Page 12 of Christmas at the Home Farm Vets
‘Deal.’ He gave her a grin and she dropped her gaze. After their first year at Catz and how it had ended, she’d had the barrier of studying wedged firmly between them. All she had to protect her now was her professionalism and a determination that they wouldn’t get drawn once again into each other’s lives.
‘Why don’t you give Oli a quick tour before we head out,’ she suggested to Steph, who was Jess’s senior and therefore, Erin hoped, less likely to be susceptible to his charm.
Oli promised Elaine he’d never tasted brownies as good and set off with Steph. Elaine settled at her screen behind the counter with a happy sigh, muttering something about beautiful manners and what a pity he wasn’t permanent. Erin, who disagreed with her about the permanence bit at least, ignored Jess as she disappeared into a treatment room with a merry smile, and made for the office with her mug of tea.
It was a squeeze with an expanding staff, and they were all looking forward to the future and a state-of-the-art farm animal building, improved consulting rooms and a new lab. She cast an eye over a large paper diary on Gabi’s desk. All companion animal appointments were booked online but this method for recording farm calls had stuck, and Erin loved how it connected the present-day practice to the past one. There was something about names and planned visits on the page in black and white that were solid and real, like the farms and their people. A flicker of satisfaction followed when she scanned her appointments for today: a calf with diarrhoea, a donkey castration and Dorothy Pilkington. Even better.
All perfect for Oli’s induction, and it promised to be very different from his usual consultations. She wondered if he might loathe mixed practice in such a rural location and decide it wasn’t for him after all. But that wasn’t a thought on which she wanted to linger. If Oli left early then her new bathroom fund would be seriously depleted and Gil would have the headache of replacing him. Erin finished her tea and ran over the timings; the calf was first call and most urgent as it could quickly deteriorate without prompt treatment.
Back in her pickup with Oli fifteen minutes later, having collected everything they might need for the day, Erin rolled a shoulder to loosen her tension as they set off. ‘So the calf, what do you think?’
She checked for traffic before pulling onto the quiet lane, wipers working furiously now the drizzle had become heavy rain. A thick hawthorn hedge opposite was bare of its leaves on spiky stems and the scarlet berries the birds had already taken.
‘How old?’ Oli’s level tone implied that he too was prepared to keep their conversation professional.
‘Ten days.’
‘Right. So it’s at serious risk then, and I’d be thinking most probably a viral infection rather than a bacterial one. Let’s see, shall we?’
Erin crossed a bridge spanning a narrow, gushing river, and drove past the primary school and church with its sturdy square tower. She paused at a T-junction; where the village green was bordered by the river and edged with planting on her right, a crumbling stone cross in the centre beside the remains of wooden stocks. The cobbled main street was empty in this weather, a few white cottages adorned with seasonal lights opposite a pair of larger houses standing behind railings and low evergreen hedging.
She turned left past the Pilkington Arms, built of the same creamy golden stone as Home Farm, smothered in ivy climbing to the rafters. The old youth hostel, which Pippa had bought a few months back and was converting into an art gallery and community space, sat opposite the pub, and the scaffolding hadn’t long come down. Tatty rendering on the walls had been stripped back and the pale stone underneath revealed, making the building more welcoming. Pippa was holding a pop-up Christmas craft event on Friday to launch the gallery, and Erin was hoping to find a few gifts and maybe some decorations for her new home.
Oli’s gaze was turned to the window as she drove, the radio a background of chat keeping the silence at bay. Low meadows bordered by walls rose to moorland fells, still smothered in mist, and dotted with ancient stone barns standing firm against all the weather flung at them. The river snaked below them, twisting beneath tight humpbacked bridges, and gushing over giant stone boulders to crash into deep rocky pools.
Most cattle were indoors for the winter now the grass offered little sustenance, and Erin noticed some hardy Belted Galloway cows, black with a distinctive white stripe around their middles, roaming loose amongst the Swaledale and Rough Fell sheep, all tough enough to withstand most conditions. The sheep grazed the fells all year round, coloured marks on their fleeces identifying the flock to which they belonged. Most of the ewes would be pregnant and preparing to give birth in the new year, and she felt a thrill of excitement at the busy lambing season ahead.
