but' couldn't do a thing about it.
"Mr Harcourt wants a word with you."
There it was. The terrible sentence that al ways set my heart
thumping.
"Thank you," I said huskily, and waited an eternity as the phone was
swit~ through.
"Herriot!" The booming voice made me jump.
I swallowed.
"Good morning, Mr Harcourt. How are you?"
"I'll tell you how I am, I'm bloody annoyed!" I could imagine vividly
handsome, high-coloured, choleric face flushing deeper, the greenish
eyes al;.
"In fact I'm hop ping bloody mad!"
"Oh."
"It's no use saying "oh". That's what you said the last time when you
~ that cow of Frank land's that had been dead for two years! That was
very <:1 - I don't know how you managed it. Now I've been going over
your $d Hill's of High View and there are two cows here that you've
tested number74 and ~ 03. Now our records show that he sold both of
them at Braw ton Auction ~art six months ago, so you've performed
another miracle."
"I'm sorry . .
~please don't be sorry, it's bloody marvellous how you do it. I have
all the figUres here skin measurements, the lot. I see you found they
were both thin-skinned animals even though they were about fifteen
miles away at the time. Clever stuff!"
"Well I . . ."
"All right, Herriot, I'll dispense with the comedy. I'm going to tell
you once mOre, for the last time, and I hope you're listening." He
paused and I could almost see the big shoulders hunching as he barked
into the phone.
"Look in the bloody ears in future!"
I broke into a rapid gabble.
"I will indeed, Mr Harcourt, I assure you from now on . . ~ "All
right, all right, but there's something else."
"Something else?"
"Yes, I'm not finished yet." The voice took on a great weariness.
"Can I ask you to cast your mind back to that cow you took under the TB
order from Wilson of Low Parks?"
I dug my nails into my palm. We were heading for deep water.
"Yes I remember it."
"Well now, Herriot, lad, do you remember a little chat we had about
the forms?" Charles was trying to be patient, because he was a decent
man, but it was costing him dearly.
"Didn't anything I told you sink in?"
"Well, yes, of course."
"Then why, why didn't you sent me a receipt for slaughter?"
"Receipt for . . . didn't I . . .?"
"No, you didn't," he said.
"And honestly I can't understand it. I went over it with you step by
step last time when you forgot to forward a copy of the valuation
agreement."
"Oh dear, I really am sorry."
A deep sigh came from the other end.
"And there's nothing to it." He paused.
"Tell you what we'll do. Let's go over the procedure once more, shall
we?"
"Yes, by all means."
"Very well," he said.
"First of all, when you find an infected animal you serve B.205 DT Form
A, which is the notice requiring detention and isolation of the animal.
Next," and I could hear the slap of finger on palm as he enumerated his
points, 'next, there is B. 207 DT, Form C, Notice of intended
slaughter. Then B. 208 DT, Form D, Post Mortem Certificate. Then B.
196 DT, Veterinary inspector's report. Then B. 209 DT, Valuation
agreement, and in cases where the owner objects, there is B. 213 DT,
Appointment of valuer. Then we have B. 212 DT, Notice to owner of time
and place of slaughter, followed by B. 227 DT, Receipt for animal for
slaughter, and finally B. 230 DT, Notice requiring cleansing and
disinfection. Dammit, a child could understand that. It's perfectly
simple' isn't it?"
"Yes, yes, certainly, absolutely." It wasn't simple to me, but I
didn't mention the fact. He had calmed down nicely and I didn't want
to infiame him again.
"Well thank you, Mr Harcourt," I said.
"I'll see it doesn't happen again." I put dOwn the receiver with the
feeling that things could have turned out a lot worse but for all that
my nerves didn't stop jangling for some time. The trouble was that the
Ministry work was desperately important to general practitioners. In
act, in those precarious days it was the main rent payer.
This business of the Tuberculosis Order. When a veterinary surgeon
came Upon a cow with open TB it was his duty to see that the animal was
slaughtered ~, immediately because its milk could be a danger to the
public. That sounds but unfortunately the law insisted that the demise
of each unhappy creatur~ commemorated by a confetti-like shower of the
doom-laden forms.
It wasn't just that there were so many of these forms, but they had to
be to an amazing variety of people. Sometimes I used to think that
there were few people in England who didn't get one. Apart from
Charles Harcourt, o recipients included the farmer concerned, the
police, the Head Office of Ministry, the knacker man, the local
authority. I nearly al ways managed forget one of them. I used to
have nightmares about stan ding in the middle the market place,
throwing the forms around me at the passers-by and laugh;
hysterically.
Looking back, I can hardly believe that for all this wear and tear on
nervous system the payment was one guinea plus ten and sixpence for the
mortem.
It was a mere two days after my interview with the Divisional Inspector
I had to take another cow under the TB Order. When I came to fill in
the f~ I sat at the surgery desk in a dither of apprehension, going
over them again a again, laying them out side by side and enclosing
them one by one in various envelopes. This time there must be no
mistake.
