Chapter Four
It was Monday morning. The rush of pets that had become unwell over the weekend was almost over. The Animal Ark waiting room had filled and emptied again. Mandy was working on the last patient of morning surgery.
‘If you can just hold his head …’ she smiled at Mrs Nolan, who was sitting in a chair beside the long-haired collie.
‘He’s such a good boy,’ the older woman commented as she steadied the dog with one hand on each side of his neck. Mr and Mrs Nolan had once run Manor Farm, which lay outside Welford on the same road as Animal Ark. Now they ran the farmhouse as a bed and breakfast and rented the fields to a neighbouring sheep farmer.
Charlie the collie dog was quirkily handsome with one blue eye and a grinning face. Mandy had been delighted when Mrs Nolan specifically asked to see her. When she had first returned to Animal Ark, there had been a few clients who had seemed reluctant to try out a new vet, but that had passed. Grasping the loose skin on the back of Charlie’s neck, Mandy slid the needle into place and in a moment had injected the vaccine. Charlie didn’t seem to have noticed. Reaching up, he licked Mrs Nolan, who fended him off with a laugh.
‘Here you are, sweetie.’ Mandy handed the dog a treat, which he wolfed down, then turned to look for more. ‘Oh, go on then,’ Mandy said, reaching for another chew. She crouched down to stroke the thick fur on Charlie’s chest and without missing a beat, he reached over and licked her ear. Laughing, she pulled herself upright, wiping away the dampness. It was wonderful to work with animals who liked to visit. There were few things she relished more than helping a nervous patient learn that a trip to the vet could be a positive experience.
Mrs Nolan and Charlie left the room, and Mandy sat down at the computer to update the history and write the bill. Once she had finished, unless more clients came in, there would be time to see to a couple of inpatients and her rescue animals before her next call. When she stood up and walked through, Rachel was on the phone at the reception desk. Helen, the veterinary nurse who normally worked during the day, was away for a few days. Rachel mostly worked in the evenings and at weekends, but this week she was working in Helen’s place.
She smiled at Mandy as she put the phone back down. ‘That’s a call for this afternoon,’ she said. ‘A sheep with a sore foot.’
Mandy walked over and looked at the book in which the large animal appointments and house visits were recorded. ‘Mr Thomas,’ she read. ‘Ainthrop.’ She looked at Rachel with a frown. ‘Is Mr Thomas a regular client?’ she asked. ‘I haven’t come across him before.’
‘He’s not been in recently,’ Rachel replied, ‘but he was here a while back, asking for worming medicine. I think he has a few pet sheep, but I don’t know any more than that.’
‘Okay.’ It didn’t surprise Mandy that Mr Thomas’s sheep were pets. It was rare for any of their farm clients to call out the vet for a single lame sheep nowadays. Most of them would manage the situation themselves, or bring the sheep into the clinic in the back of a Land Rover. She glanced at the clock. It was already eleven and her next call was at twelve. She sighed.
‘Is everything okay?’ Rachel was looking at her quizzically. ‘That was some sigh.’
Mandy leaned her hands on the desk. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said. ‘Just sometimes there aren’t enough hours in the day.’
‘Could I help?’ Rachel offered. ‘If you like, I can clean out Snowie and Bubble at lunch time. The rabbits, too.’
Mandy thought for a moment. Whilst she felt guilty about accepting help from the Animal Ark staff, the small pets in the rescue centre did need cleaning. Rachel was looking hopefully at her, not unlike Charlie waiting for another treat. Rachel always had loved guinea pigs and Mandy had fond memories of helping her with her pets when they were both much younger. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘It really would help, just this once.’ She was going to have to think about finding a more permanent solution though. If she couldn’t afford to pay, perhaps she could find some volunteers.
Half an hour later, she stood outside in the paddock. Melon the West Highland White was galloping back and forth on his short little legs, chasing a tennis ball. He was surprisingly good, dashing across the paddock each time Mandy threw the toy, capturing it, then racing back over to drop it at her feet. Twiglet was outside as well, zooming around, full of energy. It made Mandy smile to watch them. They’d have no trouble finding a new home, she thought.
