A Country Affair (15 page)

“No, it’s his office car, so he’ll be in.”

“What the blazes is the nutter playing at?”

Kate gripped her seat with both hands, unable to cope with what she knew inevitably would have to be faced.

“If your dad’s there . . .”

“What can he be doing?”

“Let’s go find out.”

Kate clutched hold of Scott’s arm. “Please, no!”

“We can’t sit here all night. You need your books for your tutorial. Anyway, perhaps your dad needs some help.”

“I can’t face Adam.”

“I’m with you. I won’t let any harm come to you. Believe me.”

“If I face him now, do you think we can sort him out?”

“Of course.” Scott sounded confident, but in truth he couldn’t begin to imagine what might be going on in that lovely friendly kitchen.

“All right, then. But I’m so frightened for Mia and Dad.”

“Well, you and I make a good team, and there’ll be four of us to his one.”

“You don’t think he’ll have brought his mother, do you?”

Scott snorted his amusement. “Of course not! Why should he?”

He opened the door and went around to Kate’s side to help her out. “Here, take my hand and hold on tight.”

Kate pulled her hand away from his. “No, if he sees us holding hands, he’ll think we’re . . . friends.”

“We are.”

“Yes, but you know what I mean. No, we won’t hold hands. Let’s go in as if we don’t realize he’s there and see what happens.”

“OK, then.”

Kate opened the door and called out cheerfully, “It’s only me. Scott’s here too. He gave me a lift home.”

Both of them sensed the tension in the house the moment they walked in. Panic seemed to hang in the very air, but Kate flung down her bag and coat on the hall chair as she always did and marched into the kitchen. For all the world as though time had been turned back four, five weeks, there sat Adam at the kitchen table with her dad and Mia. A strong smell of burned vegetables came from the pans standing on the cooker. A frying pan held crisply burned onions and liver. Adam had a mug in front of him, the tea in it untouched and the milk in it a cold eddy on the top.

But this wasn’t the Adam they had known. This Adam had a nerve twitching in his cheek, which contorted his face every few seconds. This Adam had beads of sweat on his top lip and clenched hands, and a patch of sweat between his shoulder blades showing through his beige tracksuit.

“Hello, Kate! It’s Tuesday, so I’ve come to go bowling.” The tightly controlled, precisely enunciated sentences were the words he invariably used each Tuesday, but they sounded very different. This time they were a threat. He hadn’t said, “And you’d better come with me or else,” but the words hung about on the end of his matter-of-fact statement.

Kate caught Mia’s eye and picked up on the very slight warning shake of her head. Gerry looked paralyzed with apprehension. She had to say it. “I can’t, not tonight.” Adam took a sip of his cold tea. “You may as well know. I’m having some tutoring sessions to help me improve my chemistry grade, and there’s one tonight.”

“You’d better get your meal or we shall be late. I’ve booked our lane, you see, for half past seven as usual.”

“Can you not hear what I say?”

“I’m feeling in good form tonight. I shall be able to give you a run for your money. I’m really looking forward to beating you.” He rubbed his hands together with apparent glee.

“I’m not going.”

“Mia! Get Kate her meal. I hate having to rush.” Adam’s cheek twitched rapidly.

Mia’s voice sounded as though she was in the later stages of strangulation. “She’s already told you she isn’t going.”

Gerry spoke up, having found his courage now he had Scott to support him. “There’s no one orders my wife about, so you can stop that straightaway. Kate is not going bowling. We’ve told you and now so has Kate. Now clear out . . . and . . .”

Adam banged on the table with his fist. Some tea in his mug splattered out onto the tablecloth and the stain rapidly spread. “We always go bowling on Tuesdays and that is what we are going to do. Bowling. Right! I’ve booked the lane and we’re going.” His cheek twitched violently.

Scott decided to enter the discussion. “See here, mate, Gerry’s asked you to leave, but I notice you’re still here. Now bug—clear out. Or do you prefer me to throw you out?”

