Every Living Thing Part 3

"Yes," she went on, "it is the most beautiful country suit and, do you know, he never wore it." She shook her head and her eyes softened as she stroked the lapels. "No, he never did. He died a few days after it was made and he was so looking forward to it. He was such an outdoor man, but he did like to be smartly dressed."

Then she said somewhat abruptly, looking up at me with a resolute expression, "Now, Mr. Herriot, would you like to have this suit?"

"Eh?"

"I wish you would have it. I'm sure it would be of great use to you and it is being wasted just hanging here in this wardrobe."

I didn't know what to say, but my mind went back to various pauses in our conversation by the fire when I had noticed her eyes lingering briefly on the fringe of material on my frayed cuff as I raised my gla.s.s, and at my threadbare knees.

As I stood silent she looked suddenly worried. "Perhaps I am embarra.s.sing you?"

"Oh, no, no, no, not at all. It's very kind of you. I'm sure I'd love to have it."

"Oh, I am glad." She clapped her hands. "It will be just right for you, quite the correct thing for a country vet. I'd so much like to think of you wearing it."

"Right ...right..." I said, still a little bemused. "Thank you very much." I laughed. "Such a nice surprise."

"Good, good," she said, laughing too. Then she called across the hall. "Ruth, Ruth, will you bring one of those big sheets of brown paper to put round this suit, there's a dear."

As the maid hurried off, Mrs. Pumphrey put her head on one side. "There's just one thing, Mr. Herriot. My husband was rather a large man. Some alterations will be necessary."

"Oh, that's all right," I said. "I can see to that."

As I walked over the gravel to my car weighed down with my parcel, I mused on the upturn in my day. A couple of hours ago I had slunk away like a pariah from a farm after a visit steeped in censure and dislike and with a final tongue-las.h.i.+ng thrown in, and look at me now. Mrs. Pumphrey and Ruth were smiling and waving from the doorway. Tricki was back at his window, laughing his head off as he barked his farewell, the curtains moving with the wagging of his tail, my stomach glowed with sherry and savoury biscuits and I had a handsome free suit in my arms.

Not for the first time I thanked providence for the infinite variety of veterinary practice.

Chapter 5.

"LOOK AT THIS, HELEN!" I cried as I pulled off the brown paper back in Skeldale House. "Mrs. Pumphrey's given me a suit!"

My wife gasped as my new acquisition was unveiled. "It's beautiful, Jim. So expensive-looking!"

"Isn't it just. I could never afford one like this."

We looked down at the sumptuous tweed with its faint, scarcely discernible pattern of brownish threads among the Lovat green and Helen held up the jacket to examine it more closely.

"Gosh, it's so thick and heavy, I can hardly lift it! I've never seen such cloth-you'll never feel cold wearing this. Aren't you going to try it on? There's time before lunch-I'll just pop through to the kitchen and see that nothing's boiling over."

I hurried to our bedroom and, bubbling with antic.i.p.ation, removed my trousers and pulled on the new ones, then I donned the jacket and looked in the mirror. I really didn't have to look-I realised from the start that my hopes were dashed. The trousers rested in concertina-like folds round my ankles while the jacket sleeves hung several inches below my hands. The late Mr. Pumphrey hadn't just been large, he must have been a giant.

I was observing myself sadly when I heard m.u.f.fled sounds from the doorway. Helen was leaning against the wall laughing helplessly as she pointed a shaking finger in my direction. "Oh, dear," she gasped. "I'm sorry, but oh, ha-ha-ha!"

"Okay," I said. "I know, I know, it's a washout." Then I caught sight of myself again in the mirror and couldn't fight back a wry smile. "You're right, I do look funny, but what a disappointment. It's such a marvellous suit-I thought I was going to be Darrowby's best-dressed man. What the heck are we going to do with the thing?"

Helen dried her eyes and came over to me. "Oh, it's such a shame, but wait a minute." She tucked the sleeves up till my hands were revealed, then knelt and rolled up a few folds of trousers. She stood back to view the result. "Do you know, I really think it could be altered to fit you."

"Oh, come on, it's unthinkable. I'm drowned in it." I glowered again at my reflection.

My wife shook her head vigorously. "I'm not so sure. Looking at you now, I can just imagine how splendid it could be. Anyway, I'm going to take it round to Mr. Bendelow and see if I can sweetheart him into doing it quickly."

I grinned at the thought of our local tailor stirring himself. "That would be a miracle."

"You never know," Helen said. "I'm going to try, anyway."

Later that day she came to me with the news that Mr. Bendelow had been so dazzled by the quality of the material and the cut that he had promised a rush job.

The excitement over the suit was forgotten as I had an urgent call immediately after lunch.

Ted Newcombe's voice on the phone was strained and shaking. "It's Clover-she's on calvin' and there's just a head and nowt else. I've had a go, but I can't reach the legs-it's ? whopper of a calf. And it's the one I badly want-you remember?"

"Yes, I do remember, of course."

"Can you get 'ere quick, Mr. Herriot?"

"I'm leaving now."

