The Vet from Snowy River by Stella Quinn

CHAPTER

9

Josh pulled his truck into the narrow car space at the back of the clinic and killed the ignition. Wherever Poppy had run off to, he hadn’t found the place. He’d checked the movie theatre, the narrow strip of pebbled beach down by the lake, the park, the old cemetery, the shops around the town square … she was nowhere. Only bars and restaurants were still open now, and no barman in town would let Poppy in. Despite the pierced eyebrow and eyeliner fetish, she looked younger than fifteen. Way younger.

Crap. He may as well just get it over with. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, sat there in the dark with it a second before punching in the number.

‘Josh, hi. Everything okay? Poppy texted earlier and said she’d arrived.’

Beth Horrigan. His one-time high school science teacher and mother to his daughter Poppy and, more recently, a five-year-old set of twin boy hellions, courtesy of her husband Ron Seeto.

‘Hi, Beth.’

‘Riiiight. I take it from that tone you’ve seen the eyebrow.’

‘It’s not that. She’s run off. She hasn’t called you by any chance?’

‘No. Hang on a second … Ron, honey? Have you heard from Poppy?’

Josh listened to the rumble of a deep voice in the background, then Beth was back.

‘No, nothing here. It’s getting late, Josh. And is it cold up there? Did you check the bus depot? Maybe she’s trying to get back to the city.’

Hell. No, he hadn’t thought of that. ‘Good idea. I’ll go there now.’ He had a sudden mental image of her standing by the Monaro Highway thumbing a lift from some old guy in a beige sedan who looked like a dad but was really a pervert with a secret room under his toolshed.

He dropped his head in his hands. ‘This is all my fault. I pushed her to come here, Beth. She’s lived her whole life in the city, I don’t know why I thought this was going to be a positive change for her.’

‘Hanrahan is your home, Josh. There have been Codys there for generations. You didn’t want to leave that town; you left for me.’

He did. And he’d do it again in a heartbeat. ‘I’m not ashamed of us, Beth. We are good people.’

‘We were young and stupid people. You were just a bit younger than me, that’s all. And that town was never going to forgive me for destroying the future of their golden boy. First University of Sydney scholarship ever awarded to a student from Hanrahan, thrown away when that same golden boy knocked up his high school science teacher.’

‘Trainee teacher. And I’m pretty sure I’d graduated before you let me get my horny teenage hands under your sweater.’

‘Bloody hell, Josh. Try and remember I’m on speakerphone, would you?’

Oops. ‘Hey, Ron.’

‘Hey yourself,’ said Beth’s husband. ‘Speaking of teenagers with, um, hands, you want me to drive up and help you look for Poppy?’

‘Give me an hour or so, Ron. There’s a few places I haven’t checked yet.’

‘You got it. Call me if you need me. I can drive through the night and be there before morning.’

‘Thanks, man.’

Beth’s voice came in over the family room ruckus he could hear in the background. ‘What happened? Why did she run off?’

He pulled himself together. There’d be plenty of time for cataloguing his mistakes once Poppy was safe. ‘You remember Kelly? My age, curly hair, cried in class whenever she broke a nail.’

Beth’s voice was wry. ‘I blanked out every face in that town the day they ran me out at the end of a pitchfork.’

He would have grinned if he wasn’t so worried. ‘Well, unfortunately she hasn’t blanked you and me out. She was at the clinic this afternoon with her kid and an overweight guinea pig. Asked Poppy how she felt about everyone knowing her dad got seduced by his teacher and got her knocked up and—’

‘Oh my god.’

‘Yep.’

He heard Beth’s long drawn-out sigh. ‘We should have told her.’

He should have. He was the one who’d come back to Hanrahan, stirred up all the old gossip, all the busy eyes wondering just when had his and Beth’s affair started. He was damned if he’d give them the satisfaction of setting them straight.

‘I’d forgotten how occupied everyone got here with other people’s lives.’

‘Mmm,’ said Beth. ‘That’s small towns for you. And they never let the facts get in the way of a good story.’

He heard a crash followed by high-pitched screaming and wondered if one of the Seetos had just fallen through a plate glass window.

‘Boys! Cut that out. Nick, give Toby back his lightsabre. Toby, get your foot off Nick’s head. Josh, I’ve got to go before they kill each other. Remind me again why I had more children.’

He smiled. ‘Because you’re a great mum, and Ron was born to be the King of Dads.’

‘What a charmer. Call me after you’ve been to the bus depot, all right? We can call the police together, and either Ron or I will get in the car and drive up tonight. I’ll call her friends here in Sydney in case she’s made contact, or posted anything online.’

‘Will do. Talk soon.’

‘Bye, Josh.’

Bus depot. Now why hadn’t he thought of that? He reached for the ignition then paused. The depot was up the hill on the main road out to the Alpine Way. He could go on foot, check the streets on the way in case Poppy was loitering somewhere. All he’d need would be a torch; plenty of those in the treatment room.