There was no reaction from Adam at all. It was as though Scott weren’t even in the room. “I’m afraid I’ve let my tea go cold, Mia. I’d like a refill while I wait for Kate.”

Scott said loudly, “Right then, mate. O-u-t spells
out
and out you are going.”

He grabbed Adam by the collar of his tracksuit and heaved him to his feet.

Gerry leaped up with the intention of helping Scott with Adam’s departure.

Mia got to her feet shouting, “Be careful!”

Kate opened the kitchen door, assuming that Adam would not resist. But he did. He lashed out at Scott, striking him with a frenzied thrust of his elbow on his mouth and splitting his lip. Incensed, Scott proceeded to manhandle him out of the kitchen and down the hallway, with Gerry urging them on from behind by ramming both his fists ferociously hard against Adam’s back. Between them they managed to get him to the front door. It looked like they were losing the battle while Scott struggled to open the front door, but Scott hung on tightly and finally rid them of Adam by planting his safari boot on Adam’s backside and shoving him so that Adam sprawled full length on the path. Gerry slammed the door shut and locked it behind him.

Mia shouted as she followed them through from the kitchen, “His car keys! He’s left his car keys!”

“Give them to me.” Scott snatched them from Mia’s hand, pried open the letter box flap and flung them outside onto the path. The snap of the letter box shutting broke the spell of terror.

Between gasps Gerry, bending over with his hands resting on his thighs, said, “My God! . . . You arrived just in time . . . The fella’s mad . . . completely mad . . .”

Mia flung her arms round Kate. “Oh, Kate! I was so scared. I thought our end had come.”

They hugged and kissed each other in breathless relief.

Scott dabbed at his cut lip and grinned at them. “Good day’s work there. You did right not to tackle him on your own, Gerry. He’s dangerous.”

“What I can’t understand is why he completely ignored everything we said. Before you came, Mia and I both told him you wouldn’t be going bowling, but it was as if we hadn’t spoken. He breezed in, calling out as he always used to as though it were only last Tuesday you’d been out together. He’s finally cracked, he has, and with a mother like he’s got, it’s hardly to be wondered at.”

“Dad! When did you meet his mother?”

Gerry explained Mia’s telephone call and his morning visit to their cottage, and told of his scalp prickling when he went in and the odd unlived-in feeling the cottage had, and of how mad she was. “They deserve each other, they do.”

Mia, still clinging to Kate, said, “He frightened me.”

“And me.” This from Scott. “He’s going to do something dangerous, he is. See that muscle twitching?”

“Could hardly miss it, could we, Mia? It was like that when he came in. We didn’t cause it.”

“Let’s go and sit down again; and I’ll get your meal for you, Kate.”

They trailed into the kitchen after her, glad of something positive to do. Gerry peered at the crusted contents of the frying pan with a look of distaste on his face. “I shan’t ever want liver and onions again.”

“Neither shall I.” Mia, lifting the lids off her burned vegetables, said, “I don’t think I fancy you eating it either, Kate. What shall we do?”

Scott had an idea. “I spotted a fish and chip place down the road. Why not let me go and get some for all of us? That is, if you don’t mind me eating with you.”

They welcomed the idea. Gerry prepared to get out his wallet, but Scott pooh-poohed him. “No, this is my treat and after we’ve eaten, I’ll take Kate to her class. Save you a job, Mia.”

Mia said, “Well, that’s very kind. Thank you for your help tonight, Scott. We shall be forever in your debt.”

Scott took a bow and headed for the hallway. They heard the door open and as swiftly close. He reappeared in the kitchen saying, “I’ll wait a moment, if I may. He’s only just stood up.”

Gerry asked, “You mean he’s still lying there?”

“Looks like a neighbor’s just helping him up.”

Kate went to the bay window of the sitting room and discreetly peeped out. The neighbor was helping Adam down the path and Adam was moving as though he were sleepwalking. She watched him get into his car and sit doing nothing, then his head went down onto the steering wheel with a jerk time after time, so hard he could almost be thought to be trying to fracture his skull. Her kind heart kicked in and she wished that she could love him as he wanted, and that he were more appealing, and more confident and more . . . well, anyway . . . He wasn’t and he never would be. Not for her, anyway, and in a strange, cockeyed way his desperate actions strengthened her resolve to get to college whatever huge amounts of effort it took her. Not for her a wasted life.