The mobile phone in her pocket vibrated and she pulled it out. It was Jimmy. Melon dropped the ball at her feet. Mandy threw it again and at the same time clicked the button on the screen. Distracted by the call, she hurled the ball much higher than usual, but Melon, concentrating hard, pursued it as it flew across the paddock. Mandy watched in amazement, then burst out laughing. The little dog, without taking his eye off the missile for an instant, had jumped into the air and turned a complete somersault before landing back on his paws with the ball in his mouth.
‘Sounds like someone’s having fun!’ Jimmy’s voice sounded as if he was smiling.
Melon hurtled back to Mandy and sat at her feet looking up at her, shining eyes expectant in the fluffy white face. ‘Sorry, I’m playing with one of my rescue dogs.’ Mandy lifted the ball and flicked it away.
‘No need to apologise. I was just wondering whether you’d like to come back over to the centre. You didn’t get a chance to try out the rope course on Sunday. Would you like to have a go?’
Mandy’s eyes followed the little Westie as he sprinted across the grass, but this time he had competition. As Mandy watched, Twiglet appeared seemingly from nowhere, grabbed the ball and hared off. She weaved a figure of eight around two of the gnarled apple trees and then dropped to the ground and started to chew. ‘That would be lovely,’ Mandy gasped, rushing across the paddock to try to rescue the ball. Melon stood staring at the larger dog. There was so much consternation in his expression that Mandy had to stop herself from laughing again.
‘The centre is closed on Wednesday …’
As Mandy approached, Twiglet dropped the ball on the ground. Making a grab for it, Mandy brought her attention back to Jimmy’s words.
‘… so if you’d like to come over then, we could have a go together.’
‘Sorry, Jimmy,’ she panted. ‘Did you say Wednesday?’ She straightened her back, holding on tightly to the ball.
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Wednesday afternoon, if you can get away.’
Mandy turned it over in her mind. It had been so long since she’d seen him properly. With all her commitments, she was constantly short of time, and she hadn’t felt it was fair to suggest meeting up when her schedule was so hectic. But she was longing to see him. His voice on the other end of the line tugged at both her heart and her conscience. ‘I’ll ask Mum and Dad if they can spare me for a couple of hours,’ she said a few seconds later. ‘Would that be enough, if I can get it?’
‘That would be fine.’ There was a moment’s pause. ‘I know she won’t be able to tackle the rope course, but Zoe and Simba were wondering whether Sky would like to come over as well.’
Mandy laughed. ‘Well, she’s inside right now, but I think I can answer on her behalf. That would be absolutely lovely.’
The drive out to Ainthrop was exquisite. The sky soared high and blue over the fell tops. Piercing winter sun made the bare trees show up black and stark against the horizon. Not for the first time, Mandy thought how much she loved the Yorkshire Dales in every season. Even with a gun to her head, it would be impossible to choose her favourite time of year.
Ainthrop was a tiny smallholding, its white-painted house set against a backdrop of undulating fields. Putting a few things in the pockets of her jacket, Mandy made her way down the front path. The man who came to the door was wearing a Harris tweed suit with a waistcoat, and looked about a hundred years old. Mandy found herself thinking he looked like something from a film set. He was the perfect image of a 1940s country gentleman with his checked shirt and green tie.
‘Mr Thomas?’ she asked.
‘I am indeed,’ the man replied in a surprisingly brisk voice. ‘You must be the vet?’
‘Yes,’ Mandy replied. ‘I’m Mandy Hope. You have a lame sheep that needs looking at?’
‘Ah yes. Perhaps you could come to the back door?’
Mandy looked down at the wellingtons and waterproof trousers she had already donned. The hallway of Mr Thomas’s house looked spotless. She turned around, walked back up the pathway and followed the track that led round to the back of the house. She found Mr Thomas, now resplendent in a drop brim tweed hat, pulling on a pair of immaculate boots on the back doorstep.
