Part 17 (1/2)
Chapter 26.
BOUNCER WAS THE ONLY all-round canine games player I had ever met.
”Come on, lad,” cried his master, Arnold Braithwaite, ”let's see Lew Hoad's big serve.”
Eagerly, the dog, a handsome Border collie, stood up on his hind legs, waved his right fore-paw above his head and brought it down in an authentic sweep.
I laughed in delight. ”That's wonderful, Arnie, I didn't know he was a tennis player, too.”
”Oh, aye.” The big man gazed at his pet with intense gratification, then bent over and fondled the s.h.a.ggy head. ”There's nowt 'e can't do in that line. He's like his master-an expert at all sports. And I've been able to teach 'im that serve knowin' Lew Hoad like I do.”
”You've met him, have you?”
”Met 'im? He's an old friend. Me and 'im's big pals. Thinks a lot about me, does Lew.”
I looked at Arnie, feeling the wonderment welling in me as it always did when I was with him. He was a retired builder, or that was how he described himself, but n.o.body could remember him doing much building. A bulky, fit-looking bachelor in his late sixties with a fanatical devotion to all forms of sport. His knowledge was encyclopaedic and he appeared to know everybody. How he managed this was not clear, because he rarely left Darrowby, but there seemed to be few among the world's top sportsmen who were not his friends.
”Now then, lad,” he said, addressing his dog, ”let's have a bit o' cricket.” We went out to the little lawn behind the house. ”You're fieldin' in the slips, right?” He lifted a bat and a soft ball and as Bouncer crouched in antic.i.p.ation he struck the ball swiftly to one side of him. The dog leaped, caught the ball in his mouth and brought it back before taking up his position again. Arnie repeated the action, first to one side, then the other, and every time the dog brought off a clean catch.
”Never drops a catch,” chuckled Arnie with deep satisfaction. He held up the bat. ”That's the bat ah was tellin' you about. Len Hutton borrowed it a time or two for some of 'is big innings. I remember 'is very words. 'A fine bit o' wood, Arnie,' 'e said.”
I'd heard that one before. The legendary Len Hutton, later Sir Leonard, was at that time captain of England, holder of the record test match score, a household name throughout the world, and quite simply a G.o.d in cricket-mad Yorks.h.i.+re.
”And these boots.” He held up a pair of well-blanco'd cricket boots. ”Them's the ones Len borrows, too. Borrows 'em a lot. Says they bring im luck.”
”Yes, I remember you saying so, Arnie.”
”Aye, ah've had some times in cricket.” His eyes took on a dreamy look and I knew he was going into one of his sporting reminiscences from the First World War. I had only dropped in in pa.s.sing to clip Bouncer's nails, but I knew that would have to wait.
”Aye, it was when our battalion was playing the gunners out in France. Our bowlin' was getting knocked all over t'place and the score was mountin' fast. The colonel threw me the ball. 'I'll have to call on you, Braithwaite,' he said. 'Things are looking bad.' Well, I did the hat trick straight away.”
”You did?”
”Aye, three wickets, just like that. Then the colonel came over to me. 'I'd better take you off, Braithwaite,' he said. 'That's kept the score down, but we don't want to push it too far the other way.' Well, the same thing happened. Their batsmen started to clout our bowlers for sixes and fours, so the colonel came over to me again. 'I'm sorry, Braithwaite,' he said, 'I'm going to have to call on you once more.' ?
Arnie paused and looked at me seriously. ”Well, I did it again.”
”You mean...another hat trick?”
”That's right.”
”Extraordinary. Quite amazing.” I held up the nail-clippers and clicked them a few times, but Arnie didn't seem to notice.
”Let's do your Tom Finney,” he cried, producing a football and rolling it along the gra.s.s. This was one of Bouncer's party tricks and I'd seen it before, but I still shared the big man's enjoyment as the dog dribbled the ball round the lawn, controlling it between his paws, weaving this way and that. ”Now score a goal!” shouted Arnie, and Bouncer made straight for two miniature posts at the edge of the lawn and knocked the ball between them with his nose.