The others joined her and watched through the net curtain until finally he drove erratically away and they were all left feeling distressed about him but at the same time glad to see him gone.

Scott took it upon himself to cheer them up. “Right! I’ll get the fish and chips, and be back in a flash.”

Mia asked him not to bring cod. “Anything but cod. Shall we have wine, Kate?”

“You can. I won’t. I need to keep a clear head for my tutorial.”

Scott dashed away, and Gerry and Kate sat down at the table while Mia searched for an appropriate wine in the cellar. “You know, Kate,” Gerry said, “it always surprises me what a nose Mia has for wine. I don’t know where she gets it from.”

“Or her painting. Where does she get that talent from? What did her family do, you know, what were they? She never mentions them.”

“Orphan. Brought up in a council home. She loathed it; that’s why she never talks about it. I can’t understand how she turned out so special. Because she is, isn’t she, Kate?”

“Oh yes, and not only to you and me. Other people love her too. Except Adam never did. He thinks she’s odd, which she isn’t. Funny that, when you think how odd he’s become.”

Gerry paused with a fork in his hand and he waved it in her direction. “When I think about it, he’s always been odd at bottom. I can’t imagine why I ever thought him right for you. I have to ask this; does he make you afraid?”

“He does now. You read in books about people being in denial and I think that’s what he is. He’s denying what’s happened because it quite simply isn’t acceptable to him that he’s lost his job. Without the security of it, you see, he has fallen apart. I reckon his mother knows he’s lost his job, but she won’t face up to it either.”

“God! She’s a queer one and not half. I know it gets me annoyed sometimes when I can’t find something I want because Mia is so untidy, but I’d rather have that than have it like his mother does.”

Mia appeared out of the cellar, holding up a bottle of wine. “I’d forgotten we had this. It’s a Miranda Estates Unoaked Chardonnay; should be good with fish. You’ll like this, Gerry. I haven’t enough time to chill it, but we’ll have to put up with that. Look at the time! You’ll be late, Kate.”

“She’s not to be there for half an hour, Mia. Doing well for you, is she, your tutor?”

“Dad! She couldn’t be better and when it gets nearer the time, I’m going to go twice a week. She’s determined I shall get an A, and so am I.”

“Good girl.”

Scott came back with piping-hot fish and chips, and by the time they’d finished off their meal with cheese and biscuits and fresh fruit, their good humor was restored. So Kate went off to her tutorial in high spirits—life couldn’t be better, she thought.

But in the early hours of the morning she woke, trembling and afraid, with vivid pictures in her head of destruction and death and skeletons—a nightmare just like those she had had as a child. Her first instinct was to rush for comfort to Mia, but before she could act upon it, Mia was standing by her bed. “Kate?” Their arms were around each other even as she spoke.

“I’ve had a nightmare like I used to. I’m so frightened.”

“I know. I know. So am I.”

They hugged each other in silence until both felt comforted.

It was Mia who spoke first: “Your dad insists you still mustn’t drive alone, so I’ll take you and collect you every day. I promise. Somehow we’ll sort it, love. Gerry and Scott between them, they’ll sort him. You’ll see.”

Chapter
10

“J
oy put her head around the door of Kate’s office and asked, “Are you all right? I thought you looked a bit down when you came in.”

The look Joy got in response to her question persuaded her to close the door and sit down. She watched Kate fiddle with her pen, make a pretense of shuffling some papers to her satisfaction, and waited for her to reply.

Eventually Kate answered her: “After we’d taken the kitten to Mr. Parsons, Scott took me home . . .”

“And . . . ?”

“Adam was there, for all the world as though nothing had happened and it was Tuesday and we were going tenpins bowling.”

Kate told Joy everything—each detail of what had taken place—and the relief was enormous.

“My dear, it must have been horrific.”

