legs jammed under the broken timbers - ws with their leaded panes, at
the smooth, freshly-pointed stones. of the partition.
opened the door to me. She was Miss Tremayne's cook-housekeeper, "I
think she's sulking, Mr Daggett," I said.
"She's had a few goes at rising and of my favourite people. Aged about
fifty, no more than five feet high now she's decided not to try any
more. Some cows are like that."
~und as a ball with short bandy legs sticking out from beneath a tight
"Maybe you're right," the farmer replied.
"She's all us been a stupid bitch."
sAnd she's a big one, too. She'll take a bit of moving." I lifted a
rope from the ~orning, Elsie," I said, and she burst into a peal of
laughter. Thi ~byre wall and tied it round the hocks.
"I'll push the feet from the other side - ~'>er remarkable physical
appearance, was what delighted me. Sb ~while you and Ned pull the legs
round."
t:1 l : : v . ~ "Pull?" Mr Daggett.gave the little man a sour look.
"He couldn't pull the skin off a rice puddin'."
Ned said nothing, just gazed dully to his front, arms hanging limp. He
looked as though he didn't care, wasn't even there with us. His mind
was certainly elsewhere if his thoughts were mirrored in his eyes
vacant, unheeding, but as al ways, expectant.
I went behind the partition and thrust steadily at the feet while the
men pulled. At least Mr Daggett pulled, mouth open, gasping with
effort, while Ned leaned languidly on the rope.
Inch by inch the big animal came round till she was Iying almost in the
middle of the stall, but as I was about to call a halt the rope broke
and Mr Daggett flew backwards on to the hard cobbles. Ned of course
did not fall down because he hand's been trying, and his employer,
stretched flat, glared up at him with frustrated rage.
"Ye little bugger, ye let me do that all by myself! Ah don't know why
ah bother with you, you're bloody useless."
At that moment the cow, as I had expected, rose to her feet, and the
farmer gesticulated at the little man.
"Well, go on, clang ye, get some straw and rub her legs! They'll be
numb."
Meekly Ned twisted some straw into a wisp and began to do a bit of
massage.
Mr Daggett got up stiffly, felt gingerly along his back then walked up
beside the cow to make sure the chain hadn't tightened round her neck.
He was on his way back when the big animal swung round suddenly and
brought her cloven hoof down solidly on the farmer's toe.
If he had been wearing heavy boots it wouldn't have been so bad, but
his feet were encased in ancient cracked welling tons which offered no
protection.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" yelled Mr Daggett, beating on the hairy back with his
fists.
"Gerroff, ye awd bitch!" He heaved, pushed and writhed but the ten
hundredweight of beef ground down inexorably.
The farmer was only released when the cow slid off his foot, and I know
from experience that that sliding is the worst part.
Mr Daggett hopped around on one leg, nursing the bruised extremity in
his hands.
"Bloody 'ell," he moaned.
"Oh, bloody 'elf.
Just then I happened to glance towards Ned and was amazed to see the
apathetic little face crinkle suddenly into a wid& grin of unholy glee.
I couldn't recall him even smiling before, and my astonishment must
have shown in my face because his boss whipped round suddenly and
stared at him. As if by magic the sad mask slipped back into place and
he went on with his rubbing.
Mr Daggett hobbled out to the car with me and as I was about to leave
he nudged me.
"Look at 'im," he whispered.
Ned, milk pail in hand, was bustling along the byre with unwonted
energy.
His employer gave a bitter smile.
"It's ttonly time 'e ever hurries. Can't wait to get out t'pub."
"Oh well, you say he doesn't get drunk. There can't be any harm in
it."
The deep sunk eyes held me.
"Don't you believe it. He'll come to a bad end ' -' ~bout the way 'e
does."
~he odd ~lass of beer . . ."
/ tIl~ v~ ~ ~ here's more than that to it." He glanced around him.
"Thercs I incredulously.
