Rainbows Over Puddleduck Farm, page 3
‘I’ve not seen many fights, thankfully,’ Phoebe said, ‘although I did once hear about a punch-up in a waiting room after two dogs had been in a fight.’
Sam whistled through his teeth. ‘Probably fighting over who was going to pay the bill. Vets are pricey.’
Phoebe shot him a glance. ‘I aim to keep my costs very competitive. Anyway, back to my tour. On the left, as you can see, we have the reception. Which is where my lovely, young smiley receptionist will sit, once I’ve employed her.’
They all looked at the banner over the reception which said, ‘Puddleduck Vets – No animal too large or too small.’ White writing on an emerald background. Below it was the wooden desk, which held a phone, a computer and a printer. An office chair was tucked behind and there was a door that led out the back to the operating theatre and the second consulting room. The main consulting room was via a doorway straight off the cat reception area. Phoebe had designed a space with two consulting rooms in preparation for the second vet she would one day employ. In the meantime, Jenna would use it for routine procedures under Phoebe’s guidance. On the wall was a framed picture of Phoebe’s qualification.
‘Very swish,’ Sam said. ‘Why haven’t you employed your receptionist yet? You can’t manage without one, surely?’
‘Jenna is going to cover reception, as well as do nursing duties, but…’ Phoebe swallowed. ‘Maggie’s going to help out for the first few weeks. I’ve tried talking her out of it, but she won’t be swayed. You know how stubborn she is. According to her, answering the phone and taking appointments will be a piece of cake compared to running a dairy farm – or an animal shelter come to that. She reckons she has all the necessary experience. And she does have extensive knowledge of animal husbandry.’
Phoebe knew she sounded a lot more confident than she felt. She already had several reservations. Maggie certainly knew her animals, no one would have questioned that. What she wasn’t so well known for was her tact and diplomacy – her attitude being that the world would have been better with more animals in it and considerably fewer humans. Phoebe wasn’t convinced she’d be able to resist offering opinions and advice dispensed in her unique abrasive manner, which, while it might be accurate and would definitely be in the animal’s interest, would probably be unwanted.
Maggie was also hopeless at answering phones. Or at least she had a history of being hopeless at answering her own phone. She thought phones were overrated. And as for the computer side of things, Phoebe knew her grandmother would struggle. But Phoebe hadn’t wanted to say no outright, not when Maggie was so keen to get involved. Phoebe would be able to keep a close eye on her if she was in reception too.
‘We’re going to see how it goes,’ Phoebe added in her best diplomatic voice as both Sam and Tori threw her questioning looks. They’d known her grandmother nearly as long as she had – the three of them having grown up within a stone’s throw of each other in the New Forest. ‘If it gets too busy, Maggie might decide it’s too much and at least it will stop her from having such a hands-on approach with the shelter. She’s supposed to have toned things down since she had that mini stroke.’
That had been a difficult time and had happened barely nine months ago.
‘I bet she hasn’t, has she?’ Tori said.
‘Not much. Although she does complain she has nothing to do since she employed Natasha as manager.’
Natasha, who was passionate about animals, had worked as a volunteer for Maggie since she was a teenager. Now in her early twenties, she’d been delighted to get a full-time job at Puddleduck Farm.
They moved past reception. On the far wall was a big pinboard which featured animals for rehoming. These were all Puddleduck animals and included dogs, cats, Diablo the donkey, chickens, ducks, and more recently a tortoise called Terrence that someone had brought in a box where it had been hibernating when its owner had died. On the other walls there were posters about the life cycle of fleas and ticks and products to deter them and why it was a good idea to vaccinate your pet.
On the shelves of the dividing bookcase were items for sale: dog biscuits, claw clippers, household flea spray, carpet deodoriser, along with various leaflets on how to deal with things like taking your puppy or kitten home and the benefits of neutering.
A line of comfy green chairs with wipe-clean backs and seats were pushed back against the wall of both waiting areas. The flooring was a grey pebbledash heavy-duty vinyl that, according to the manufacturers, was ecologically sound, easy to clean and should last about fifty years. Seth had recommended that. ‘It’s what we’ve got at Marchwood. There are cheaper versions, but this one’s also good to kneel on. You’ve probably noticed.’ He’d grinned as he’d said that. ‘We do tend to spend a lot of time on our knees, don’t we, and when you get to my age, a comfortable floor to kneel on is very important.’