I took them over to the post myself and uttered a silent prayer as I
droppt them into the box. Charles would have them the following
morning, and I wold soon know if I had done it again. When two days
passed without incident I f~ I was safe, but midway through the third
morning I dropped in at the surgd and read the message in letters of
fire.
"RING MIN!"
Kitty Pattison sounded strained. She didn't even try to appear casual.
~11 yes, Mr Herriot," she said hurriedly.
"Mr Harcourt asked me to call you. I put ting you through now."
My heart almost stopped as I waited for the familiar bellow, but when 4
quiet voice came on the line it frightened me even more.
"Good morning, Herriot." Charles was curt and impersonal.
"I'd like to disc~ that last cow you took under the Order."
"Oh yes?" I croaked.
"But not over the telephone. I want to see you here in the office." i
"In the . . . the office?"
"Yes, right away if you can."
I put down the phone and went out to the car with my knees knockiql
Charles Harcourt was really upset this time. There was a kind of
restrai~j fury in his words, and this business of going to the office
that was reserved-~ serious transgressions.
Twenty minutes later my footsteps echoed in
the corridor of the Mini~
building. Marching stiffly like a condemned man I passed the windows
wh.
I could see the typists at work, then I read
"Divisional Inspector' on the doll at the end.
I took one long shuddering breath, then knocked.
"Come in." The voice was still quiet and controlled.
(3harles looked up unsmilingly from his desk as I entered. He motioned
me to a chair and directed a cold stare at me.
"Herriot," he said unemotionally.
"You're really on the carpet this time."i~ Charles had been a major in
the Punjabi Rifles and he was very much~ Indian Army officer at this
moment. A fine loo king man, clear-skinned) ruddy, with massive cheek
bones above a powerful jaw. Looking at the daq ously glinting eyes it
struck me that only a fool would trifle with somebod' him and I had a
nasty feeling that I had been trifling. -~ Dry-mouthed, I waited.
Vet in a Spin 'you know, Herriot," he went on.
"After our last telephone conversation about ~B forms I thought you
might give me a little peace."
"Peace . . . ?"
~Yes, yes, it was silly of me, I know, but when I took all that time to
go over the procedure with you I actually thought you were
listening."
"Oh I was, I was!"
"You were? Oh good." He gave me a mirthless smile.
"Then I suppose it was even more foolish of me to expect you to act
upon my instructions. In my nOcence I thought you cared about what I
was tell ing you."
"Mr Harcourt, believe me, I do care, I . . ."
"Then why," he bawled without warning, bringing his great hand flailing
down on the desk with a crash that made pens and inkwells dance.
"Why the bloody hell do you keep ma king a balls of it? ' I resisted a
strong impulse to run away.
"Making a ... I don't quite understand."
"You don't?" He kept up his pounding on the desk.
"Well I'll tell you. One of my veterinary officers was on that farm,
and he found that you hadn't served a Notice of Cleansing and
Disinfection!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes, it bloody well is so! You didn't give one to the farmer but you
sent one to me. Maybe you want me to go and disinfect the place, is
that it? Would you like me to slip along there and get busy with a
hose pipe - I'll go now if it'll make you feel any happier!"
"Oh no, no, no . . . no."
He was apparently not satisfied with the thunderous noise he was ma
king because he began to use both hands, bringing them down
simultaneously with sickening force on the wood while he glared
wildly.
"Herriot!" he shouted.
"There's just one thing I want to know from you do you want this bloody
work or don't you? Just say the word and I'll give it to another
practice and then maybe we'd both be able to live a quiet life!"
"Please, Mr Harcourt, I give you my word, I . . . we . . . we do want
the work very much." And I meant it with all my heart.
The big man slumped back in his chair and regarded me for a few moments
in silence. Then he glanced at his wrist watch.
"Ten past twelve," he murmured.
"Just time to have a beer at the Red Lion before lunch."
In the pub lounge he took a long pull at his glass, placed it carefully
on the table in front of him, then turned to me with a touch of
weariness.
"You know, Herriot, I do wish you'd stop doing this sort of thing. It
takes it out of me."
I believed him. His face had lost a little of its colour and his hand
trembled Slightly as he raised his glass again.
"I'm truly sorry, Mr Harcourt, I don't know how it happened. I did try
to get it right this time and I'll do my best to avoid troubling you in
future."
IHe nodded a few times then clapped me on the shoulder.
"Good, good let's I Just have one more."
He moved over to the bar, brought back the drinks then fished out a
brown paper parcel from his pocket.
I"Little wedding present, Herriot. Understand you're get ting married
soon Ith~ s is from my missus and me with our best wishes."
|I didn't know what to say. I fumbled the wrapping away and uncovered
a I Snlall square barometer.
LShame engulfed me as I muttered a few words of thanks. This man was
the ~ head of the Ministry in the area while I was the newest and lower
/~"
V ~1 ITI 11 O]JL,"
minions. Not only that, but I was pretty sure I caused him more
trouble t all the others put together I was like a hair shirt to him.
There was no reason why he should give me a barometer.