"Oh come now, Mr Daggett, what women?"
t'pub," he muttered.
"Them Bradley lasses."
dlord's daughters? Oh really, I can't believe . . ."
~.
"All right, ye can say what ye like. He's got 'is eye on 'em. Ah knew
ah've only been in that pub once but ah've seen for me self."
I didn't know what to say, but ih any case I had no opportunity because
he turned and strode into the house.
Alone in the cold darkness I looked at the gaunt silhouette of the old
farmhouse above me. In the dying light of the November day the rain
streamed down the rough stones and the wind caught at the thin tendril
of smoke from the chimney hurling it in ragged streamers across the
slate blue pallor of the western sky.
The fell hung over every thing, a black featureless bulk, oppressive
and menacing.
Through the kitchen window I could see the oil lamp casting its dim
light over the bare table, the cheerless hearth with its tiny flicker
of fire. In the shadows at the far end the steps rose intoNed loft and
I could imagine the little figure clambering up to get changed and
escape to Bris ton.
Across the valley the single street of the village was a broken grey
thread in the gloom but in the cottage windows the lamps winked
faintly. These were Ned Finch's bright lights and I could understand
how he felt. After Scar Farm Bris ton would be like Monte Carlo.
The image stayed in my mind so vividly that after two more calls that
evening I decided to go a few miles out of my way as I returned
homeward. I cut across the Dale and it was about half past eight when
I drove into Bris ton. It was difficult to find the Hulton Arms
because there was no lighted entrance, no attempt to advertise its
presence, but I persevered because I had to find out what was behind Mr
Daggett's tale of debauchery.
I located it at last. Just like the door of an ordinary house with a
faded wooden sign hanging above it. Inside, the usual domino game was
in progress, a few farmers sat chatting quietly. The Misses Bradley,
plain but pleasant-faced women in their forties, sat on either side of
the fire, and sure enough there was Ned with a half pint glass in front
of him.
I sat down by his side.
"Hello, Ned."
"Now then, Mr Herriot," he murmured absently, glancing at me with his
st range expectant eyes.
One of the Bradley ladies put down her knitting and came over.
"Pint of bitter, please," I said.
"What will you have, Ned?"
"Nay, thank ye, Mr Herriot. This'll do for me. It's me second and
ah'm not a big drinker, the knows."
Miss Bradley laughed.
"Yes, he nob but has 'is two glasses a night, but he enjoys them, don't
you, Ned?"
"That's right, ah do." He looked up at her and she smiled kindly down
at him before going for my beer.
He took a sip at his glass.
"Ah really come for "'company, Mr Herriot."
"Yes, of course," I said. I knew what he meant. He probably sat on
his own most of the time, but around him was warmth and comfort and
friendliness. A great log sent flames crackling up to the wide
chimney, there was electric light and shining mirrors with whisky
slogans painted on their surface. It wasn't anything like Scar Farm.
The little man said very little. He spun out his drink for another
hour, loo king around him as the dominoes clicked and I lowered another
contemplative pint.
The Misses Bradley knitted and brewed tea in a big black kettle over
the fire and when they had to get up to serve their customers they
occasionally patted Ned playfully on the cheek as they passed.
By the time he tipped down the last drop and rose to go it was a
quarter to ten and he still had to cycle across to the other side of
the Dale. Another late night for Ned.
ol4 ver zn a OpTTI It was a Tuesday lunchtime in early spring. Helen
al ways cooked steak and kidney pie on Tuesdays and I used to think
about it all morning on my rounds.
My thoughts that morning had been particularly evocative because
lambing had started and I had spent most of the time in my shirt
sleeves in the biting wind as my hunger grew and grew.
Helen cut into her blissful creation and began to scoop the fragrant
contents on to my plate.
"I met Miss Tremayne in the market place this morning, Jim."