Two more emerald balloons bobbed from the reception desk with the words, Puddleduck Vets emblazoned on them in white.
‘It looks amazing,’ Tori said as they wandered around, peeking into the consultation rooms and behind reception. She was already clicking away on her camera. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t this once a dilapidated old hay barn?’
‘It was. It’s brilliant, isn’t it?’ Phoebe called across to Sam, who was looking longingly at the canapés. ‘Your dad did an amazing job. He’s a genius.’
‘It does look fab,’ Sam agreed.
Phoebe was beaming. She felt as though warmth was spreading from her heart around her whole body.
‘Just wait until you see my operating theatre. Not that I expect to be doing much surgery until we’re more established. But it’ll be ready and waiting.’
A few minutes later, the trio emerged into the February sunshine. It had stopped raining. Maggie had been right. Her timing was spot on.
‘Now, is there anything you need us to do before the hordes arrive,’ Sam asked as they stood between black puddles that glittered in the sunshine.
Before Phoebe could answer, there was a shout and they all turned, just in time to see two small brown dogs hurtling across the yard, with a long ginger streak of a cat in hot pursuit. Natasha was close behind, also running. ‘Can someone grab them.’
Tori’s mouth dropped open. ‘Is that cat actually chasing those two dogs?’
‘That’s Saddam,’ Phoebe said, racing to help. She scooped up the closest dog at the same time as Sam, in a quick-thinking manoeuvre, whipped off his coat and hurled it over the ginger tomcat.
It worked. Saddam stopped dead long enough for Sam to crouch down and grab him, wriggling within the coat, which served as a robust trap and stopped the furious feline from doing any damage.
Natasha reached them, panting, her hair dishevelled. She had two dog leads in her hand. ‘Thanks. I’ll swing for that cat. Be careful,’ she called to Sam, who was now holding coat and cat in his arms. ‘He’s got claws like razors and he knows how to use them.’
They could all hear the sound of outraged yowling as Saddam tried to force his way free.
‘He’s half feral,’ Natasha told Tori, who was still open-mouthed. ‘He’s taken to lying in wait for the dogs when I do their walks and terrorising them. I’ve got to speak to Maggie about it,’ she added to Phoebe. ‘They’re terrified of him. Especially the little ones.’
She was right about that, Phoebe thought. The fluffy one in her arms had stopped panting and was enjoying a snuggle, but the other little dog, still on the ground, was looking around her nervously.
Natasha picked her up and cuddled her. ‘You may as well let Saddam go,’ she told Sam. ‘Hopefully, he’s had his fun for now. I must remember to lock him in the barn before I start letting the dogs out. I completely forgot today. What with all the excitement.’ She smiled at Phoebe. ‘Happy launch day.’
Sam let go of his coat and a triumphant Saddam burst out of it and shot away across the yard, leaping across the puddles in several bounds, his ginger tail stiff with indignation.
‘I’ve seen everything now,’ Tori said. ‘I should have videoed that. It would go viral on Twitter.’
Natasha grimaced. ‘I’m looking into getting a cat behaviourist to come and see him.’
‘Is that really a thing?’ Sam looked amazed.
‘Yes. Apparently so.’
‘The sooner, the better by the look of it,’ Phoebe said, as Natasha clipped leads to both dogs and took them back to the walking field.
Tori and Sam both turned back to Phoebe and, on impulse, she grabbed their hands. ‘Never a dull moment at Puddleduck Farm. Oh my God, I can’t believe this is really happening. Thank you so much for being here to share it with me.’
‘Where else would we be?’ Tori said.
Sam was distracted by something beyond Tori’s head. ‘Check that out.’
Both women followed his gaze to see a huge rainbow arching across the sky. It was dazzling, and every colour from soft indigo through to blazing red was clearly defined along its radiant curve. As they watched, another one began to form below it. One end was over Puddleduck Farmhouse and the other disappeared over the horizon.
