All Things Bright and Beautiful Read online

  I washed and dried my hands. “This little bitch isn’t anywhere near whelping, Mrs. Cook. Are you sure you haven’t got your dates wrong?”

  “No, I ’aven’t, it was sixty three days yesterday.” She paused in thought for a moment. “Now ah’d better tell you this, young man. Cindy’s had pups before and she did self and same thing—wouldn’t get on with t’job. That was two years ago when I was livin’ over in Listondale. I got Mr. Broomfield the vet to her and he just gave her an injection. It was wonderful—she had the pups half an hour after it.”

  I smiled. “Yes, that would be pituitrin. She must have been actually whelping when Mr. Broomfield saw her.”

  “Well whatever it was, young man, I wish you’d give her some now. Ah can’t stand all this suspense.”

  “I’m sorry.” I lifted Cindy from my lap and stood up. “I can’t do that. It would be very harmful at this stage.”

  She stared at me and it struck me that that dark face could look very forbidding. “So you’re not goin’ to do anything at all?”

  “Well…” There are times when it is a soothing procedure to give a client something to do even if it is unnecessary. “Yes, I’ve got some tablets in the car. They’ll help to keep the little dog fit until she whelps.”

  “But I’d far rather have that injection. It was just a little prick. Didn’t take Mr. Broomfield more than a second to do.”

  “I assure you, Mrs. Cook, it can’t be done at the moment. I’ll get the tablets from the car.”

  Her mouth tightened. I could see she was grievously disappointed in me. “Oh well if you won’t you won’t, so you’d better get them things.” She paused. “And me name isn’t Cook!”

  “It isn’t?”

  “No it isn’t, young man.” She didn’t seem disposed to offer further information so I left in some bewilderment.

  Out in the road, a few yards from my car, a farm man was trying to start a tractor. I called over to him.

  “Hey, the lady in there says her name isn’t Cook.”

  “She’s right an’ all. She’s the cook over at the Hall. You’ve gotten a bit mixed up.” He laughed heartily.

  It all became suddenly clear; the entry in the day book, everything. “What’s her right name, then?”

  “Booby,” he shouted just as the tractor roared into life.

  Funny name, I thought as I produced my harmless vitamin tablets from the boot and returned to the cottage. Once inside I did my best to put things right with plenty of “Yes, Mrs. Booby” and “No, Mrs. Booby” but the lady didn’t thaw. I told her not to worry and that I was sure nothing would happen for several days but I could tell I wasn’t impressing her.

  I waved cheerfully as I went down the path.

  “Goodbye, Mrs. Booby,” I cried. “Don’t hesitate to ring me if you’re in doubt about anything.”

  She didn’t appear to have heard.

  “Oh I wish you’d do as I say,” she wailed. “It was just a little prick.”

  The good lady certainly didn’t hesitate to ring. She was at me again the next day and I had to rush out to her cottage. Her message was the same as before; she wanted the wonderful injection which would make those pups pop out and she wanted it right away. Mr. Broomfield hadn’t messed about and wasted time like I had. And on the third, fourth and fifth mornings she had me out at Marston examining the little bitch and reciting the same explanations. Things came to a head on the sixth day.

  In the room at Lilac Cottage the dark eyes held a desperate light as they stared into mine. “I’m about at the end of my tether, young man. I tell you I’ll die if anything happens to this dog, I’ll die. Don’t you understand?”

  “Of course I know how you feel about her, Mrs. Booby. Believe me, I fully understand.”

  “Then why don’t you do something?” she snapped.

  I dug my nails into my palms. “Look, I’ve told you. A pituitrin injection works by contracting the muscular walls of the uterus so it can only be given when labour has started and the cervix is open. If I find it is indicated I will do it, but if I gave this injection now it could cause rupture of the uterus. It could cause death.” I stopped because I fancied little bubbles were beginning to collect at the corners of my mouth.

  But I don’t think she had listened to a word. She sunk her head in her hands. “All this time, I can’t stand it.”

  I was wondering if I could stand much more of it myself. Bulging Yorkshire Terriers had begun to prance through my dreams at night and I greeted each new day with a silent prayer that the pups had arrived. I held out my hand to Cindy and she crept reluctantly towards me. She was heartily sick of this strange man who came every day and squeezed her and stuck fingers into her and she submitted again with trembling limbs and frightened eyes to the indignity.

  “Mrs. Booby,” I said. “Are you absolutely sure that dog didn’t have access to Cindy after the service date you gave me?”

  She sniffed. “You keep askin’ me that and ah’ve been thinking about it. Maybe he did come a week after, now I think on.”

  “Well that’s it, then!” I spread my hands. “She’s held to the second mating, so she should be due tomorrow.”

  “Ah would still far rather you would get it over with today like Mr. Broomfield did…it was just a little prick.”

  “But Mrs. Booby…!”

  “And let me tell you another thing, me name’s not Booby!”

  I clutched at the back of the chair. “It’s not?”

  “Naw!”

  “Well…what is it, then?”

  “It’s Dooley…Dooley!” she looked very cross.

  “Right…right…” I stumbled down the garden path and drove away. It was not a happy departure.

  Next morning I could hardly believe it when there was no call from Marston. Maybe all was well at last. But I turned cold when an urgent call to go to Lilac Cottage was passed on to one of the farms on my round. I was right at the far end of the practice area and was in the middle of a tough calving and it was well over three hours before I got out at the now familiar garden gate. The cottage door was open and as I ventured up the path a little brown missile hurtled out at me. It was Cindy, but a transformed Cindy, a snarling, barking little bundle of ferocity; and though I recoiled she fastened her teeth in my trouser cuff and hung on grimly.

  I was hopping around on one leg trying to shake off the growling little creature when a peal of almost girlish laughter made me look round.

  Mrs. Dooley, vastly amused, was watching me from the doorway. “My word, she’s different since she had them pups. Just shows what a good little mother she is, guarding them like that.” She gazed fondly at the tiny animal dangling from my ankle.

  “Had the pups…?”

  “Aye, when they said you’d be a long time I rang Mr. Farnon. He came right away and d’you know he gave Cindy that injection I’ve wanted all along. And I tell you ’e wasn’t right out of t’garden gate before the pups started. She’s had seven—beauties they are.”

  “Ah well that’s fine, Mrs. Dooley…splendid.” Siegfried had obviously felt a pup in the passage. I finally managed to rid myself of Cindy and when her mistress lifted her up I went into the kitchen to inspect the family.

  They certainly were grand pups and I lifted the squawking little morsels one by one from their basket while their mother snarled from Mrs. Dooley’s arms like a starving wolfhound.

  “They’re lovely, Mrs. Dooley,” I murmured.

  She looked at me pityingly. “I told you what to do, didn’t I, but you wouldn’t ’ave it. It only needed a little prick. Ooo, that Mr. Farnon’s a lovely man—just like Mr. Broomfield.”

  This was a bit much. “But you must realise, Mrs. Dooley, he just happened to arrive at the right time. If I had come…”

  “Now, now, young man, be fair. Ah’m not blamin’ you, but some people have had more experience. We all ’ave to learn.” She sighed reminiscently. “It was just a little prick—Mr. Farnon’ll have to show you how to do i