A Country Affair by Rebecca Shaw Page B

short enough as it is. Bunty isn’t back until next week and we’re still one receptionist short. If you’re prepared to do the accounts . . .”
    “You’ll cope.”
    “I won’t.”
    “I can’t spirit new staff out of the air.”
    “I don’t expect you to; that’s my job. I’ve only informed you because I must. You’ve always left the staffing to me. Anyway, I wasn’t asking for your advice, simply telling you what had happened.”
    “So . . . I still say she should be dismissed.”
    Joy tried a different tactic. “I’ve worked for you for twenty years and striven always to do my best through thick and thin, but if you insist on Kate’s dismissal, then you’ll have to dismiss me too.”
    Mungo looked at her, eyebrows raised in amazement. “You too? What do you mean? We can’t manage without you. You know everything there is to know about this practice.”
    “I’m not a permanent fixture here, you know, I am free to go if I wish.”
    “But you wouldn’t leave me!”
    “Wouldn’t I just! Might be the best move I’ve made in years. Better for all concerned. Fresh start. Break the old ties. I’ll go to the practice in the High Street. I understand they could do with some help since we’ve opened up here.”
    Mungo was lost for words.
    “I know why you’re taking this stance. I saw what you saw when Kate looked up and smiled at you when she was stroking Perkins. She brings back too many memories for you, doesn’t she? Dismissing her would be a good way of ridding yourself of the problem.”
    “You’re being bloody stupid, Joy, or more likely bloodyminded. Sometimes you lose your sense of proportion, you know, always have done at moments of crisis.” He stood up and turned away from her to look out of the window, aware he’d been more rude to her than he had ever been and knowing she was right about Kate: That look she had given him at the lunch had rocked the boat and no mistake.
    “Well, there’s been plenty of moments of crisis working for you, believe me.” As an afterthought and between clenched teeth she snapped, “And don’t you dare swear at me.”
    Mungo recognized the fury in Joy’s voice and knew he’d gone too far. He held up a placatory hand. “I’m sorry, love. Truly sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper and I shouldn’t have sworn. I won’t tolerate theft, though. We have to be seen to take steps. React in whatever way you think fit. I’ll leave it to you. Must go.” He opened the door, then looked back at her and smiled as only Mungo could. “I’m sorry. You know? Friends?”
    Her anger at his attitude melted away at his smile and she said, “Friends.”
    She could hear him greeting his clients and their dog, using all his charm to ease their anxiety and succeeding, for the clients were eating out of his hand before the had even reached the consulting room. Joy smiled a little grimly at the way all his clients worshipped the ground he walked on. No wonder, though, because he was immensely good at his job. However, he couldn’t solve her present crisis, could he, for all his charm and talent?
     
    A T lunchtime Joy issued an ultimatum. If the missing money was back in the drawer by the time they closed the cash sheet for the night, then nothing more would be said. She knew she was avoiding the main issue entirely and that, in fact, it solved nothing, but at the moment it was all she could come up with.
    During the afternoon Miss Chillingsworth was discovered by Kate sitting quietly in the reception area, having made no one aware of her arrival. “Why, Miss Chillingsworth, you’ve come. I’ll tell Mr. Murgatroyd.”
    Her tear-stained face told Kate all. “Oh no! Oh, dear, I am sorry.”
    “In the night.”
    “What happened . . . do you know?”
    “I am sorry. In the night I woke up and had this dreadful feeling inside. I went downstairs to the kitchen and there she was. She’d struggled out of her basket by the stove—she always sleeps there: it’s