Every Living Thing Read online

  He had his own ideas about treatment and wasn’t afraid to express them. One day Siegfried found the two of us in the operating room.

  “I’ve been reading about this Inductotherm. Revolutionary new treatment for strained tendons in horses. You just wrap this electric cable round the leg for a certain time every day and the heat clears up the strain.”

  I gave a non-committal grunt. I seldom had any ideas and, in fact, was constitutionally opposed to any change, any innovation. This trait, I knew, irritated my partner intensely, so I remained silent.

  John, however, spoke up. “I’ve read about it, too, but I don’t fancy it.”

  “Why not?” Siegfried’s eyebrows went up.

  “Smacks of witchcraft to me,” John said.

  “Oh, rubbish.” Siegfried frowned at him. “I think it sounds perfectly rational. Anyway, I’ve ordered one of the things and I’d like to bet it’ll be a big help to us.”

  Siegfried was the horse specialist, so I didn’t argue, but I was very interested to see how the thing worked, and we soon had the opportunity to find out. The Lord of the Manor of Darrowby, usually called the Squire, kept his horses in some stables at the foot of our street, a mere hundred yards away, and it seemed like fate when he reported a case of strained tendons.

  Siegfried rubbed his hands. “Just what we wanted. I’ve got to go over to Whitby to inspect a stallion, so I’ll leave it to you to handle this case, John. I’ve got a feeling you’ll think the treatment is a great advance.”

  I know my partner was looking forward to saying “I told you so” to the young man, but after a week of the treatment, John still wasn’t impressed.

  “I’ve been winding this thing round the horse’s leg every day and hanging about, but I can’t see any difference. I’m having another session this afternoon, but if it still isn’t any better I’m going to suggest a return to the old treatment.”

  Around five o’clock that afternoon, with heavy rain sweeping along on the wind, I was drawing up outside the surgery when I froze in my seat. I was looking out at something terrible. Several of the Squire’s men were carrying a body down the street. It was John. As I got out of the car they bore him into the house and deposited him at the foot of the stairs. He seemed to be unconscious.

  “What on earth’s happened?” I gasped, looking down in horror at the prone form of my colleague draped over the lower steps.

  “T’yoong man’s electrocuted ’isself,” one of the men said.

  “What!”

  “Aye, it’s right. He were soaked wi’ rain and when ’e went to connect up the machine to the plug ’e must have got his fingers on the live metal. He started to yell, but ’e couldn’t let go. He went on yellin’, but I were hangin’ on to the horse’s head and I couldn’t help ’im. He sort of staggered about, like, and at t’finish he fell over the horse’s hind leg and that broke ’is grip on the thing or I think he’d have been a goner!”

  “My God! What can we do?” I turned to Helen, who had appeared from the kitchen. “Could you phone the doctor,” I cried. “But wait a minute. I think he’s coming round.”

  John, stretched out on the stairs, had begun to stir, and as he peered up at us through half-closed eyes an amazing flow of colourful language began to pour from him. He went on and on and on.

  Helen stared at me, open-mouthed. “Just listen to that! And he’s such a nice young man, too!”

  I could understand her astonishment, because John was an upright, very correct lad who, unlike most vets, did not swear. However, he had a wonderful store within him, because some of the words were new even to me, which was surprising, considering that I grew up in Glasgow.

  After a while the torrent slowed down to an unintelligible mumble, and Siegfried, who had just come in from his rounds, began to ply him with neat gin, which, I believe, is contra-indicated in these cases.

  There is no doubt that John could have lost his life, but, mercifully, as the minutes passed he recovered steadily till he was able to sit up on the stairs. At last, we adjured him to take it easy and stay where he was, he shook himself, got up, drew himself up to his considerable height and faced Siegfried.

  “Mr. Farnon,” he said with great dignity. “If you ask me to operate that bloody apparatus again I shall tender my resignation.”

  That was the end of the short career of the Inductotherm.

  It was a few days later and as always I felt a little wary when I saw the formidable figure of Sep Craggs bearing down on me in the passage at Skeldale House.

  “Hey, Herriot,” he barked, “I want a word wi’ you!”

  He was a rude man and I was used to his mode of address, but I put up with it, because he was a valuable client with a large farm that he ran with four grown sons whom he bullied and terrorised.

  “Well, Mr. Craggs, what’s the trouble?” I asked peaceably.

  He glared down at me from his six-foot-four bulk and pushed his face close to mine. “Ah’ll tell ye what the trouble is! You’ve been wastin’ ma time!”

  “Oh, really? In what way?”

  “Remember them mastitis powders you were goin’ to put out for me?”

  Oh, God, those sulphanilamide powders. I’d forgotten about them. “I’m terribly sorry, I—”

  “You forgot ’em, didn’t you! ‘Come down this afternoon,’ you said. ‘They’ll be in the box at the door for you.’ Well, I came down at three o’clock, but there was nowt in the box and nobody knew a thing about it. Ah’m bloody cross, I tell ye!”

  “Well, as I say, Mr. Craggs, I’m very sorry…”

  “Aye, it’s awright, bein’ sorry, but that doesn’t help me. It’s a bloody long way to Darrowby from ma place and I had to leave me haymakin’. And all for nowt. I’m a busy feller, tha knows, and I can’t afford to have ma time wasted like this!”

  Oh, hell, he was rubbing it in, but he had me cold. I picked up the powders from the dispensary and handed them to him.

  He was still grumbling. “I don’t want any more of this in the future, so think on. If ye ask me to come here for anything just think on and ’ave it ready for me.”

  I nodded dumbly, but he wasn’t finished yet.

  “It’s you that needs powders,” he grunted. “Thinkin’ on powders!” He gave me a final glare and left.

  I took a few deep breaths and hoped fervently that I would never transgress again in that quarter.

  The incident was still fresh in my mind the following week when I again found Sep Craggs waiting for me at the surgery as I returned from a round.

  His face was inscrutable but I felt a twinge of apprehension as he towered over me.

  “Ah came this mornin’ to pick up a bottle of liniment, but it wasn’t in the box,” he muttered.

  Oh no! Please not again! Was I losing my mind? I dug my nails into my palms. “I’m so sorry… I…I really can’t remember arranging this.”

  But there was no outburst this time. The man was strangely subdued. “It wasn’t you, it was t’yoong man.”

  So it was poor John’s turn to fall under the lash. How could I divert the wrath from him? I gave a light laugh. “Oh…I see…Well, Mr. Crooks is a splendid chap but he hasn’t the best of memories.”

  “Nay, nay—don’t criticise t’yoong man! He’s got enough on ’is mind without botherin’ about a little thing like a bottle of liniment.”

  “Eh?”

  “Aye, don’t start blamin’ him! I’m not havin’ that!” He gave me a disapproving scowl. “With all he’s got to think about, you can’t expect ’im to remember everything.”

  I opened my mouth, but no words came.

  I had never seen Mr. Craggs smile, but his granite features relaxed a little and an almost dreamy look came into his eyes. “By gaw, he does know a lot, does that lad— ah’ve never met anybody with such learnin’. Ah’ll tell tha summat, ’erriot. He came to a bullock wi’ foul in the foot and ’e didn’t mess about wi’ tar and salt for a week like you do. Never touched the flippin’ foot.