‘Sit down,’ Philip invited her, indicating the chair in front of his desk. ‘I appreciate that you were somewhat thrown in at the deep end, so to speak, today, and I’m sure that, like all of us here, there are some aspects of the work you prefer to others. For instance I’ve always enjoyed operating and large-animal work, whilst Helen, as you know, prefers dealing with the smaller domestic pets...’
Georgia frowned, wondering where exactly Philip’s conversation was leading. In another few seconds she knew.
‘I understand that this morning’s dog-training class wasn’t entirely successful.’
Georgia’s heart started to thump a little uncomfortably. Had someone complained?
‘There were one or two problems,’ she admitted huskily. ‘Ben...’
‘It does require a certain type of very strong personality to control a group of over-excited dogs,’ Philip continued before she could explain. ‘I know. I’ve been having a look at your file and I see that you had an excellent report from the intensive dog-training course we sent you on, but sometimes translating what has been learned in that kind of protected, cocooning environment into real life can be more difficult than we envisage.’
‘Someone’s complained.’ Georgia couldn’t help pre-empting him flatly. ‘I know that things did get a bit out of hand this morning, but...’
‘A bit!’ Philip’s eyebrows rose. ‘According to Piers, the dogs were totally out of control.’
‘Piers...’ Georgia’s heart thumped even harder. Oh, she might have known that he would be the one.
‘The reason they were out of control,’ she defended herself hotly, ‘was because he had brought Ben.’
‘Ben.’ Philip sighed. ‘Yes, I’m afraid Ben is proving to be rather a problem, and not just at the dog-training classes, according to Piers. I understand that he’s recently been the cause of Mrs Latham hurting her ankle—fortunately not seriously—this time. But so far as Piers is concerned I suspect that Ben is very much on parole.’
Was that Philip’s way of saying that so was she? Georgia wondered a little later as she drove home. Philip was a kind employer, and Georgia had thought she had found if not the idyllic then certainly an ideal job for herself, but Philip’s gentle little homily this afternoon was making her wonder if the partners were as happy with her as she was with them.
Philip’s last words to her had been a hint that maybe she might think it worthwhile doing a further intensive course in dog training. Only by reminding herself that the blame for her carpeting lay not with Philip, nor even with Ben, but with his irascible and unpleasant handler, had she been able to bite back the impulsive retort that had sprung to her lips that the one who needed the intensive course was not so much her but Ben.
He was a friendly and highly intelligent dog, but Mrs Latham spoiled him dreadfully.
* * *
With another three months to go before her nine-month probation period was fully up, Georgia now felt uncomfortably aware that her job might not be as secure as she had imagined. There were other veterinary practices, of course, but she liked this one, and besides, how was it going to look on her CV if the practice didn’t give her a full-time contract? Not good—not good at all.
This was all down to Piers Hathersage, she reflected angrily.
* * *
The following day Georgia drove to Mrs Latham’s home in the centre of the town.
It was late afternoon, and the early summer sunshine was throwing soft dappled shadows over the warm sandstone in which the local houses were built.
Wrexford was a charming place, a sturdily built and solidly settled market town which took a pride in itself and its history. The River Wrex, from which the town got its name, ran virtually through the town centre; originally the place had been the only spot where local people could ford the breadth of the river, and although modern-day traffic crossed it by bridge the local council had made an attractive park area along the river banks through the town centre for people to enjoy.
Mrs Latham’s Queen Anne town house was one of a pretty terrace built originally by a local landowner and let out to the town’s prosperous burghers.
The street leading to the houses was not open to general traffic; its modern tarmac covering had been stripped back to reveal the original cobblestones and traditional street lighting had been installed, complete with hanging baskets of pastel-coloured trailing plants. In front of the houses themselves the cobbled area opened out into a wider rectangle of ground reaching to the river, with a mature beech tree in its centre.
Residents and their visitors were allowed to park on the cobbles, although all the houses had long gardens and garages to their rear, and it was on these cobbles that Georgia parked her own small estate car, facing the river. Water had always fascinated her, and the River Wrex was a particularly attractive one, especially here in the town, where the very stringent conservation rules of the area meant that the water was blissfully clear and home to a wide variety of wildlife. During Georgia’s first month at the practice someone had brought in an otter with a damaged paw which had been found on the river path. Thankfully a small operation had repaired the damage and the otter had been successfully returned to its home.