“Is it? Is it really, Corey?”
“Grown a pair have you, Roger mate?” O’Leary asked, sneering and eyeing him suspiciously.
Shuffling the papers on his work, Roger rang the bell to summon his receptionist into the chamber.
“Unfortunately, Corey, I have had no other choice than to, as you put it ‘grow a pair’.”
The door to the chamber opened.
“Can I help you sir” His receptionist asked.
“Yes, can you kindly take these downstairs to the archive department and have them disposed of, immediately.”
Walking quickly around the large table, ensuring she was on the opposite side to where O’Leary stood, she took the offered sheaves of paper from the hands of the councillor.
“And,” he said, staring intently at her, “I mean immediately.”
Returning the gaze, she nodded her head.
“Yes sir, immediately sir,” she replied, before hurrying from the room, ensuring she avoided the glare from O’Leary, stood with his arms on his hips.
“So, what the hell do you mean by that?” O’Leary asked.
“By what?”
“By, saying you had no choice but to ‘grow a pair’. What did you mean by that?”
“I meant, there has been a certain change in dynamics recently.”
“What the hell are you on about?”
“Well, for starters Corey,” Roger replied, “there’s been certain rumours going around, concerning the unknown fate of the horse entrusted into your care. It was under strict assurance from yourself, no unnecessary publicity would be incurred.”
“It was bloody stolen!”
“That,” the councillor continued, his lips tightening together, “is just for starters.”
“What else?” O’Leary said, reclining into one of the large seats.
“Don’t make yourself too comfortable, Mr O’Leary please.”
“What’s with the Mr O’Leary, all of a sudden then?”
“As I said, dynamics have certainly found recourse to change.”
“C’mon then, what’s this ‘just for starters’ bollocks then?”
“Well, Mr O’Leary, it has come to the attention of the Chambers, how can I put this?”
“Go on,” O’Leary interrupted.
“It has come to our attention, Lancashire Constabulary has been paying quite a bit of attention to your business lately,” Roger replied, “especially, regarding an accusation of assault, amongst other matters.”
“Nothing to do with me”, O’Leary said, with an air of uncertainty, not going unnoticed.
“Well, regardless, we do not take too kindly, to having the local constabulary enquiring as to our involvement with a certain, Metal Merchants.”
“What sort of enquiries?”
“Oh, enquiries about certain activities involving a certain Metal Merchants involvement, in certain procurements, of certain consignments, of certain amounts of merchandise shall we say.”
“What? You’ve been involved in some of those ‘certain’ consignments of merchandise, so don’t bloody come it with me Roger!”
“I’ve no idea, what on earth you’re talking about Mr O’Leary,” the councillor retorted.
“Stop bloody well playing games Roger,” O’Leary demanded, “I’ve did enough favours for you and most of the other cronies in here and I’ve the bloody paperwork to prove it! Where did the money come from to pay for your new kitchen eh? Answer me that, Roger!”
“You Mr O’Leary, may have some form of fabricated paperwork or what have you,” Roger replied, “but we certainly do not possess records of correspondence, between yourself and the Chambers.”
“What?” O’Leary exclaimed.
“What about the invoices, I gave you and the receipts?”
“I believe you will find Mr O’Leary,” Roger replied, standing up and gazing through the window, “that any form of paperwork, connecting you with us is, how may I put this? Up in smoke as it were.”
O’Leary stared at him, as his mind comprehended his words.
As realisation dawned upon him, he rushed across to stare through the window.
Across a courtyard, grey smoke gently wafted from the chimney of a brick building opposite.
He saw clearly, the lettering on the painted sign over the wooden door.
“Archives Department.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Running through the streets, David desperately tried remembering the directions Iris hastily gave him.
He held an idea, of how to get to the Veterinary Practice from Bob’s blacksmiths, after accompanying him on a few occasions, but had no idea how to reach it from where Comet currently lay stricken.
The image of Comet, lain on his side in discomfort back at the allotments, spurred him on, sprinting as fast as his aching, burning legs would allow.
The air in his lungs felt on fire and the pain emanating from his head persisted, as his blood pounded through his veins.
He knew there stood a narrow bridge nearby to it and it was not far from Aintree racecourse, but he was unable to locate it.
He stopped upon reaching a butcher’s shop, the owner precariously holding onto a long wooden pole, pushing the white canvas canopy above the shops window, back into its mooring.
“Excuse me,” David said, panting for breath.
“Alright lad, been for a run?” The other man asked, watching David lean forward, with his hands on his knees gasping.
“I’m, I’m trying to find a vet,” David replied between gasps.
“The state you look in lad, I’d think a doctor would be better.”
David stared up at him.
Bloody Scouse humour.
“It’s owned by a Mister Morris.”
“Oh yeah lah,” the other man replied, with a gesture of the wooden pole, “that’s the Orrell Park place. It’s over the bridge around the corner on your left-hand side.”
Nodding his head as way of thanks, David proceeded to run towards the bridge, visible in the distance at the end of Moss Lane.
