All Things Bright and Beautiful Read online

  But on this particular afternoon I wasn’t thinking about Duke Skelton, in fact I wasn’t thinking about anything much as I sprawled in a chair by the Ross’s fireside. I had just finished one of Ginny’s lunches; something with the unassuming name of fish pie but in truth a magical concoction in which the humble haddock was elevated to unimagined heights by the admixture of potatoes, tomatoes, eggs, macaroni and things only Ginny knew. Then the apple crumble and the chair close to the fire with the heat from the flames beating on my face.

  The thoughts I had were slumberous ones; that this house and the people in it had come to have a magnetic attraction for me; that if this had been a big successful practice the phone would have been dinging and Ewan would be struggling into his coat as he chewed his last bite. And an unworthy thought as I glanced through the window at the white garden and the snow-burdened trees; that if I didn’t hurry back to Darrowby, Siegfried might do double the work and finish the lot before I got home.

  Playing with the soothing picture of the muffled figure of my boss battling round the farms I watched Ginny placing a coffee cup by her husband’s elbow. Ewan smiled up into her face and just then the phone rang.

  Like most vets I am bell-happy and I jumped, but Ewan didn’t. He began quietly to sip his coffee as Ginny picked up the receiver and he didn’t change expression when his wife came over and said, “It’s Tommy Thwaite. One of his cows has put its calf bed out.”

  These dread tidings would have sent me leaping round the room but Ewan took a long swallow at his coffee before replying.

  “Thank you, dear. Will you tell him I’ll have a look at her shortly.”

  He turned to me and began to tell me something funny which had happened to him that morning and when he had finished he went into his characteristic laugh—showing nothing apart from a vibration of the shoulders and a slight popping of the eyes. Then he relaxed in his chair and recommenced his leisurely sipping.

  Though it wasn’t my case my feet were itching. A bovine prolapsed uterus was not only an urgent condition but it held such grim promise of hard labour that I could never get it over quickly enough. Some were worse than others and I was always in a hurry to find out what was in store.

  Ewan, however, appeared to be totally incurious. In fact he closed his eyes and I thought for a moment he was settling down for a post prandial nap. But it was only a gesture of resignation at the wrecking of his afternoon’s repose and he gave a final stretch and got up.

  “Want to come with me, Jim?” he asked in his soft voice.

  I hesitated for a moment then, callously abandoning Siegfried to his fate, I nodded eagerly and followed Ewan into the kitchen.

  He sat down and pulled on a pair of thick woolen over-socks which Ginny had been warming by the stove, then he put on his Wellingtons, a short overcoat, yellow gloves and a check cap. As he strolled along the narrow track which had been dug through the garden snow he looked extraordinarily youthful and debonair.

  He didn’t go into his dispensary this time and I wondered what equipment he would use, thinking at the same time of Siegfried’s words: “Ewan has his own way of doing everything.”

  At the farm Mr. Thwaite trotted over to meet us. He was understandably agitated but there was something else; a nervous rubbing of the hands, an uneasy giggle as he watched my colleague opening the car boot.

  “Mr. Ross,” he blurted out at last, “I don’t want you to be upset, but I’ve summat to tell you.” He paused for a moment. “Duke Skelton’s in there with my cow.”

  Ewan’s expression did not flicker. “Oh, right. Then you won’t need me.” He closed the boot, opened the door and got back into the car.

  “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean you to go away!” Mr. Thwaite ran round and cried through the glass. “Duke just happened to be in t’village and he said he’d help me out.”

  “Fine,” Ewan said, winding down the window, “I don’t mind in the least. I’m sure he’ll do a good job for you.”

  The farmer screwed up his face in misery. “But you don’t understand. He’s been in there for about an hour and a half and he’s no further forward. He’s not doin’ a bit o’ good and he’s about buggered an’ all. I want you to take over, Mr. Ross.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” Ewan gave him a level stare. “I couldn’t possibly interfere. You know how it is, Tommy. He’s begun the job—I’ve got to let him finish.” He started the engine.

  “No, no, don’t go!” shouted Mr. Thwaite, beating the car roof with his hands. “Duke’s whacked, I tell ye. If you drive away now ah’m going to lose one of ma best cows. You’ve got to help me, Mr. Ross!” He seemed on the verge of tears.

  My colleague looked at him thoughtfully as the engine purred. Then he bent forward and turned off the ignition. “All right, I’ll tell you what—I’ll go in there and see what he says. If he wants me to help, then I will.”

  I followed him into the byre and as we paused just inside the door Duke Skelton looked up from his work. He had been standing head down, one hand resting on the rump of a massive cow, his mouth hanging open, his great barrel chest heaving. The thick hair over his shoulders and ribs was matted with blood from the huge everted uterus which dangled behind the animal. Blood and filth streaked his face and covered his arms and as he stared at us from under his shaggy brows he looked like something from the jungle.

  “Well now, Mr. Skelton,” Ewan murmured conversationally, “How are you getting on?”

  Duke gave him a quick malevolent glance. “Ah’m doin’ all right.” The words rumbled from deep down through his gaping lips.

  Mr. Thwaite stepped forward, smiling ingratiatingly. “Come on, Duke, you’ve done your best. I think you should let Mr. Ross give you a ’and now.”

  “Well ah don’t.” The big man’s jaw jutted suddenly. “If I was lookin’ for help I wouldn’t want ’IM.” He turned away and seized the uterus. Hoisting it in his arms he began to push at it with fierce concentration.

  Mr. Thwaite turned to us with an expression of despair and opened his mouth to lament again, but Ewan silenced him with a raised hand, pulled a milking stool from a corner and squatted down comfortably against a wall. Unhurriedly he produced his little pouch and, one-handed, began to make a cigarette; as he licked the paper, screwed up the end and applied a match he gazed with blank eyes at the sweating, struggling figure a few feet from him.

  Duke had got the uterus about half way back. Grunting and gasping, legs straddled, he had worked the engorged mass inch by inch inside the vulva till he had just about enough cradled in his arms for one last push; and as he stood there taking a breather with the great muscles of his shoulders and arms rigid his immense strength was formidably displayed. But he wasn’t as strong as that cow. No man is as strong as a cow and this cow was one of the biggest I had ever seen with a back like a table top and rolls of fat round her tail-head.

  I had been in this position myself and I knew what was coming next. I didn’t have to wait long. Duke took a long wheezing breath and made his assault, heaving desperately, pushing with arms and chest, and for a second or two he seemed to be winning as the mass disappeared steadily inside. Then the cow gave an almost casual strain and the whole thing welled out again till it hung down bumping against the animal’s hocks.

  As Duke almost collapsed against her pelvis in the same attitude as when we first came in I felt pity for the man. I found him uncharming but I felt for him. That could easily be me standing there; my jacket and shirt hanging on that nail, my strength ebbing, my sweat mingling with the blood. No man could do what he was trying to do. You could push back a calf bed with the aid of an epidural anaesthetic to stop the straining or you could sling the animal up to a beam with a block and tackle; you couldn’t just stand there and do it from scratch as this chap was trying to do.

  I was surprised Duke hadn’t learned that with all his experience; but apparently it still hadn’t dawned on him even now because he was going through all the motions of having another go. This time he