‘Wow,’ Tori breathed. ‘A double rainbow. You don’t see them very often.’
‘If that’s not a good omen for your new venture, I don’t know what is,’ Sam added with a grin.
4
Despite the good omen of the double rainbow and despite her pleasure that so many people had turned out to support her new business, Phoebe felt increasingly nervous as the moment of the ribbon cutting drew closer. By midday, a small crowd was milling about outside the new unit.
Both her parents were there, dressed up for the occasion. Her mum was wearing an emerald blouse to go with the colour scheme. She was also wearing lipstick, which she reserved for special occasions. Her dad was wearing a green tie. He lived in a suit and tie, but Phoebe knew it was one of his best silk ones. Her brother was wearing the same suit he’d worn to the christening and Alexa was in a flowing, multicoloured skirt. She’d dressed the twins in dinky green rompers and jackets. Currently, both Bertie and Flo were also wearing angelic smiles, as they were the centre of attention.
Sam’s parents, Jan and Ian Hendrie, had come, as promised. They were chatting with her parents. There were also Phoebe’s colleagues from Seth’s, along with several of her clients from Seth’s. Phoebe felt a bit guilty about that.
Jenna was there with her husband and kids. Like Phoebe, she was dressed in an emerald scrub top and she’d been chatting to people ever since she’d arrived.
‘I can’t believe we’re almost open for business,’ she’d said earlier. ‘It’s so exciting to be working again.’ She had smiled her lovely open smile. ‘I also can’t believe I’ve stayed away from the profession so long. The years just fly past.’
Jenna was forty-five but looked a decade younger. Phoebe was delighted she’d agreed to work at Puddleduck Vets and that Seth hadn’t snapped her up as soon as she’d got back on the job market. She really did owe Seth a lot.
Natasha had brought a few of her animal-loving friends. They all looked to be in their mid-twenties and were clearly having a ball, laughing and joking together. A couple had got dogs with them. Phoebe hoped Saddam was safely back in the barn. Some people Phoebe didn’t recognise, but who were carrying flyers about the opening, mingled with the crowd.
Tori was moving about taking candid shots of people and animals. Sam was chatting to Maggie, who looked very pleased with the way events were unfolding. Earlier, she had pointed at the sky which was now mostly blue and mouthed, ‘I told you so,’ at Phoebe. She could never resist having the last word. Her dogs shadowed her.
Tiny and Buster were an unlikely pairing. The huge wolfhound and the fourteen-year-old black, arthritic Labrador. Buster was doing very well on his latest medication. He was stiff, Phoebe noticed, but he certainly didn’t look as though he was in pain.
The ducks had been shut away to keep them out of harm’s way from strange dogs and the geese had been shut away to keep people out of harm’s way from their beaks. Especially Bruce Goose, who liked nothing more than to launch himself at the legs of unwary strangers.
The cats were keeping out of the way too. Or at least Phoebe hadn’t seen any. There were too many strangers around for the cats, most of whom lived free range in a barn. Maggie got them spayed or neutered if they weren’t done when they arrived, but she didn’t believe in locking cats away. They had a high rehome rate for cats too. Not that Saddam had much chance of being rehomed. Phoebe wasn’t holding out much hope for a cat behaviourist.
Seth tapped Phoebe on the shoulder, jolting her from her thoughts. ‘Shall we cut that ribbon then, lass?’
‘Please. I’ll grab my scissors.’
‘I brought my own.’ He produced a pair of stainless-steel surgical ones from his top pocket and the two of them headed to the door of the unit where Phoebe had fixed the green ribbon.
Seth cleared his throat, but he didn’t need to. The crowd hushed as they reached the door.