Within minutes, he reached the outside of the practice, stopping to sit on the buildings steps to catch his breath.
regaining his composure, he grasped the handle of the door and pushed, but found to his dismay, it was securely locked.
Oh, please God no.
He knocked hard on the door, but there came no reply.
Moving to the narrow windows, he rapped upon the glass.
Peering inside the confines of the practice, he felt prangs of despair, feeling his journey was a wasted one, when he noticed the looming figure of a tall man appear from a door way located at the rear.
Knocking hurriedly again at the glass, he gesticulated frantically with his arms.
The man inside stared at him with an irritated expression, before walking to the door leading into the practice.
David moved back to the door, as it became unlocked, the man appearing in the doorway.
“Can I help you?”
“I hope so sir, I’m David, Bob’s apprentice.”
“Bob?” The man asked, looking at him quizzically.
“Yes sir, Bob Cheetham the blacksmith, up at Woolton Village.”
Recognition, slowly crept across the other man’s face.
“Oh, that’s right, I remember you. David, you say? How I can help you boy? I’m about to close up for the evening.”
“I need your help Mr Morris, there’s a really sick animal needing treatment, as soon as possible.”
“Well, it’s been a quiet day, so come on inside,” the veterinarian replied.
Making their way inside the practice, the tall man closed the door behind them, leading the way to the office located at the back.
“I know it’s unusual Mister Morris, and I realise it is getting late, but I’d really appreciate it if you could come look at him.”
“David,” the stern looking man replied, settling into his chair, “I appreciate you’re obviously conce
rned, about whichever animal you’re talking about, but I’ve closed for the day.”
“But, what about the horse’s welfare?” David said pleadingly.
“Horse?”
David stared around the room, before answering.
“Yes, a horse.”
“I do not usually deal with horses. I only interact with Bob solely as I prescribe him the medications he may need for the horses,” the vet replied, “don’t you know anybody who deals with them? You must know a few in your line of work.”
“I do Mister Morris,” David replied, turning his gaze to the seated man, “but the vet we use, is off over near Bolton for a few days and I’ve no idea when he’ll be back.”
“Well, I suppose I did study enough about horses in the time I spent in Veterinary school,” he said, “and there’re no more appointments for today, so I’ll go take a look at the chap.”
“Thank you so much, Mister Morris.”
“Can you at least describe the symptoms, so I’m not off on some fool’s errand?”
“He’s pawing at the ground, laying down and standing up,” David replied, “he really does look in a lot of discomfort Mister Morris.”
“Anything else?”
“He keeps looking at his stomach, for some reason.”
With a slight smile upon his face, the other man arose.
“I have to make a visit to the medicine cabinet,” he said, “I think I know, what the problem may be.”
“Thank you so much Mister Morris.”
“Do you have a car?”
“I don’t Mister Morris, sorry.”
“Ah, it doesn’t matter, we’ll take mine,” the vet replied, “you’ll have to wait until I lock up the Practice though.
“That is fine, thank you Mister Morris.”
“Stop thanking me boy, I haven’t seen to the horse yet.”
“Sorry Mister Morris.”
The vet looked at him, shaking his head.
Within the hour, the car pulled up at the bottom of the lane, leading to the makeshift allotments.
“A horse? Down here?” The vet asked, stepping from the car and joining David.
“Err, yes Mister Morris,” David replied, walking alongside him, as they walked along the path towards the allotment, near the end of the lane.
“I didn’t realise any horses were kept down here,” the vet remarked, “I thought the allotments were for growing things, not for keeping things to eat the things you grow.”
“Err, yes Mister Morris,” David replied, reaching halfway along the lane.
“Strange.”
“Err, yes Mister Morris.”
Approaching the allotment, the children rushed to the gate to greet them, Iris stood with concern upon her face.
“He doesn’t seem well at all,” she said anxiously.
“What’s he been doing? What are his symptoms?” The vet asked, walking to the huge horse lay on his side.
“Earlier, he spent ages scraping at the soil with his hooves,” Iris said turning to him.
“Pawing?” He asked.
“I, I don’t know what that means,” Iris said, her gaze alternating between David and the vet.
“It can be a common trait in some horses, don’t worry about it,” the vet said, kneeling next to Comet.
“He keeps yawning like he’s tired,” Samuel said, “and looking at his belly.”
“And he’s been lying down, then getting back up, then lying back down again!” Maisie exclaimed.
Merely nodding his head, the vet placed his brown leather bag on the soil, producing from it a large stethoscope.
“What are you doing?” Robert asked, concerned he was about to do something to hurt Comet.
Casting a cursory glance in his direction, the vet turned his attention to the horse on the ground, carefully placing the large end of the stethoscope against its stomach, whilst placing the earpieces into his ears.
“But what…” Robert began.
“Shush Robert,” Iris instructed him, placing her finger against her lips.
Keeping the stethoscope pressed against Comet’s stomach, the vet moved it around for only a minute, but to the children gathered around the horse, that minute felt an eternity of dreadful worry.