We both laughed and clapped our hands and the big dog leaped up at us, wagging his tail furiously. It did me good to see Bouncer so sprightly because he was quite elderly, over nine years old.
”He loves that, doesn't he, Arnie,” I said.
”He does, there's nothin' he likes better than a bit of sport. He's never happier than when he's playin' one of his games.” He blew out his cheeks thoughtfully. ”It's a bit since I've seen Tom.”
Tom Finney was then at the peak of his glorious career. English international in three different positions and arguably the greatest English footballer of all time.
”You know him?” I said.
”Oh, I do, I do, we're great pals. Must get together with him soon. Hey, Bouncer.” He waved at his dog again. ”How about a bit o' golf. Let's see your Bobby Locke.”
I held up a hand. ”Some other time, Arnie. I must get this job done.”
”Okay, Jim, I don't want to keep you.” He smiled ruminatively. ”Just thinkin' about golf reminds me of the good times I've had with Bobby.”
”Another friend, eh?”
”Not half!”
As I snipped at Bouncer's nails I wondered if there were any of the world's famous sportsmen Arnie didn't know. At that time Locke was a giant in world golf, but just another chum for all that.
Like most dogs Bouncer wasn't keen on having his nails done and as I grasped each paw he panted apprehensively, mouth wide, tongue lolling, but he was a good-natured animal and he resigned himself to his fate without any growling or snarling.
”These black claws are tricky,” I said. ”You can't see how far the quick comes down like on white claws and I'm having to go very carefully. You'd never forgive me if I got into the painful bit, would you, Bouncer?”
Despite his fear, the big dog lashed his tail briefly at the sound of his name, and as I patted his head at the end of the little operation, he leaped away and cantered around the lawn in relief.
”Come in and have a cup o' tea before ye go, Jim,” Arnie said.
I hesitated. I didn't have time for all this, but I knew he loved to talk and I always found he had interesting things to say. ”Well, thanks, Arnie,” I said, ”but it'll have to be a quickie.”
It was a bachelor's kitchen, functional but comfortless, and when I saw Bouncer following his master around as he put on the kettle and fetched the cups I realised what a blessing his companions.h.i.+p must be. That kitchen would have been even more cold and bare without his s.h.a.ggy presence, and Arnie chatted away to him as he pottered about. But there was no sign of poverty, because Arnie always seemed to have enough money. He sipped appreciatively at the steaming cup. ”There's nowt like a good cup o' tea, is there, Jim?”
”It's very refres.h.i.+ng, Arnie. But you've always loved your tea more than most, haven't you? You must have suffered during the war when you couldn't get it.”
He shook his head vigorously. ”Nay, not me. I 'ad no trouble. One or two Indian rajahs kept sendin' me supplies all the way through.”
”Rajahs, eh?”
”That's right. Durin' the first war ah was stationed in India for a bit and I got well in with a lot o' them rajahs. Nice fellers they were, too. And, by gum, they remembered me when t'second war broke out. I allus had plenty of tea.”
”Well, that's wonderful.” Arnie's army service had taken him to an amazing variety of countries. I'd heard about France, Belgium, Italy, Mesopotamia, Africa, Egypt and now India.
I finished my tea and left to continue my rounds. As I left, Arnie was starting a game of golf with his dog.
Apart from my professional duties I saw quite a bit of Arnie, as he was to be found every night in the same chair at the end of the bar at the Drovers'. I was returning one evening from a calving, during which I had lost a bit of sweat, and dropped in for a thirst quencher. The big man was there in his usual place, Bouncer, as always, under his chair, and I sat down next to him.
”I've had a lovely day at Headingley,” he said. ”Saw some good cricket, too.”
”Lucky you. I wish I'd been there.” I had been listening to the test match on my car radio as I drove round the farms and nouris.h.i.+ng the thought that I might be able to get through to Leeds with Helen on Sat.u.r.day.