Vets Might Fly Read online

  surprise.

  "You can't? Why, "'barn's good enough to see, isn't it?"

  "The bare?" I pointed a shaking finger at the heights.

  "You mean that building

  The heifer's surely not in there!"

  "Aye, she is. Ah keep a lot o'me young beasts in them spots."

  "But . . . but . . ." I was gabbling now.

  "We'll never get up there! That snow's three feet deep!"

  He blew smoke pleasurably from his nostrils.

  "We will, don't the worry. Just hang on a second."

  He disappeared into the stable and after a few moments I peeped inside.

  He was saddling a fat brown cob and I stared as he led the little

  animal out, climbed stiffly on to a box and mounted.

  Looking down at me he waved cheerfully.

  "Well, let's be goin'. Have you got your stuff?"

  Bewilderedly I filled my pockets. A bottle of bloat mixture, a trochar

  and cannula, a packet of gentian and nux vomica. I did it in the dull

  knowledge that there was no way I could get up that hill.

  On the other side of the road an opening had been dug and Mr.Stokill

  rode through I slithered in his wake, loo king up hopelessly at the

  great smooth wilderness rearing above us.

  Mr Stokill turned in the saddle.

  "Get haud on "'tail," he said.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Get a haud of 'is tail."

  As in a dream I seized the bristly hairs.

  "No, both 'ends," the farmer said patiently.

  "Like this?"

  "That's grand, lad. Now 'ang on."

  He clicked his tongue, the cob plodded resolutely forward and so did I.

  And it was easy! The whole world fell away beneath us as we soared

  upwards and leaning back and enjoying it I watched the little valley

  unfold along its twisting length until I could see away into the main

  Dale with the great hills billowing round and white into the dark

  clouds.

  At the barn the farmer dismounted.

  "All right, young man?"

  "All right, Mr Stokill." As I followed him into the little building I

  smiled to myself. This old man had once told me that he left school

  when he was twelve, whereas I had spent most of the twenty-four years

  of my life in study. Yet when I looked back on the last hour or so I

  could come to only one conclusion.

  He knew a lot more than I did.

  Chapter Ten I had plenty of company for Christmas that year. We were

  billeted in the Grand Hotel, the massive Victorian pile which dominated

  Scar borough in turreted splendour from its eminence above the sea, and

  the big dining room was packed with several hundred shouting airmen.

  The iron discipline was relaxed for a few hours to let the Yuletide

  spirit run free.

  It was so different from other Christmases I had known that it ought to

  have remained like a beacon in my mind, but I know that my strongest

  memory of Christmas will always be bound up with a certain little

  cat.

  I first saw her when I was called to see one of Mrs Ainsworth's dogs,

  and I looked in some surprise at the furry black creature sitting

  before the fire.

  "I didn't know you had a cat," I said.

  The lady smiled.

  "We haven't, this is Debbie."

  "Debbie ?"

  "Yes, at least that's what we call her. She's a stray. Comes here two

  or three times a week and we give her some food. I don't know where

  she lives but I believe she spends a lot of her time around one of the

  farms along the road."

  "Do you ever get the feeling that she wants to stay with you?"

  "No." Mrs Ainsworth shook her head.

  "She's a timid little thing. Just creeps in, has some food then flits

  away. There's something so appealing about her but she doesn't seem to

  want to let me or anybody into her life."

  I looked again at the little cat.

  "But she isn't just having food today."

  "That's right. It's a funny thing but every now and again she slips

  through here into the lounge and sits by the fire for a few minutes.

  It's as though she was giving herself a treat."

  "Yes ... I see what you mean." There was no doubt there was something

  unusual in the attitude of the little animal. She was sitting bolt

  upright on the thick rug which lay before the fireplace in which the

  coals glowed and flamed.

  She made no effort to curl up or wash herself or do any thing other

  than gaze quietly ahead. And there was something in the dusty black of

  her coat, the half-wild scrawny look of her, that gave me a clue. This

  was a special event in her life, a rare and wonderful thing; she was

  lapping up a comfort undreamed of in her daily existence.

  As I watched she turned, crept soundlessly from the room and was

  gone.

  "That's always the way with Debbie," Mrs Ainsworth laughed.

  "She never stays more than ten minutes or so, then she's off."

  She was a plumpish, pleasant-faced woman in her forties and the kind of

  client veterinary surgeons dream of; well off, generous, and the owner

  of three cosseted Basset hounds. And it only needed the habitually

  mournful expressions of one of the dogs to deepen a little and I was

  round there post haste. Today one of the Bassets had raised its paw

  and scratched its ear a couple of times and that was enough to send its

  mistress scurrying to the 'phone in great alarm.

  So my visits to the Ainsworth home were frequent but undemanding, and I

  had ample opportunity to look out for the little cat which had

  intrigued me. On one occasion I spotted her nibbling daintily from a

  saucer at the kitchen door.

  As I watched she turned and almost floated on light footsteps into the

  hall then through the lounge door.

  The three Bassets were already in residence, draped snoring on the

  fireside rug, but they seemed to be used to Debbie because two of them

  sniffed her in a bored manner and the third merely cocked a sleepy eye

  at her before flopping back on the rich pile.

  Debbie sat among them in her usual posture; upright, intent, gazing

  absorbedly into the glowing coals. This time I tried to make friends

  with her. I approached her carefully but she leaned away as I

  stretched out my hand. However, by patient wheedling and soft talk I

  managed to touch her and gently stroked her cheek with one finger.

  There was a moment when she responded by putting her head on one side

  and rubbing back against my hand but soon she was ready to leave. Once

  outside the house she darted quickly along the road then through a gap

  in a hedge and the last I saw was the little black figure flitting over

  the rain-swept grass of a field.

  "I wonder where she goes," I murmured half to myself. ~] Mrs Ainsworth

  appeared at my elbow.

  "That's something we've never been able to find out."

  It must have been nearly three months before I heard from Mrs

  Ainsworth, and in fact I had begun to wonder at the Bassets' long

  symptom less run when she came on the 'phone.

  It was Christmas morning and she was apologetic.

  "Mr Herriot, I'm so sorry to bother you today of all days. I should

  think you want a rest at Christmas like anybody else