Vets Might Fly Read online

  it off in a minute. But since it was S: I turned pale and phoned

  Granville.

  I have always been as soppy as any old lady over my pets and I suspect

  ma of my colleagues are the same. I listened apprehensively to the

  buzz-buzz at t far end, then the big voice came on the line.

  "Bennett here."

  "Hello, Granville, it's . . ."

  "Jim!" The boom of delight was flattering.

  "Where have you been hiding yourself, laddie?"

  He didn't know how near he was to the truth. I told him about Sam.

  -.~.

  "Doesn't sound much, old son, but I'll have a look at him with

  pleasure. ~ you what We've been trying to get you over here for a meal

  why not bring the little chap with you?"

  "Well . . ."A whole evening in Granville's hands it was a daunting

  prospect.

  ~Now don't mess about, Jim. You know, there's a wonderful Indian

  restaurant in Newcastle Zoe and I would love to take you both out

  there. It's about time we met your wife, isn't it?"

  "Yes . . . of course it is . . . Indian restaurant, eh?"

  "Yes, laddie. Superb curries mild, medium or blast your bloody head

  off.

  Onion bhajis, bhuna lamb, gorgeous nan bread."

  My mind was working fast.

  "Sounds marvellous, Granville."It did seem fairly Secure He was most

  dangerous on his own territory and it would take forty-five minuteS,

  driving each way to Newcastle. Then maybe an hour and a half in the

  restaurant I should be reasonably safe for most of the evening There

  was just the bit at his house before we left that was the only worry.

  It was uncanny how he seemed to read my thoughts.

  "Before we leave, Jim, we'll have a little session in my garden."

  "Your garden?" It sounded strange in November.

  "That's right, old lad."

  Ah well, maybe he was proud of his late chrysanthemums, and I couldn't

  see myself coming to much harm these.

  "Well, fine, Granville. Maybe Wednesday night ?"

  "Lovely, lovely, lovely can't wait to meet Helen."

  Wednesday was one of those bright frosty late autumn days which turn

  misty in the afternoon and by six o'clock the countryside was blanketed

  by one of the thickest fogs I had ever seen in Yorkshire.

  Creeping along in our little car, my nose almost on the windscreen, I

  muttered against the glass.

  "God's truth, Helen, we'll never get to Newcastle tonight! I know

  Granville's some driver but you can't see ten yards out there."

  Almost at walking pace we covered the twenty miles to the Bennett

  residence and it was with a feeling of relief that I saw the brightly

  lit doorway rising out of the mirk.

  Granville, as vast and impressive as ever, was there in the hall with

  arms outspread. Bashfulness had never been one of his problems and he

  folded my wife in a bear-like embrace.

  "Helen, my pet," he said and kissed her fondly and lingeringly. He

  stopped to take a breath, regarded her for a moment with deep

  appreciation then kissed her again.

  I shook hands decorously with Zoe and the two girls were introduced.

  They made quite a picture standing there. An attractive woman is a

  gift from heaven and it was a rare bonus to see two of them in close

  proximity. Helen very dark and blue-eyed, Zoe brown-haired with eyes

  of greyish-green, but both of them warm and smiling.

  Zoe had her usual effect on me. That old feeling was welling up; the

  desire to look my best, in fact better than my best. I cast a furtive

  glance at the hall mirror. Immaculately suited, clean shirted, freshly

  shaven, I was sure I projected the desired image of the clean-limbed

  young veterinary surgeon, the newly married man of high principles and

  impeccable behaviour.

  I breathed a silent prayer of thanks that at last she was seeing me

  stone cold sober and normal. Tonight I would expunge all her squalid

  memories of me from her mind.

  "Zoe, my sweet," carolled Granville.

  "Take Helen into the garden while I see Jim's dog."

  I blinked. The garden in this fog. I just didn't get it, but I was

  anxious about your dog ?" | "Why do you call Phoebe Phoebles?" I

  countered swiftly.

  `~. I! ~ TT_ I_~__~ ~:- 6~_A-f "T'll ~-t m`~ en~'inment Hang on Vets

  Sam to give the thing much thought. I opened the car door and the

  beagle trots into the house.

  My colleague greeted him with delight.

  "Come inside, my little man." Th he hollered at the top of his

  voice.

  "Phoebles! Victoria! Yoo-hoo! Come and in cousin Sam!"

  The obese Staffordshire bull terrier waddled in, closely followed by

  the Yorki who bared her teeth in an ingratiating smile at all

  present.

  After the dogs had met and exchanged pleasantries Granville lifted Sam

  in his arms. .

  "Is that what you mean, Jim? Is that what you're worried about?"

  I nodded dumbly. .

  "Good God, I could take a deep breath and blow the damn thing off!"

  looked at me incredulously and smiled.

  "Jim, old lad, why are you so daft aba -wn wen . . . mc ClCdl CU l

  tti' ~t 5~ ) ~'t"" minute."

  He disappeared and came back with a syringe and scissors. About half a

  was enough to numb the part, then he snipped off the papilloma, applied

  S01 styptic and put the beagle on the floor. The operation took about

  two minus but even in that brief spell his unique dexterity was

  manifest.

  "That'll be ten guineas, Mr Herriot," he murmured, then gave a shout

  laughter.

  "Come on, let's get into the garden. Sam will be quite happy with r

  dogs." ~ .

  He led me out of the back door and we stumbled through the fog by a

  rockc and rose bushes. I was just wondering how on earth he expected

  to show I any thing in this weather when we came up against a stone

  outhouse. He tier' open the door and I stepped into a brightly lit,

  sparkling Aladdin's cave.

  It was quite simply a fully fitted bar. At the far end a polished

  counter wi beer handles and, behind, a long row of bottles of every

  imaginable liquor.

  fire crackled in the hearth and hunting prints, cartoons and bright

  posters look down from the walls. It was completely authentic.

  Granville saw my astonished face and laughed.

  "All right, eh, Jim? I thou' it would be a nice idea to have my own

  little pub in the garden. Rather co isn't it?"

  "Yes . . . yes indeed . . . charming."

  "Good, good." My colleague slipped behind the counter.

  "Now what are y going to have?"

  Helen and Zoe took sherry and I made a quick decision to stick to one

  farely harmless drink.

  "Gin and tonic, please, Granville."

  The girls received a normal measure of sherry but when the big man took

  i glass over to the gin bottle hanging on the wall his hand seemed to

  be overcome by an uncontrollable trembling. The bottle was upended

  with one of those lit optic attachments you push up with the rim of the

  glass to give a single measure But as I say, as Granville inserted the

  neck of the bottle into the glass I whole arm jerked repeatedly as

  though h