Part 3 (1/2)

”Yes,” she went on, ”it is the most beautiful country suit and, do you know, he never wore it.” She shook her head and her eyes softened as she stroked the lapels. ”No, he never did. He died a few days after it was made and he was so looking forward to it. He was such an outdoor man, but he did like to be smartly dressed.”

Then she said somewhat abruptly, looking up at me with a resolute expression, ”Now, Mr. Herriot, would you like to have this suit?”

”Eh?”

”I wish you would have it. I'm sure it would be of great use to you and it is being wasted just hanging here in this wardrobe.”

I didn't know what to say, but my mind went back to various pauses in our conversation by the fire when I had noticed her eyes lingering briefly on the fringe of material on my frayed cuff as I raised my gla.s.s, and at my threadbare knees.

As I stood silent she looked suddenly worried. ”Perhaps I am embarra.s.sing you?”

”Oh, no, no, no, not at all. It's very kind of you. I'm sure I'd love to have it.”

”Oh, I am glad.” She clapped her hands. ”It will be just right for you, quite the correct thing for a country vet. I'd so much like to think of you wearing it.”

”Right ...right...” I said, still a little bemused. ”Thank you very much.” I laughed. ”Such a nice surprise.”

”Good, good,” she said, laughing too. Then she called across the hall. ”Ruth, Ruth, will you bring one of those big sheets of brown paper to put round this suit, there's a dear.”

As the maid hurried off, Mrs. Pumphrey put her head on one side. ”There's just one thing, Mr. Herriot. My husband was rather a large man. Some alterations will be necessary.”

”Oh, that's all right,” I said. ”I can see to that.”

As I walked over the gravel to my car weighed down with my parcel, I mused on the upturn in my day. A couple of hours ago I had slunk away like a pariah from a farm after a visit steeped in censure and dislike and with a final tongue-las.h.i.+ng thrown in, and look at me now. Mrs. Pumphrey and Ruth were smiling and waving from the doorway. Tricki was back at his window, laughing his head off as he barked his farewell, the curtains moving with the wagging of his tail, my stomach glowed with sherry and savoury biscuits and I had a handsome free suit in my arms.

Not for the first time I thanked providence for the infinite variety of veterinary practice.

Chapter 5.

”LOOK AT THIS, HELEN!” I cried as I pulled off the brown paper back in Skeldale House. ”Mrs. Pumphrey's given me a suit!”

My wife gasped as my new acquisition was unveiled. ”It's beautiful, Jim. So expensive-looking!”

”Isn't it just. I could never afford one like this.”

We looked down at the sumptuous tweed with its faint, scarcely discernible pattern of brownish threads among the Lovat green and Helen held up the jacket to examine it more closely.

”Gosh, it's so thick and heavy, I can hardly lift it! I've never seen such cloth-you'll never feel cold wearing this. Aren't you going to try it on? There's time before lunch-I'll just pop through to the kitchen and see that nothing's boiling over.”

I hurried to our bedroom and, bubbling with antic.i.p.ation, removed my trousers and pulled on the new ones, then I donned the jacket and looked in the mirror. I really didn't have to look-I realised from the start that my hopes were dashed. The trousers rested in concertina-like folds round my ankles while the jacket sleeves hung several inches below my hands. The late Mr. Pumphrey hadn't just been large, he must have been a giant.

I was observing myself sadly when I heard m.u.f.fled sounds from the doorway. Helen was leaning against the wall laughing helplessly as she pointed a shaking finger in my direction. ”Oh, dear,” she gasped. ”I'm sorry, but oh, ha-ha-ha!”

”Okay,” I said. ”I know, I know, it's a washout.” Then I caught sight of myself again in the mirror and couldn't fight back a wry smile. ”You're right, I do look funny, but what a disappointment. It's such a marvellous suit-I thought I was going to be Darrowby's best-dressed man. What the heck are we going to do with the thing?”

