If Only They Could Talk Read online

  No trouble to take it off. Nice narrow neck to it; a few c.c.'s of local in there and I could twist it off easily with the spoons.

  But the snag was obvious. I would have to go under that shining barrel of an abdomen within easy reach of the great feet and stick a needle into those few inches of skin. Not a happy thought.

  But I pulled my mind back to practical things; like a bucket of hot water, soap and a towel. And I'd need a good man on the twitch. I began to walk towards the house.

  There was no answer to my knock. I tried again; still nothing - there was nobody at home. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to leave everything till another day; the idea of going round the buildings and fields till I found somebody never entered my head.

  I almost broke into a gallop on my way to the car, backed it round with the tyres squealing and roared out of the yard.

  Siegfried was surprised. 'Nobody there? Well that's a damn funny thing. I'm nearly sure they were expecting you today. But never mind, it's in your hands, James. Give them a ring and fix it up again as soon as possible.'

  I found it wonderfully easy to forget about the stallion over the days and weeks that followed; except when my defences were down. At least once a night it thundered through my dreams with gaping nostrils and flying mane and I developed an uncomfortable habit of coming bolt awake at five o'clock in the morning and starting immediately to operate on the horse. On an average, I took that tumour off twenty times before breakfast each morning.

  I told myself it would be a lot easier to fix the job up and get it over. What was I waiting for, anyway Was there a subconscious hope that if I put it off long enough something would happen to get me off the hook? The tumour might fall off or shrink away and disappear, or the horse might drop down dead.

  I could have passed the whole thing on to Siegfried - he was good with horses - but my confidence was low enough without that.

  All my doubts were resolved one morning when Mr. Wilkinson came on the phone. He wasn't in the least upset at the long delay but he made it quite clear that he could wait no longer. 'You see, I want to sell this 'oss, young man, but I can't let him go with that thing on him, can I?'

  My journey to Wilkinson's wasn't enlivened by the familiar clatter of the tray on the back seat; it reminded me of the last time when I was wondering what was ahead of me. This time I knew.

  Stepping out of the car, I felt almost disembodied. It was like walking a few inches above the ground. I was greeted by a reverberating din from the loose box; the same angry whinneys and splintering crashes I had heard before. I tried to twist my stiff face into a smile as the farmer came over.

  'My chaps are getting a halter on him,' he said, but his words were cut short by an enraged squealing from the box and two tremendous blows against the wooden sides. I felt my mouth going dry.

  The noise was coming nearer; then the stable doors flew open and the great horse catapulted out into the yard, dragging two big fellows along on the end of the halter shank. The cobbles struck sparks from the men's boots as they slithered about but they were unable to stop the stallion backing and plunging. I imagined I could feel the ground shudder under my feet as the hooves crashed down.

  At length, after much manoeuvring, the men got the horse standing with his off side against the wall of the barn. One of them looped the twitch on to the upper lip and tightened it expertly, the other took a firm grip on the halter and turned towards me. 'Ready for you now, sir.'

  I pierced the rubber cap on the bottle of cocaine, withdrew the plunger of the syringe and watched the clear fluid flow into the glass barrel. Seven, eight, ten c.c.'s. If I could get that in, the,rest would be easy; but my hands were trembling.

  Walking up to the horse was like watching an action from a film. It wasn't really me doing this - the whole thing was unreal. The near side eye flickered dangerously at me as I raised my left hand and passed it over the muscles of the neck, down the smooth, quivering flank and along the abdomen till I was able to grasp the tumour. I had the thing in my hand now, the lobulations firm and lumpy under my fingers. I pulled gently downwards, stretching the brown skin joining the growth to the body. I would put the local in there - a few good weals. It wasn't going to be so bad. The stallion laid back his ears and gave a warning whicker.

  I took a long, careful breath, brought up the syringe with my right hand, placed the needle against the skin then thrust it in.

  The kick was so explosively quick that at first I felt only surprise that such a huge animal could move so swiftly. It was a lightning outward slash that I never even saw and the hoof struck the inside of my right thigh, spinning me round helplessly. When I hit the ground I lay still, feeling only a curious numbness. Then I tried to move and a stab of pain went through my leg.

  When I opened my eyes Mr. Wilkinson was bending over me. 'Are you all right, Mr. Herriot?' The voice was anxious.

  'I don't think so.' I was astonished at the matter of fact sound of my own words; but stranger still was the feeling of being at peace with myself for the first time for weeks. I was calm and completely in charge of the situation.

  'I'm afraid not, Mr. Wilkinson. You'd better put the horse back in his box for now - we'll have a go at him another day - and I wonder if you'd ring Mr. Farnon to come and pick me up. I don't think I'll be able to drive.'

  My leg wasn't broken but it developed a massive haematoma at the point of impact and then the whole limb blossomed into an unbelievable range of colours from delicate orange to deepest black. I was still hobbling like a Crimean veteran when, a fortnight later, Siegfried and I with a small army of helpers went back and roped the stallion, chloroformed him and removed that little growth.

  I have a cavity in the muscle of my thigh to remind me of that day, but some good came out of the incident. I found that the fear is worse than the reality and horse work has never worried me as much since then.

  Chapter Twenty-six.

  The first time I saw Phin Calvert was in the street outside the surgery when I was talking to Brigadier Julian Coutts-Browne about his shooting dogs. The Brigadier was almost a stage version of an English aristocrat; immensely tall with a pronounced stoop, hawk features and a high drawling voice. As he spoke, smoke from a narrow cigar trickled from his lips.

  I turned my head at the clatter of heavy boots on the pavement. A thick set figure was stumping rapidly towards us, hands tucked behind his braces, ragged jacket pulled wide to display a curving expanse of collarless shirt, wisps of grizzled hair hanging in a fringe beneath a greasy cap. He was smiling widely at nobody in particular and he hummed busily to himself.

  The Brigadier glanced at him. 'Morning, Calvert,' he grunted coldly.

  Phineas threw up his head in pleased recognition. 'Now then, Charlie, 'ow is ta?' he shouted.

  The Brigadier looked as though he had swallowed a swift pint of vinegar. He removed his cigar with a shaking hand and stared after the retreating back. 'Impudent devil,' he muttered.

  Looking at Phin, you would never have thought he was a prosperous farmer. I was called to his place a week later and was surprised to find a substantial house and buildings and a fine dairy herd grazing in the fields.

  I could hear him even before I got out of the car.

  'Hello, 'ello, 'ello! Who's this we've got then? New chap eh? Now we're going to learn summat!' He still had his hands inside his braces and was grinning wider than ever.

  'My name is Herriot,' I said.

  'Is it now?' Phin cocked his head and surveyed me, then he turned to three young men standing by. 'Hasn't he a nice smile, lads. He's a real Happy Harry!'

  He turned and began to lead the way across the yard. 'Come on, then and we'll see what you're made of. I 'ope you know a bit about calves because I've got some here that are right dowry.' , As he went into the calf house I was hoping I would be able to do something impressive perhaps use some of the new drugs and sera I had in my car; it was going to take something special to make an impact here.