He sweeps the back of his hand across the side of my neck and flicks away a wasp. Impersonal. Practical. If I had allergies, it could be lifesaving, but I don’t, so it isn’t, and—
I push his hand away. ‘Thank you for your help.’
What does he see when he stares? Is it surprising my eyes move left and right and straight ahead in unison?
‘What?’ My voice is sharp.
‘You don’t wear glasses.’
‘No.’
He searches my face again, takes a step back, shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘Do you know that Dr Brown is in hospital?’
‘No, but Julia told me he’d been unwell for the past few months. She also told me that getting the practice back on its feet would mean Dr Brown can sell it as a going concern, and Julia can find a long-term tenant. Is there anything else I need to know?’
‘When we asked Dr Brown for keys to the back of the terrace where he lived, he refused to hand them over. Did he post them to you?’
‘Yes.’
He glances at the shattered bottles. ‘You might not like what you find.’
‘I’ll deal with it.’
His eyes narrow. ‘Why did you agree to take this on?’
‘It suited me.’
‘That doesn’t answer my question.’
‘That was the idea.’
He frowns. ‘What will you do after January?’
‘I’ll look for a permanent position.’
‘Researching again? What is it this time?’
‘I’m building on what I’ve done before. Minimisation of pain in livestock procedures. Docking, dehorning, castration.’
‘How did you get into that?’
‘Pain management is …’ My voice isn’t as strong as it was. ‘It’s useful, interesting.’
‘How many people qualify as vets and then get PhDs?’
‘To receive grants, and to make an impact on veterinary practice, I need university backing. I need a platform to publish results.’ When I hear a high-pitched buzz, I look warily at the wasp nest.
‘Did you get stung? I have antiseptic. Vinegar. I can call Julia.’
‘I’d have something if I needed it.’
‘You’d prefer to treat yourself.’
‘I have transferable skills.’
‘Do you have allergies?’
‘If I did, I’d use an EpiPen.’