The Price of Butcher's Meat (14 page)

BOOK: The Price of Butcher's Meat
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Cant win em all! But I was the one who spotted Mrs Inlake from the post office was having it off with the oil tanker man—before anyone else!

So whats your next move—inspector?—you ask.

Who knows? I may be obliged to seduce Smoothie Sid to find out whats going on…

The things we psychologists do for our art.

You take care. Seriously. & for heavens sake—when your contracts up next month—come home! I know you—cos—except in the area of blood guts & bedpans—were so alike—& just as Im finding myself ingested by Sandytown—& starting to doubt if Ill ever be able to leave—so with you & your bomb-blasted mine-strewn disease-ridden chunk of Africa.

Difference is—nobodys trying to kill people in Sandytown!

Much love

Charley xxxx

PS When I rang home last night I got George—so I asked him if he remembered Ess & Em from our ski trip. When he stopped laughing at his memory of the joke—he really should get out more!—he said yes he remembered Emil very well—in fact—gobsmacking coincidence!—hed seen him only a couple of days ago—here in Yorkshire! G was driving up to Newcastle to see some footie match—stopped for petrol near Scotch Corner & there
ahead of him in the pay queue was Emil—unmistakable—same long blond hair & tash. G tapped him on the shoulder—when he got over his surprise at seeing G—they chatted for a while. Em said he was here on holiday—touring—& G scribbled down his name & address & said—why dont you call in at Willingden to see me? Then it was Ems turn to pay—& by the time G had paid—to his surprise Em was already getting into his car—& driving off. G thinks there was someone with him but didnt get a proper look. G was a bit hurt—you know what hes like—thinks everyones as friendly as he is—but what I think is this—suppose Ess & Em are still an item—& hes come over to see her—but she wants to keep Big Bum sweet—so theyre still meeting on the quiet? Being seen by G not much of a risk—but not one Em cares to take.

Thats my theory anyway. OK—there she goes again—I hear you say—making up her fairy tales! But trust me—Im a psychiatrist! Love C x

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Viva Las Vegas!

Hi!

Yet another one hot off the press. When you lead an eventful life like mine—theres hardly time to breathe.

I slept on the barts invite—coincidentally having an embarrassingly raunchy dream (details on application in plain brown envelope!)—which had nothing at all to do with my decision to amaze everyone by getting up early—& asking Tom if I could borrow the car.

—to explore—I said.

—good idea—he enthused—tho you will be back for the Avalon lunch do?—

It had gone right out of my mind!

I said—look—Im sorry—of course youll need the car to get to your meeting—

& he said—no problem—Ill bike along the top road—it will do me good. After lunch—you can drive me back—so that I dont have to do myself any more good!—

He really is a lovely man.

I didnt mention Denham Park—cos I dont think Mary would have approved. In any case—I thought—I might change my mind.

Young Minnie volunteered to be my expedition guide—naturally!—but I wasnt having that. Still didnt know if my intentions were honorable—or what—but I certainly didnt want my options closed down by having Min by my side—taking notes!

She looked ready to argue her case—but Mary soon shut her up—& I
promised her Id take her for another swim at the manor before Uncle Sid goes home! Self-interest—or what!

En route to Denham Park, it occurred to me—I was being a bit arrogant thinking Teddy was going to sit around all day on the off chance I showed. Thought of not finding him home didnt bother me too much—but I didnt like the idea of being told Id been stood up by his frozen faced sister! So when I reached the Hollis's Ham site—I turned in to check if the old RR—or the Sexy Beast—was in the car park.

Didnt get far—there was a barrier across the entrance & a little hut—presumably for the gatekeeper—but no one in it. So I got out of the car—ducked under the barrier—& began to walk toward this line of vehicles I could see parked in front of the nearest building. Id only gone a few yards when a voice called out—hoy!—you!—stop right there!—& dont bloody move!—

I looked round to see this heavyweight guy coming out from behind a clump of gorse bushes—& heading toward me at a lumbering trot. His hands were fiddling with his fly—& I thought—oh God—Ive hit upon the mad rapist of Sandytown—better run for it girl!

Then it dawned on me he wasnt pulling his zip down—but up! Must have been having a pee. He still looked pretty menacing—but us psychologists have got all kinds of special stratagems for defusing menace.

I stared at him—& said—very Lady Bracknell—what kind of dog is it?—

—eh?—he said.

—this dog youre shouting at—what kind is it?—I said.

OK—this wasnt one of the special stratagems I learned—this was just me being pissed off at being yelled at like I was a criminal!

He caught on I was taking the piss—wasnt amused—but at least he was no longer Mad Rapist—more heavy duty Security Guard—as he said—oh yes—youll know all about the dogs—remember them from your last visit—do you?—

It struck me now where Id seen him before—hed been the guy up the ladder cleaning the sign the day of my arrival—the one Tom had greeted out of the window.

