Part 12 (2/2)
”Any savage dogs here, Mr. Herriot?”
Chapter 18.
”WHAT IS IT?” ”WHAT the devil is that?” ”A badger? Never!”
Pandemonium broke out in the Drovers' Arms. Calum and I had been returning from a communal visit and when I suggested a beer he got out of the car, slung Marilyn over his shoulder and strode into the bar.
The eyes of the regulars popped, they spluttered into their beer and in a few seconds we were the centre of an excited crowd. I detached myself and sat quietly with my beer as the young man held court, answering the volleys of questions calmly and with a quiet satisfaction. It was clear that he loved to display his adored pet to anybody who was interested, and with most people it wasn't just a case of interest; he created a sensation wherever he went.
It was the same when I introduced him to my family in the sitting room at Skeldale House. My children were making music, Rosie at the piano and Jimmy with his harmonica, when the tall, walrus-moustached figure came in with his wild animal. I had become a connoisseur of soaring eyebrows and open mouths, and Helen was typical, but the reaction of Jimmy and Rose was wide-eyed delight.
”Oh, how lovely!” ”Can I stroke her?” ”Where did you get her?” Their questions were endless and Calum, laughing and teasing, was just about as big a hit with the children as his hairy companion.
Everything was going with a bang when Dinah, our second beagle and successor to Sam, ran in from the garden.
”This is Dinah,” I said.
”Oh-ho. Oh-ho, little fat Dinah,” said Calum in a rumbling ba.s.s. It was not a complimentary remark, because my little dog was undoubtedly too fat, and an embarra.s.sment to a vet who was constantly adjuring people to keep their dogs slim, but Dinah didn't seem to mind. She wagged her whole back end till I thought she would tie herself in a knot. Her response was remarkable and she clearly found this new voice immensely attractive.
Calum bent down and she rolled on her back in ecstasy as he rubbed her tummy.
Helen laughed. ”Gosh, she really likes you!”
We didn't know it then, but her words were setting a scene that would be a familiar and intriguing one in the future. I was to find that all animals were attracted to Calum and that he had a rapport with them that was unique. They loved the very sound, sight and scent of him-a heaven-sent a.s.set for a veterinary surgeon.
When the civilities were over with Marilyn scuttling merrily round the floor, happily accepting the petting of the children, Calum sat down on the piano stool and began to play. He was no Rubinstein, but he could knock out a rollicking tune with no trouble at all and the children clapped their hands in delight.
Jimmy held out his harmonica. ”Can you play this, too?”
Calum took the instrument and held it to his mouth with his hands in a Larry Adler-like att.i.tude, and after the first few notes you could see that he was in a different league from my son, whose concert piece was ”G.o.d Save the Queen.” After a couple of minutes of Mozart my new a.s.sistant handed back the harmonica and roared with laughter.
The young people were enchanted. ”I'm going for the concertina,” cried Jimmy.
He ran from the room and came back with one of the relics from my visits to house sales when Helen and I were first married. In those days I was often despatched to house sales to bring back essentials like tables and chairs and usually returned with ornamental inkstands, s.h.i.+ps in bottles and, on one memorable occasion, The Geography of the World in twenty-four volumes. In this case it was the concertina. It was an ancient little instrument, six-sided, with carved wooden ends and leather straps worn and frayed with age. It raised images of a mariner playing sea-shanties on the deck of an old-time sailing s.h.i.+p and I had found it irresistible, but unfortunately n.o.body had been able to extract a tune from it and it had rested for years in the attic with many of my other purchases.
Calum lifted it from its wooden box and turned it over tenderly. ”Oh nice, very nice.” He slipped his hands through the straps, his fingers felt their way over the little ivory b.u.t.tons and in a moment the room was filled with melody of a piercing sweetness. It was ”Shenandoah,” and as we listened, suddenly hushed, to the totally unexpected richness that came from the instrument I was back on the deck of the sailing s.h.i.+p I had dreamed of long ago.
I have many memories of Calum, but the one that lingers most hauntingly in my mind is of him sitting among my family, his dark eyes, unfathomable as they often were, fixed on somewhere high on the wall, while his fingers coaxed that plaintive music from our little squeeze-box.
