A Country Affair Read Free

bright with pleasure, his tail wagged furiously. She’d never seen a dog grin before, and it gave her the distinct impression he found the whole incident very amusing indeed.
    Outraged, she said in a loud voice, “Who owns this dog? Because you’re not keeping it under control. Please do so immediately.” She glared around the waiting room, in her panic and anger not noticing the deathly hush that had descended.
    The old man with two cats volunteered, “It’s not none of ours. It’s Perkins, Mr. Price’s dog. Adolf and ’im are mates.” This brought a chuckle from the regulars.
    “Mr. Price?”
    “Your Mr. Price.”
    Kate blushed. Stephie got off the phone, took Perkins by the collar and led him down through the back, muttering threats as she went. Joy emerged with a bucket and mop. “Mop up, there’s a dear; we don’t want anyone slipping on that water. Sorry about that, everybody. You all right, Mr. Featherstonehough?”
    Adolf’s owner exploded. “How many times have I asked you to keep that blasted dog under control? You know I bring Adolf every first Monday for his injection and this happens every single time. You even have the water ready, so you do know what day it is. I shall be complaining to the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons about this and don’t think I won’t because I shall. I’ve threatened before but this time I mean it. I know my rights. I shall sue your Mr. Price for every damned penny he’s got if my Adolf gets hurt. This is just once too often, this is.”
    “Mr. Featherstonehough, I can’t understand how Perkins knows you’re here. He was upstairs in Mr. Price’s apartment, safely shut away, and then somehow he realized you were here. And you know it does take two to make a fight, and Adolf does his share . . .”
    A consulting room door opened and a gruff Northern voice called out, “Mr. Featherstonehough, please? Good morning, Adolf. Been knocking hell out of Perkins again, have you? Do come through.”
    Kate mopped up the water and went into the laundry to empty the mop bucket down the sink. Joy came through with a tray of mugs in her hands. “Thanks for that. Coffee time—take the weight off your feet. Here you are.”
    The coffee tasted wonderful, but as she drank it, Kate’s conscience surfaced. “What about Stephie? Shall I go and relieve her?”
    “We’ll both go; you can’t be by yourself, not yet. Take your mug, but if Mr. Price comes through, hide it. He doesn’t like us drinking on duty—looks unbusinesslike.”
    Mr. Price, senior partner and lord of all he surveyed, did come through reception on the way to taking his orthopedic clinic, and he did see her drinking and reprimanded her for it, and made her feel knee high to a teaspoon and wishing the floor would open up. But of course it didn’t, and Stephie heard the tail end of the conversation and sniggered. “Tut! Tut! How sad! On your first day too.”
    Kate ignored her uncharitable comment. “That’s the great Mungo Price, is it? I’ll never learn to put all the names to faces.”
    “You will, given time. But he’s the one to watch. Old Hawkeye, I call him. Isn’t he gorgeous, though? So suave, so sophisticated. He can ask eighty pounds for an orthopedic consultation. And that’s just the consultation, never mind the operation, or the drugs, or X-rays, or the repeat visits. I can’t even earn that in a day. Some people!”
    “I expect he’s worked hard for years to get where he is.”
    Stephie shrugged her shoulders. “Even so . . . Talking of working hard, I saw your CV. With A levels like yours, what you doing working here?”
    “Ah!” Kate thought quickly. “Always wanted to work with animals. Bit mushy, I know, but there you are.”
    Stephie bent her head to one side and, looking quizzically at Kate, said, “Seems a funny thing to me.”
    “Well, why are you here? You must like animals just like I do.”
    Stephie shrugged her shoulders. “’Suppose I must. It’s the smells I