Vet in a Spin Read online

shirts, quite cert ain that this was when they rushed me and beat me

  up, but my fears were groundless.

  All they wanted was a speedier delivery and about a dozen of them swept

  past me behind the counter and began to follow my example.

  Whereas there had been only a single missile winging over the heads the

  sky was now dark with the flying objects. Mid-air collisions were

  frequent. Collars sprayed, handkerchiefs fluttered, underpants

  parachuted gracefully, but after an unbearably long period of chaos the

  last airman had picked up his scattered laundry, given me a disgusted

  glance and departed.

  I was left alone in the hut with the sad knowledge that my prestige was

  very low and the equally sad conviction that the RAF still did not know

  what to do with me.

  Chapter Twenty Occasionally my period in limbo was relieved when I was

  allowed out of camp into the city of Manchester. And I suppose it was

  the fact that I was a newfangled parent that made me look at the

  various prams in the streets. Mostly the prams were pushed by women

  but now and then I saw a man doing the job.

  I suppose it isn't unusual to see a man pushing a pram in a town, but

  on a lonely moorland road the sight merits a second glance. Especially

  when the pram contains a large dog.

  That was what I saw in the hills above Darrow by one morning and I

  slowed down as I drove past. I had noticed the st range combinatidn

  before on several occasions over the last few weeks and it was clear

  that man and dog had recently moved into the district.

  As the car drew abreast of him the man turned, smiled and raised his

  hand.

  It was a smile of rare sweetness in a very brown face. A

  forty-year-old face, I thought, above a brown neck which bore neither

  collar nor tie, and a faded striped shirt Iying open over a bare chest

  despite the coldness of the day.

  I couldn't help wondering who or what he was. The outfit of scuffed

  suede golf jacket, corduroy trousers and sturdy boots didn't give much

  clue. Some people might have put him down as an ordinary tramp, but

  there was a businesslike energetic look about him which didn't fit the

  term.

  I wound the window down and the thin wind of a Yorkshire March bit at

  my cheeks.

  "Nippy this morning," I said.

  The man seemed surprised.

  "Aye," he replied after a moment.

  "Aye, reckon it is.

  I looked at the pram, ancient and rusty, and at the big animal sit ting

  upright inside it. He was a lurcher, a cross-bred greyhound, and he

  gazed back at me with unruffled dignity.

  "Nice dog," I said.

  "Aye, that's Jake." The man smiled again, showing good regular

  teeth.

  "He's a grand 'un."

  I waved and drove on. In the mirror I could see the compact figure

  stepping out briskly, head up, shoulders squared, and, rising like a

  statue from the middle of the pram, the huge brindled form of Jake.

  I didn't have to wait long to meet the unlikely pair again. I was

  examining a cart horse's teeth in a farmyard when on the hillside

  beyond the stable I saw a figure kneeling by a dry stone wall. And by

  his side, a pram and a big dog sit ting patiently on the grass.

  "Hey, just a minute." I pointed at the hill.

  "Who is that?"

  The farmer laughed.

  "That's Roddy Travers. D'you ken 'im?"

  "No, no I don't. I had a word with him on the road the other day,

  that's all."

  "Aye, on the road." He nodded knowingly.

  "That's where you'd see Roddy, right enough."

  "But what is he? Where does he come from?"

  "He comes from somewhere in Yorkshire, but ah don't rightly know where

  and ah don't think anybody else does. But I'll tell you this he can

  turn 'is hand to anything."

  "Yes," I said, watching the man expertly laying the flat slabs of stone

  as he repaired a gap in the wall.

  "There's not many can do what he's doing now."

  "That's true. Wall in' is a skilled job and it's dying out, but

  Roddy's a dab hand at it. But he can do owt - hedgin', dit chin', loo

  kin' after stock, it's all the same to him."

  I lifted the tooth rasp and began to rub a few sharp corners off the

  horse's molars.

  "And how long will he stay here?" ~ "Oh, when he's finished that wall

  he'll be off. Ah could do with 'im stop pin' around for a bit but he

  never stays in one place for long."

  "But hasn't he got a home anywhere?"

  "Nay, nay." The farmer laughed again.

  "Roddy's got nowt. All 'e has in thc world is in that there pram."

  Over the next weeks as the harsh spring began to soften and the

  sunshine brought a bright speckle of primroses on to the grassy banks I

  saw Roddy quite often, sometimes on the road, occasionally wielding a

  spade busily on the ditch.

  around the fields. Jake was al ways there, either loping by his side

  or watching him at work. But we didn't actually meet again till I was

  inoculating Mr Paw son's sheep for pulpy kidney.

  ~' re were three hundred to do and they drove them in batches into a

  smaD ~ere Roddy caught and held them for me. And I could see he was as

  at this, too. The wild hill sheep whipped past him like bullets but hc

  Neir fleece effortlessly, sometimes in mid-air, and held the fore leg

  up hat bare clean area of skin behind the elbow that nature seemed.

  put ~for the veterinary surgeon's needle.

  I could. je, on the windy slopes the big lurcher sat upright in

  typical p~

  OV~

  Iloo king with mild interest at the farm dogs prowling intently around

  the pens, but not interfering in any way.

  "You've got him well trained," I said.

  Roddy smiled.

  "Yes, ye'll never find Jake da shin' about anno yin' people. He knows

  'e has to sit there till I'm finished and there he'll sit."

  "And quite happy to do so, by the look of him." I glanced again at the

  dog, a picture of contentment.

  "He must live a wonderful life, travelling everywhere with you."

  "You're right there," Mr Paw son broke in as he ushered another bunch

  of sheep into the pen.

  "He hasn't a care in "'world, just like his master."

  Roddy didn't say anything, but as the sheep ran in he straightened up

  and took a long steady breath. He had been working hard and a little

  trickle of sweat ran down the side of his forehead but as he gazed over

  the wide sweep of moor and fell I could read utter serenity in his

  face. After a few moments he spoke.

  "I reckon that's true. We haven't much to worry us, Jake and me."

  Mr Paw son grinned mischievously.

  "By yaw, Roddy, you never spoke a truer word. No wife, no kids, no

  life insurance, no overdraft at t'bank you must have a right peaceful

  existence."

  "Ah suppose so," Roddy said.

  "But then ah've no money either."

  The farmer gave him a quizzical look.

  "Aye, how about that, then? Wouldn't you feel a bit more secure, like,

  if you had a bit o' brass put by?"

  "Nay, nay. Ye can't take it w