When he finished there was a spontaneous burst of applause and the children jumped about, clapping their hands. Calum was fixed in their minds for ever as a wonder man. He had a badger, he could play anything, he could do anything.
Just then, we began to wonder about Marilyn. She had been wandering quietly around the room but now there was no sign of her. We peered under the sofa and tipped up the armchairs without success and were looking at each other bewilderedly when there was a rattling from the fireplace and the badger, abundantly clothed in soot, shot out from the chimney. She didn't want to be caught and raced a few times round the room before Calum grabbed her and carried her outside.
Jimmy and Rosie were almost hysterical. They hadn't had such fun for a long time, but Helen and I, looking at the devastation to our carpet and furniture, were not so amused.
It was a sudden come-down from inspirational heights to chaos, and in an intuitive moment a thought came to me. Was this the way it was always going to be with Calum...?
Chapter 19.
I HAVE HEARD IT said that all tailors used to sit cross-legged on a table to ply their trade, but the only one I ever saw in this position was Mr. Bendelow.
The cottage door opened straight from the street into the kitchen and the scene was so familiar. The cluttered little room with a thousand cloth clippings littering the floor, the sewing machine in the corner. Blanco, his enormous white dog, giving me a welcoming wag as he lay by the fire, and Mr. Bendelow, cross-legged on the table, talking to a customer, his needle poised above a tweed jacket.
It struck me, not for the first time, that Mr. Bendelow's needle always seemed to be poised. I don't think I had ever seen it actually dig into any fabric, because he was always too busy talking. He was at it now, chattering into the slightly bemused face of a farmer's wife, ”You'd hardly believe what I've been tellin' you, would you, Mrs. Haw.”
”No, right enough, I wouldn't, Mr. Bendelow, but I wonder if you've managed to do that waistcoat for me husband. You said...”
”But it all really happened all them years ago, sure as I'm sittin' here. You wouldn't credit the things...”
”I'd like to tek it with me if you've finished it. He wants it for a...”
Mr. Bendelow cackled. ”Ah'm not an old man, n.o.bbut fifty, but the things that went on in them days...I remember...”
”You've had that waistcoat for three months, you know, you promised it for...”
”Oh aye, ah knaw, ah knaw. I've that much on. Don't know where to turn. But come back in a fortnight, love, you shall 'ave it then.”
”But 'e wants it for-”
”Best ah can do, love. Ta-ra.”
Mrs. Haw, empty-handed and doleful, pa.s.sed me on the way out and I put on my best smile as I took her place.
”Now then, young man.” Mr. Bendelow's thin, gypsy-like face did not change expression, but his eyes shot a sidelong glance of sheer hatred at the trousers I carried on my arm.
”Now what's this you've got for me?” he grunted.
”Well, it's these trouser bottoms, Mr. Bendelow. They've got a bit frayed and I thought...”
”Aye, ye thought I'd just mek 'em like new for you. No trouble at all. You'll kill me, you know, you'll kill me. I'm goin' like 'ell with Christmas comin' on. At it night and day-never a minute.”
”Well, it's just the bottoms, Mr. Bendelow....”
”And then there's me bad leg. How long have I had it? Oh, years. I went to Dr. Allinson. He said, 'Have you had this before?' I said, 'Yes.' He said, 'Well you've got it again.' He gave me sixty tablets and when I'd had 'alf I was a lot better and when I'd 'ad the lot I was nearly cured. But the doctor 'ad planned that. 'Mr. Bendelow,' he said, 'when you've had half of these tablets you'll be much better and when you've had the other half you'll think you're cured. But you won't be, you know, you won't be. I know what you are and you won't want to come back to me. But when you've had your sixty tablets I want to see you. On that very day.'
”So I goes back to 'im on the very day he said and he says, 'Now then, Mr. Bendelow, you're here then.' And I said, 'Yes, Doctor, right on the day you said.' 'And you've finished your sixty tablets?' he says. And I says, 'Yes, I've 'ad the lot.' And 'e gives me another 'undred.”
”Well, that's fine, Mr. Bendelow. My wife says if you would just take a look at these frayed bottoms...”
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