.’ Lucy couldn’t help adding that, and sounding bitter.

‘Aww babe, I know, he’s an arse. But that’s what I mean, there just has to be somewhere better than this.’

‘I know.’ Lucy sighed. ‘But am I ready to be buried in the countryside? I’m not brain dead, just redundant.’

Sarah giggled. ‘So it’s a proper village, in the countryside and everything?’

‘In the countryside and everything, I think.’ It looked very countryside from the picture on the website. ‘If I ever find it.’

‘You can join the WI and bake cakes.’

‘How old do you think I am you cheeky cow? Anyhow I can’t bake to save my life, watching Great British Bake Off is the nearest I get to making a cake, I kill every plant I touch—’

‘Apart from cress heads.’

‘Apart from cress heads,’ she was good at that, she could grow cress in an eggshell or on scratchy green paper towels as well as any five year old, ‘and the only time I tried to knit I ended up cross-eyed with my needles knotted together.’ She’d thrown the whole lot in the bin and wondered how on earth she’d ever thought yarn-bombing was a sensible thing.

‘So you’re not doing an escape to the country, then Loo?’

‘I’ll be planning my escape out. I’m glad you’re finding this so hilarious.’ It was cheering her up though. ‘Anyhow I haven’t got the job yet, I’m just going for an interview.’