A deep woof sounded as he let himself into the back office. Jane Doe. The vet nurse would have taken her for a walk before he left for the day, but she’d cope with another. Who knew? Maybe the old girl had sniffer-dog skills hidden under all that fur.

He grabbed a lead from the row of hooks lining the wall by the door and headed into the sleepover room, where Jane Doe was tucked up with her pups.

‘How’re you doing, sweetheart?’

The old lab thumped her tail against the floor and scampered up, dislodging the pups dozing against her belly.

‘Fancy a walk?’

The dog pricked her ears. She knew the word ‘walk’ fine, like she knew ‘treat’ and ‘sit’ and ‘nice try but get away from my sandwich’. She was someone’s pet for sure, or had been.

He unlatched the gate and led her into the corridor. ‘We’re going on a Poppy hunt, Jane. You ready to earn your keep?’

‘Talking to dogs now, Josh?’

Josh looked up at the man standing in the doorway. Tall. Fair hair worn short and sharp as a seasoned Navy officer, eyes just as ruthless. Shoulders that could withstand a premiership quarter tackle, or at least they could back when they’d been on the same Aussie Rules team at school. ‘Tom Krauss. It’s been a long time, mate.’

‘Same. I hear you’re up to your old tricks schmoozing all the ladies in town.’

Josh sighed. Some gifts just kept on giving. ‘What do you mean by that exactly?’

His old schoolfriend cocked his head. ‘Nothing,’ he said after a pause. ‘Mrs LaBrooy told me you took her out for coffee.’

Well, that would teach him to jump down the throat of anyone who made a half-baked innuendo about his past. He grabbed Tom’s hand, shook it then pulled him in for a back-slap and hug. ‘Sorry. It’s been a long day. My daughter’s run off, and my old schmoozing tricks, as you so tactfully phrased it, are the reason.’

‘Hell, Poppy’s run off?’

‘Yep.’

‘Tell me what I can do.’

That. That was the reason he’d moved back to Hanrahan. More than the chance to get into his own vet practice. More than the majestic historic building he could live in rent free, the mountain air he could breathe, the gleaming blue of clear, cold lake water he could see from damn near every street in town, the row of Codys at rest in the cemetery.

Community. Friends who’d grown up with him, known him as a skinned-knee brat freewheeling through town on his battered BMX; sat shoulder to shoulder with him at birthday parties at the old ice rink while they woofed down milkshakes and hot chips and tried to out-belch one another. Friends who were ready now, without a prompt or a prod, to help.

‘I’m heading up to the bus depot on the main road. Beth thinks Pop might have booked herself back to Sydney when she ran out of here, and she’d need a bus to get her into the train station at Cooma.’

‘Let’s go.’

Josh gave the lead a tug and Jane Doe stopped sniffing the hem of Tom’s jeans and fell in beside him. As they let themselves out the side door, his brain worked around to the incongruity it hadn’t noticed until now. ‘What are you doing here anyway, Tom?’

Tom shot a glance up to the top floor, where lamplight shone from behind Hannah’s new curtains. ‘Don’t ask.’

Josh inspected his old friend’s set expression. ‘If you and Hannah are—’

‘We’re not.’

Hmm. If Tom had been upstairs, that would explain why Hannah hadn’t been answering his calls.

‘No sign of an hysterical fifteen-year-old girl up there?’

‘No, Josh. She would have been a welcome distraction, I can tell you that much.’

Okay. He could grill Hannah about Tom later. One drama a day was his limit, and Poppy being missing was the only thing he could care about right now.

He flicked on the torch, shone it into doorways and alleys as he and Tom walked down Dandaloo and cut through Quarry Street up to the main road at the back of town. He hunted around for a question to ask to take his mind off his worry.

‘So you left the Navy, I hear.’

‘A while back, yes.’

‘They finally wised up and booted you out.’

Tom gave an easy grin. ‘You wish. You’re looking at a decorated officer.’

‘Uh-huh. So why does a decorated officer ditch the Navy and head on home to the farm?’

‘Well, I’ve been working as a civilian for a few years, so it’s not like I ditched the Navy last week. I came back here to be with Dad. Mrs LaBrooy didn’t tell you?’

Josh frowned. ‘Tell me what?’

‘Dad has multiple sclerosis. It was me come home and keep the business going, or sell the horse stud. Easy choice.’

He doubted Tom would tell him if it had been the toughest choice of his life—he was a guy who played his cards close.

‘You got a good equine vet looking after those nags of yours?’

Tom punched him in the arm. ‘You are such an operator, Cody. And yes, your sister’s been known to come and look at my horses.’

‘Hey, I topped my class in equine studies. Interned at Dalgety Flats Stables six months last year. Just saying … there’s more than one Cody in town now.’

‘Dalgety Flats? The Frasers?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Heard they had had a winner in the Golden Slipper last year.’