‘It’s stunning,’ Oli remarked. She nodded, catching his eye when his gaze flickered back to her. ‘I can see why those days out with your mum made such an impression and why you wanted to practise here.’
She’d thought he would’ve forgotten her passion for the Dales and that practising here was the pinnacle of her professional ambition. How many other confidences had they shared that weekend when she’d brought him home to her family and he’d somehow fitted right in?
‘Is it always like this, the weather?’ He unscrewed a flask of coffee that Elaine had thoughtfully provided. He poured some into a cup and replaced the lid before taking a grateful sip.
‘No. Sometimes it’s worse.’
‘Bit different from growing up in a town,’ he remarked. ‘It doesn’t faze you, but then not much ever did.’
She would never admit that Oli had, tilting her world to a degree she hadn’t imagined possible until they’d met. At times she’d resented the feelings she’d had for him then, leading to that unforgettable kiss, the one she still tried not to measure against every other. She offered no reply and ten minutes later was relieved to arrive at their first call and escape any more reminders of their history.
She followed a rough drive alongside paddocks empty but for two grazing horses in navy rugs and a small flock of Swaledale sheep, their horned black faces marked with white around the nose and eyes. She pulled up at a five-barred metal gate fastened to a concrete post with orange baling twine. Usually she had to jump down and open the gate herself, and she looked at Oli meaningfully, hoping he’d get the message.
‘Oh yeah. Like being a student again,’ he muttered, wincing as he opened the door, and a blast of wind attempted to tug it from his hands. He undid the gate and offered a wry grin as she drove through, and Erin waited for him to close it. He jumped back inside with a shudder of relief.
She parked outside a barn in the yard, the usual jumble of machinery, bales and fencing equipment propped inside, shivering as she pulled on the essential coat, woolly hat, wellies and waterproofs, and Oli did the same. She’d learned never to use the heated seats unless she’d been on the wrong side of a soaking, as leaving the warm vehicle made heading out into freezing wind or blinding rain even worse.
She introduced Oli to the farmer and collected equipment from the boot before following them to a small pen at the back of the barn, separate from the rest of the herd housed in another building. Inside a beautiful red-and-white calf was standing lethargically, head lowered, as its mother looked on.
Erin stood aside so Oli could lead the consultation, and he quickly established the calf had a poor appetite after a difficult birth and the farmer had tube fed the necessary colostrum to provide it with essential viral protection. Its temperature was on the higher side of normal and after further examination he diagnosed pneumonia. He prescribed seven days of medication and advised the farmer to keep a close eye on the calf for any signs of dehydration or worsening of its condition. She was confident the calf would recover as they’d caught the illness in its very early stages.
‘Looks like a good outcome.’ Back in the yard, Erin glanced at Oli as they disinfected their waterproofs and boots, and changed their footwear. The wind was cutting on her face, and she felt its icy chill the moment she took off her hat and flung it onto the back seat as she leaped into the pickup.
‘Yeah, it should be fine,’ he said lightly. He hadn’t wasted any time getting inside either, and they shared a grin at the calf’s hopeful prospects. She raised a hand to thank the farmer as he followed them to the gate and closed it behind them, saving Oli a job.
When they arrived at a smallholding to see their next patient, they learned the donkey was a recent rescue and at three, quite a bit older than was usual for castration. The owner cheerfully explained that it was necessary because his being entire was causing problems for her two females and she wanted all three to live quietly together. She also pointed out that he was a bit of a handful. The donkey was turned out in a paddock, and it didn’t take them long to discover he was also a nightmare to catch. It took all three of them a good fifteen minutes to corner him, and Erin couldn’t stifle her laughter when Oli slipped in a deep patch of mud near the gate and was sent sprawling to his knees.
Eventually he managed to fling a lead rope around the donkey’s neck and hold him steady long enough for her to administer a hasty sedative. Soon the donkey’s head began to droop and once she’d followed up with the general anaesthetic, it quickly took effect, and they supported him as he went down on the grass.
Thankfully, the rain had stopped, and she covered him with a waterproof rug as Oli injected local anaesthetic into the appropriate area as well, fingers stiffening from the cold as he worked. She couldn’t be certain, kneeling on the wet grass at their patient’s head, but it seemed as though the two jennies were watching on with interest, and perhaps even a degree of satisfaction at the sight of their bolshy companion being separated from part of his manhood.