‘We are gathered here today,’ Seth began in his most sombre voice, ‘to say goodbye to my lovely member of staff, Phoebe Dashwood.’ He gave an exaggerated wink. ‘I jest. Of course, I jest. We are here to celebrate the opening of Puddleduck Vets and to wish Phoebe all the very best of luck for her new venture. Not that she will need luck.’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘As many of you know already, Phoebe is a superb vet. Her reputation goes before her. She is very much loved by her patients and their owners alike. I will be very sad to see her go – especially as she is setting up in competition to me.’ Seth shot her a sidelong glance and she saw the warmth in his eyes. ‘Seriously, Phoebe, I could not be more pleased for you. I know – we all know – that Phoebe will make a great success of this place and I was honoured and delighted when she asked me to come along and open Puddleduck Vets. So, without further ado.’ He brandished the scissors with a flourish and posed so that Tori, who was standing close by, could get a good shot of him cutting the ribbon for New Forest Views. ‘I hereby declare Puddleduck Vets open for business.’ He snipped the ribbon. ‘Phoebe and Jenna will be very happy to answer any questions you might have and give you a tour and a canapé – I hear they are very good. And I do believe there is wine too.’
There was a burst of applause from the small crowd.
Maggie, who was standing closest, had very sparkly eyes. If Phoebe hadn’t known her better, she would have sworn she was blinking back tears.
Then, as the crowd surged forward, Phoebe spotted a tall, dark-haired figure at the back, holding a child’s hand. She was instantly on hyper-alert. It looked very much like Rufus Holt and his son, Archie. But before she could get a proper look, a woman with a red beret moved forward to ask her a question.
For the next hour or so, Phoebe registered clients on her new computer system while Jenna fielded questions and they both handed out goodie bags containing a sample of dog (or cat) food, a grooming brush, some poop bags or catnip, a leaflet on Puddleduck Vets, a leaflet on pet insurance and a twenty per cent discount voucher on a new patient consultation. They were helped by Sam and Tori and from time to time Phoebe was aware of Maggie holding court about one or another of the animals in the shelter. With luck, they might rehome a few today.
She focused on the queue, feeling a growing excitement that so many people had registered their pets. Then, just as she finished with what she thought was her last customer, she realised someone else was at the desk. She looked up into a pair of very dark eyes and saw she’d been right. Rufus Holt, their enigmatic neighbour, had come to the opening day, after all, and now he was standing in front of her, with Archie by his side.
‘You’ve made a really good job of this place,’ Rufus said. ‘It looks great. Wasn’t it a barn?’
‘Yes, but it’s all official – we were granted change of use…’ For a moment, she took his comments as criticism, but she realised when he looked surprised that they weren’t.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ he added quickly. ‘I didn’t mean…’
‘Hello, Phoebe,’ Archie interrupted. ‘We brought you some flowers.’
Rufus was distracted. ‘Archie, how many times. You do not address adults by their Christian names without checking. It’s Miss Dashwood to you.’ Rufus hesitated. ‘Or, er, Mrs Dashwood. Or maybe it’s Ms?’
He sounded flustered – and not at all as though he were fishing for her marital status, which Phoebe would have expected of some men. She thought, not for the first time, that Rufus, despite his privileged position, was quite shy and clearly not comfortable being around women – or perhaps it was people in general. Sam, who’d once met Rufus when he’d taken Archie for a riding lesson, had said he thought the man had some kind of social phobia thing going on.
Tori, who was within hearing range of their conversation, materialised beside him. ‘It’s Miss Dashwood,’ she supplied helpfully while her eyes sent a thousand messages of ‘get in there’ to Phoebe.
‘Hello, Archie. Phoebe is fine,’ Phoebe said, taking the flowers from the small boy. ‘How lovely. Thank you.’ She glanced back at Rufus, who was still looking awkward and added out of devilment, ‘Thank you, Mr Holt. It’s great to see you here. Would you like to register an animal with the practice?’
‘It’s Rufus,’ he said. He wasn’t in a suit, but he did look smart. She wasn’t as up on designer stuff as Tori was, but then Rufus was one of those men who’d have looked good in a sack. The fact he rarely smiled just added to the dark and moody thing he had going on. ‘And yes please, I would.’
That was a bolt from the blue. She met his eyes, surprised. He was the last person on earth she’d have expected to own a pet. She wasn’t sure why exactly. Maybe it was his reaction to Maggie’s donkeys when they’d escaped onto his terrace last year. He’d called them ‘creatures!’ and hadn’t been happy about letting Archie go anywhere near them when Phoebe had invited the child to come for visits, although he had softened eventually. He even sponsored a donkey now.
