It Shouldn't Happen to a Vet Read online

  There were plenty of helpers from the crowd and the horse was rolled

  easily till he rested on his sternum, forelegs extended forward. After a

  couple of minutes in this position he struggled to his feet and stood

  swaying slightly. A stable lad walked him away.

  Merryweather laughed. "Well, that wasn't so bad. Good horse that. I

  think he'll be all right after a rest."

  Siegfried had started to reply when we heard a "Pest, pest!" from beyond

  the rails. We looked up and saw a stout, red-faced figure gesturing at

  us eagerly. "Hey! Hey!" it was saying. "Come over here a minute."

  We went over. There was something about the face which Siegfried seemed

  to find intriguing. He looked closer at the grinning, pudgy features,

  the locks of oily black hair falling over the brow and cried out in

  delight.

  "God help us! Stewie Brannon! Here, James, come and meet another

  colleague - we came through college together."

  Siegfried had told me a lot about Stewie Brannon. So much, in fact, that

  I seemed to be shaking hands with an old, well-remembered friend.

  Sometimes, when the mood was on us, Siegfried and I would sit up nearly

  till dawn over a bottle in the big room at Skeldale House chewing over

  old times and recalling the cc' rful characters we had known. I

  remembered he had told me he had ov Stewie about half way through the

  course and had qualified while ill battling in his third year. Siegfried

  had described him as totally ~overse to study, disinclined to wash or

  shave; in fact, his idea of least likely to succeed. But there had been

  something touching ~nuousness of a child, a huge, all-embracing

  affection for ~> Nimpregnable cheerfulness. ; .v~ ~~0 Merryweather.

  "Will you give my apologies to my ~ - 0> ~There's a chap here I have to

  see - I'll only be a few togethe, ~'-,4~o his car and drove back up the

  course as we I retreated a pace`

  The two women swep.q:, ~y the arm. "Come on, Stewie, where can we

  tougher-looking than her h; ~

  Chapter Thirty-three.

  We went into a long, low bar under the stand and.I experienced a slight

  shock of surprise. This was the four and sixpenny end and the amenities

  were rather different from the paddock. The eating and drinking was done

  mainly in the vertical position and the cuisine seemed to consist

  largely of pies and sausage rolls.

  Siegfried fought his way to the bar and collected three whiskies. We sat

  down at one of the few available tables - an unstable, metal-topped

  structure. At the next table a sharp faced character studied the Pink

  "Un while he took great swigs at a pint and tore savagely at a pork pie.

  "Now, my lad," Siegfried said. "What have you been doing for the past

  six years ."

  "Well, let's see," said Stewie, absently downing his whisky at a gulp.

  "I got into finals shortly after you left and I didn't do so bad at all,

  really. Pipped them both first go, then I had a bit of bother with

  surgery a couple of times, but I was launched on the unsuspecting animal

  population four years ago. I've been around quite a lot since then.

  North, South, even six months in Ireland. I've been trying to find a

  place with a living wage. This three or four quid a week lark isn't much

  cop when you have a family to keep."

  "Family? You're married then."

  "Not half. You remember little Meg Hamilton - I used to bring her to the

  college dances. We got married when I got into final year. We've got

  five kids now and another on the way."

  Siegfried choked on his whisky. "Five kids! For God's sake, Stewie."

  "Ah, it's wonderfully really, Siegfried. You probably wonder how we

  manage to exist. Well I couldn't tell you. I don't know myself. But

  we've kept one jump ahead of ruin and we've been happy, too. I think

  we're going to be OK now. I stuck up my plate in Hensfield a few months

  ago and I'm doing all right. Been able to clear the housekeeping and

  that's all that matters."

  "Hensfield, eh?" Siegfried said. I pictured the grim West Riding town. A

  wilderness of decaying brick bristling with factory chimneys. It was the

  other Yorkshire. "Mainly small animal, I suppose."

  "Oh yes. I earn my daily bread almost entirely by separating the local

  tom cats from their knackers. Thanks to me, the feline females of

  Hensfield can walk the streets unmolested."

  Siegfried laughed and caught the only waitress in the place lightly by

  the arm as she hurried by. She whipped round with a frown and an angry

  word but took another look and smiled. "Yes, sir."

  Siegfried looked into her face seriously for a few moments, still

  holding her arm. Then he spoke quietly. "I wonder if you'd be kind

  enough to bring us three large whiskies and keep repeating the order

  whenever you see our glasses are empty. Would you be able to do that."

  "Certainly, sir, of course." The waitress was over forty but she was

  blushing like a young girl.

  _ ~

  Stewie's chins quivered with silent laugher. "You old bugger, Farnon. It

  does me good to see you haven't changed."

  "Really? Well that's rather nice, isn't it."

  "And the funny thing is I don't think you really try."

  "Try? Try what."

  "Ah, nothing, Forget it - here's our whisky."

  As the drinks kept coming they talked and talked. I didn't butt in - I

  sat listening, wrapped in a pleasant euphoria and pushing every other

  glassful unobtrusively round to Stewie who put it out of sight with a

  careless jerk of the wrist.

  As Siegfried sketched out his own progress, I was struck by the big

  man's total absence of envy. He was delighted to hear about the rising

  practice, the pleasant house, the assistant. Siegfried had described him

  as plump in the old days but he was fat now, despite his hard times. And

  I had heard about that overcoat; it was the 'navy nap' which had been

  his only protection through the years at college. It couldn't have

  looked so good then, but it was a sad thing now, the seams strained to

  bursting by the bulging flesh.

  "Look, Stewie." Siegfried fumbled uncomfortably with his glass. "I'm

  sure you're going to do well at Hensfield but if by some mischance

  things got a bit rough, I hope you wouldn't hesitate to turn to me. I'm

  not so far off in Darrowby, you know. In fact." He paused and swallowed.

  "Are you all right now? If a few quid would help, I've got 'em here."

  Stewie tossed back what must have been the tenth double whisky and gazed

  at his old friend with gentle benevolence. "You're a kind old bugger,

  Siegfried, but no thanks. As I said we're clearing the housekeeping and

  we'll be OK. But I appreciate it - you always were kind. A strange old

  bugger, but kind."

  "Strange?" Siegfried was interested.

  "No, not strange. Wrong word. Different. That's it, you were as

  different as hell."

  "Different?" queried Siegfried, swallowing his whisky as if it had

  stopped tasting of anything a long time ago. "I'm sure you're wrong

  there, Stewie."

  "Don't worry your head about it," Stewie said, and reached across the

  table t