Charlie the Kitten Who Saved a Life

Just in case what? Well, who knows? Who knows when you might be called upon to save someone’s life, just for instance? If it can happen to an ordinary little kitten like I recently used to be, well, it could happen to any cat, anywhere. Be warned. Be prepared. Humans need us! Even if they don’t realise it, they do, because let’s face it, we’re the superior race by far.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

With grateful thanks to Sharon Whelan, Clinical Director at Clarendon House Vet’s in Galleywood, Chelmsford, for advice on Charlie’s care after his injuries.

And thanks to everyone at Ebury who helps with the process of turning my stories into proper books – with particular thanks to my editor Emily Yau for all her hard work on Charlie’s behalf. Meow!

Read on for an extract from:

The Vets at Hope Green

Also by Sheila Norton

Available now from Ebury Press

PART 1ESCAPE TO THE COUNTRY

PROLOGUE

It was a beautiful, warm day at the end of May and the countryside on either side of the road was full of the promise of summer ahead. I wound down the driver’s window of my little car and turned up the radio so that I could hear the music above the noise of the breeze as I whizzed along in the fast lane of the motorway. Mile by mile, I felt myself relaxing. I felt my worries and uncertainties begin to melt away and my heart lifted with the anticipation of my destination.

Hope Green. The very name made me feel more optimistic. I sang along to the radio, remembering happy family holidays on the Dorset coast when I was a child. Hope Green had hardly changed since those days, its age-old charm untouched by the increased pace of life elsewhere. It was somewhere I could unwind and be at peace, take stock of things and perhaps really find myself at last.

As I steadily increased my distance from my home on the outskirts of London, I could almost feel my old life slipping off my shoulders like a heavy coat that had been weighing me down – the crowded streets, the rush-hour crush on the Tube, the traffic fumes, the stress on people’s faces – I was leaving all this behind me, leaving it for a place where life still depended on the seasons, where people still had time to chat on street corners, where people picked blackberries and elderberries from the hedgerows instead of buying them in tiny plastic packets from the supermarket at ridiculous expense. Here I would be able to see the stars at night instead of neon lights. And the only traffic jams were caused by tractors.

I knew I was also leaving behind a few people who thought I’d lost my mind and was making a huge and ridiculous mistake. Perhaps I was, but I didn’t think so. This was my opportunity to start again, to carve out a new future for myself. A future that wouldn’t be just about me. And I was rushing headlong towards it, never more certain of anything in my life. Hope Green was my hope for that future, and I was determined not to look back.

CHAPTER ONE

Six weeks earlier

It had been a fairly ordinary day at the James Street Vet Clinic. We’d had the usual procession of dogs, cats, hamsters and rabbits, but also a pair of budgies, a little white mouse and an urban fox who had been hit by a car and had been carried in almost lifeless by the kind but distraught lady who had found him. Without exception, the pet owners were all well heeled, well dressed and well paid, settling their bills without a murmur on their Amex cards before rushing back to their large expensive homes and their important jobs.

Not that I resented our clientele, I reminded myself as I pulled on my coat and prepared to set off for my own, not-so-large home in a far less expensive area of the city. They were polite and responsible people for the most part and, after all, they did keep me employed. I loved seeing all the different animals being brought in and I knew many of the regulars by name and personality. I enjoyed the breakthrough moments when sick animals were restored to health and, on sadder occasions, though it was initially upsetting, I took satisfaction in my ability to comfort and console the owners.

I’d always wanted to work with animals, and when I was offered the position of receptionist at this upmarket clinic in the heart of London’s West End, I thought all my dreams had come true. However, after four years of the same monotonous routine, I was beginning to feel that it wasn’t enough any more.

Adam didn’t understand. I knew this because he delighted in questioning me on it every time I brought up the subject. I thought that your boyfriend was supposed to be someone who listens and sympathises, but he had taken the opposite tack. The last time it had come up, when we’d met for drinks after work, he had asked me in his usual weary voice what exactly it was that I wasn’t happy with.

‘Nothing,’ I’d told him, equally wearily. ‘I keep trying to explain to you – there’s nothing wrong with the job itself, it’s just that I feel … kind of frustrated, I suppose.’