"Oh yes?" I was almost drooling as my wife stopped shovelling out the
pie, sliced open some jacket potatoes and dropped pats of farm butter
on to the steaming surfaces.
"Yes, she wants you to go out there this afternoon and put some canker
drops in Wilberforce's ears if you have time."
"Oh I have time for that," I said. Wilberforce was Miss Tremayne's
ancient tabby cat and it was just the kind of job I wanted after my
I was raising a luscious forkful when Helen spoke again.
"Oh and she had an interesting item of news."
"Really?" But I had begun to chew and my thoughts were distant.
"It's about the little woman who works for her Elsie. You know her?"
I nodded and took another mouthful.
"Of course, of course."
"Well it's quite unexpected, I suppose, but Elsie's get ting
married."
I choked on my pie.
"What!"
"It's true. And maybe you know the bridegroom."
"Tell me."
"He works on one of the neighbouring farms. His name is Ned Finch."
This time my breath was cut off completely and Helen had to beat me on
the back as I spluttered and retched. It wasn't until an occluding
morsel of potato skin had shot down my nose that I was able to utter a
weak croak.
"Ned Finch?"
"That's what she said."
I finished my lunch in a dream, but by the end of it I had accepted the
extraordinary fact. Helen and Miss Tremayne were two sensible people
there couldn't be any mistake. And yet . . . even as I drew up
outside the old Manor House a f~ _ Elsie op "What's She star I put m
The gig holding the' , cling ot~ unreality perslstea.
ened the door as usual. I looked at her for a moment.
this I hear, Elsie?" ~ ted a giggle which rapidly spread over her
spherical frame.
~ / hand on her shoulder.
"Is it true?"
I ~le developed into a mighty gale of laughter, and if she hadn't been
handle I am sure she would have fallen over.
A ~A, "A ^; n to get wed "Well, I She had~ e,~ r~~ door. Then she led
me to the drawing room.
"In ye go," she chuckled.
"Ahtll bring ye some tea."
Miss Tremayne rose to greet me with parted lips and shining eyes.
"Oh, Mr Herriot, have you heard?"
"Yes, but how . . .?"
"It all started when I asked Mr Daggett for some fresh eggs. He sent
Ned on his bicycle with the eggs and it was like fate."
"Well, how wonderful."
"Yes, and I actually saw it happen. Ned walked in that door with his
basket, sie was clearing the table here and, Mr Herriot." She
clasped her hands right enough, sne gaspcu. ~ll 8vC She leaned
helplessly on the door.
"I', m pleased to hear it, Elsie. I hope you'll be very happy."
n't the strength to sue ak but merely nodded as she lay against the o'~
her chin, smiled ecstatically and her eyes rolled upwards.
"Oh, Mr Herriot, it was love at first sight!"
"Yes . . . yes, indeed. Marvellous!"
"And ever since that day Ned has been calling round and now he comes
every evening and sits with Elsie in the kitchen. Isn't it
romantic!"
"It certainly is. And when did they decide to get married?"
"Oh, he popped the question within a month, and I'm so happy for Elsie
because Ned is such a dear little man, don't you think so?"
"Yes he is." I said.
"He's a very nice chap."
Elsie simpered and tittered her way in with the tea then put her hand
over her face and fled in confusion, and as Miss Tremayne began to pour
I sank into one of the armchairs and lifted Wilberforce on to my lap.
The big cat purred as I instilled a few drops of lotion into his ear.
He had a chronic canker condition not very bad but now and then it
became painful and needed treatment. It was because Miss Tremayne
didn't like put ting the lotion in that I was pressed into service.
As I turned the ear over and genlty massaged the oily liquid into the
depths.
Wilberforce groaned softly with pleasure and rubbed his cheek against
my hand.
He loved this anointing of the tender area beyond his reach and when I
had finished he curled up on my knee.
I leaned back and sipped my tea. At that moment, with my back and
shoulders weary and my hands red and chapped with countless washings on
the open hillsides this seemed to be veterinary practice at its best.
