Free A Country Affair by Rebecca Shaw Page A

black and you’re chilled to the marrow; and the wife’s away, so there’s no coffee, but still I love it. And lambing—now, there’s a job and a half. You put your hand in and find two lambs tangled together and the ewe can push neither of them out; and you straighten them up, move a leg here and a head there, and hey presto, two beauties and the mother as proud as punch. Brilliant!”
    Wistfully, Kate said, “It must be great.” And before she could stop herself, out poured all her terrible disappointment about missing vet college, something she’d promised herself she would never do.
    Scott listened hard to every word she said. When she’d finished, he took hold of her hand, saying, “Look here, if you feel as strongly as that, isn’t it worth having another try? Why stand on the touchline of life? Get in there and on with the game, a bold strike straight for the goal. This isn’t a practice game, you know; you only get the one chance. For someone with your passion for the job, that’s the only thing to do; otherwise, there’ll be a terrible vacuum in your life all your days. What’s holding you back?”
    “I don’t know, really.”
    He encouraged her to explore her problem. “You must know.”
    “Well, it’s the thought of all that studying. I tried so hard to succeed and it all came to nothing. I don’t know if I can face such a defeat all over again. And that’s only the start of it; five solid years of slog ahead.”
    “But you’ve only the one grade to improve, not three.”
    Kate nodded. “I know.”
    “Your ma and pa, what do they want?”
    “They’re like you, they want me to try again.”
    “Well then, there you are.”
    “Adam doesn’t want me to; in fact, he doesn’t want me to work at the practice even.”
    “You need to ditch that medieval horror.”
    Kate withdrew her hand from his and said indignantly, “Ditch him?”
    “He’s smothering you.”
    “He isn’t.”
    “He is. He’s a nutter.”
    “He isn’t.”
    “Believe me. He is.”
    Kate stood up. “I wish I’d never told you how I felt. I promised myself I wouldn’t tell anyone and I’ve told you, and now look what’s happened; you’re organizing my life for me.”
    “So why have you lost your temper? Is it because you know I’m right?”
    His mobile phone began to ring. “Damn.” He listened, answered and switched off. “Got to go. Sorry. Should have known not to invite you out when I’m on call. We’ll do this again one night when I’m not.”
    “We will?”
    Scott took her hand in his and squeezed it. “Don’t be cross, not with me. Just think about what I’ve said. I’m right about trying again and very right about that damned Adam. Good night, sweet one.”
    He hurtled out of the bar, blowing a quick kiss to the barmaid who’d made the sundaes for them and calling “Good night” to everyone as he went.
    Kate bought herself a vodka and tonic, and sat thinking about Scott. There was nothing more poisonous than living one’s life with regret . . . thinking “if only” all the time. She liked his analogy of the game of life. She’d give it serious thought, but she’d have to be quick or the opening would be gone. It would mean good-bye to Adam, for he wouldn’t tolerate her going to college for five years; in fact, she knew he would actively persuade her not to try. The expression “wouldn’t tolerate” hung about in her mind and she thought,
What am I saying here? “Wouldn’t tolerate.” Is that love?
No, it most certainly wasn’t. If he loved her, Adam would be encouraging her, surely?
    Someone opened the door into the other bar and briefly she caught a reflection in the mirror behind the bar of someone standing there and she thought it was Adam. God! Now he was haunting her. Swiftly Kate finished her vodka and left.
    Next morning, as though to confirm to her that Scott’s advice was sound, the letter came from the solicitor with the check for ten and a half thousand pounds