‘You heard right. Three-year-old colt named Gondwana.’

The bus depot loomed ahead, an ugly squat building that was a tribute to shoddy council development approvals in the eighties. Jane plodded along beside him, her huffs sending a cloud of mist into the night air.

Beth had been right about the cold. Even now, in spring, the nights could turn bitter. And Poppy wasn’t dressed for mountain weather.

He stumbled at the thought of Poppy shivering somewhere in the dark. No … he couldn’t think that. He kept up the horse chatter to drive the image from his head. ‘You interested in racing stock out there at the Ironbark Station? Or are you breeding working horses?’

‘Quarter horses mainly, but I’ve a few special horses in the mix. You’ll have to come out and see my mare, Buttercup. I just paid a fortune for her. She’s in foal, a bit early in the season, but there was an opportunity to match her with a good bloodline. She’s a thoroughbred, built for racing, or was, until injury ended her career. I think she’s going to foal me a winner.’

‘A Triple Crown winner?’

‘Why not? A bloke can dream, right?’

A bloke sure could dream. Hadn’t he dreamed his whole life of being a vet in a large animal practice?

The arrival of Poppy into his world had changed things—he’d not taken up that scholarship. He’d had bills to pay, cots to buy, nappies, mashed up carrots and kindergarten fees to provide. But he’d never lost his dream, not in ten years of labouring on high-rise construction sites in downtown Sydney.

‘Yeah,’ he muttered. He paused in front of the closed ticket window at the depot. ‘Hang on to Jane Doe, will you, Tom? I’ll go find someone inside.’

‘No worries.’

He pushed his way through the heavy glass door. Bored-looking travellers sprawled across vinyl seats, but Poppy wasn’t one of them. He approached the desk and grilled the young man at the only open counter.

‘I’m looking for my daughter. Fifteen, grungy clothes, hair dyed black. Here’s a picture.’

He pulled up the photo files on his phone. He had hundreds of photos on there, thousands perhaps, and ninety-nine per cent of them were of Poppy. He showed the guy his screen.

‘She been in? Sometime after one? She’d have been looking for a bus to Cooma, and then train to Sydney.’

‘Sorry. I’ve been here since noon. Haven’t seen her.’

Bloody hell. Where could she be? He headed back outside, and Tom must have seen the despair on his face.

‘I know the local police officer. Her name’s Meg King, and she’s one of the best. Let’s get her involved. I can call the old crew. Jacko—remember him? He’s driving again now so if we can prise him away from Tracy, we take a quarter of town each; we search until dawn if we have to.’

There was a sob in Josh’s chest, bucking just under the surface wanting to pound its way free. He choked it down, nodded.

‘Okay, yes, okay. I promised Beth I’d let her know if Poppy wasn’t at the depot. Let’s head back to the clinic and we can get your police friend to meet us there.’ Josh turned to the man he’d grown up with but hadn’t bothered to keep in contact with for the last decade and a half. More fool him. ‘Thanks, Tom. I mean it.’

Tom just nodded. ‘Here, take your girlfriend. I was warming to her, but then she tried to pee on my new boots. She’s all yours.’

‘Let’s walk down the other side of the street. There’s a few service alleys we should check.’

‘You got it.’

They crossed the street, the light from Josh’s torch flickering silver lines across the pavement. Maybe Beth had heard something by now. He dug around in his pocket for his phone.

‘Well, well, what do we have here?’

‘Hmm?’ Josh frowned down at his screen. Beth’s message was another dead end; none of Poppy’s friends had heard from her. No selfies adorned Instagram with a convenient sign in the background letting him know where she could be found.

‘Some new chick I have definitely not seen in Hanrahan before. Brown hair—or is it dark red? Easy on the eye, my friend … and she’s not alone.’

Josh ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble there. Police, that had to be the first call. Then Beth. Then Hannah, damn her, could snap out of whatever Tom Krauss-funk she was inhabiting and come downstairs and help.

Tom’s last words finally sank into his brain. ‘Not alone?’

‘Ugly orange skirt. Boots that look like besser bricks. A nose that is one hundred per cent Cody. And I oughta know—I went to school with one of them, and I’ve wasted a mess of time getting the cold shoulder from the other. I think we’ve found your daughter, Josh.’

He looked up from his phone and on the dimly lit footpath were two figures walking towards them. Holy crap, Tom was right. He could have kissed him. He would have kissed him, except Tom was looking at his watch and muttering blather like gotta go, and now the drama’s over, and see ya, mate.

He ignored it all and lunged forward, earning himself a yelp from the startled labrador by his side.

‘Poppy? Honey, I’ve been so worried. Come here and give your dad a hug before he embarrasses all of us by crying in the street.’

And then she was in his arms. All five-foot, eyebrow-pierced, stroppy inch of her. She felt just about as perfect as a daughter could feel.