Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Jack looked out of the window away from the pile of papers he was supposed to be signing.
Bets was accompanying a very bouncy red setter to its owner’s car, carrying an umbrella and making sure she shielded the older owner from the summer downpour, even though she herself was getting soaked.
Foolish woman, but so bloody typical. Looking after everyone else.
His breath caught in his throat as he watched her face light up with that quick grin he knew so well.
Unable to help himself, he watched her, chatting away in that lovely warm fashion of hers, oblivious to the rain bouncing around her feet as she helped open the back of the car to put the dog in.
Even in the rain she found something to smile about.
He missed her sunshine, the warmth of her attention. Without it, he realised, he felt a little cold and a lot lost.
At that moment, his mobile pinged. So much for catching up on the paperwork that Diana had been nagging him about.
To be honest, he’d been delaying it out of pure pettiness, to get back at her because she was treating him like a bloody leper.
But as he was on call, he’d have to leave it for now.
Poor Jane was still convalescing, which, while bad for her, meant that he was gainfully employed, if now a little overworked.
Although it wouldn’t be long before he was out of work again, and he still hadn’t had a single response to the applications he’d made.
‘Jack, emergency call for you,’ said Margaret the receptionist with her usual calm efficiency. ‘The RSPCA have asked for a callout. There’s a swan on the reservoir got caught up in one of the fisherman’s lines and got itself attached to the boat. Poor Pete Wilkinson is in the boat. He’s stuck.’
He glanced out of the window at the unrelenting rainfall. Great. Just great.
She continued to relay all the details as he ran down the stairs into reception. When he caught her eye, she put down her phone and continued seamlessly talking to him.
Devon appeared in reception halfway through the conversation. ‘You’ll need a hand. I’m just about to operate.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Take Bets with you. She’s due to finish her shift in half an hour.’ Even as he spoke, Margaret was already calling for Bets over the Tannoy.
‘Take some sedatives. A wild swan can be dangerous. Do you know how to use a blow dart?’
Jack raised an eyebrow. ‘Er, hello, I did a placement at Bristol Zoo, Dev. Funnily enough, I am familiar with the technique. I’ve felled a rhino or two in my day. I think I’ll manage a swan.’
Devon winced. ‘Sorry.’ He gave Jack a quick, uncharacteristic grin. ‘I keep forgetting you’re not Little Bro anymore.’
‘Tell me something I didn’t know.’
‘You’ve got this.’ Devon clapped him on the back and returned to his treatment room.
Bets appeared in response to the summons, still very damp, and Margaret filled her in while Jack ducked into the dispensary to collect the necessary medication, whereupon he stuffed a couple of boxes and phials into the grab bag and took the Landy keys.
He didn’t even need to ask: Bets had already grabbed a couple of coats and a pair of wellies and he shot her an appreciative glance.
Not that she noticed; she was too busy checking she had everything. Together they ran out to the car park.
Rain poured down the windscreen and, even with the wipers on full, visibility was poor.
‘Just what we need on a day like this,’ he said, glancing over at Bets, her curls already slightly damp.
‘We’re not made of sugar,’ she said wrinkling her nose. ‘We’ll survive. I’m more worried about the swan. It must be in a terrible state.’
He couldn’t help smiling at her. ‘Of course you are.’ He started up the engine and they pulled out of the car park, heading for the reservoir. ‘No sympathy for the fisherman who’s stuck on a boat with said swan at close quarters.’
‘Not really,’ she said and her forthright dismissal made him laugh. ‘At least it’s Peter rather than his horrible brother, John. Do you know, he once had a right go at Ella because Tess ate one of his fish?’
‘Devon did mention it. No love lost there. But Peter’s okay and he’s in no danger.’ While swans, when cornered or threatened, could be very aggressive and leave some nasty bruises, it was largely an urban myth that they could break an arm or a leg. To be honest, he was more worried about the swan.
‘God, I wish this thing had heating,’ said Bets, shivering a little and huddling into her coat.
‘Mm,’ said Jack, sending a sidelong glance her way. She must be frozen. He pulled over and stripped off his fleece. ‘Here, put this on.’ He tossed it on her lap and pulled away again before she could object.
She twisted her fingers in the fabric for a moment and then slipped it over her head.
