Country Lovers by Rebecca Shaw

As chicken farms go, you’re doing a damn good job here. Don’t ruin it for yourself, nor for these poor birds. I have to act
today.
”
    Dan went back into the second chicken shed for another look. He walked up and down the passageway examining the mechanical feeders, looking for any chickens beginning to droop and lose interest in life, but found none. “I’m ringing Mike Allport straight away.”
    â€œDon’t. Thanks all the same.”
    Dan went to stand outside the shed to make his call. Bryan Buckland followed him. “I said, don’t call him.”
    â€œI am not willing to sacrifice my professional integrity for some scheme of yours to avoid an informed diagnosis. It’s more than my job’s worth.” Dan dialed the number.
    Bryan Buckland made to snatch the phone from him, but Dan pushed him away.
    â€œThis is my livelihood. Don’t do it to me.”
    â€œI’m sorry…. Am I speaking to Mike Allport?”
    Bryan Buckland strode away, bitter resignation in every step. Shoulders bowed, he headed for the office. Dan went to sit in his Land Rover to brood at the injustice of it all. But if he shut his eyes to it and took Bryan Buckland’s attitude, his professional integrity would indeed be nil. He had to do it. Dan waited an hour and a half for the veterinary officer to arrive. An hour and a half he could have made good use of.
    Those poor damn birds. Free to roam? It must be a nightmare living like that. Like being trapped in a concentration camp. Dan shuddered at the thought. But if they’d never known freedom in their short lives, and they’d always been well fed…He rang Bridge Farm, his next call, to let them know he would be much later than he’d thought.
    As soon as the veterinary officer arrived, Dan leaped out and went to shake hands. “Dan Brown, Barleybridge Farm Veterinary Practice.”
    â€œGraham Hookham. Newcastle disease you say?”
    â€œI’m almost one hundred percent sure. Check for yourself. Second shed. He’s kept the dead ones for you to see.”
    Dan stood aside and watched Buckland and Hookham greet each other. He felt there was a camaraderie between the two, which didn’t sit well with someone who had impartial decisions to make. He could be wrong, though.
    When the two of them came outside again, Graham Hookham was shaking his head. “I’m not convinced. In fact, I’m sure it isn’t.”
    â€œAre you certain?”
    â€œI have probably got more experience than you with poultry, and I’m telling you it isn’t Newcastle disease.”
    â€œI see. And that’s your considered opinion, is it?”
    Graham nodded and stepped back a little, suddenly aware Dan was someone to be reckoned with. “Yes. It is.”
    â€œWell, I’m certain I’m right. What are you going to say if next week they’re dying like flies?”
    â€œThey won’t be. Forty-two today is a fluke.”
    â€œWhat is it then?”
    â€œJust one of the hazards of having so many birds together.”
    â€œIf I’m proved to be right…”
    Graham smiled.
    Dan grew angry. “What about spreading the disease? You go onto dozens of farms; you could spread it. Have you no conscience, man?”
    â€œI’ve told you it isn’t what you think.”
    â€œOn your head be it.”
    Dan turned on his heel and went to leave. Before he did so, he poured some powerful disinfectant into his Wellington boot bowl and washed down his boots and his car tires. He made a rather ostentatious performance of it for Graham’s benefit and left for Bridge Farm.
    On his way he tried to remember if they kept poultry. He had a suspicion they did, and so instead of driving into the farmyard, which he normally would have done, he left his Land Rover out in the lane as a precaution. He put on his disinfected boots and walked into the yard where there was some furious