Vets Might Fly

by James Herriot

  it off in a minute. But since it was S: I turned pale and phoned

  Granville.

  I have always been as soppy as any old lady over my pets and I suspect

  ma of my colleagues are the same. I listened apprehensively to the

  buzz-buzz at t far end, then the big voice came on the line.

  "Bennett here."

  "Hello, Granville, it's . . ."

  "Jim!" The boom of delight was flattering.

  "Where have you been hiding yourself, laddie?"

  He didn't know how near he was to the truth. I told him about Sam.

  -.~.

  "Doesn't sound much, old son, but I'll have a look at him with

  pleasure. ~ you what We've been trying to get you over here for a meal

  why not bring the little chap with you?"

  "Well . . ."A whole evening in Granville's hands it was a daunting

  prospect.

  ~Now don't mess about, Jim. You know, there's a wonderful Indian

  restaurant in Newcastle Zoe and I would love to take you both out

  there. It's about time we met your wife, isn't it?"

  "Yes . . . of course it is . . . Indian restaurant, eh?"

  "Yes, laddie. Superb curries mild, medium or blast your bloody head

  off.

  Onion bhajis, bhuna lamb, gorgeous nan bread."

  My mind was working fast.

  "Sounds marvellous, Granville."It did seem fairly Secure He was most

  dangerous on his own territory and it would take forty-five minuteS,

  driving each way to Newcastle. Then maybe an hour and a half in the

  restaurant I should be reasonably safe for most of the evening There

  was just the bit at his house before we left that was the only worry.

  It was uncanny how he seemed to read my thoughts.

  "Before we leave, Jim, we'll have a little session in my garden."

  "Your garden?" It sounded strange in November.

  "That's right, old lad."

  Ah well, maybe he was proud of his late chrysanthemums, and I couldn't

  see myself coming to much harm these.

  "Well, fine, Granville. Maybe Wednesday night ?"

  "Lovely, lovely, lovely can't wait to meet Helen."

  Wednesday was one of those bright frosty late autumn days which turn

  misty in the afternoon and by six o'clock the countryside was blanketed

  by one of the thickest fogs I had ever seen in Yorkshire.

  Creeping along in our little car, my nose almost on the windscreen, I

  muttered against the glass.

  "God's truth, Helen, we'll never get to Newcastle tonight! I know

  Granville's some driver but you can't see ten yards out there."

  Almost at walking pace we covered the twenty miles to the Bennett

  residence and it was with a feeling of relief that I saw the brightly

  lit doorway rising out of the mirk.

  Granville, as vast and impressive as ever, was there in the hall with

  arms outspread. Bashfulness had never been one of his problems and he

  folded my wife in a bear-like embrace.

  "Helen, my pet," he said and kissed her fondly and lingeringly. He

  stopped to take a breath, regarded her for a moment with deep

  appreciation then kissed her again.

  I shook hands decorously with Zoe and the two girls were introduced.

  They made quite a picture standing there. An attractive woman is a

  gift from heaven and it was a rare bonus to see two of them in close

  proximity. Helen very dark and blue-eyed, Zoe brown-haired with eyes

  of greyish-green, but both of them warm and smiling.

  Zoe had her usual effect on me. That old feeling was welling up; the

  desire to look my best, in fact better than my best. I cast a furtive

  glance at the hall mirror. Immaculately suited, clean shirted, freshly

  shaven, I was sure I projected the desired image of the clean-limbed

  young veterinary surgeon, the newly married man of high principles and

  impeccable behaviour.

  I breathed a silent prayer of thanks that at last she was seeing me

  stone cold sober and normal. Tonight I would expunge all her squalid

  memories of me from her mind.

  "Zoe, my sweet," carolled Granville.

  "Take Helen into the garden while I see Jim's dog."

  I blinked. The garden in this fog. I just didn't get it, but I was

  anxious about your dog ?" | "Why do you call Phoebe Phoebles?" I

  countered swiftly.

  `~. I! ~ TT_ I_~__~ ~:- 6~_A-f "T'll ~-t m`~ en~'inment Hang on Vets

  Sam to give the thing much thought. I opened the car door and the

  beagle trots into the house.

  My colleague greeted him with delight.

  "Come inside, my little man." Th he hollered at the top of his

  voice.

  "Phoebles! Victoria! Yoo-hoo! Come and in cousin Sam!"

  The obese Staffordshire bull terrier waddled in, closely followed by

  the Yorki who bared her teeth in an ingratiating smile at all

  present.

  After the dogs had met and exchanged pleasantries Granville lifted Sam

  in his arms. .

  "Is that what you mean, Jim? Is that what you're worried about?"

