But Chris’s voice was panicked. ‘Mate, we’ve got a problem at Cape Ashe,’ he said. ‘It’s Autumn.’
Scotty’s head cleared, the effects of the three beers he’d downed dissipating in an instant. ‘The foal?’ She wasn’t due for another month, but horses were always getting themselves into trouble – especially pregnant ones.
‘I dunno,’ Chris replied. ‘She’s been off her food all day. Now she’s really struggling to breathe. She’s making a bloody terrible noise.’
‘Have you taken her temperature? Does she feel hot?’ It wasn’t a particularly warm day, but with Autumn’s recent malignant hyperthermia diagnosis, heat stroke was an ever-present threat.
‘Her temp’s up, but I don’t think it’s heat stroke. She doesn’t have any of the other symptoms of it. Can you get up here, bro?’
Scotty opened his mouth to say ‘of course’ but stopped. The best-case scenario was that Autumn would need to be transported to the clinic for treatment. Chris’s call had sobered him up, but he knew he’d drunk too much to drive the narrow country roads to Cape Ashe Stud in the gathering darkness, much less tow a horse float back into town.
And worst case? Autumn could need emergency surgery in situ. Scotty couldn’t operate on his brother’s pregnant mare with three beers in his system – not legally and definitely not ethically.
‘Mate, I can’t do it,’ he said. ‘I’m three beers in.’
A stream of expletives issued from Chris’s end of the line. ‘What can we do, Scotty? She’s in a really bad way. Can you call one of the other vets?’
Scotty groaned. He employed two other vets at the clinic, both part-time. Charlie had already flown to Tasmania to spend Christmas with his family and it was Eleanor’s day off. On any other evening, he knew he could call her and she’d drop everything to help, but her husband was away on a golfing trip and she was flying solo with their four kids.
The nearest vet hospital besides his was at Alison Bay. Even if he could get hold of them after hours, they were at least a half-hour’s drive away. If Autumn was in respiratory distress, she may not have that much time.
Claire’s giggle floated above the dull roar in the pub once more. Of course. He hadn’t seen Claire or Jared come back to the bar for more drinks, so she couldn’t have finished her first glass of wine. It wasn’t ideal – stone-cold sober was ideal – but it was his only option.
‘Try to keep her calm and cool. We don’t want the MH flaring up on top of whatever else is going on,’ Scotty instructed his brother. ‘I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’
Scotty left his untouched beer and hurried across the bar to the sofa where Claire and Jared still sat talking, their heads close together. Jared’s hand rested across the back of the sofa, nearly touching Claire’s shoulders, and Scotty had to fight the urge to slap it away.
Claire looked up in surprise when Scotty loomed before her. ‘How many drinks have you had?’ he said.
A look of undisguised disgust crossed her face. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Steady on, Scotty,’ Jared said, a note of warning in his voice.
‘Just tell me,’ he said. ‘Please.’
Claire sighed and held up her wineglass. It was still half full. ‘Just this one. Okay, Dad?’
Scotty nodded. ‘Great. Come with me.’ He held out his hand.
Neither Claire nor Jared moved. They just stared at him, dumbfounded. Finally, Jared said, ‘I think it’s time for you to go, mate.’
‘Please, Claire,’ Scotty said. ‘It’s my brother’s horse – you remember Autumn?’
‘Malignant hyperthermia,’ she said. Jared looked at her like she was speaking Swahili.
‘Yeah, but this is something else. Airway, from what Chris said. She needs to be seen right now, but . . .’
Claire frowned. ‘But what?’
‘I’ve had too much to drink. I shouldn’t drive, and even if I did I definitely can’t operate on her, if it comes to that. You’re the horse guru. Will you help?’
Claire got immediately to her feet and turned to Jared. ‘I’m so sorry, Jared. I treated Autumn in Sydney last week. I can’t not help her.’
‘Of course,’ he replied, rising to stand beside her. ‘I completely understand. Go do your thing.’
She gave him a quick hug. ‘I’ve had a really good time catching up. I’ll call you, okay?’
Jared smiled. ‘Make sure you do.’
Claire turned to Scotty and held out her hand. ‘Keys.’
Scotty fished them out of his pocket and handed them over. ‘We’ll need to stop at the clinic to get my instruments,’ he said.
‘No, we’ll need to stop at Vanessa’s house to get my instruments.’
‘You brought your instruments on holiday?’ He stared at her, amazed.
Claire shrugged. ‘A girl never knows when she might need a scalpel. Now let’s go.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
Claire knew the way to Cape Ashe Stud like the back of her hand. She’d made the journey from town or from Thorne Hill more times than she could count, first on her bike and later, when Scotty got his learner driver’s licence, in the turquoise Mazda 121 his parents had bought him. He’d been so embarrassed by that car, but Claire had loved it. To her it had represented freedom – from her parents’ increasingly volatile marriage, from their objections to her deepening relationship with Scotty and from the looming threat of boarding school. She had often persuaded him to take to the open road, just the two of them, even though he was supposed to have a fully licensed driver in the car whenever he was behind the wheel. She’d been a bad influence on him from the start.
Now, she was in Scotty’s car again, but this time it was the hulking black four-wheel drive she’d seen the day he brought Autumn to the clinic in Sydney. Claire had protested when he’d insisted she
