Let Sleeping Vets Lie Read online

  We went inside. A gramophone was playing and some pretty teenage girls

  were fox-trotting together to the music. A few lads lounged about while

  two others were playing billiards on a miniature table in the corner.

  The curate gazed fondly at the scene, the music stopped, the record was

  changed for a waltz and the dancing began again. It struck me as strange

  that it didn't seem to occur to any of the boys to dance with those

  attractive girls.

  I looked at the two billiard players. They would be about fifteen or

  sixteen and were obviously devotees of the cinema. There was something

  of the Bowery pool room in their scowling attitude, the cigarettes

  dangling from their lips, the way they squinted through the smoke as

  they bent to play a shot, the tough, deadpan chalking of the cues, the

  contemptuous gangsterish disregard of the other occupants of the room.

  , .

  The curate clapped his hands. "Come now, boys and girls, it's time you

  joined the others in the hall Mr. Herriot is ready to talk to you now."

  The room emptied rapidly as the young people went through a door in the

  far corner. Soon there only remained the gangsters at the billiard

  table; they didn't appear to have heard. The curate called on them

  several times more but they took no notice. Finally Helen went over and

  whispered tensely at them and at length they threw down their cues and

  with a single malevolent glance in my direction they slouched from the

  room.

  This then was the moment of truth when I would face my audience after

  the weeks of preparation. I took a deep breath and followed the others

  into the hall and on to the platform. Perched on a shaky chair between

  Helen and Mr. Blenkinsopp I surveyed the scene.

  It wasn't a big hall - it would probably have held a hundred if it had

  been full. But it wasn't full tonight, in fact the main feature about it

  was space. I made a quick count of the audience; there were twelve. They

  were disposed in little knots among the empty chairs. Half way up

  clustered the six teenage girls then a few rows behind, a very fat boy

  holding a bag of potato crisps and near him a thin, dispirited-looking

  youth with sleepy eyes. Right on the back row, against the wall, the two

  gangsters lounged in attitudes of studied boredom. What surprised me

  most, however, was the sight of two tiny girls, mere tots of about four,

  right in the middle of the front row, a long way from anybody else. One

  sported a big pink bow in her hair while the other wore pigtails. Their

  little legs swinging, they looked up at me incuriously.

  I turned to Helen. "Who are those two?"

  "Oh, they like to come with their big sisters now and again,"-she

  replied. "They love it and they're very good. They won't be any

  trouble."

  I nodded stupidly, still trying to adjust my mind to the fact that these

  were the people who were going to receive my searching exposition on

  veterinary science. None of them seemed to be showing the slightest

  interest in me except for one very pretty little thing in the centre of

  the teenage group who gazed up at me with shining eyes as though she

  couldn't wait for me to begin.

  Mr. Blenkinsopp stood up and made a charming introductory speech. As he

  spoke, the gangsters at the back giggled, wrestled and dug at each

  other's ribs; the girls, with the exception of the little darling in the

  centre peeped back at the fighting pair in admiration.

  At last I heard the curate's final words. "And now I have great pleasure

  in asking Mr. Herriot to address you."

  I got slowly to my feet and gazed over the twelve. The gangsters were

  still wrestling, the fat boy put a crisp in his mouth and began to

  crunch it loudly, down in the front, tot number one was sucking her

  thumb while the other, rocking her head from side to side, appeared to

  be singing to herself.

  I felt a moment of wild panic. Should I change the entire plan and just

  talk casually about a few trivial points? But I couldn't. I had the

  whole thing o if parrot-like and I'd have to deliver it as I had learned

  it. There was no way out.

  With an effort I steadied myself and cleared my throat. "What does MRCVS

  mean to you?" I cried.

  It seemed to startle Mr. Blenkinsopp because he jumped slightly in his

  chair, but the audience remained totally unmoved. MRCVS appeared to mean

  not a thing to them. I ploughed ahead, sketching out the history of the

  Royal College, painstakingly illustrating its development from the early

  days of farriery. Nobody was listening except the little pet in the

  centre but I was in the groove and couldn't stop.

  "A supplemental Royal Charter was granted in 1932," I pronounced after

  about ten minutes" hard going and just then the thin boy yawned. I had

  labelled ."

  him as an ineffectual sort of lad but he certainly could yawn; it was a

  stretching, groaning, voluptuous paroxysm which drowned my words and it

  went on and on till he finally lay back, bleary and exhausted by the

  effort. His companion munched his crisps stolidly By the time I had been

  holding forth for twenty minutes I seemed to be standing listening to

  myself with a kind of wonder. "After qualification," I was saying" 'the

  main avenues open to the new graduate are general practice and work

  under the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries. The latter is mainly

  concerned with preventive medicine and with the implementation of the

  laws governing the notifiable diseases."

  The gangsters punched each other fiercely with stifled laughter, the fat

  boy had another crisp, tot one drew ecstatically on her thumb while her

  other hand fondled a lock of her hair. Tot two stuck her legs straight

  out and admired her little white socks and red shoes. Only the dear girl

  in the middle paid any attention.

  I began to break out in a light perspiration. The thing was taking a lot

  longer than I had thought to get through, and I had the growing

  conviction that I must be looking more and more of a chump in Helen's

  eyes as time went on.

  I had rehearsed a few light sallies designed to send my audience into

  convulsions of laughter as a contrast to the absorbing, serious stuff,

  but even those who were listening failed to change expression at my

  shafts of wit. Except, of course, for the little treasure in the middle

  who pealed back at me sweetly every time.

  But I stuck to it grimly. Surely I'd get through to them when I came to

  the practical bit about first aid.

  "All right," I said, 'you've got a calf with a nasty cut on its leg. The

  blood is pouring out and you can't get hold of a vet. If you just leave

  it the blood will all run out and the calf will die. What are you going

  to do?"

  Nobody seemed to care much either way except for tot two. She obviously

  didn't like the turn things were taking and she stared up at me, her

  lower lip protruding and trembling.

  I went on to explain about tourniquets and pressure pads and then moved

  on to a discussion of bloat.

  "This cow is blown up ready to burst," I proceeded. "You'