Helen dried her eyes and came over to me. ”Oh, it's such a shame, but wait a minute.” She tucked the sleeves up till my hands were revealed, then knelt and rolled up a few folds of trousers. She stood back to view the result. ”Do you know, I really think it could be altered to fit you.”

”Oh, come on, it's unthinkable. I'm drowned in it.” I glowered again at my reflection.

My wife shook her head vigorously. ”I'm not so sure. Looking at you now, I can just imagine how splendid it could be. Anyway, I'm going to take it round to Mr. Bendelow and see if I can sweetheart him into doing it quickly.”

I grinned at the thought of our local tailor stirring himself. ”That would be a miracle.”

”You never know,” Helen said. ”I'm going to try, anyway.”

Later that day she came to me with the news that Mr. Bendelow had been so dazzled by the quality of the material and the cut that he had promised a rush job.

The excitement over the suit was forgotten as I had an urgent call immediately after lunch.

Ted Newcombe's voice on the phone was strained and shaking. ”It's Clover-she's on calvin' and there's just a head and nowt else. I've had a go, but I can't reach the legs-it's ? whopper of a calf. And it's the one I badly want-you remember?”

”Yes, I do remember, of course.”

”Can you get 'ere quick, Mr. Herriot?”

”I'm leaving now.”

Clover was his best heifer and had been served by a premium bull. To a hill-farmer like Ted it would be a disaster if he lost the calf. I shouted to Helen and ran out to the car.

Ted's smallholding was a grey smudge high on a hillside near the top of the dale. There was no road to it and my car b.u.mped its way up the gra.s.sy slope with my drugs and instruments rattling and clinking behind me. The flagged yard and thick-walled buildings were hundreds of years old; in fact, coupled with its inaccessibility it was the sort of place where only hard-up people like Ted would dream of trying to make a living. The rent was low and it was all he could afford. He was coming out of the byre as I drew up. Ted was tall and thin, about my own age, the father of a boy and girl who walked down that hill every day and then the two miles to the village school. He looked worried, but managed a grin.

”Nice car, Mr. Herriot.” He gave the gleaming bonnet a mock polish with his sleeve, but, as was typical of him, that was as far as the mickey-taking went.

I followed him into the little byre and I realised why he didn't feel much like joking. The smile was wiped off my own face immediately as I looked at the beautiful heifer groaning and heaving, with an enormous muzzle just peeping from her v.u.l.v.a as she strained.

No vet likes to see that. It wasn't just a case of sorting out a malpresentation, it meant that a huge calf was finding it impossible to find a way out.

”I've 'ad a go,” Ted said as I stripped off and began to wash my arms in the steaming bucket. ”But there's no legs-feet are miles away. I remember you tellin' me once to push back the head to reach the feet but I've tried and she's ower strong for me.”

I nodded. He hadn't much flesh on his bones, but he had a stringy power in his arms and I knew what he meant. ”n.o.body's as strong as a big beast like that, Ted.”

”And all the time I'm wonderin' if t'calf's still alive. He's been squeezed in there for a h.e.l.l of a long time.”

That was my worry, too. I soaped my arm and pushed a hand into the v.u.l.v.a alongside the ma.s.sive head, but as I reached for the shoulder Clover gave another heave and my arm was trapped agonisingly for a few seconds.

”That's no good,” I gasped. ”There's not an inch of room in there. I'll try my luck with the head.”

I put my hand against the muzzle and pushed steadily, leaning hard as the head went back a few inches. That was as far as I got. Another mighty expulsive effort from the heifer sent me back where I started.

I began to wash my hands and arms again. ”It's impossible, Ted. That calf won't come out till we bring the feet round and there's simply no way of reaching those feet. She's a big, powerful heifer and we can't win pus.h.i.+ng against her.”

”Oh, 'ell!” He looked at me wide-eyed. ”What do we do, then? Caesarean? That's a big job!”