“It was. When Dad went to see him, only his mother was there and she said that we were getting married and buying a house and she was coming to live with us.”

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I don’t know what to say. They must have gone completely crackers. How does your father feel about it?”

“He’s worried sick and so is Mia and so am I.”

“It’s the stuff of nightmares.”

“You see, apart from trespassing here, he hasn’t done anything we could tell the police about. Sitting in someone’s house drinking tea isn’t a crime, is it?”

Joy shook her head. “I’ll talk to Duncan about it. He sees life from a different angle from most people. He may well come up with an answer. Meanwhile, keep your chin up and take extreme care not to be alone anywhere.”

“I will. Is Duncan enjoying the kitten?”

“He most certainly is. We had guidelines about not in the bedroom and mustn’t this and mustn’t that, but all that’s gone down the pan. Tiger rules the roost.”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

Joy laughed. “Somehow I don’t, no. The kitten gets through to Duncan in a way human beings can’t. He said last night that he couldn’t understand why he’d never had a cat before. He says cats are private people and so is he, so they match beautifully.”

Kate smiled. “I’m so glad he’s pleased. I think Tiger will have a very different kind of life from poor little Scott. She’s lined up for rat catching. But Scott thinks that’s a good life for a cat.”

“It is, I suppose, more natural anyway. Is Scott behaving himself? Oops! That’s none of my business. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” She got up off the chair and went to open the door. Looking back at Kate, she said, “In view of Adam’s getting at your computer here and what happened last night at home, which shows he’s getting worse, I wonder if the staff should know, then we can all be on the
qui vive
just in case.”

“No, definitely not. Lynne and Stephie would think the whole situation ridiculous and it wouldn’t do my image any good at all.”

“You’re right, it probably wouldn’t. I’ll press on.”

As she left, Kate said, “And for your information, yes, he is.”

“Surprise, surprise! He must be losing his touch.”

“The perfect gentleman.”

“My word. Do you sometimes wish he weren’t? Sorry!” Joy’s eyes lit up with fun as only hers could. “Shouldn’t have said that. But let’s face it, he is a charmer, isn’t he?”

“Oh yes. And he’s proud of it.”

“He is; you’re right. Keep your chin up about that other, you know.”

S
COTT
would have been highly gratified to have known he was being discussed in such terms by Joy and Kate. But at the time his name was being mentioned, he had other more important things on his mind. Phil Parsons had called him out to see Sunny Boy once more. The foot infection had decided to erupt again and, according to Blossom Parsons’s muddled message on the practice phone, it was worse than ever.

An animal in pain was anathema to Scott, and he loathed not being successful in curing the bull. There was nothing more certain to destroy the vet/farmer relationship than calling time and again and coming up with one solution after another, and none of them being successful. Still worse, the farmers hated the subsequent bills. He’d done all the right things. He’d scoured his brain for reasons and solutions, and each time he thought he’d succeeded, within two weeks the whole problem had flared up again.

Crossing the yard to Sunny Boy’s stall, he decided to call in Mungo for a second opinion that very afternoon if he wasn’t operating. At least it would impress Phil, who was rapidly losing faith in him, and no wonder.

Phil was waiting for him, perched on the stout four-foot-high wall of which the stall was made. “Scott!” He nodded his head at Scott. “He’s in agony this morning. It’s not fair to ’im. I need an answer.”

“I’m very sorry, Phil. I’ve decided we should have a second opinion. If you agree, I’ll ask Mungo Price to come and have a look.”

“Well, at least he has a brain. I’m beginning to doubt you have one.”

“Now, Phil, I feel bad enough about it without having a fallout with you as well.”

“Sorry. But ’im and me are mates. I’ve had ’im since he was born. Born here, he was, in this barn on Christmas Day five years ago. An absolute fluke, he was. I knew the minute I saw ’im he was special.” He hopped off the wall and watched Scott putting on his protective clothing, experience of Sunny Boy having taught him that there was a high chance of being covered in filth before the exercise was over.