Clover was his best heifer and had been served by a premium bull. To a hill-farmer like Ted it would be a disaster if he lost the calf. I shouted to Helen and ran out to the car.

Ted's smallholding was a grey smudge high on a hillside near the top of the dale. There was no road to it and my car b.u.mped its way up the gra.s.sy slope with my drugs and instruments rattling and clinking behind me. The flagged yard and thick-walled buildings were hundreds of years old; in fact, coupled with its inaccessibility it was the sort of place where only hard-up people like Ted would dream of trying to make a living. The rent was low and it was all he could afford. He was coming out of the byre as I drew up. Ted was tall and thin, about my own age, the father of a boy and girl who walked down that hill every day and then the two miles to the village school. He looked worried, but managed a grin.

"Nice car, Mr. Herriot." He gave the gleaming bonnet a mock polish with his sleeve, but, as was typical of him, that was as far as the mickey-taking went.

I followed him into the little byre and I realised why he didn't feel much like joking. The smile was wiped off my own face immediately as I looked at the beautiful heifer groaning and heaving, with an enormous muzzle just peeping from her v.u.l.v.a as she strained.

No vet likes to see that. It wasn't just a case of sorting out a malpresentation, it meant that a huge calf was finding it impossible to find a way out.

"I've 'ad a go," Ted said as I stripped off and began to wash my arms in the steaming bucket. "But there's no legs-feet are miles away. I remember you tellin' me once to push back the head to reach the feet but I've tried and she's ower strong for me."

I nodded. He hadn't much flesh on his bones, but he had a stringy power in his arms and I knew what he meant. "n.o.body's as strong as a big beast like that, Ted."

"And all the time I'm wonderin' if t'calf's still alive. He's been squeezed in there for a h.e.l.l of a long time."

That was my worry, too. I soaped my arm and pushed a hand into the v.u.l.v.a alongside the ma.s.sive head, but as I reached for the shoulder Clover gave another heave and my arm was trapped agonisingly for a few seconds.

"That's no good," I gasped. "There's not an inch of room in there. I'll try my luck with the head."

I put my hand against the muzzle and pushed steadily, leaning hard as the head went back a few inches. That was as far as I got. Another mighty expulsive effort from the heifer sent me back where I started.

I began to wash my hands and arms again. "It's impossible, Ted. That calf won't come out till we bring the feet round and there's simply no way of reaching those feet. She's a big, powerful heifer and we can't win pus.h.i.+ng against her."

"Oh, 'ell!" He looked at me wide-eyed. "What do we do, then? Caesarean? That's a big job!"

"Maybe not," I said. "I've got another trick up my sleeve."

I was out to the car and back again in a few moments with a syringe and local anaesthetic. "Grab the tail, Ted," I said, "and move it up and down like a pump handle. That's the way." I felt for the epidural s.p.a.ce between the vertebrae and injected 10 c.c.'s, then I stood back and watched.

I hadn't long to wait. In less than a minute Clover began to relax as though her troubles were over. Ted pointed at her. "Look at that, she's stopped strainin'!"

"She can't strain, now," I said. "She's had a spinal anaesthetic and she can't feel a thing back there. In fact she really doesn't know what's going on."

"So if she can't push against us we can maybe get the head back inside?"

"That's the idea." Another soaping of my arm and I pressed my palm against the broad muzzle, and oh, it was lovely to feel the head and neck and the whole calf moving away from me with no sign of resistance. There was room then to pa.s.s a noose inside and snare a foot and then another till I had two cloven hooves showing at the v.u.l.v.a. I grasped one in each hand and as I leaned back, the calf's muzzle reappeared and to my great relief I saw a twitching of the nostrils.

I laughed. "This calf's alive, Ted."

"Oh, thank G.o.d for that," Ted said, blowing out his cheeks. "We can get on wi' the job now, can't we?"

"Yes, but there's just one snag. Because she's unable to strain she can't help us. We'll have to do everything ourselves."

It was still a very tight squeeze and we had half an hour of careful pulling on the legs and head and frequent application of lubricating jelly. We soon began to sweat but Clover was totally unconcerned and paid no attention as she picked away happily at the hay in the rack. My big fear was that the calf might stick at the hips but with a final heave from us the little creature slid out into the world and I caught the slippery body as it fell.

Ted lifted a hind leg. "It's a bull. Reckon it had to be when it was as big as that." He smiled happily. "Most times I want heifers, but this 'un will sell well for breedin'. He's got a fine pedigree on both sides."

He began to rub ribs and head with straw and the calf responded by raising his head and snuffling. Clover looked round quickly at the sound and gave a soft moo of delight and, it seemed to me, surprise, because she had known nothing of the operation and clearly was a little mystified as to how this enchanting newcomer had arrived. We pulled him up to her head and she commenced an enthusiastic end-to-end licking of the little body.

I smiled. I never got tired of this-the most rewarding thing in my veterinary life. "Nice to see, isn't it, Ted. I wish all calvings finished up like this."

"By gaw, you're right, Mr. Herriot, and I can't thank ye enough. I really thought I had a dead 'un on me hands this time." When I bent over the bucket he gave me a friendly thump on the back.

