Vet in a Spin Read online

and walked up the path of number ten.

  And there was Hamish in the porch, coiled up comfortably on the mat loo

  king up at me with mild surprise as I hovered over him.

  "Come on, lad," I said.

  "You've got more sense than we had. Why didn't we think of this

  before?"

  I deposited him on the passenger seat and as I drove away he hoisted

  his paws on to the dash and gazed out interestedly at the road

  unfolding in the headlights.

  Truly a phlegmatic little hound.

  Outside Skeldale House I tucked him under my arm and was about to turn

  the handle of the front door when I paused. Tristan had notched up a

  long succession of successful pranks against me fake telephone calls,

  the ghost in my bedroom and many others and in fact, good friends as we

  were, he never neglected a chance to take the mickey out of me. In

  this situation, with the positions reversed, he would be merciless. I

  put my finger on the bell and leaned on it for several long seconds.

  For some time there was neither sound nor movement from within and I

  pictured the cowering figure mustering his courage before marching to

  his doom.

  Then the light came on in the passage and as I peered expectantly

  through the glass a nose appeared round the far corner followed very

  gingerly by a wary eye. By degrees the full face inched into view and

  when Tristan recognised my grinning countenance he unleashed a cry of

  rage and bounded along the passage with upraised fist.

  I really think that in his distraught state he would have attacked me,

  but the sight of Hamish banished all else. He grabbed the hairy

  creature and began to fondle him.

  "Good little dog, nice little dog," he crooned as he trotted through to

  the sit ting room.

  "What a beautiful thing you are." He laid him lovingly in the basket,

  and Hamish, after a 'heigh-ho, here we are again' glance around him,

  put his head along his side and promptly went to sleep.

  Tristan fell limply into the armchair and gazed at me with glazed

  eyes.

  "Well, we're saved, Jim," he whispered.

  "But I'll never be the same after tonight. I've run bloody miles and

  I've nearly lost my voice with shouting. I tell you I'm about

  knackered."

  I too was vastly relieved, and the nearness of catastrophe was brought

  home to us when Miss Wester man arrived within ten minutes.

  "Oh, my darling!" she cried as Hamish leaped at her, mouth open, short

  tail wagging furiously.

  "I've been so worried about you all day."

  She looked tentatively at the ear with its rows of buttons.

  "Oh, it does look a lot better without that horrid swelling and what a

  nice neat job you have made. Thank you, Mr Herriot, and thank you,

  too, young man."

  ~Tristan, who had staggered to his feet, bowed slightly as I showed the

  lady _ out.

  Vet in a Spin ~1 "Bring him back in six weeks to have the stitches

  out," I called to her as she

  Y~

  left, then I rushed back into the room.

  "SiegEried's just pulled up outside! You'd better look as if you've

  been working ~ He rushed to the bookshelves, pulled down Gaiger and

  Davis's Bacteriology ' and a notebook and dived into a chair. When his

  brother came in he was utterly , engrossed.

  Siegfried moved over to the fire and warmed his hands. He looked pink

  and' mellow. ' "I've just been speaking to Miss Wester man," he

  said.

  "She's really pleased.

  i,if Well done, both of you."

  "Thank you," I said, but Tristan was too busy to reply, scanning the

  pages anxiously and scribbling repeatedly in the notebook.

  Siegfried walked behind the young man's chair and looked down at the

  open ~: volume.

  "Ah yes, Clostridium septique," he murmured, smiling indulgently.

  "That's a good one to study. Keeps coming up in exams." He rested a

  hand briefly on his brother's shoulder.

  "I'm glad to see you at work. You've been raking about too much lately

  and it's get ting you down. A night at your books will have been good

  for you."

  He yawned, stretched, and made for the door.

  "I'm off to bed. I'm rather sleepy." He paused with his hand on the

  door.

  "You know, Tristan, I quite envy you there's nothing like a nice

  restful evening at home."

  Chapter Eighteen When I was discharged from hospital I expected to be

  posted straight overseas and I wondered if I would be able to catch up

  with my old flight and my friends.

  However, I learned with surprise that I had~ to go to a convalescent

  home for a fortnight before any further action could be taken. This

  was in Puddle stone, near Leo minster - a lovely mansion house in acres

  of beautiful gardens. It was presided over by a delightful old matron

  with whom we fortunate airmen played sedate games of croquet or walked

  in the cool woods; it was easy to imagine there was no such thing as a

  war. Two weeks of this treatment left me feeling revitalised. It

  wouldn't be long, I felt, before I was back on the job.

  From Puddle stone it was back to Manchester and Heat on Park again ant

  this time it was st range to think that in all the great sprawl of huts

  and thc crowding thousands of men in blue there wasn't a soul who knew

  me.

  Except, of course, the Wing Commander who had sent me to hospital in

  thc first place. I had an interview with him on my arrival and he came

  straight to the point.

  "Herriot, "he said.

  "I'm afraid you can't fly any more."

  "But . . . I've had the operation . . . I'm a lot better." : ' I

  know that, but you can no longer be classed as 100% fit. You have bceD

  ~ officially downgraded and I'm sure you realise that pilots have to be

  grade o - ~i "Yes . . . of course." i^~4 He glanced at the file in

  his hand.

  "I see you are a veterinary-surgeon. Mn~ - this poses a problem.

  Normally when an air crew man is grounded he remu~ Vet in a Spin !

  on the ground staff, but yours is a reserved occupation. You really

  can't serve in any capacity but air crew. Yes . . . yes . . . we'll

  have to see."

  It was all very impersonal and businesslike. Those few words coming

  from a man like him left no room for argument and they obliterated at a

  stroke every picture I had ever had of my future in the RAF.

  I was fairly cert ain that if my flying days were over I would be

  discharged from the service and as I left the Wing Commander's office

  and walked slowly back to my hut at the other end of the park I

  pondered on my contribution to the war effort.

  I hadn't fired a shot in anger. I had peeled mountains of potatoes,

  washed countless dishes, shovelled coke, mucked out pigs, marched for

  miles, drilled interminably, finally and magically learned to fly and

  now it was all for nothing.

  I passed the big dining hall and the RAF march blared out at me from

  the loudspeakers.

  The familiar sound reminded me of so many experiences, so many friends,

  and suddenly I felt intensely lonely. I want