Trust Me, I'm a Vet by Cathy Woodman Read Free Book Online

and slobbering across the table. ‘He’s hungry, but he can’t keep anything down.’
    Cadbury doesn’t make it easy for me to examine him. He thinks it’s a game, but suddenly he stands quietly, his expression mournful.
    ‘It’s probably something he’s eaten,’ I say, at which he retches and throws up a sausage of foamy, dark fabric onto the table in front of us. The boys stare, fascinated.
    ‘Mummy, that’s my sock,’ says Ryan.
    I give Cadbury an injection to settle his stomach, then stick on a pair of gloves and rinse the offending object out in the sink. It is indeed a sock. Thomas the Tank Engine beams at us, unharmed.
    ‘Mum’s been sick like Cadbury,’ Sam observes.
    ‘I can assure you that it isn’t because I’ve been eating socks.’ Lynsey smiles. I like her. She’s friendly and warm, and not in the least bit fazed by seeing me rather than Emma.
    ‘Number seven’s on its way – all I have to do is look at Stewart and I’m pregnant, but if it isn’t a girl this time, I’m going to send it straight back. Thanks – Maz, wasn’t it?’ she goes on after I’ve murmured my congratulations, uncertain whether congratulations are in order or not. ‘It’s marvellous having this practice on our doorstep. I can’t believe how smart it is.’
    ‘It’s cleaner than our house, Mum,’ Sam cuts in.
    ‘Can’t you keep anything to yourself?’ Lynsey sighs. ‘What was I saying? Oh yes, you and Emma have a much nicer bedside manner than Old Fox-Gifford – he scares the living daylights out of the boys. Ryan’s only just stopped wetting the bed since Fox-Gifford last came out to the farm.’
    ‘Barton Farm?’ I say. ‘I spent a few weeks there with Mr Pitt —’
    ‘That would be my father-in-law. Stewart never calls himself that,’ Lynsey interrupts.
    ‘It was when I was a student, doing my preclinical studies. Emma’s mum put me in touch with them – I stayed here at Otter House with her for the summer.’ I remember Stewart – he was quite a bit older than me. I also remember that he had a bit of a reputation with the ladies – not that he tried anything on with me, I hasten to add, probably because most of the time on the farm I went around in an unflattering green boilersuit and smelled of cows.
    ‘That must have been before my time. Stewart’s parents have retired, thank goodness. His dad, bless him, he’s one of those people who’s always right, even when he’s wrong,’ Lynsey says. ‘Thanks again.’
    ‘It’s nothing. It’s my job.’ I love my work, the uncertainty of what you’re going to see next, the adrenaline rush of tackling an emergency, the highs and even some of the lows.
    ‘One other thing,’ I say, ‘have you thought about castration at all?’
    She looks around at her sons and laughs. ‘I think about it pretty often, but Stewart isn’t too keen on the idea. As for Cadbury, I’ll see how it goes. How much do I owe you?’
    I check on the computer in the consulting room. Emma has everything itemised, so all I have to do is type in what I’ve done, press ‘enter’ and wait. That’s the theory anyway.
    The screen flickers and goes black, then a message box pops up:
Fatal Exception at 00000xxxt2zzx
    ‘It didn’t like that, did it?’ says Lynsey.
    I head out to Reception with her and the boys to find out what’s happened.
    ‘I didn’t touch it, Maz.’ Frances is on her feet, flapping. ‘Really, I didn’t.’
    ‘Can’t you reboot it, or something?’
    Frances sticks her specs on the end of her nose, leans her hands on the desk and peers at the keyboard.
    ‘Try the power button,’ I suggest. ‘Switch it off and on again.’
    ‘Are you sure about that?’
    ‘No, but I can’t think of anything else to do, and Lynsey’s waiting for her bill.’ I hesitate. ‘Emma said you were familiar with computers.’
    ‘I can google like the best of them, but old Mr Fox-Gifford preferred me not to interfere with anything electrical. “Frances,” he