‘Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.’
‘Maybe I wanted to,’ he said, wishing he’d done more nice things for her in the past.
* * *
‘You the vet?’ asked a man at one of the gates, opening it and directing them across a field. The Landy bumped its way across to where another man was waving them down and pointing to a spot near the lip of the reservoir.
When they jumped out of the car they were greeted by the loud honking of a distressed swan.
Jack grabbed his bag and raised his arm over his head, trying to protect his face from the driving rain that was needling into his skin.
By the time he reached the edge of the reservoir, cold, wet rivulets were trickling down his neck.
He turned to check Bets was behind him. Her curls were now soaked and she blinked up at him, her lashes dappled with raindrops, but still managed to flash him a rueful smile.
He grinned back at her and for a crazy moment completely forgot why they were there.
‘Jack,’ she prompted and gave him a little nudge.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said and her eyes widened a little.
He didn’t know why; there was no one he’d rather have at his side at a time like this.
Her compassion and care would be invaluable in helping calm the swan down.
During his training he’d worked with lots of different people and lots of them, particularly at the zoo, had been amazing, but no one had quite the same quiet empathy with animals.
No wonder his dad had always insisted that Bets was irreplaceable.
Now he realised just how true it was … and he didn’t just mean professionally.
They stepped over the grassy bank to the concrete edge of the reservoir.
‘Thank God you’ve come,’ said a man, running over to them.
Jack recognised him as the head bailiff.
‘Afternoon, Bob.’ He looked out over the water to where a small boat rocked, a swan at one end, wings flailing, squawking and hissing.
Red blood stained the creature’s feathers.
Swans’ necks bleed a lot, he told himself, praying the bird hadn’t done too much damage to itself.
At the other end of the boat a man leaned back as far back as he could into the stern.
‘Peter’s been stuck on the boat with one very cross swan for the last half-hour.
We haven’t been able to get near. The bird’s feet and one of its wings have got tangled up in one of the lines.
Peter can’t get near the oars and he’s been drifting.
I can take you out.’ The bailiff pointed to a small wooden rowing boat moored at the bottom of a set of steps leading down into the water.
Although Jack had visited the reservoir many, many times he’d never actually been out on the water. He sized the situation up and turned to Bets.
‘Okay. What we’ll do is sedate the swan and then have Bob tow the boat back to shore where I can take a proper look at it. Are you okay coming in the boat with us?’
She nodded. ‘Yup.’ She zipped up her coat to her chin and tugged a hat on. It might be summer but with the chill wind whipping across the water and the relentless rain, it was freezing. His hands were already starting to feel a little numb. He shoved them in his pockets; he was going to need them.
‘Here.’ Bets waved a pair of woollen gloves at him.
‘Thanks.’
‘All part of the service,’ she said matter-of-factly and he realised that she’d have done the same for anyone.
The realisation that he was nothing special to her anymore hurt, and for a moment he felt as if he’d been winded.
He was just a colleague she’d look out for, as she would any of her other colleagues.
The choppy water made for heavy going, and the bailiff was puffing heavily as he rowed the boat out to the centre of the reservoir.
The closer they came to the side of the other boat, the louder the swan’s angry squawks became, bouncing off the water.
Jack swiped the rain from his face to prevent it running into his eyes.
Visibility was already bad enough. The conditions couldn’t have been much worse.
The swan began to beat its huge wings even more angrily as they neared, rocking the boat violently. Jack could see Peter’s white hands gripping the gunwale.
‘Am I glad to see you guys,’ yelled Peter and the swan hissed and redoubled its efforts to get near him.
‘Hang on in there,’ called Bob as he manoeuvred the boat closer.
‘Shh,’ said Jack. Their voices would only antagonise the swan further.
‘And keep still. Bob, we need to go as slowly as possible and try and get me as close as possible. I need to get a dart in.’ It wasn’t going to be easy.
He got everything ready. ‘Bets, can you hold this, so I don’t drop anything? ’
They bobbed closer to the bird, which reared up at their approach. Ideally, Jack would have targeted the neck, but with the boat’s movement and the bird’s thrashing wings, that wasn’t going to be easy and he didn’t want to distress the swan any more than he had to.