  I nodded dumbly. .

  "Good God, I could take a deep breath and blow the damn thing off!"

  looked at me incredulously and smiled.

  "Jim, old lad, why are you so daft aba -wn wen . . . mc ClCdl CU l

  tti' ~t 5~ ) ~'t"" minute."

  He disappeared and came back with a syringe and scissors. About half a

  was enough to numb the part, then he snipped off the papilloma, applied

  S01 styptic and put the beagle on the floor. The operation took about

  two minus but even in that brief spell his unique dexterity was

  manifest.

  "That'll be ten guineas, Mr Herriot," he murmured, then gave a shout

  laughter.

  "Come on, let's get into the garden. Sam will be quite happy with r

  dogs." ~ .

  He led me out of the back door and we stumbled through the fog by a

  rockc and rose bushes. I was just wondering how on earth he expected

  to show I any thing in this weather when we came up against a stone

  outhouse. He tier' open the door and I stepped into a brightly lit,

  sparkling Aladdin's cave.

  It was quite simply a fully fitted bar. At the far end a polished

  counter wi beer handles and, behind, a long row of bottles of every

  imaginable liquor.

  fire crackled in the hearth and hunting prints, cartoons and bright

  posters look down from the walls. It was completely authentic.

  Granville saw my astonished face and laughed.

  "All right, eh, Jim? I thou' it would be a nice idea to have my own

  little pub in the garden. Rather co isn't it?"

  "Yes . . . yes indeed . . . charming."

  "Good, good." My colleague slipped behind the counter.

  "Now what are y going to have?"

  Helen and Zoe took sherry and I made a quick decision to stick to one

  farely harmless drink.

  "Gin and tonic, please, Granville."

  The girls received a normal measure of sherry but when the big man took

  i glass over to the gin bottle hanging on the wall his hand seemed to

  be overcome by an uncontrollable trembling. The bottle was upended

  with one of those lit optic attachments you push up with the rim of the

  glass to give a single measure But as I say, as Granville inserted the

  neck of the bottle into the glass I whole arm jerked repeatedly as

  though h
e were going into a convulsion. It obvious that the result

  would be about six gins instead of one and I was ate.

  to remonstrate when he took the glass away and topped it up quickly

  with more ice and sliced lemon.

  I looked at it apprehensively.

  "Rather a big one, isn't it?"

  "Not at all, laddie, nearly all tonic. Well, cheers, so nice to see

  you both."

  And it certainly was. They were generous, warm people and veterinary

  like ourselves. I felt a gush of gratitude for the friendliness they

  had always ShOwn me and as I sipped my drink, which was chokingly

  strong, I felt as I had often done that these contacts were one of the

  brightest rewards of my job.

  Granville held out his hand.

  "Have another, laddie."

  ~Well, hadn't we better be get ting on our way? It's a terrible night

  in fact I don't see us ever get ting to Newcastle in this fog."

  "Nonsense, old son." He took my glass, reached up to the gin bottle

  and again was seized with a series of violent tremors of the forearm.

  "No problem, Jim.

  Straight along the north road half an hour or so know it like the back

  of my hand.

  The four of us stood around the fire. The girls clearly had a lot to

  say to each other and Granville and I, like all vets, talked shop. It

  is wonderful how easy veterinary practice is in a warm room with good

  company and a dollop of alcohol in the stomach.

  "One for the road, Jim," my colleague said.

  "No really, Granville, I've had enough," I replied firmly.

  "Let's be off."

  "Jim, Jim." The familiar hurt look was creeping over his face.

  "There's no rush. Look, we'll just have this last one while I tell you

  about this gorgeous restaurant."

  Once more he approached the gin bottle and this time the rigor lasted

  so long I wondered if he had some history of malaria.

  Glass in hand he expounded.

  "It's not just the curry, the cooking in general is exquisite." He put

  his fingers to his lips and blew a reverent kiss into space "The

  flavours are unbelievable. All the spices of the orient, Jim."

  He went on at length and I wished he would stop because he was making

  me hungry. I had had a hard day round the farms and had eaten very

  little with the evening's feast in view, and as my colleague waved his

  hand around and drew word pictures of how they blended the rare herbs

  with the meat and fish then served it on a bed of saffron rice, I was

  almost drooling.

  I was relieved when I got through the third massive drink and Granville

  squeezed round to the front of the bar as if ready to go. We were on

  our way out when a man's bulk loomed in the doorway.

  "Raymond!" cried Granville in delight.

  "Come in, I've been wanting you to meet Jim Herriot. Jim,-this is one

  of my neighbours likes a bit of gardening, don't you Raymond?"

