won’t complain.”
Scepticism showed plainly on his face. “I’m sorry, Miss Holland, but I need someone who knows his – or her – way around a surgery. I need someone who can stitch up a wound, or help birth a lamb that’s misdirected. I need someone who can comfort the owner when their dog, or horse, or cat has to be put down. I need someone with commitment and stamina and empathy, someone who cares about animals and doesn’t mind the long hours or the middle of the night calls to deliver a breech calf or put a suffering animal out of pain. And that’s obviously
not
you.”
“I may not have done any of those things,” Marianne said evenly as she plonked her handbag down on the desk, “but I
do
love animals. I’ve had rabbits and cats and dogs all of my life, and I took care of them all. I fed and cleaned and exercised them, and I made sure they had their shots. My sister Elinor had a horse until recently, when we couldn’t afford to keep him any longer; I’ve mucked out his stall and groomed him dozens of times. But if you won’t hire me, or give me a proper chance –” she turned away, unwilling to let him see how much – how very much – she suddenly wanted this job “then I won’t waste any more of your time.”
She turned to go, wondering as she did what she’d do now. Without this job, she’d never get the work experience she needed to get into a veterinary course. Worse still, she wouldn’t be able to do her part and help her mother with the household expenses.
“Miss Holland,” Dr Brandon called out after her. “Wait.”
Marianne turned back, her heart quickening. Hope flooded through her. Had he changed his mind? Was he so impressed with her impassioned, heartfelt speech that he meant to give her a fair chance?
“You forgot your purse,” he said, and held it out to her, dangling from the end of his finger.
“
Handbag
.” She snatched it away. “Thanks,” she bit off, and marched back out of the surgery.
“You might try the Endwhistle Café,” he called after her. “I hear they’re hiring waitresses.”
She whirled around and glared at him. “Is that right? And do you ever eat there, Dr Brandon? At the Endwhistle Café?”
“On occasion.”
“Good. Then I might just take your advice. I’ll get a job as a waitress. It’ll give me the perfect excuse to dump a pot of hot coffee right in your smug, sexist lap!”
She stormed out, aware as she did of his laughter ringing out behind her.
Chapter 10
Too furious and upset to go back to Barton Park, Marianne sat in the car for a moment to have a cry and tried to pull herself together. She searched in the glove compartment until she found a crumpled tissue and blew her nose.
She hated Matthew Brandon.
Hated
him. He obviously thought she was some kind of spoiled rich girl who’d never worked a day in her life and had no need of a job. He was the rudest, most unreasonable man she’d ever had the misfortune to know. Heartless, too. Not to mention self-centred, ill mannered, and avaricious –
There was a tap on her window. With a gasp of fright, Marianne looked up to see the veterinarian standing there. He leaned down until his face was on a level with hers.
She swiped at the black streaks of mascara under her eyes and rolled her window down. “What is it?” she snapped.
“Sorry to startle you,” he said, “but I just had a thought.”
“Is that right? What thought was that? Did you figure out a way to charge me for wasting your time? Or breathing the air? Or is there a parking fee I wasn’t aware of?”
“No. Although charging for parking’s not a bad idea.” He ran a hand through his already rumpled dark hair. “My receptionist’s leaving in two weeks, going off to Hull. Her sister’s just had a baby and Lynn’s staying with her for the rest of the summer.”
Marianne was silent. She wouldn’t give in to even the tiniest, teeniest flicker of hope, she wouldn’t. Not this time.
He paused.
Scepticism showed plainly on his face. “I’m sorry, Miss Holland, but I need someone who knows his – or her – way around a surgery. I need someone who can stitch up a wound, or help birth a lamb that’s misdirected. I need someone who can comfort the owner when their dog, or horse, or cat has to be put down. I need someone with commitment and stamina and empathy, someone who cares about animals and doesn’t mind the long hours or the middle of the night calls to deliver a breech calf or put a suffering animal out of pain. And that’s obviously
not
you.”
“I may not have done any of those things,” Marianne said evenly as she plonked her handbag down on the desk, “but I
do
love animals. I’ve had rabbits and cats and dogs all of my life, and I took care of them all. I fed and cleaned and exercised them, and I made sure they had their shots. My sister Elinor had a horse until recently, when we couldn’t afford to keep him any longer; I’ve mucked out his stall and groomed him dozens of times. But if you won’t hire me, or give me a proper chance –” she turned away, unwilling to let him see how much – how very much – she suddenly wanted this job “then I won’t waste any more of your time.”
She turned to go, wondering as she did what she’d do now. Without this job, she’d never get the work experience she needed to get into a veterinary course. Worse still, she wouldn’t be able to do her part and help her mother with the household expenses.
“Miss Holland,” Dr Brandon called out after her. “Wait.”
Marianne turned back, her heart quickening. Hope flooded through her. Had he changed his mind? Was he so impressed with her impassioned, heartfelt speech that he meant to give her a fair chance?
“You forgot your purse,” he said, and held it out to her, dangling from the end of his finger.
“
Handbag
.” She snatched it away. “Thanks,” she bit off, and marched back out of the surgery.
“You might try the Endwhistle Café,” he called after her. “I hear they’re hiring waitresses.”
She whirled around and glared at him. “Is that right? And do you ever eat there, Dr Brandon? At the Endwhistle Café?”
“On occasion.”
“Good. Then I might just take your advice. I’ll get a job as a waitress. It’ll give me the perfect excuse to dump a pot of hot coffee right in your smug, sexist lap!”
She stormed out, aware as she did of his laughter ringing out behind her.
Chapter 10
Too furious and upset to go back to Barton Park, Marianne sat in the car for a moment to have a cry and tried to pull herself together. She searched in the glove compartment until she found a crumpled tissue and blew her nose.
She hated Matthew Brandon.
Hated
him. He obviously thought she was some kind of spoiled rich girl who’d never worked a day in her life and had no need of a job. He was the rudest, most unreasonable man she’d ever had the misfortune to know. Heartless, too. Not to mention self-centred, ill mannered, and avaricious –
There was a tap on her window. With a gasp of fright, Marianne looked up to see the veterinarian standing there. He leaned down until his face was on a level with hers.
She swiped at the black streaks of mascara under her eyes and rolled her window down. “What is it?” she snapped.
“Sorry to startle you,” he said, “but I just had a thought.”
“Is that right? What thought was that? Did you figure out a way to charge me for wasting your time? Or breathing the air? Or is there a parking fee I wasn’t aware of?”
“No. Although charging for parking’s not a bad idea.” He ran a hand through his already rumpled dark hair. “My receptionist’s leaving in two weeks, going off to Hull. Her sister’s just had a baby and Lynn’s staying with her for the rest of the summer.”
Marianne was silent. She wouldn’t give in to even the tiniest, teeniest flicker of hope, she wouldn’t. Not this time.
He paused.
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