As I dried my arms I looked round the byre with its row of well-kept cows. Over some months Ted had gutted the place completely, hacking out the ancient wooden part.i.tions and replacing them with tubular metal, plastering the walls, digging up the cobbled floor and laying down concrete. He had done all the work himself.

He followed my gaze. "What d'you think of me little place now?"

"It's great, you've done wonders, Ted. And you've built a nice little dairy, too."

"Aye, ah've got to get that T.T. licence somehow." He rubbed his chin. "But there's a few things that don't come up to standard. Like not enough s.p.a.ce between the channel and the back wall. There's nowt I can do about that and one or two other points. But if the Ministry'll grant me a licence I'll get another fourpence on every gallon of milk and it'll make all the difference in the world to me."

He laughed, as though reading my thoughts. "Maybe you don't think fourpence is much, but you know, we don't need a lot o' money. We never go out at night-we're quite happy playin' cards and Ludo and dominoes with the kids, and with these cows to milk and feed and muck out twice a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, I'm tied to the spot." He laughed again. "Ah can't remember when I even went into Darrowby. No, we don't want much money, but right now I'm just hanging on-only keepin' my head above water. Any road, I'll know after next Thursday. They're having a meeting to decide."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't tell him that I was the one who had to make a confidential report to the Milk Committee on that day about him and his farm and it all rested on whether I could convince them. Ted's fourpence a gallon was in my hands and it frightened me a bit, because if the T.T. licence didn't go through I dared not think how much longer he could carry on his struggle to make a go of this wind-blown farm with its spa.r.s.e pastures.

I packed up my gear and we went outside. Breathing in the cold, clean air I looked at the cloud shadows chasing across the tumbled miles of green hills, and at the few acres that were Ted's world. They made a little wall-girt island lapped around by the tufted gra.s.s of the moorland, which was always trying to flow over and swamp it. Those fields had to be fed and fertilised to keep them from returning to their wild state, and the walls, twisted and bent by the centuries, kept shedding their stones-another job to be done by that one man. I recalled a time when Ted told me that one of his luxuries was to wake up in the middle of the night so that he could turn over and go to sleep again.

As I started the engine he waved, raising a huge, work-callused hand. b.u.mping down the hillside I looked back at the thin, slightly stooping figure standing by the house with its fringe of stunted trees, and an awareness of his situation welled in me as it had done so often before. Compared to his, my life was a picnic.

Chapter 6.

THE FOLLOWING THURSDAY I awoke with the words of my appeal for Ted spinning around in my head and I kept mouthing a few phrases in the car as I did a couple of early calls. I was due in the Ministry Office at 11:00 A.M. and by ten o'clock I was back home ready to change.

I was about to go upstairs when Helen came in.

"You'll never believe this," she said breathlessly. "But Mr. Bendelow saw me as I pa.s.sed his window and gave me the suit."

"Mr. Pumphrey's suit?"

"Yes, it's all altered and ready for you to wear." She stared at me, wide-eyed.

I looked at the parcel in amazement. "Well, that's never happened before. We asked for a miracle and got one."

"That's right," Helen said. "And another thing, I feel sure it's a happy omen."

"What do you mean?"

"You can wear it when you speak to the Milk Committee. You'll really impress them in a suit like that."

Her words struck home. As an orator I was no Winston Churchill and I needed any help that was going. In the bedroom I tore off my clothes and climbed into the refurbished trousers. They were now exactly the right length but there was something else, something I hadn't noticed when I had tried them on before. The waistband came right up over my chest until it was almost tucked under my arms. Those were the days of high waistbands that rested comfortably well above the hips, but Mr. Pumphrey's stature had vastly accentuated this. I was beaten again. I turned and faced Helen and her mouth began to twitch. Then she lowered her head and her body shook with repressed giggles.

"Don't start that again!" I cried. "They're nearly as funny as last time. You don't have to tell me. Anyway, I can't wear these d.a.m.ned things, that's all there is to it. I'm just a walking pair of trousers with a head and shoulders poking out at the top." I was about to pull off the maddening garments when Helen held up a hand.

"Wait...wait..." she said. "Put on the jacket."

"What good will that do?"

"The lapels are very high, just put it on."

With a feeling of hopelessness I shrugged myself into the jacket and turned towards her.

Helen was looking at me with something like awe. "It's wonderful," she whispered. "Incredible."

"What is?"

"Look at yourself."

I looked into the mirror and Lord Herriot of Darrowby looked out at me. The waistband was quite hidden and the suit was there in all its glory of rich material and superb tailoring, draped on me elegantly as if it had been made for me.

"My G.o.d," I breathed. "I never knew clothes could make all that difference. I'm like another person."

"Yes, you are," agreed Helen eagerly. "You're like an important, prestigious person. You must wear it for the committee-you'll knock them cold!"

While I washed and combed my hair I had the warm sense of everything slotting into place when all had seemed lost, and as I left after a final admiring glance at myself in the mirror I was filled with an airy confidence.