Page 6 of The Vet from Snowy River
‘Sure you do. She used to work in the pharmacy.’
‘Lots of hair? Gimlet eyes? Stood guard over the condom display?’
‘Wow,’ his sister said, with the deadpan inflection his daughter had also mastered. ‘That’s what you remember, huh?’
He shrugged.
‘Well, these days she keeps herself busy nosing around everyone’s business and writing a column for the Chatter, and this week, you’re her hot topic.’
‘Crap.’
‘Uh-huh. High school hero returns … some titillating backstory about Beth, none of it true … finishes with a plug for the vet clinic, as though that makes it all friendly and sweet.’
He closed his eyes. When would this town let it go?
‘I’m sorry, Josh.’
He sighed. ‘Yeah, me too. We got any wood out back in the shed? I’m feeling a strong urge to drive an axe through something, and firewood would be a better option than finding Maureen Plover’s home office and trashing it.’
He left Hannah to prep for her afternoon list and stepped into the cluttered office out back where they kept their case notes and work desks. He tapped out a quickHave You Lost Your Dog? flyer, then frowned at the social media logo on the screen as he waited for the printer to rev up. May as well use the internet for good as well as evil, he thought, and posted a message on the clinic’s community page.Found, one chocolate labrador, aged8–9years, contact Josh. Thank god the gossips of Hanrahan hadn’t been switched on about social media back when he was making waves on the town’s news radar; the backlash then had been bad enough.
He had to ignore it. Gossip in the local paper was no reason to sour his return to Hanrahan. Poppy’s passive-aggressive texts were a different matter, but he couldn’t blame the old biddies of Hanrahan for that.
He looked at the text message he’d received that morning in response to his reminder that her two-week school holiday was about to start, and she still hadn’t said when she’d visit.
It’s not all about you, Dad.
True. But couldn’t it be a little bit about him? He was two biscuits into a self-pity snack when the idea struck him. Assurances and pleas and begging hadn’t worked … maybe it was time for a new strategy. He’d been busting a gut to make everything work for her to visit him, offering to book train tickets, pick out a new doona cover, coordinate with her mum and her school term and whatever activities she had on so it would be easy for her.
Maybe that was part of the problem?
He picked up his phone before he could overthink it.
She answered on the second ring.
‘Shouldn’t you be in class?’ he said.
‘Hey, you called me, remember? Anyway, I’ve got a spare this arvo.’
‘Phones in lockers. That’s the school rule.’
Her sigh carried with it the weight of teenage girls everywhere who had to put up with dorky dads asking them tedious questions. ‘I can hang up, Dad, if you’re concerned about the minutiae of phone usage rules at Rosella State High.’
She was right. He didn’t want her to hang up. ‘About Hanrahan,’ he said.
‘Can we not get into this again? I’ve said I’ll come out sometime, all right? I’ve got a lot on so I can’t commit. I only get two weeks break in October, and I don’t want to waste half of that time on a train.’
‘Cooma Train Station is five hours from Sydney, not five days.’
‘Whatever.’
Ouch. The sting of that three-syllabled word was worse than a snake bite. He should know—he’d had someone’s pet python latch onto his arm twice in the last fortnight.
‘Anyway, the reason I was calling …’
‘Yes?’ she said.
He took a breath, then worked at injecting a note of frazzle into his voice. If this strategy was going to work, he needed to give it some heft. ‘I’ve kind of lost the plot with getting the flat ready.’
