Vets Might Fly Read online

  door bell and running away, because I dared not ignore the summons in

  case it might be a client, and also the consulting and operating rooms

  were such a long way from the front of the house. Sometimes I was

  dragged down from our bed-sitter under the tiles. Every trip to the

  door was an expedition and it was acutely exasperating to arrive there

  and see only a little figure in the distance dancing about and

  grimacing at me.

  He varied this routine by pushing rubbish through the letter box,

  pulling the flowers from the tiny strip of garden we tried to cultivate

  between the flagstones and chalking rude messages on my car.

  I knew I wasn't the only victim because I had heard complaints from

  others; the fruiterer who saw his apples disappear from the box in

  front of the shop, the grocer who unwillingly supplied him with free

  biscuits.

  He was the town naughty boy all right, and it was incongruous that he

  should have been named Wesley. There was not the slightest sign in his

  behaviour of any strict methodist upbringing. In fact I knew nothing

  of his family life only that he came from the poorest part of the town,

  a row of 'yards' containing tumbledown cottages, some of them evacuated

  because of their condition.

  I often saw him wandering about in the fields and lanes or fishing in

  quiet reaches of the river when he should have been in school. When he

  spotted me on these occasions he invariably called out some mocking

  remark and if he happened to be with some of his cronies they all

  joined in the laughter at my expense. It was annoying but I used to

  tell myself that there was nothing personal in it. I was an adult and

  that was enough to make me a target.

  Wes's greatest triumph was undoubtedly the time he removed the grating

  from the coal cellar outside Skeldale House. It was on the left of the

  front steps and underneath it was a steep ramp down which the coal men

  tipped their bags.

  I don't know whether it was inspired intuition but he pinched the

  grating on the day of the Darrow by Gala. The festivities started with

  a parade through the town led by the Houlton Silver Band and as I

  looked down from the windows of our bed-sitter I could see them all

  gathering in the street below.

  "Look, Helen," I said.

  "They must be star ting the march from Trengate.

  Everybody I know seems to be down there."

  Helen leaned over my shoulder and gazed at the long lines of boy

  scouts, girl guides, ex-servicemen, with half the population of the

  town packed on the pavements, watching.

  "Yes, it's quite a sight, isn't it? Let's go down and see them move

  off."

  We trotted down the long flights of stairs and I followed her out

  through the front door. And as I appeared in the entrance I was

  suddenly conscious that I was the centre of attention. The citizens on

  the pavements, waiting patiently for the parade to start, had something

  else to look at now. The little brownies and wolf cubs waved at me

  from their ranks and there were nods and smiles from the people across

  the road and on all sides.

  I could divine their thoughts.

  "There's ttyoung vitnery coming out of his house Not long married, too.

  That's his missus next to him."

  A feeling of well being rose in me. I don't know whether other newly

  married men feel the same, but in those early days I was aware of a

  calm satisfaction and fulfilment. And I was proud to be the 'vitnery'

  and part of the life of the town. There was my plate on the wall

  beside me, a symbol of my solid importance. I was a man of substance

  now, I had arrived.

  Looking around me, I acknowledged the greeting with a few dignified

  little smiles, raising a gracious hand now and then rather like a royal

  personage on view. Then I noticed that Helen hadn't much room by my

  side, so I stepped to the left to where the grating should have been

  and slid gracefully down into the cellar.

  It would be a dramatic touch to say I disappeared from view; in fact I

  wish I had, because I would have stayed down there and avoided further

  embarrassment.

  But as it was I travelled only so far down the ramp and stuck there

  with my head and shoulders protruding into the street.

  My little exhibition caused a sensation among the spectators. Nothing

  in the Gala parade could compete with this. One or two of the

  surrounding faces expressed alarm but loud laughter was the general

  response. The adults were almost holding each other up but the little

  brownies and wolf cubs made my most appreciative audience, breaking

  their ranks and staggering about helplessly in the roadway while their

  leaders tried to restore order.

  I caused chaos, too, in the Houlton Silver Band, who were hoisting

  their instruments prior to marching off. If they had any ideas about

  bursting into tune they had to abandon them temporarily because I don't

  think any of them had breath to blow.

  It was, in fact, two of the bandsmen who extricated me by linking their

  hands under my armpits. My wife was of no service at all in the crisis

  and I could only look up at her reproachfully as she leaned against the

  doorpost dabbing at her eyes.

  It all became clear to me when I reached street level. I was flicking

  the coal dust from my trousers and trying to look unconcerned when I

  saw Wesley Bin ks doubled up with mirth, pointing triumphantly at me

  and at the hole over the cellar. He was quite near, jostling among the

  spectators, and I had my first close look at the wild-eyed little

  goblin who had plagued me. I may have made an unconscious movement

  towards him because he gave me a last malevolent grin and disappeared

  into the crowd.

  Later I asked Helen about him. She could only tell me that Wesley's

  father had left home when he was about six years old, that his mother

  had remarried and the boy now lived with her and his stepfather.

  Strangely, I had another opportunity to study him quite soon

  afterwards. It was about a week later and my feathers were still a

  little ruffled after the grating incident when I saw him sitting all

  alone in the waiting room. Alone, that is, except for a skinny black

  dog in his lap.

  I could hardly believe it. I had often rehearsed the choice phrases

  which I i would use on this very occasion but the sight of the animal

  restrained me, if he had come to consult me professionally I could

  hardly start pitching into him right away. Maybe later.

  I pulled on a white coat and went in.

  "Well, what can I do for you?" I asked coldly.

  The boy stood up and his expression of mixed defiance and desperation

  showed that it had cost him something to enter this house.

  "Sum mat matter wi' me dog," he muttered.

  "Right, bring him through." I led the way along the passage to the

  consulting room "Put him on the table please," I said, and as he lifted

  the little animal I decided that I couldn't let this opportunity pass.

  While I was carrying out my examination I would quite casually discuss

  re