A Roll in the Hay, стр. 21

“Excuse me, Mr Framingham. I think Lady Karlson here wants a word with me.” Tess drew out the “lady” to at least four syllables, all of them mocking.

“Your Ladyship.” Mr Framingham doffed his dirty baseball cap, bowing low with a reprimanding glance at Tess for not doing the same, leaving Susannah faintly embarrassed. Usually she didn’t notice little things like that, but being around this blasted vet felt like being under a microscope.

“All right, all right,” Susannah said. “Listen, I happen to have a horse gone lame on me in the field down there.” She gestured, aware that her arm was flailing a little. “I need a vet, and I haven’t got even a bar of signal. I’m sure you can see my predicament.”

“Well, she’s all done with me for now,” Mr Framingham said, offering Tess up like a bouquet of flowers he didn’t want. “But we’ll be seeing you soon, Dr Robinson. Thanks for your help with that calf. I’ve never seen it handled with so little fuss. I’ll be telling the boys about you when we go for a pint on Friday, you mark my words.”

“Any time.” Tess shook his hand, and he ambled off.

“So, you can be professional, then?” Straight to bitchy again. Susannah needed to give herself a good shake sometimes.

“With a paying customer, yes. He’s joining the practice, unlike some people. Why don’t you go up to his house and call your big swanky vet company? Since I’m much too small time for you, Your Ladyship. Is that the correct term of address, by the way? Should I curtsey?”

Susannah wondered if it still counted as a curtsey should she shove Tess face-first into the muck to help her on her way. Shaking her head, she forced the focus back where it belonged: on her injured horse. “Susannah is fine. Lady Karlson, if you absolutely must. The curtsey won’t be necessary, but I have a horse limping that I really don’t want to have put down. If you’re up for it now, then I’ll do whatever you want to make up for the past…rejection. Name your price.”

Tess sighed. It was as though she was offended at the very mention of money, when she was the one who brought up paying customers first.

“All right, let’s go. What’s this horse of yours called?” She took her vet bag and strode off in the right direction.

Susannah scrambled a little to keep up with Tess. It wasn’t often anyone outpaced her, so it was impressive and irritating in turn. Tess really was quite solid in that country sort of way. Her jeans weren’t the skinny kind Susannah preferred but the sensible and durable sort, with plenty of pockets down the side before they disappeared into a new-looking set of green Hunter wellies. A classic, at least. Topped off with a red-and-navy checked shirt and a wax jacket, with that ubiquitous ponytail, Tess looked almost presentable. There was a term for it that Finn mentioned not so long ago. Lumberjane? It was definitely in that region.

“The horse?” Susannah repeated, realizing she hadn’t answered yet. “Oh, right. Billie Jean.”

“Is not your lover?” Tess replied, slowing her pace just enough that Susannah didn’t feel she was pushing herself to keep up.

“Sorry, what?”

“Ah, thought you were a Michael Jackson fan,” Tess replied. “You know, like the song?”

Susannah shook her head again. “No, she’s named after the tennis player. My late husband had a thing for Wimbledon. It’s silly.”

“Kind of cute, actually. You won’t believe some of the names we come across in a vet practice. I think my favourite so far is Voldetort. Oh,” Tess said as Susannah stared, uncomprehending, “he was a tortoise. That’s a Harry Potter reference. You’re really not into pop culture, huh?”

They didn’t say anything more until they reached the gate where Billie Jean was waiting with her trademark patience.

Susannah reached out to reassure her before they did anything else. “Here she is,” she said when she knew Billie Jean was settled. “She’s a good filly, you know.”

“You’re a grand dame, that’s what you are, Billie Jean,” Tess said, and it had none of the mockery she’d lavished on Susannah’s title. Whatever her other flaws, Tess Robinson clearly knew a fine horse when she saw one. “You might be even posher than your owner here, thoroughbred like you.”

Susannah wasn’t sure whether to be offended or relieved, but she swallowed a sigh regardless. “You know your horses, then?”

“I trained as an equine specialist. Just didn’t get enough of a chance to use it in London and ended up more as a sort of domestic animal GP. But horses are why I’m a vet. I’d see so many people riding around when I was growing up, and I always wanted to be one of them. I’d bring sugar cubes and mints to the ones up at the riding school nearest to us.”

“I bet the instructors loved you for that.”

“Oh, I didn’t take lessons. Bit out of our price range and then some. It was just me and my mum, so we had to make do a lot. I have learned to ride since, of course. But you don’t need to ride to give them treatment, thankfully.”

There was a confidence about Tess that came across in everything she did. Anyone who had tussled with Susannah usually kept their distance afterwards, but Tess seemed to just keep on being exactly how she was, almost like she expected the world to adjust around her. Susannah knew she was guilty of expecting exactly that herself, but she wasn’t quite used to it in someone from Tess’s background.

“Can you tell if it’s broken?” Susannah pointed to the injured leg. “If she’s suffering, if I’m being cruel to her, you must tell me. I don’t care about the size of the bill either way, but I won’t see her dragged through agony just to rack up the costs.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Tess held up her hands like she was surrendering to the police. “A little cynical right off