‘The sheep are out in the barn,’ he announced, standing up very straight and gesturing with one hand. There was a stone-paved area at the back of the house: a miniature version of the traditional farm steadings that were scattered throughout the valley. Directly opposite, on the far side of what appeared to be a garage, was a large, brightly painted sliding door. Mandy could hardly believe the old man would manage to open it, but he set his shoulder to the handle and pushed the heavy door until it moved smoothly aside.
Inside was an old-fashioned building of exactly the type Mandy loved most. The thick stone walls had been whitewashed at some time in the distant past. There was hay in a manger and a thick layer of straw on the floor. Best of all were the three horned ewes that stood there, gazing at them with curious eyes. They were an attractive cream colour and their broad faces and legs were a very pale golden tan.
‘How lovely!’ Mandy exclaimed. ‘What breed are they?’ They were quite different from the Swaledales and Blackface sheep she was used to.
‘They’re Portlands,’ Mr Thomas said proudly. ‘I’ve had them since they were lambs.’ He and Mandy leaned on the wooden gate that separated the door from the pen. ‘It’s Daffodil I’m worried about.’ He pointed to the smallest of the three, which was standing furthest from them. ‘My son came on Saturday to get them inside and we noticed she was limping. I gave her a day or two, but she’s still not using it properly.’
Looking closely at Daffodil, Mandy could see that she was indeed taking less weight on her right foreleg. ‘Okay.’ She smiled at Mr Thomas. ‘Let’s take a look, shall we?’
The old man unclipped the gate, holding it open for Mandy and closing it once they had both stepped through. The straw was thick and springy underfoot. It was lucky the barn wasn’t too big, Mandy thought. She didn’t fancy chasing a lame sheep all over the place. Although Daffodil was small, she was eying them warily, her body still but tense with restless anticipation.
Arms outstretched, Mandy and Mr Thomas moved towards the little ewe. For a moment, it looked as if they would trap her easily in the corner and the game would be over, but as they closed in, just as Mandy was about to launch herself, Daffodil shot forwards underneath Mandy’s hands and in an instant was gazing at them from the far corner of the byre.
It happened so fast, Mandy wanted to laugh. Daffodil had looked so placid. She still looked fairly chilled out, though she was watching them intently. Again, Mandy and Mr Thomas lined themselves up. This time Daffodil didn’t even wait for them to close in before she skipped away. It was amazing what a turn of speed she could build up. And with only three feet fully functional, thought Mandy. Goodness knows how Mr Thomas’s son managed to get them inside.
After three quarters of an hour, Mandy was starting to worry about the old man. While Daffodil was still fresh as a daisy, Mr Thomas was looking exhausted. Even Mandy herself was running out of steam. ‘Is there someone else that can come and give us a hand?’ she panted.
The old man limped over and leaned against the wall. ‘I am sorry,’ he wheezed. ‘I thought with her being lame, we’d be able to get hold of her easily.’ His blue eyes were troubled. ‘I don’t think there is anyone. My son works, you see. Only in Welford, but he won’t be finished till later.’
Mandy leaned on the wall beside him. The three sheep were, by now, thoroughly stirred up. There was no way they could catch Daffodil without a change of plan. ‘Do you have any gates or boarding?’ she asked after a few moments thought. ‘We could build a kind of tunnel for her.’ She thought of the pathway of pallets she had built in the summer with the help of Seb Conway, the local animal welfare officer. She should have thought of it half an hour ago, but they had been so close to catching the wily sheep so many times that she’d thought it was only a matter of perseverance.
‘We could lift off the gate to the yard,’ Mr Thomas suggested, straightening up. Mandy was amazed that he seemed to have recovered so quickly. Despite his sprightliness, Mandy couldn’t help but hope the gate wasn’t too heavy. When they walked outside, she was pleased to see it was relatively small. Fortunately, the bars were close together. To Mandy’s relief, it lifted easily off its hinge and between them they carried it back into the byre.