Scott sprang up onto the wall, not taking the risk of drawing the bolts on the stout gate and possibly having Sunny Boy charging out and running him down. He dropped slowly down into the stall so as not to startle poor Sunny Boy, who was standing with all his weight on his three healthy legs, with the fourth touching the ground tentatively.

In accordance with his strictly imposed rules, Scott went to say good morning before examining Sunny Boy’s foot. He stroked his huge knobbly forehead, admiring the almost mahogany color of his head, which contrasted so strikingly with the snow-white of his nose and jaws, and spoke softly to him. “Now, old chap, things not going so well for you today, eh? Well, never mind, your uncle Scott’s come to make things better.”

The only reply he got was the stamping of Sunny Boy’s good front feet and a roll of his eyes. The snort that followed appeared more threatening, but Scott delayed moving to his rear for a split second while he . . .

Sunny Boy took that as Scott’s tacit agreement that he wanted to be tossed.

In less than an instant, Scott was lifted from the ground and rammed hard against the outside wall of the barn. The pressure on his ribs and especially his lungs was enormous; the thrust of Sunny Boy’s great head having emptied Scott’s lungs of air, he hadn’t even the breath left to shout to Phil to take action. All six feet two of this proud Australian son was rendered totally helpless.

Hanging there, with his spine in a vice and his feet dangling six inches above the ground, it seemed an age before Sunny Boy suddenly released him and Scott fell down against the wall, heaving great gulps of air into his starved lungs. Whereupon Sunny Boy decided that since Scott appeared to be lying there inviting further action, he would oblige. His great head, with half a ton of bull behind it, butted Scott’s body time and again.

Scott could hear Phil shout, “You bloody great sod, you!” There came the sound of Phil landing with a thud on the floor of the stall and instantly Sunny Boy lost interest in Scott, swung around despite the confined space and went hell for leather for Phil, snorting and pawing the ground. Phil leaped out over the wall in one swift balletic movement and Scott, while Sunny Boy’s attention was absorbed by wondering how he’d missed Phil, went just as swiftly as Phil over the wall and then collapsed, painfully breathless and in agony from head to foot, on the stone floor.

“My God, Scott! I’ll kill the bastard. He went for me. Me! Who’s tended his every need since the day he was born. So help me, I’ll kill him.”

“He didn’t get you, though, did he?” Scott tried to sit up, but the pain was horrific. His ribcage felt shattered and the searing agony of his stomach and thighs where Sunny Boy’s head had landed so emphatically was beyond endurance.

Sunny Boy was still snorting and stamping, and Scott muttered some ugly curses he’d heard the hands on his father’s sheep station using since his infancy.

Phil shouted in admiration, “By Jove! Them sounds damn awful foul. You’ll have to explain the meaning of them to me when you’re feeling more like yourself. Can you get up?”

“No.”

“I’m getting Blossom.”

“I’d rather you got me to hospital.”

“Bad as that?”

“Has he ever tried to gore you?”

Phil shook his head. “Never. I’ve never had a cross word with him until today. He must be in terrible pain. I’ll get the ambulance.”

“You won’t. This Aussie boy is not going in any wimpy ambulance. Take me in your truck, but ring the practice first and tell them what’s happened. Someone’ll have to do my calls. Kate will sort it.”

Phil ambled off, his balaclava even more askew than usual.

Scott lay still, wallowing for the moment in self-pity. Then he heard the
shlap-shlap
of Blossom’s fashion boots on the cobblestone yard. He groaned.

Dressed more suitably for a brothel than a barn, Blossom paused in the doorway for a moment and then came in, overflowing with sympathy. “Scott, you darling boy. I heard you groan; you must be in agony. Phil’s phoning the practice.” She knelt down on the stones beside him and, taking hold of his head, pressed it to her chest. “Where does it hurt the most?”

“You name it, it hurts.”

“He didn’t stamp on your vital regions, did he . . . ? I mean you’re not going to be impaired in any way? I wouldn’t like to think . . .”

“Fortunately for the Spencer line, no, he didn’t.”

