Free Country Lovers by Rebecca Shaw Page A

can’t help it if my work drives me and drives me till I hardly know I exist as a person. It’s the only way I have of earning a living, even though I know I get right to the wire with it, time after time. But then it gets better when I’ve resolved the problems.”
    â€œOh yes. It gets better, but not better enough. You’re still withdrawn, still an odd bod. At the practice they know what you’re like—don’t want to go anywhere, don’t want to socialize. They’ve asked you times without number to go out for a drink to celebrate something or another, but Duncan go? Oh no! You’re so arrogant, so self-obssessed, you don’t care what people think of you. Not one jot. And for you to tell Mungo I love him, that…that, I cannot forgive. I bet you enjoyed the telling, didn’t you? Mmm? Relished it. I bet you did. Not caring how much you upset him. Not thinking about how he’d cope, how
he’d
feel. Oh no!”
    â€œWhy
ever
should
I
give Mungo’s feelings even a moment of consideration when he’s stolen my marriage from me? Tell me one reason why I should. Come to think of it, though, there wasn’t anything to steal; it wasn’t a real marriage in the first place, was it? You loved him even then. It’s all been a complete lie. It leaves a very bitter taste. Why should I have to feel
grateful
if I rouse the smallest response from you when we make love? Make love? Ha! That’s a misnomer if ever there was one.
Love.
Ha!”
    Joy couldn’t find an answer and wondered how on earth she had arrived at this desolate bleakness of soul. Duncan stood for a moment, looking down at her, then he left the table and went to stand outside in the garden, looking at the lights of Barleybridge far below, hunched up, feeling crucified.
    Joy cleared the meal away and found washing that needed putting in the machine. She needed to take a bath to relax her and was asleep in bed before Duncan came up. When she awoke the next morning, he was gone. A note said:
“Gone walkabout. Yours for always, Duncan.”
It sounded so final. She was used to his leaving to walk alone to clear his thinking processes, but he’d never written
“Yours for always.”
Never, ever. When he said “walkabout” he meant walking for the day; sometimes he rang her and asked her to pick him up from somewhere, and he’d be refreshed and more like himself. It always did him good to walk alone for mile upon mile. So perhaps he’d ring her tonight.
    Occasionally he would mean longer than a day, but he had his present contract to fulfill so he’d have to be back. She sighed with relief. Obviously he did mean just for the day. Of course, just for the day. All the same, Joy checked his sock drawer and found he’d taken several pairs of his walking socks, changes of underwear, sweaters. So he was going for a while. Something akin to a pain filled her chest.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    A PHONE call as soon as she arrived at the practice that morning put all thoughts of Mungo and Duncan out of her head. She raced out of her office calling, “Anyone seen Dan? Has he gone?”
    Colin answered her. “He’s here, sorting his mail in the staff room.”
    Joy found him reading a letter from the laboratory, punching the air with delight.
    â€œI knew I was right! I knew it! This letter proves it.” Dan looked up and raised an eyebrow at Joy. “Yes?”
    â€œCrispy Chickens?”
    â€œYes. Why?”
    â€œBridge Farm is protesting because the State Veterinary Service intends culling all the farm’s flock.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause I’ve just had a call to say that since Crispy Chickens has now got Newcastle disease and all its flock is about to be slaughtered, there’s a strong chance you might have carried the disease to Bridge Farm.”
    â€œI knew I was right. The idiots. Anyway, I