I said—its Ollie—isnt it? Perhaps you can tell me—Ollie—if Teddy Denham is on the site—

That stopped him in his tracks. As Freud says—getting them by the name is almost as good as getting them by the balls. He looked from me to the car on the far side of the barrier—then suddenly he turned from Security Guard to Mr Smilie—like the Good Witch of the North had waved her wand.

He said—you must be Miss Heywood—right?—her whos staying with Tom Parker—Miss Lee told me about thee—Im Ollie Hollis—would you like a cup of tea?—

It was recognizing Toms car that did it—of course. In Sandytown—if youre a chum of Toms—you have to be OK.

Two minutes later I was sitting in Ollies hut—drinking tea.

He was full of apology. Seems theyd had trouble with animal rights protesters—so anyone seen on the site without permission gets short shrift. The main attack—Ollie explained—had happened a couple of years back—lots of damage done—pigs turned loose—lot of them never showed up again—& half the folk in this neck of the wood were eating pork till Christmas—he added with a big grin.

—so youre head of security?—I asked.

—I wish!—he said—could do with the salary!—No—Im just the gatekeeper—

—sorry—I said—I thought—being called Hollis yourself—youd likely be one of the family—

—oh aye—he said—Im a genuine Hollis—theres a few on us about—but Hog—he were my cousin—were tonly one as ever made it rich—& he werent the kind to spread it around! But shouldnt speak ill of the dead—& he always said as thered be a job for me—& he kept his word. Used to work with the pigs—but that didnt help my asthma—so Hog fixed me up here—but not security—just gatekeeper. Since them extremists started targeting us theres been a proper security guard with a couple of big German shepherds comes on at night—

Hence the confusion about dogs. The protesters had come back the night before I arrived in Sandytown—put a ladder up at the main gate—sprayed the sign—then climbed over.

—thats when they found out about the dogs—said Ollie gleefully—we got it
on the security tape—you shouldve seen em run!—One on em made it OK—but one of the dogs got hold of tothers leg afore she managed to get over—

—she?—I said.

—Ay—they were wearing balaclavas—but you could tell the buggers were lasses (an interesting concept—I thought)—by the way they ran—its the broad hips tha knows—thats what made me suspicious of you—

Ignoring the slander on my hips—I asked if theyd been caught. He said there was a car waiting for them—you could just glimpse it on the tape—& the unbitten one helped the bitten one into it—& it took off fast.

—Jug Whitby—thats Sergeant Whitby—our local cop—he said—is on the case—so I doubt well hear much more about it—

Self-interest made me ask about his connection with Miss Lee.

As Id guessed—its his asthma. Ollie was resigned to having to make do with the usual range of palliatives for the recurring attacks—until—at Toms suggestion—he consulted Miss Lee—whod needled his troubles away! Suspect hes her star patient—so natch shed mentioned my wish to chat about how people reacted to treatment.

I told him Id been looking for Teddy—& he said he hadnt been in today—& I said—sort of fishing—it didnt surprise me—Ted didnt give the impression of being a dedicated pig man—which made him laugh. But he did say Ted does show up quite a lot—even if his main concern—not unnaturally—is to keep the pong down!

Ollie said he hardly noticed the smell now—though hed much rather the beasts were roaming loose like when he was a lad—instead of being penned inside—never seeing light of day. Says Hog Hollis would have been happy to be a trad farmer if the government—the EU—& the supermarkets—hadnt forced him to become a millionaire!

I asked if Hog had really been et by his own pigs.

—oh yes—he said cheerfully—made a lot of folk smile that—specially when they were having their breakfast bacon—sort of poetic—bit like “On Ilkla Moor Baht'at”—

—so what happened?—I asked.

—dont rightly know—must have been working late—went to check some
thing in one of the units—had a stroke—or summat—collapsed in a feeding trough—owt in theres grub for the porkers—& theyre used to getting some pretty funny stuff to eat I tell you—so by time he were found next day—he were well chewed over—

I finished my tea—& said Id best be on my way to Denham Park.

He said—this were Denham land once tha knows. Makes no odds—farmer or squire—once you start selling rather than buying land—thats the beginning of the end. But no need to tell you that—being a Heywood!—

The government could save millions on electronic surveillance—if they just scattered a few hundred Yorkshire tykes around the world!