Blossom pressed a hand to her chest. “That’s a relief. I wouldn’t like to think that Sunny Boy was responsible for incapacitating you in that area, as you might say. There, now, lean against me and we’ll get you up. Phil’s bringing the truck as close as he can.”

Scott, unwisely—but in the circumstances it was unavoidable—accepted Blossom’s help and slowly heaved himself to his feet. The throbbing pain caused him to almost faint and Blossom had to take his whole weight for a moment. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m only too glad to be of help. I have some arnica in the house. It’s excellent for relieving bruising. Could I rub some on your chest? It would help.”

Scott shook his head. He decided to pull himself together. He simply was not behaving as a real man should. Bracing himself against the excruciating pain he knew was inevitable, he straightened up and headed drunkenly for the door.

The journey to the hospital passed by in a blur. He’d never realized just how many bumps and holes there were in major road surfaces. Finally, he surrendered to the ministrations of the hospital staff, feeling less than himself and certainly not in charge of Scott Spencer, Australian extraordinaire.

He woke later that day to find Joy sitting beside his bed. Scott struggled to make himself more comfortable but groaned horribly and gave up trying. “What’s the damage? Do we know?”

“They’ve x-rayed
all
your vital parts and the news is you’ve cracked three ribs on your right side at the front and two on the left. Apart from that, no other breakages. Heavy bruising just about everywhere, but no internal damage to vital organs so far as they can tell at the moment. Everyone sends love and hopes you’ll soon be feeling better.”

“I’ll go home, then.” He made an effort to sit up and blanched with the pain it caused. “Well, perhaps not at the moment. I’ll give myself another half hour and then see how I feel.”

Skeptically Joy said, “That might be an idea. Do you realize how close to being killed you’ve been? Eh?”

“Hang that. Sunny Boy is in grave need of attention. His left hind foot is torturing him. I was going to ask Mungo to go and see him this afternoon.”

“He’s been.”

“He’s not in the next bed, is he?”

Joy laughed and Scott tried but failed. “No, he isn’t. He’s too wise a bird to get himself trampled by a bad-tempered bull. He sent Phil in first.”

“Wise man. So . . .”

“When he got there, he found that a huge abscess had formed and he’s lanced it, got rid of loads of pus and gunk, given him a massive dose of antibiotics and painkiller, and is going back tomorrow.”

“Thank heavens. I never got a chance to look, you see.”

“Might as well tell you, Phil’s thinking of getting rid of him. Sending him to the abattoir. Can’t believe he went for him when they are, well, were, such chums.”

“He mustn’t. Tell him he mustn’t. Sunny Boy was in terrible pain. No wonder he went for me, it served me right for not curing him straightaway. Promise me.”

“I promise. We’ve sorted your work till the weekend—well, at least Kate has—so you’ve no worries until Monday and we’ll see what you’re like then.”

“I shall be fully operational, believe me.”

“For heaven’s sakes, drop the macho pose, Scott. It’s the biggest wonder in the world we’re not sending for the undertaker right now. Just behave yourself. The news of your accident has stunned us all. Half the county will be in here before the night’s out and when you do leave the hospital, you’re coming to our house to recuperate. Duncan’s at home most days and he’s an excellent nurse, despite all evidence to the contrary. He knows just when not to fuss.”

Scott eyed Joy for a moment, weighing up her offer, and thought about his bare, comfortless bachelor flat with little food in the cupboards. The idea of returning there was very unappealing, so he decided to give in. “I shall be delighted to accept. And thank you.”

Joy stood up. “I mean it; I’ll speak to the nurse on my way out.” She leaned over the bed and kissed him. “You’re a dear boy. I’m glad you’ve survived; it could have been so much worse. Kate is coming in later when she finishes. That’ll be nice, won’t it?”

“She’s not driving herself, is she? She mustn’t.”

“No. She’s not. Mungo’s bringing her. He’s coming for a full briefing on the whole affair.”

“I must be ill if
el supremo
is coming to mop my fevered brow.” Scott pulled a dreadful, tortured face, sucked in his cheeks and crossed his eyes.