Date with Poison by Julia Chapman

Author:Julia Chapman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan UK

15

Samson had managed to have a shower, shave his bruised chin and get dressed, every movement tearing at his delicate stomach and sending his balance haywire. His head throbbed throughout. And his ribs ached.

‘Are you sure you’re in a fit state to go?’ Joseph O’Brien was standing in the hallway, watching his son bend over to put on his shoes with exaggerated care.

‘No.’ Samson tried to smile. Gave up when the effort proved too much.

‘So stay then. Tell them you can’t make it.’

It was beyond Samson’s current fragile state to explain exactly why he had to go to London. Why he couldn’t afford to collapse back onto his father’s couch as his body was demanding. He just grunted and concentrated on straightening up without falling over.

‘What time’s your train?’ Joseph was holding out Samson’s parka, guiding his son’s arms into the sleeves. Samson had a sudden memory of his eight-year-old self heading back to school the week after his mother’s funeral, his father performing the same service in the kitchen of Twistleton Farm while Samson cried his eyes out.

‘Fifteen minutes,’ he muttered, feeling as overwhelmed by the past as he did by his hangover.

Joseph O’Brien reached out and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Well, take care, son. Stay in touch.’

Rucksack on his back, Samson was down the stairs and pushing the door open into the courtyard of Fellside Court before he realised that his father wasn’t expecting him to come back.

Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

‘Poison? You can’t be serious.’ Delilah gave a small laugh of disbelief. ‘Tolpuddle was just sick. It was just something he ate.’

Herriot perched on the edge of the desk and spread out his left hand, ticking off the fingers as he listed animals in the area. ‘Rusty, Tom Hardacre’s terrier; Liam Jackson’s Alf; a Lab from the new houses at Low Mill; an Alsatian from the industrial estate; Tigger next door and now possibly Tolpuddle too. All showing symptoms consistent with ingesting poison.’

‘Did you say Tigger? Barry’s Tigger?’ Delilah was staring at the vet. Remembering when she’d last seen the cat. ‘When?’

‘Recently. I’ve just come from the surgery. Poor thing’s going to pull through but it was touch and go. That’s why the shop was closed for a couple of days – Barry was giving Tigger round-the-clock care.’

Delilah wasn’t really listening. She was seeing Tigger outside by the bin two days ago. With Tolpuddle. They’d been fighting over something. Something Tolpuddle had been about to eat until Tigger had taken it from him.

And then they’d both been sick.

‘I know it sounds tenuous,’ Herriot was continuing, taking Delilah’s silence for scepticism, ‘but I’m worried enough to want this investigated—’

‘It was the sausage.’

‘Sorry?’

‘They were fighting over a sausage out in the yard a couple of days ago – Tolpuddle and Tigger. When I disturbed them, Tigger made off with it over the wall. It was later that day that Tolpuddle got sick.’

‘Did you give it to him?’

‘No. He must have found it out there. I didn’t think he’d eaten any of it but with what you’ve just said about Tigger .

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