Let Sleeping Vets Lie Read online

  and with his red beefy brutal mouth and overbearing manner he was

  undeniably formidable.

  "Well, er ... yes. Of course we want the job," I replied. "I was just

  wondering :; when we could fit it in." I went over to the desk and began

  to look through the appointment book. "We're pretty full this week and I

  don't know what Mr. Farnon has fixed for the week after. Maybe we'd

  better give you a ring."

  The big man had burst in on me without warning or greeting and barked,

  "I 'ave a fine big blood 'oss to geld. When can you do 'im?"

  I had looked at him hesitantly for a few moments, taken aback partly by

  the arrogance of his approach, partly by his request. This wasn't good

  news to me;; I didn't like castrating fine big blood 'osses - I much

  preferred the ordinary cart colts and if you came right down to it I had

  a particular preference for Shetland ~ ponies. But it was all part of

  living and if it had to be done it had to be done. I "You can give me a

  ring if you like, but don't be ower long about it." The hard unsmiling

  stare still held me. "And I want a good job coin", think on!"

  "We always try to do a good job, Mr. Barnett," I said, fighting a rising

  prickle; of resentment at his attitude.

  "Aye well I've heard that afore and I've had some bloody balls-ups," he

  said.. He gave me a final truculent nod, turned and walked out, leaving

  the door open.

  I was still standing in the middle of the room seething and muttering to

  myself when Siegfried walked in. I hardly saw him at first and when he

  finally came into focus I found I was glowering into his face.

  "What's the trouble, James?" he asked. "A little touch of indigestion,

  perhaps?"

  "Indigestion? No ... no ... Why do you say that?"

  "Well you seemed to be in some sort of pain, standing there on one leg

  with- ' your face screwed up."

  "Did I look like that? Oh it was just our old friend Walt Barnett. He

  wants us to cut a horse for him and he made the request in his usual

  charming way - he really gets under my skin, that man."

  Tristan came in from the passage. "Yes I was out there and I heard him.

  He's a bloody big lout."

  Siegfried rounded on him. "That's enough! I don't want to hear that kind

  of talk in here." Then he turned back to me. "And really, James, even if

  you were upset I don't think it's an excuse for profanity."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, some of the expletives I heard you muttering there were unworthy

  of out" He spread his hands in a gesture of disarming frankness, "Heaven

  knows I'm no prude but I don't like to hear such language within these

  walls." He paused and his features assumed an expression of deep

  gravity. "After all, the people who come in here provide us with our

  bread and butter and they should be referred to with respect., "Yes, but

  ... '

  "Oh I know some are not as nice as others but you must never let them

  irritate you. You've heard the old saying, "The customer is always

  right." Well I think it's a good working axiom and I always abide by it

  myself." He gazed solemnly at Tristan and me in turn. "So I hope I make

  myself clear. No swearing in the surgery - particularly when it concerns

  the clients."

  "It's all right for you!" I burst out heatedly. "But you didn't hear

  Barnett. I'll stand so much, but ... '

  Siegfried put his head on one side and a smile of ethereal beauty crept

  over his face. "My dear old chap, there you go again, letting little

  things disturb you. I've had to speak to you about this before, haven't

  I? I wish I could help you, I wish I could pass on my own gift of

  remaining calm at all times."

  "What's that you said?"

  '1 ~ir1 T wanted m heln you James. and I will." He held up a forefinger.

  "You've probably often wondered why I never get angry or excited."

  "Eh ?"

  "Oh I know you have - you must have. Well I'll let you into a little

  secret." His smile took on a roguish quality. "If a client is rude to me

  I simply charge him a little more. Instead of getting all steamed up

  like you do I tell myself that I'm putting ten bob extra on the bill and

  it works like magic."

  "Is that so?"

  "Yes indeed, my boy." He thumped my shoulder then became very serious.

  "Of course I realise that I have an advantage right at the start - I

  have been blessed with a naturally even temperament while you are blown

  about in all directions by every little wind of circumstance. But I do

  think that this is something you could cultivate, so work at it, James,

  work at it. All this fretting and fuming is bad for you - your whole

  life would change if you could just acquire my own tranquil outlook." I

  swallowed hard. "Well thank you, Siegfried," I said. "I'll try."

  ~----r ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~

  Walt Barnett was a bit of a mystery man in Darrowby. He wasn't a farmer,

  he was a scrap merchant, a haulier, a dealer in everything from linoleum

  to second hand cars, and there was only one thing the local people could

  say for certain about him - he had brass, lots of brass. They said

  everything he touched turned to money.

  He had bought a decaying mansion a few miles outside the town where he

  lived with a downtrodden little wife and where he kept a floating

  population of livestock; a few bullocks, some pigs and always a horse or

  two. He employed all the vets in the district in turn, probably because

  he didn't think much of any of us; a feeling which I may say, was

  mutual. He never seemed to do any physical work and could be seen most

  days of the week shambling around the streets of Darrowby, hands in

  pockets, cigarette dangling, his brown trilby on the back of his head,

  his huge body threatening to burst through that shiny navy suit.

  After my meeting with him we had a busy few days and it was on the

  hollowing Thursday that the phone rang in the surgery. Siegfried lifted

  it and immediately his expression changed. From across the floor I could

  clearly hear the loud hectoring tones coming through the receiver and as

  my colleague listened a slow flush spread over his cheeks and his mouth

  hardened. Several times he tried to put in a word but the torrent of

  sound from the far end was unceasing Finally he raised his voice and

  broke in but instantly there was a click and he found himself speaking

  to a dead line.

  Siegfried crashed the receiver into its rest and swung round. "That was

  Barnett - playing hell because we haven't rung him." He stood staring at

  me for a few moments, his face dark with anger.

  "The bloody bastard!" he shouted. "Who the hell does he think he is?

  Abusing me like that, then hanging up on me when I try to speak!"

  For a moment he was silent then he turned to me. "I'll tell you this,

  James, he wouldn't have spoken to me like that if he'd been in this room

  with me." He came over to me and held out his hands, fingers crooked

  menacingly. "I'd have wrung his bloody neck, big as he is! I would have,

  I tell you, I'd have strangled the bugger!"

  "But Siegfried," I said. "What about your system?"

  "System? W