All Things Wise and Wonderful Read online

  And yet, as I drove away after the visit I didn’t feel good about it. A victory over an animal is a hollow one and I had the uncomfortable feeling that I had deprived him of his chief pleasure. After all, every creature is entitled to some form of recreation and though Shep’s hobby could result in the occasional heart failure it was, after all, his thing and part of him. The thought that I had crushed something out of his life was a disquieting one. I wasn’t proud.

  So that when, later that summer, I was driving through Highburn I paused in anticipation outside the Bailes farm. The village street, white and dusty, slumbered under the afternoon sun. In the blanketing silence nothing moved—except for one small man strolling towards the opening between the walls. He was fat and very dark—one of the tinkers from a camp outside the village—and he carried an armful of pots and pans.

  From my vantage point I could see through the railings into the front garden where Shep was slinking noiselessly into position beneath the stones. Fascinated, I watched as the man turned unhurriedly into the opening and the dog followed the course of the disembodied head along the top of the wall.

  As I expected it all happened half way along. The perfectly timed leap, the momentary pause at the summit then the tremendous “WOOF!” into the unsuspecting ear.

  It had its usual effect. I had a brief view of flailing arms and flying pans followed by a prolonged metallic clatter, then the little man reappeared like a projectile, turned right and sped away from me up the street. Considering his almost round physique he showed an astonishing turn of speed, his little legs pistoning, and he did not pause till he disappeared into the shop at the far end of the village.

  I don’t know why he went in there because he wouldn’t find any stronger restorative than ginger pop.

  Shep, apparently well satisfied, wandered back over the grass and collapsed in a cool patch where an apple tree threw its shade over the grass; head on paws he waited in comfort for his next victim.

  I smiled to myself as I let in the clutch and moved off. I would stop at the shop and tell the little man that he could collect his pans without the slightest fear of being torn limb from limb, but my overriding emotion was one of relief that I had not cut the sparkle out of the big dog’s life.

  All this passed through my mind as I stood on the frozen ground outside the Grand Hotel at two o’clock in the morning. I looked up at that venerable edifice, my eyes glittering fiendishly, half from the cold and half from the deranged spark of my recovered humour. I felt my rigid lips creak apart, and my head tilt back to aim at what I took to be Flt Lieut. Barnes’s window. “Woof!” I roared into the night “Woof! Woof!”

  CHAPTER 13

  I SUPPOSE ONCE YOU embark on a life of crime it gets easier all the time. Making a start is the only hard bit.

  At any rate, that is how it seemed to me as I sat in the bus, playing hookey again. There had been absolutely no trouble about dodging out of the Grand, the streets of Scarborough had been empty of SPs and nobody had given me a second look as I strolled casually into the bus station.

  It was Saturday, 13 February. Helen was expecting our baby this weekend. It could happen any time and I just didn’t see how I could sit here these few miles away and do nothing. I had no classes today or tomorrow so I would miss nothing and nobody would miss me. It was, I told myself, a mere technical offence, and anyway I had no option. Like the first time, I just had to see Helen.

  And it wouldn’t be long now, I thought, as I hurried up to the familiar doorway of her home. I went inside and gazed disappointedly at the empty kitchen—somehow I had been sure she would be standing there waiting for me with her arms wide. I shouted her name but nothing stirred in the house. I was still there, listening, when her father came through from an inner room.

  “You’ve got a son,” he said.

  I put my hand on the back of a chair. “What …?”

  “You’ve got a son.” He was so calm.

  “When …?”

  “Few minutes ago. Nurse Brown’s just been on the ’phone. Funny you should walk in.”

  As I leaned on the chair he gave me a keen look. “Would you like a drop of whisky?”

  “Whisky? No—why?”

  “Well you’ve gone a bit white, lad, that’s all. Anyway, you’d better have something to eat.”

  “No, no, no thanks, I’ve got to get out there.”

  He smiled. “There’s no hurry, lad. Anyway, they won’t want anybody there too soon. Better eat something.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t. Would you—would you mind if I borrowed your car?”

  I was still trembling a little as I drove away. If only Mr. Alderson had led up to it gradually—he might have said, “I’ve got some news for you,” or something like that, but his direct approach had shattered me. When I pulled up outside Nurse Brown’s it still hadn’t got through to me that I was a father.

  Greenside Nursing Home sounded impressive, but it was in fact Nurse Brown’s dwelling house. She was State Registered and usually had two or three of the local women in at a time to have their babies.

  She opened the door herself and threw up her hands. “Mr. Herriot! It hasn’t taken you long! Where did you spring from?” She was a cheerfully dynamic little woman with mischievous eyes.

  I smiled sheepishly. “Well, I just happened to drop in on Mr. Alderson and got the news.”

  “You might have given us time to get the little fellow properly washed,” she said. “But never mind, come up and see him. He’s a fine baby—nine pounds.”

  Still in a dreamlike state I followed her up the stairs of the little house into a small bedroom. Helen was there, in the bed, looking flushed.

  “Hello,” she said.

  I went over and kissed her.

  “What was it like?” I enquired nervously.

  “Awful,” Helen replied without enthusiasm. Then she nodded towards the cot beside her.

  I took my first look at my son. Little Jimmy was brick red in colour and his face had a bloated, dissipated look. As I hung over him he twisted his tiny fists under his chin and appeared to be undergoing some mighty internal struggle. His face swelled and darkened as he contorted his features then from deep among the puffy flesh his eyes fixed me with a baleful glare and he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth.

  “My God!” I exclaimed.

  The nurse looked at me, startled. “What’s the matter?”

  “Well, he’s a funny-looking little thing isn’t he?”

  “What!” She stared at me furiously. “Mr. Herriot, how can you say such a thing? He’s a beautiful baby!”

  I peered into the cot again. Jimmy greeted me with a lopsided leer, turned purple and blew a few bubbles.

  “Are you sure he’s all right?” I said.

  There was a tired giggle from the bed but Nurse Brown was not amused.

  “All right! What exactly do you mean?” She drew herself up stiffly.

  I shuffled my feet. “Well, er—is there anything wrong with him?”

  I thought she was going to strike me. “Anything … how dare you! Whatever are you talking about? I’ve never heard such nonsense!” She turned appealing towards the bed, but Helen, a weary smile on her face, had closed her eyes.

  I drew the enraged little woman to one side. “Look, Nurse, have you by chance got any others on the premises?”

  “Any other what?” she asked icily.

  “Babies—new babies. I want to compare Jimmy with another one.”

  Her eyes widened. “Compare him! Mr. Herriot, I’m not going to listen to you any longer—I’ve lost patience with you!”

  “I’m asking you, Nurse,” I repeated. “Have you any more around?”

  There was a long pause as she looked at me as though I was something new and incredible. “Well—there’s Mrs. Dewburn in the next room. Little Sidney was born about the same time as Jimmy.”

  “Can I have a look at him?” I gazed at her appealingly.

  She hesitated then a p