  The man replied with a fat chuckle.

  "Right, old boy! Splendid garden, this!"

  Granville seemed to know a lot of large, red-faced hearty men and this

  was one more.

  My friend was behind the counter again.

  "We must just have one with Raymond."

  I felt trapped as he again pressed my glass against the bottle and went

  into another paroxysm, but the girls didn't seem to mind. They were

  still deep in conversation and seemed unaware of the passage of time or

  the ravages of hunger.

  Raymond was just leaving when Tubby Pinder dropped in. He was another

  enthusiastic horticulturist and I wasn't surprised to see that he was

  large, red faced and hearty.

  We had to have one with Tubby and I noticed with some alarm that after

  another palsied replenishment of my glass he had to replace the empty

  gin bottle with a fresh one. If the first one had been full then I had

  consumed nearly all of it.

  I could hardly believe it when at last we were in the hall putting on

  our coats.

  Granville was almost purring with contentment.

  "You two are going to love this place. It will be a joy to lead you

  through the menu. Outside the fog was thicker than ever. My colleague

  backed his enormous Bentley from the garage and began to usher us

  inside with great ceremony I installed Helen and Zoe in the back,

  clucking solicitously over them, then ~ helped me into the passenger

  seat in front as though I were a disabled old ma tucking my coat in,

  adjusting the angle of the seat for maximum comfort showing me how the

  cigar lighter worked, lighting up the glove com partment enquiring

  which radio programme I desired.

  At last he himself was in residence behind the wheel, massive and com

  pa Beyond the windscreen the fog parted for a second to show a steep,

  almost vertical grassy bank opposite the house, then it closed down

  like a dirty yellow curtain cutting off everything.

  "Granville," I said.

  "We'll never get to Newcastle in this. It's over thirty miles He

  turned and gave me a gentle smile.

  "Absolutely no problem, laddie. ~ be there in half an hour, sampling

  that wonderful food. Tandoori chicken, the spices of the orient, old

  son. Don't worry about a thing I really know the roads. No chance of

  losing my way."

  He started the engine and drove confidently off, but unfortunately

  instead taking the orthodox route along the road he proceeded straight

  up the grassy bank. He didn't seem to notice as the nose of the great

  car rose steadily trig but when we had achieved an angle of forty-five

  degrees Zoe broke in gently from the back.

  "Granville, dear, you're on the grass."

  My colleague looked round in some surprise.

  "Not at all, my love. The ~ slopes a little here if you remember." He

  kept his foot on the throttle. ;4 I said nothing as my feet rose and

  my head went back. There was a p when the Bentley was almost

  perpendicular and I thought we were going ~ backwards, then I heard Zoe

  again. ~, "Granville, darling." There was a hint of urgency in her

  tone.

  "You're going up the bank."

  This time it seemed her husband was prepared to concede a little.

  "Yes . . . yes, my pet," he murmured as we hung there, all four of us

  gazing up at the fog-shrouded sky.

  "Possibly I have strayed a little on to the verge."

  He took his foot off the brake and the car shot backwards at

  frightening speed into the darkness. We were brought up by a grinding

  crunch from the rear.

  Zoe again: "You've hit Mrs Thompson's wall, dear."

  "Have I, sweetheart? Ah, one moment. We'll soon be on our way."

  With undiminished aplomb he let in his clutch and we surged forward

  powerfully. But only for two seconds. From the gloom ahead there

  sound.

  dull crash followed by a tinkling of glass and metal.

  "Darling," Zoe piped.

  "That was the thirty miles an hour sign.

  "Was it really, my angel?" Granville rubbed his hand on the window. '

  know, Jim, the visibility isn't too good." He paused for a moment.

  "Perhaps it would be a good idea if we postponed our visit till another

  time."

  He manoeuvred the
big car back into the garage and we got out. We

  covered, I should think, about five yards on our journey to

  Newcastle.

  Back in the garden bar, Granville was soon in full cry again. And I

  was for it because my earlier trepidation had vanished entirely. I was

  floating happy haze and I offered no resistance as my colleague jerked

  and twit.

  more samples from the gin bottle.

  Suddenly he held up a hand.

  "I'm sure we're all starving. Let's have some ~Zoe, sweet," he said.

  "We can use the big can of saveloy sausages if you would sHjhs wife

  lePft for the kitchen and Helen touched my arm.

  "Jim," she said.

  "Saveloys ... ?"

  I knew what she meant. I have a pretty good digestion but there are

  certain thingS I can't eat. A single saveloy was enough to bring my

  entire metabolism to a halt, but at that moment it seemed a