‘We can prop it here,’ Mr Thomas said, wedging one end between the bars of the manger. Working together once more, Mandy and the old man drove the ewe into the gap between gate and wall. This time, as she made her dash for freedom, Mandy propelled herself forward and to her relief, caught the ewe by the neck, hauling the wriggling body towards her before moving the animal into the brightest area of the barn.
It was the work of a moment to turn the ewe’s head and tip the lightweight body up, so that the sheep was sitting on her rump with her back against Mandy’s legs. Her compact feet were black and shiny from the clean straw. Grasping the right fore, Mandy looked closely at the hoof. Both cleats were well shaped and clean, but when she pulled apart the toes, she saw that the area between them was inflamed and looked sore. The red swollen tissue was covered by a thin layer of white.
‘She’s got scald.’ Mandy showed the painful-looking lesion to Mr Thomas. ‘Was it muddy where she was outside? It has been raining a lot lately.’
‘It was, I’m afraid. We should have got them in earlier, but it was so mild for November, I thought I’d leave them out a bit longer.’ The old man studied the little hoof. ‘Can you cure it?’ he asked.
Mandy checked the foot again. The horn looked healthy and there was no foul smell. ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘Scald is caused by a bacterial infection. It’s localised, so it should clear up with an antibiotic spray.’ She pulled a can of Oxytetracycline from her pocket, glad she’d had the foresight to bring it from the car. Shaking it, she sent a jet of the blue-green aerosol in between the cleats onto the affected skin. ‘Would your son be able to help you to treat it again?’ she asked.
Mr Thomas nodded. ‘He comes here most evenings on his way home,’ he said. ‘He says he comes to see the sheep but I suspect he’s checking up on me!’ His blue eyes twinkled under bushy white eyebrows.
Mandy couldn’t help but be relieved. It was good to hear that Mr Thomas and the sheep were being looked after.
‘Would you like a cup of tea? After all your hard work.’
Mandy sighed as she set the ewe carefully back on her feet. She would dearly love a cup, but she had been ages already. ‘Can I just wash my hands?’ she asked. ‘I’d love to have tea with you, but I really should be getting back.’
The old man smiled. ‘Another day then,’ he said, and Mandy nodded.
‘It’s a date!’ she promised.
Kicking off her boots at the cottage door, Mandy was pleased to see her mum sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea. ‘Where’s Dad?’ she asked.
Emily smiled up at her. ‘He’s seeing a dog that’s cut its paw,’ she said. ‘How was your call?’
‘It was fine.’ Mandy walked over and pulled a mug out of the cupboard, then put the kettle on. ‘A sheep called Daffodil with mild scald. Her owner, Mr Thomas, was an absolute sweetheart.’
‘Lovely. I don’t think I’ve met him yet.’ Standing up, Emily grabbed a sizeable box from the counter and placed it on the scrubbed pine table. ‘What do you think of these?’
Mandy watched as she slid the lid off. Inside, there was a pile of Christmas cards. Emily pulled one out and handed it to Mandy. On the front was a frosty picture: thick-furred cows and a scattering of sheep in a snow-filled landscape. Beams of wintry sunlight sloped across the scene.
‘Beautiful!’ Mandy said. ‘Are these the practice Christmas cards?’ Every year since she could remember, cards had been sent out to their regular Animal Ark clients. Looking down at the picture, Mandy felt a surge of regret. She should have sent out cards for Hope Meadows to her suppliers and contacts. It was too late to order them now for this year. ‘I should have had ordered some for Hope Meadows,’ she said with a sigh.
Emily’s smile widened. ‘Look inside,’ she urged.
Mandy opened the card and felt her heart lift. ‘Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year from Animal Ark and Hope Meadows.’ She was constantly amazed by how much her parents did for her. She couldn’t be more proud to have her rescue centre included in the official practice card. Reaching over, she gave Emily a big hug. ‘Thank you so much, Mum,’ she said. ‘These are perfect!’