Miss Tremayne continued.
"We shall have a little reception after the wedding and then the happy
couple will take up residence here."
"You mean, in this house?"
"Yes, of course. There's heaps of room in this big old place, and I
be very comfortable. Oh, I'm so excited about it all!"
She refilled my cup.
"Before you go you must let Elsie show you where they are going to
live."
On my way out the little woman took me through to the far end of the
house.
"This, hee-hee-hee," she said, 'is where we'll sit of a night, and this
ha-hahoho, oh dear me, is our bedroom." She staggered around for a
bit, wiped her eyes and turned to me for my opinion.
"It's really lovely, Elsie," I said.
There were bright carpets, chairs with flowered covers and a fine
mahogany-ended bed. It was nothing like the loft.
And as I looked at Elsie I realised the th
ings Ned would see in his
bride. Laughter, warmth, vivacity, and I had no doubt at all beauty
and glamour.
I seemed to get round to most farms that lambing time and in due course
I landed at Mr Daggett's. I delivered a fine pair of twins for him but
it didn't seem to cheer him at all. Lifting the towel from the grass
he handed it to me.
"Well, what did ah tell ye about Ned, eh? Got mixed up wi' a woman
just like ah said." He sniffed disapprovingly.
"All that rakin' and chasin' about ah knew he'd get into mischief at
t'finish."
I walked back over the sunlit fields to the farm and as I passed the
byre door Ned came out pushing a wheelbarrow.
"Good morning, Ned," I said.
He glanced up at me in his vague way.
"How do, Mr Herriot."
There was something different about him and it took me a few moments to
discern what it was; his eyes had lost the expectant look which had
been there for so long, and, after all, that was perfectly natural.
Because it had happened at last for Ned.
Chapter Twenty-two Despite the crowds of men milling around East church
I felt cut off and apart.
It made me think of old Mr Potts from my veterinary days. He must have
felt like that.
"How are you, Mr Herriot?"
Ordinary words, but the eagerness, almost desperation in the old man's
voice made them urgent and meaningful.
I saw him nearly every day. In my unpredictable life it was difficult
to do anything regularly but I did like a stroll by the river before
lunch and so did my beagle, Sam. That was when we met Mr Potts and
Nip, his elderly sheepdog - they seemed to have the same habits as us.
His house backed on to the riverside fields and he spent a lot of time
just walking around with his dog.
Many retired farmers kept a bit of land and a few stock to occupy their
minds and ease the transition from their arduous existence to day-long
leisure, but Mr Potts had bought a little bungalow with a scrap of
garden and it was obvious that time dragged.
Probably his health had dictated this. As he faced me he leaned on his
stick and his bluish cheeks rose and fell with his breathing. He was a
heart case if ever I saw one.
"I'm fine, Mr Potts," I replied.
"And how are things with you?"
"Nob but middlin', lad. Ah soon get short o' wind." He coughed a
couple of times then asked the inevitable question.
"And what have you been coin' this morning'?" that was when his eyes
grew intent and wide. He really wanted to know.
I thought for a moment.
"Well now, let's see I al ways tried to give him a detailed answer
because I knew it meant a lot to him and brought back the life he
missed so much.
"I've done a couple of cleansings, seen a lame bullock, treated two
cows with mastitis and another with milk fever."
He nodded eagerly at every word.
"By gaw!" he exclaimed.
"It's a beggar, that milk fever. When I were a lad, good cows used to
die like flies with it. All us good milkers after their third or
fourth calf. Couldn't get to their feet and we used to dose 'em with
all sorts, but they died, every one of 'em."
"Yes," I said.
"It must have been heartbreaking in those days."
"But then." He smiled delightedly, digging a forefinger into my
chest.
"Then we started blow in' up their udders wi' a bicycle pump, and d'you
know they jumped up and walked away. Like magic it were." His eyes