Satisfied with what he wanted to ascertain, the vet rose to his feet, brushing off the soil from the legs of his trousers.
“Right,” he said, replacing the stethoscope into his bag, “anything else he’s been doing, which seems out of character, or out of his normal routine?”
“He’s been walking in circles now and again,” Samuel said.
“And not eating as much as he normally does,” Wally added.
“Ah, yes,” the vet said, turning to face them, “that was my next question. What have you been feeding him?”
“I’ve put a bale of hay over there, behind that bale of straw,” David replied, “he’s been eating that.”
Looking around the surface of the allotment, the vet clearly identified the rotten leftovers of apples scattered around, Comet too poorly to eat them.
“Only hay?” He said, pointing to the ground with a long, thin finger.
“We bring him apples every day,” Daniel said, “they’re a treat for him.”
“Only if given in moderation young man,” the vet replied, “and he stays in here, all day and night then?”
“No!” Wally exclaimed.
“That’d be cruel,” Barbara added.
“So, which begs me to ask the next question then,” the vet said, “where do you turn him out?”
“In the big field,” Frank said, pointing, “over there.”
“Show me,” the vet requested bluntly.
They escorted him to the field, Daniel and Iris remaining at Comets side.
“There, this field,” Frank said.
His mouth falling open at the sight of the field, the vet tutted, shaking his head and turning back to the allotment.
“What is it?” David asked, walking alongside him at a hurried pace.
“What is it? How long has that horse, been getting turned out into that field David?” The vet asked, without turning his head.
“Ohh, err, every day,” David replied, “the children are on their school holidays, so they’ve been spending each day with him.”
“Every day, for how long David? Two days? Three days? A week?”
David looked at the children, before answering.
“Err, a few weeks Mr Morris sir.”
Stopping in his tracks, the vet turned slowly to face him.
“A few weeks?” He asked, staring at David, who slowly nodded his head.
“So, you are informing me that a horse the size of that…”
“He’s over eighteen hands,” Jimmy interrupted, smiling proudly he remembered the fact, until catching the glare of the stern man.
“That, a horse the size of that one in there,” Mr Morris continued, pointing into the allotment, “has had at least several acres of spring grass, to gorge alone on each day for a few weeks?”
David nodded his head.
“Damn and blast it!” The vet said, hurrying into the allotment and rushing to his bag.
“Right,” he said, rummaging through the contents of his bag, “there are plenty of sounds coming from his stomach, which indicates there’s no sign of impaction. But, it’s not to say there’s not a twisted colon or anything. David, get the horse on his legs.”
Quickly returning to Comet, David tried coaxing him to stand up.
“Come on boy, up you get.”
Tilting his large head sideways, Comet gazed up at him sadly.
“Come on boy, you can do it,” David said, placing his arms upon Comets withers, attempting to help him rolling, but the horse remained where he lay, continuing to look at him pitifully.
“C’mon Comet,” Robert said, joining David on the ground.
“C’mon boy!” Jimmy said, getting on the ground and holding onto him, before being joined by the other
s.
Iris stood back, her arms wrapped around the shoulders of Daniel, visibly upset at the sight of Comet struggling, his hands brought to his face, but not averting his gaze.
“Come on boy, up you get,” David said, Comet attempting unsuccessfully to roll himself, even with the assistance of David and the children.
Watching impassively, the vet placed a long glove upon his right arm.
Iris felt Daniel shake away from her grip.
“Daniel, where are you going?!”
Hurrying across to the stricken horse, careful that his brace-laden swinging leg did not hit him when he reached him, Daniel struggled onto his knees in front of Comet’s head, placing his hands upon his face gently.
“Comet, please,” he pleaded, tears welling in his eyes.
Staring into the eyes of the young boy, holding him in a tender embrace, Comet snorted loudly, then rocked from side to side.
“Yes Comet, you can do it!” Daniel said, releasing his embrace, as Comet rolled a few more times, before standing upright, towering above them.
“Good boy Comet, good boy,” he said, flinging his arms around Comets front leg.
Comet leant downwards slowly, then carefully, gently and with great reverence, nuzzled his face against the small child.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the vet said, walking to them.
Raising his head, Comet stood to his full height, before emitting a sad groan and lowering his head, to the awaiting strokes and caresses of the children.
“You children, may want to turn your heads away for a moment,” the vet said.
“Why, what,” Robert said, before Iris interrupted him, guessing what the vet intended.
“Turn around, the lot of you please,” she gently ordered them, placing her hands on Jacks shoulders, “come on Daniel, come stand next to me please.”
The children faced away from Comet, David holding his head gently but firmly, as the vet examined him from behind.
“Well,” he said, his arm inserted inside of Comet, “I can’t feel any blockages.”
Comet groaned slightly, David stroking his mane to calm him.
A few minutes passed, before the vet finally stood next to David, pulling the long glove from his arm.
“It seems, he’s not as bad as I’d have expected him to be, there’s waste in there, so he’s functioning well.”
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