Page 1 of Christmas at the Home Farm Vets (Hartfell Village #2)
Until this week, the first in December, Erin Hardy had thought she’d forgotten all about her first kiss.
Or at least she tried not to think about it because there simply wasn’t any point, so it was ridiculous for those memories to be distracting her now.
The kiss had been a late one, in her first term at university, and all these years later, Oli Sterling was still her best. It wasn’t as though she hankered after a repeat performance either, she’d given up that idea long ago.
But now he was about to land back in her life, she couldn’t get…
‘Ow!’ She gave the squirming kitten on the examination table in her consulting room a wry smile and glanced at a thin scratch forming on the back of her hand.
Her own fault for allowing her thoughts to drift back to Oli again when she ought to be focusing on her patients.
Cuddling baby animals was usually one of the perks of her job as a vet.
This tiny tortoiseshell kitten and her brother were especially cute, their fur shades of dark marmalade with splashes of white.
‘Nearly done.’ She held the kitten with a gentle and experienced hand as she examined eyes, teeth, ears and heart to ensure all was well.
A boy was hovering anxiously with his dad, and she offered him a reassuring smile before administering the necessary vaccination and then a microchip into the skin at the back of the kitten’s neck.
Erin gave her a final stroke and handed her back to her young owner.
‘So have you chosen names yet? Your dad says you’re keeping them both.
’ That pleased her, even though she was long used to treating animals still searching for their forever home.
After qualifying seven years ago, she’d spent a year in private practice before six months in a temporary role for an animal charity, and she’d found it heartbreaking to treat pets without a loving family of their own.
This boy couldn’t be more than nine or ten and she had a sharp reminder of herself at the same age; the longing for a pet while understanding it was an impossible dream because they simply couldn’t afford another mouth to feed.
She and her mum had moved in with her grandparents when Erin was five, after her father had abandoned them for the dubious prospect of an acting career once he’d tired of family life and an ordinary job.
She adored her family, and even though her nan and grandad bickered constantly, they still couldn’t bear to be without each other after fifty-five years of marriage.
One day she’d share her home with an animal companion she could cherish, but right now her career and the house she’d bought when she’d moved to Hartfell three months ago were keeping her busy.
The thought of sharing her home brought another memory of that startling spring evening in Cambridge twelve years ago; sun glinting above their heads and still unable to heat her skin as much as Oli had; the intent and desire in his unwavering stare as she’d stripped off her ruined white shirt and swapped it for his.
‘Nala and Simba.’ The young boy spoke shyly. ‘We like The Lion King , and my mum said they were good names.’
‘I think they’re brilliant names. So this must be Nala?
’ Erin hastily dragged her mind back and pointed to the female kitten the boy was cuddling against his chest. ‘It really suits her. If you have any concerns just call us, and Elaine in reception will make you an appointment for their booster in three weeks’ time. ’
‘Thank you.’ The little boy carefully encouraged Nala back into the carrier and Erin said goodbye as they left the consulting room.
She cleaned the examination table and washed her hands before going to a screen on the wall and the keyboard beneath it, adding her notes so Elaine could follow up.
A nice, easy consult for a Monday afternoon; two gorgeous and healthy kittens with a loving home and years ahead of them.
She wasn’t looking forward to her next consultation and read through the spaniel’s notes with a feeling of dread.
She didn’t really need to be reminded of his recent medical history; she’d been treating Mungo for two months now and his results weren’t improving.
He was only ten and she knew a difficult conversation about his quality of life was on the way.
It was the worst part of the job, and one she’d never quite got used to.
She took a deep breath and pasted on a welcoming smile as she opened the door to the waiting room and called her patient’s name.
The once-lively spaniel lumbered to his feet and her heart plummeted as she caught the anxious gaze of his owners.
A jolly and glittering Christmas tree in the corner of reception seemed far too cheery in the face of her clients’ despair.
‘Come through,’ she said quietly, bending down to give Mungo a pat. He wagged his tail, tongue lolling in greeting. ‘How’s he been?’
Ten minutes later it was all agreed. Erin had taken more bloods, and she’d run the tests.
If the results were as expected, then she’d carry out his owners’ wishes to put Mungo to sleep in his own home, surrounded by his family.
They thanked her as they left, eyes swimming with unshed tears.
She took a moment to compose herself as she labelled the bloods and wrote up her notes.
The practice didn’t often make house calls for companion animals, but she was always willing to make those last moments as comfortable and peaceful as possible.
Her new boss, Gil Haworth, was of the same mind, and he was just one of the reasons why she loved working in Hartfell so much.
Yorkshire born and bred, she’d been aware of his brilliant reputation and had leaped at the opportunity to join his expanding practice.
When she’d arrived for her interview at the end of August, he’d outlined his ambition to keep the practice at the heart of the local community and adapting to meet new challenges.
They’d spent the morning seeing farm clients in the spectacular Dales landscape he’d loved all his life, and he’d laid bare the best and worst aspects of the job.
He’d stood aside so she could examine the animals, talk with the farmers, and offer her own diagnoses and treatment plans.
Afterwards he’d taken her to lunch in the village pub, and over plates of outstanding fish and chips he’d offered Erin the job, explaining that her instincts coupled with experience and an ability to work under pressure as part of a team were exactly what he was searching for.
She’d found it difficult to hold back a gulp of emotion as she’d thanked him and tried to grasp the swift turn her life was about to take.
It would mean a move away from home, her first since returning after university, and it was only the worry about her family that made her hesitate before she’d reached across the table and shaken Gil’s hand in acceptance.
The first person she’d called to share the news with was her mum.
Hartfell was too far from the town where they lived for Erin to commute or be on call out-of-hours as required, and at thirty-one, it was time she moved out anyway.
So the newly re-branded Home Farm Vets would be her opportunity, and her mum had offered congratulations and her usual loving support in whatever ways she could manage.
Erin called her final patient of the day, relieved that this consultation would be less emotional than the previous one.
Ten days ago she’d examined a lump on a guinea pig and had been happy to discover it was nothing more sinister than an abscess.
It was successfully removed under general anaesthetic and today was a final check-up to make sure all was well.
The brown-and-white guinea pig was lively and inquisitive, and she was glad to discharge it and send the patient on her way with two chatty young owners and a thankful mum.
She left the consulting room as spotless as she’d found it, ready for tomorrow.
The practice had grown since Gil had taken it over in the summer and the full-time staff now numbered six, with their evening and some weekend out-of-hours work divided between two regular locums. Companion animal patients were increasing as they gained more clients, and he’d discussed with Erin his intention to appoint a third full-time vet in the new year.
But until then they were managing with locum support, with a new one joining them tomorrow.
She loved being part of the team and building on the history of the practice.
Founded on Home Farm by Gil’s grandfather, who’d been a tenant of the estate, eventually the practice had merged with another one in town after both original partners passed away, and Gil joined after qualifying.
He’d applied for planning permission to extend into the remaining farm buildings and develop the practice to offer more specialised care and improved facilities, and he was hoping for a decision before Christmas in three weeks’ time.
Erin made her way into the waiting room and Elaine, their receptionist, who had put off retiring for another year, paused mopping the floor. A pair of blue glasses suited Elaine’s auburn colouring, and her short hair was finally turning grey. ‘All set for your house guest?’ she asked brightly.
‘As I’ll ever be,’ Erin said, caught unawares by the question. She registered Elaine’s surprise at her unusually glum reply and found a smile. ‘No, it’s all good. I’ve made the bed and everything.’