This was a revelation. After so many rejections, Alf had received a positive response – and within such a short time. It was beyond anything he had dared to hope for. The letter included an invitation to visit the literary agency in London, which happened to be extremely convenient as he was already going down to the capital to see the football match between England and Scotland at Wembley. As Alfred Wight watched Scotland take on the ‘auld enemy’ that day, he had more than just football on his mind.
On its arrival at the David Higham offices, Jean LeRoy had taken the manuscript home, and almost immediately had started to read it. After only one or two chapters, she had realised that she was in the company of an unusually gifted writer. The author’s wonderful descriptions of Yorkshire, his vivid characterisation, the humour and the easy, readable style, had convinced her that she was in possession of something special.
Jean LeRoy was thrilled with what she had read, and walked excitedly into the David Higham offices, waving the manuscript and exclaiming, ‘This is a find!’ As she personally handled newspaper and magazine rights rather than selling to publishers, she passed Alf’s manuscripts to David Bolt. He too was greatly enthused, and felt sure they could be on to a winner. A letter to the unknown author was soon on its way to Yorkshire.
At the meeting in London, where Alf met both Jean LeRoy and David Bolt, he was told that they felt very positive about the book, and had the ideal publishing house in mind.
‘Which one is that?’ Alf asked.
‘Michael Joseph,’ replied David Bolt – the very publisher to whom Joan had suggested Alf should send the first manuscript, over three years previously.
When the manuscript of If Only They Could Talkarrived at the offices of the publishing company of Michael Joseph Ltd in Bloomsbury, centre of London’s publishing world, Mrs Anthea Joseph, deputy chairman and one of the company’s editorial directors, did not read it straightaway. This was not unusual. Manuscripts of all descriptions flowed through the doors of Michael Joseph each day, with the ones sent in by agents meriting more attention than those arriving unsolicited from hopeful members of the general public. Only a fraction of the manuscripts received would achieve publication. Although any manuscript arriving from David Higham Associates – an agency Anthea Joseph rated highly – would be considered carefully, the company had published, in the previous decade, three novels with a veterinary background, and Anthea was not certain there was room for any more in a similar vein. These three books – A Vet’s Life, The Vet Has Nine Livesand Vets In The Belfry –were by an author called Alex Duncan which was, in fact, a pseudonym used by the thriller writer Madeleine Duke, whom the company also published.
Anthea Joseph passed the manuscript of If Only They Could Talkto her part-time secretary, Jennifer Katz, to read. Young people in editorial departments often took manuscripts home to read and report on; it was one way of adding to the notoriously low salaries paid to junior publishing staff. Jennifer took it home for the weekend and, like Jean LeRoy, returned to the office on the Monday morning, waving the manuscript in the air and exclaiming, ‘We mustpublish this book! It is the funniestbook I have read for years!’ Such was her enthusiasm that Anthea Joseph duly packed it into her briefcase, along with four or five other manuscripts she had to read, and took it home.
Anthea Joseph, widow of the company’s founder, was an extremely astute publisher and she could ‘smell’ a good book when she met it – whether the book was literary or commercial. At the following week’s editorial meeting, she consulted with her colleagues: could they publish another book with a veterinary background, starting off a new author from scratch? Dick Douglas-Boyd, sales director at the time, was certain they could.
However, there was one other factor which may have contributed towards the destiny of If Only They Could Talk. Some years later, Anthea Joseph told Alf that it was the words of Clarence Paget, then editorial director of Pan Books, that had helped her make the decision to go ahead and publish this unknown vet from Yorkshire. Clarence and Anthea were long-time publishing friends and would often lunch together to talk about the authors they jointly published, Michael Joseph in the original hardback edition and Pan Books in the subsequent paperback edition. A rising star for both publishing houses at that time was Dick Francis.
Clarence was a publisher held in high regard by Anthea and it is very probable that during a lunch Anthea would have mentioned ‘the vet from Yorkshire’ and her concern whether, following the three Alex Duncan books, there would be room for another with a veterinary background. It appears that Anthea sent Clarence part of the manuscript for his opinion since, according to Alf, he had returned it to her almost immediately, stating very emphatically, ‘You could have a real seller there!’
This story has been viewed with some scepticism by those connected to the publishing world. Anthea Joseph was a very shrewd publisher, and it is highly debatable whether she would have needed the advice of anyone else. Nevertheless, Alf was convinced of the veracity of the story. One thing is certain: Clarence Paget as well as Anthea Joseph would forever occupy a special place in his memory: two more of the many players whom Alf regarded as having tilted fortune his way in that long game of chance on the road to success.
Alf Wight’s fingers went into trembling mode again as he opened another letter from David Bolt at David Higham Associates. This letter, written on 18 June 1969, informed him that his book was definitely going to be published. The contents made sweet reading:
Dear Mr Wight
IF ONLY THEY COULD TALK (J. Walsh)
I’m delighted to say that we’ve had an offer from the very first publisher we tried, the excellent house of Michael Joseph. I had Anthea Joseph, the deputy chairman, on the telephone this morning and after a little discussion settled on the following terms, subject, of course, to your approval.… As you may know, Joseph are particularly good with ‘animal books’ and ought, I think, to do very well with this one.
We settled, didn’t we, on the pseudonym ‘James Herriot’ after you discovered that there is, in fact, a James Walsh in practice?
Receiving this letter was one of the greatest moments of Alf’s life. Having always loved browsing through bookshops from his years as a boy in Glasgow, the thought of seeing his own work on the shelves gave him shivers of excitement.
He was shortly invited to London again, this time to meet Anthea Joseph. He found her a charming woman, and the two of them developed an instant liking for each other. They met for lunch, at which Anthea Joseph told him how much she had enjoyed his book, as well as telling him about other similar authors the firm had published. As David Bolt had said, they had successfully published books with an animal or medical theme: apart from Alex Duncan, there was Paul Gallico, Richard Gordon and Monica Dickens. As she progressed to explaining the contract and how money would be paid as an advance against future royalties, Alf began to like her more and more.
There had been one decision that he had had to make quickly, one to which David Bolt had referred in his letter. Alf could not use his real name – Alfred Wight – as this would have been construed as advertising; the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons were very strict about this in those days. Any form of advertising was regarded as unprofessional conduct and Alf obviously could not afford to be suspended or, possibly, struck off the Veterinary Register. He had had to choose a pseudonym.