“Right, yeah,” Tess said. “I’ll do that. Tip the woman who could probably buy and sell us all.”
Someone had a chip on her shoulder. Still, it wouldn’t be a trip into Hayleith without a spot of class war. Susannah had plenty of experience by now at playing the part of the Dickensian villain.
Tess turned to Babs to pay, making a show of shoving the change in the tip jar before retreating with her triangle of drinks gripped in both hands.
For a fleeting second, Susannah wished she didn’t have a stubborn streak wider than the River Tweed. Another person might have taken the opportunity to mend fences with the newcomer whose smile was actually quite pleasant. Still, Susannah could no sooner change her nature than she could grow wings and fly herself home, so no point dwelling on the impossible. Tess was already absorbed into her little clique anyway, Susannah no doubt already chased from her thoughts.
“Thank you,” Babs interrupted. “I called the Andersens; they’ve decided the boy isn’t sick after all and he’ll be down in ten minutes to cover. You can get on with your evening.”
“Speaking of getting on, I need a spot of catering early next week…” It felt better to bring up a slightly awkward topic than admit that Susannah didn’t really have any grand plans for her evening.
There was a heartfelt groan in response.
“Well, yes,” Susannah continued. “And that response is why I’m going to ask Joan again. You know she helps me out sometimes since Francine quit on me. No problems with that, I assume?”
There was no missing the way Babs’s face crumpled for just a second, but as always, she bounced right back.
“Ask whomever you like. No skin off my nose.”
“Right. Of course.” Susannah didn’t add that it very much did affect Babs, her nose, and her ability to cry into a bottle of Pinot Grigio. One day the plan was to sit Joan and Babs down together, sort out their decade-old feud, and make catering arrangements considerably less fraught. But, as Finn had said just yesterday, some tasks were hundreds of places down the list.
“I’d best be going, then.” Susannah put her jacket on and moved towards the door.
Babs was already distracted with new customers who’d just piled through the door. The local rugby club, judging by the striped tops and copious amounts of mud on each woman.
As Susannah pulled her car around onto the main street, she glanced to the big picture windows that formed the corner of the pub by the fireplace. It did look cosy, even late on a summer evening. She was just admiring her property, that was all. Nothing at all to do with the ponytailed redhead throwing her head back in laughter over her pint of bitter.
Susannah put the Land Rover back in gear and drove off towards the big, empty house waiting for her.
Chapter 5
Tess threw her vet bag into the boot of the car. The leather on the battered old thing was a little worn in places, and there were a few stains that even industrial-strength disinfectant hadn’t entirely removed. She slammed the boot closed with a satisfied pat.
This was why she had moved back here, to get to the countryside and do some real vet work. The coughing hamsters and matted cats would be waiting this afternoon, but for the morning, at least, she got to roam free.
She caught sight of Adam by the front door of the surgery, no doubt on his way to give her more faintly patronising advice about how to handle “the big stuff”. That had her scurrying for the driver’s seat and roaring down the road before he could catch up.
The farm wasn’t far outside the village, a modest smallholding with the house set far back from the main road, on the crest of a small hill. The fences were all neat and new, not as rundown as Tess remembered from when she was growing up. She drove along the track that led to a cute front garden and then came to a stop. Tess checked for other dogs before she considered letting Waffles out from the back, where he was wagging his tail like a drumbeat.
Checking the name on her tablet screen one last time, Tess hopped out onto the gravel. The moment her walking boots made contact, two things happened at once: the front door opened to reveal a tall, broad man with well-worn blue overalls and long hair that would have been more at home in a metal band, and the grey skies fulfilled their threat, sending the rain coming down in buckets.
“Come in, come in!” The man’s voice was booming, enough to get Tess’s feet moving before she had a chance to think about it.
“Mr Laskowska?”
“You must be the new vet I’ve been hearing about. You said my name right, that’s a good start.”
His Polish accent was faint, tinged with broad Scots. When he shook her hand, the skin was coarse but a little damp from being freshly washed.
“I picked up a little Polish here and there, so I try to pronounce it right when I see it,” Tess said. “You’ve been having trouble with one of the ewes?”
“Yes. This rain won’t last long. I can make coffee, and then we can head to the field?”
Her morning wasn’t too booked, so Tess agreed without hesitation, following him into the roomy farmhouse kitchen. Instead of the country-casual woodwork she expected, the room was bright and airy, thanks to surfaces reflecting the light with shiny white finishes and a whole lot of chrome. It was something out of a magazine, and Tess couldn’t help a quiet “Wow!” as she took it all in.
“You like it?”
“It’s gorgeous,” Tess replied. “Is this all your work, Mr Laskowska?”
He shook his head. “Call me Dave, everyone else does. No, I did the hanging and the banging, but the look is all by my partner, Finn. They’re very