This last experience deepened my dread of form filling to the extent
that I ho it would be a long time before I encountered another
tuberculous animal fate decreed that I had some concentrated days of
clinical inspections and it with a feeling of inevitability that I
surveyed Mr Moverley's Ayrshire cow It was the soft cough which made me
stop and look at her more closely, as I studied her my spirits sank.
This was another one. The skin stret tightly over the bony frame, the
slightly accelerated respirations and that careful cough. Mercifully
you don't see cows like that now, but in those they were all too
common.
I moved along her side and examined the wall in front of her.
The-tell.
blobs of sputum were clearly visible on the rough stones and I quickly
lift~ sample and smeared it on a glass slide.
Back at the surgery I stained the smear by Ziehl-Niel son's method and
put the slide under the microscope. The red clumps of tubercle bacilli
lay amon' scattered cells, tiny, iridescent and deadly. I hadn't
really needed the ~rim n but it was there.
Mr Moverley was not amused when I told him next morning that the animal
would have to be slaughtered.
"It's nob but got a bit of a chill," he grunted. The farmers were
never plc when one of their milk producers was removed by a petty
bureaucrat like "But ah suppose it's no use arguin'."
"I assure you, Mr Moverley, there's no doubt about it. I examined that
sar last night and . . ."
"Oh never mind about that." The farmer waved an impatient hand.
"If t'bl.
government says me cow's got to go she's got to go. But ah get com
pensa don't 1?"
"Yes, you do."
"How much?"
I thought rapidly. The rules stated that the animal be valued as if it
were for sale in the open market in its present condition. The minimum
was pounds and there was no doubt that this emaciated cow came into
that category. "The statutory value is five pounds," I said.
"Shit!" replied Mr Moverley.
"We can appoint a valuer if you don't agree."
"Oh 'elf, let's get t'job over with." He was clearly disgusted and I
thou" imprudent to tell him that he would only get a proportion of the
five po depending on the post mortem.
"Very well," I said.
"I'll tell Jeff Mallock to collect her as soon as possib The fact that
I was unpopular with Mr Moverley didn't worry me as mu' the prospect
of
dealing with the dreaded forms. The very thought of se~ another batch
winging hopefully on its way to Charles Harcourt brougb out in a
sweat.
Then I had a fiash of inspiration. Such things don't often happen to
me this struck me as brilliant. I wouldn't send off the forms till I'd
had them v by Kitty Pattison.
I couldn't wait to get the plan under way. Almost gleefully I laid the
T~ out in a long row, signed them and laid them by their envelopes,
ready for varied journeys. Then I phoned the Ministry office.
..
O - r veIn a optn iq) Kitty was patient and kind. I am sure she
realised that I did my work conscientiously but that I was a clerical
numbskull and she sympathised.
When I had finished going through the list she congratulated me.
"Well done, ~r Herriot, you've got them right this time! All you need
now is the knacker man's signature and your post mortem report and
you're home and dry."
"Bless you, Kitty," I said.
"You've made my day."
And she had. The airy sensation of relief was tremendous. The
knowledge that there would be no come-back from Charles this time was
like the sun bursting through dark clouds. I felt like singing as
I-went round to Mallock's yard and arranged with him to pick up the cow
"Have her ready for me to inspect tomorrow, Jeff," I said, and went on
my way with a light heart.
I couldn't understand it when Mr Moverley waved me down from his farm
gate next day. As I drew up I could see he was extremely agitated.
"Hey!" he cried.
"Ah've just got back from the market and my missus tells me Mallock's
been!"
I smiled.
"That's right, Mr Moverley. Remember I told you I was going to send
him round for your cow."
"Aye, ah know all about that!" He paused and glared at me.
"But he's took the wrong one!"
"Wrong . . . wrong what?"
"Wrong cow, that's what! He's off withe best cow in me herd. Pedigree
Ayrshire ah boughs erin Dumfries last week and they only delivered 'er
this mormn'.
Horror drove through me in a freezing wave. I had told the knacker man
to collect the Ayrshire which would be isolated in the loose box in the
yard. The new animal would be in a box, too, after her arrival. I
could see Jeff and his man leading her up the ramp into his wagon with
a dreadful clarity.
"This is your responsibility, the knaws!" The farmer waved a
threatening finger.
"If he kills me good cow you'll 'ave to answer for it!"
He didn't have to tell me. I'd have to answer for it to a lot of
people, including Charles Harcourt.
"Get on the phone to the knacker yard right away!" I gasped.
The farmer waved his arms about
"Ah've tried that and there's no reply. Ah tell ye he'll shooter afore
we can stop 'im. Do you know how much ah paid for that cow?"
"Never mind about that! Which way did he go?"
"T'missus said he went towards Grampton - about ten minutes ago' I
started my engine.
"He'll maybe be picking up other beasts I'll go after h~m.
Teeth clenched, eyes popping, I roared along the Grampton road. The
enormity of this latest catastrophe was almost more than I could
assimilate.
The wrong form was bad enough, but the wrong cow was unthinkable. But
it had happened Charles would crucify me this time. He was a good
bloke but he Would have no option, because the higher-ups in the
Ministry would get wind f an immortal boner like this and they would
howl for blood.
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