I sniffed & said—the Denhams must have been desperate to part with land so that Hog Hollis could build a pig farm on their doorstep—

—nay—he said grinning—werent exactly like that. Story is—way back when Daph Brereton were still Daph Brereton—big mucker of Sir Harry Denham—him being master of the hunt & her being such a keen rider—she made him an offer for this bit of land—letting on she were hoping to get planning permission for building houses on it. Now Sir Harry had tried to get permission himself—always strapped for cash the Denhams—& been turned down—so he reckoned this were just some daft female notion—& if she had spare cash to give away he might as well take it—so he let her have the land—at top agricultural price—even though it werent good for owt but a bit of rough grazing—& thought hed done a smart deal. Next thing he hears is that Daph & Hog has wed—& Hogs planning to expand his pig farm onto his wifes bit of land!—

—but wouldnt they need planning permission for that?—I asked.

—no problem—agricultural development—plus more pigs meant more jobs—& a bigger site meant more council tax—said Ollie—also Hog were well in with the planning chairman. So no bugger paid much attention when Sir Harry objected. Word is—he were threatening to take a horsewhip to Mrs Hollis next time she showed up at the hunt—

—instead—eventually he married her—I said—was that just to get her in whipping distance?—

—nay—thats another story altogether—he grinned—inviting me to prompt
him for details. But time was moving on & Id had enough of talking about Lady D for one morning. More I heard about her—the less I liked her!

So I said I had to go but Id like to talk to him sometime about his experience of Miss Lees “cure”—& he said—Ill likely see you at the hog roast?—

I said—doubt it—though Ive been invited—sort of. You too?—

—Im in charge of the roast—he said proudly.

—gosh—I said—sounding impressed—cos he clearly reckoned it was an important job—so what will you do—stick it on a spit & turn a handle?—

—bit more to it than that—he said—Hog started it—after he made his pile & bought the hall & became Lord of the Hundred. Big annual event in the town—& I think it amused Hog to call it a hog roast. Tried a spit at first—but that were hard work with a full size porker. So Hog got his brother Hen to build a proper bit of machinery. Always good with his hands was Hen—not so good with figures & poultry—but. Any road—I used to help Hen with the hog roast gear right up to when Hog died. After that the annual roast died too—& I were real surprised when I heard there was going to be another—& real chuffed when I got asked if Id check the equipment out & take charge—

—I thought Hen was the expert?—

—oh shed not ask Hen—he laughed—theyve not exchanged 2 civil words since he challenged Hogs will—any road—Ive been odd jobbing around the hall for years—so I were on the spot—so to speak—

I said I looked forward to seeing him there—& took off to Denham Park.

Again—as on my first sighting—I was impressed by the magnificent situation of the house—perched high on its hill—grounds sweeping away eastward to the sea—& westward to the pig farm!

Up close it turned out to be even bigger than it looked on the horizon—but like an old movie star up close—the cracks showed. Past simple TLC—Id say—needs a complete makeover. Poor Teddy—cant sell it—& if he doesnt do something quick—I doubt if hell even be able to live in it!

Then I forgot all about him as I reached the front of the house.

The ancient RR was there—with alongside it a bright red Maserati coupe!

Sidney Parker was here!

Damn! I thought. Not that the prospect of seeing Sid again wasnt pleasant. But mightnt it give the wrong impression if he saw me dropping in on the hunky bart?—the wrong impression being we had something going.

In other words—yeah—I wanted to see them both—but not at the same time!

Thats the trouble with being a highly trained psychologist—youre always playing chess with other peoples thoughts!

I debated whether it might be best if I just headed off out of here. Then I heard this throaty roar behind me—& when I turned & saw Teddys mobike—the Beast—heading up the drive—I thought Id got it wrong—& it must be Ess that Sid was visiting—which made me think—damn!—again.

Hard to please—aint I?!

However when the Beast halted alongside me—& the black leathered figure removed the silvery helmet—I saw it wasnt Ted—but Esther!

I found myself wondering if this was the spare set of leathers Ted had promised to loan me—& was the Ice Queen wearing anything underneath them?!

She said—Miss Heywood—this is a surprise—are you expected?—

Making it sound as likely as the Second Coming.

I said—Teddy did say drop in—but I see hes got company—

—yes—so it appears—she said—glancing at the Maz. Id have put money on her next move being to imply that—in the circs—a well brought up person would make an excuse—& be on her way. But she surprised me by smiling suddenly—not a five hundred watt freindly smile—& with no resemblance at all to the incandescence I remembered lighting up her face when she was dirty dancing with her Emil—but definitely a smile.

Sliding elegantly off the bike—she said—but you must come in now youre here—Im sure theyd both be delighted to see you—

Sudden rush of noblesse oblige to the head—or what?

Why not? I thought—could be fun to see smooth Sid alongside the hunky bart—so I could compare & contrast—& allocate points on the old Heywood girls scale—remember? Out of 10 for Wealth, Wheels & Social Skills & out of 20 for Sex Appeal!

BOOK: The Price of Butcher's Meat
12.13Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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