The Price of Butcher's Meat (12 page)

How do, Mildred!

Don't recall when I've slept for so long if you don't count being in a coma! Must have needed it 'cos when I woke up this morning I felt more like my old self than any time since I've been here. Went for my physio session with Tony. Said he were pleased and suggested I finish with a massage. I said no thanks, thinking it were one thing doing knee bends with Tony on hand to steady me if I keeled over, quite another to be lying on my face with my bum in the air while he took a running jump at me!

Then this strapping blonde appeared, lovely smile, said her name was Stiggi and she was sure she could help me, wouldn't I change my mind? So I did.

It were grand, nice and relaxing. Too relaxing. Suddenly, lying there facedown with her straddling me back, I realized I were close to embarrassing myself, so when she tried to turn me over, I let on I'd dozed off. She wandered off to do something and I scrambled into my jimjams and dressing gown. Hadn't got dressed so fast since that time thirty-odd years back when I were banging Sergeant Pocklington's missus and I heard his size fifteens coming up the stairs! All I need now is a bit more red meat on my plate and I'll soon be ready to make Cap eat her

Handy little gadget this. Didn't realize I'd left it running when I shoved it in my pocket after Festerwhanger tapped at the door. It's picked up every word him and me said.

Dead sensitive, like me!

Not that hiding it fooled old weasel eyes. I reckon he'd been listening at the door for a couple of minutes afore he knocked. Played it back to be sure and there it was, red meat on my plate. Coincidence? Mebbe. But I'll take more care from now on. Simplest would be to toss the bloody thing into the sea. But, fair do's, it could be the bugger's on to something with this talking to myself thing. Admit it, Dalziel, your bollocks might be back to twitch mode, but you're still
not right in your head, not while you keep having these funny dreams about talking to God!

Mebbe its that postmenstrual traumatic sin thing they go on about these days. Likely there's a lot of it about in a place like this, so no wonder if I've caught a dose.

Any road, if yakking about it helps, nowt wrong with yakking. But I'm definitely not going to spill my guts to yon Yankee wanker!

Jesus, there it goes again. Knock knock knock. Who's there, in the name of Beelzebub? All right, I'm coming. There'd be less traffic living on Scotch Corner roundabout.

Who's a big mouth then? One little twitch when the beautiful Stiggi's straddling your bum and you're making like Don Juan! And it were only a few days back you were thinking that lass would have made a good concentration camp warder! Funny how feeling better changes your view of folk. Reminds me of summat Pete Pascoe once said when I wanted to haul someone into the Factory for questioning. Let's start him off at home, he said. Once you feel like a prisoner, everyone looks like a guard.

Clever clogs were right, as per usual! I don't feel like a prisoner anymore and I can see yon Pet's not a bad-looking woman, specially now I've got her to crack her face.

Time for that shower. What's that, Mildred? Better make it a cold one?

Just for that you're going back in the cistern!

Over and out!

Hi!

Really pleased to hear from you—was getting worried—but not as worried as I would have been if Id known! No—nothing on the news here—small African hospital under mortar fire—no one dead—doesnt hit the headlines. Just as well maybe—for mum & dads sake I mean—saves a lot of brick walls from being banged!

Anyway—I feel real guilty—lounging around here—in what must be the safest healthiest place in the world—boring you with my rustic rollickings! But you say it helps keep you on an even keel knowing theres still places like sleepy little Sandytown in the world—so heres the next exciting episode!

Or rather the next several episodes—each centered on a man—just so you dont get the impression youve got exclusive rights!

First Teddy—the hunk with the handle—literally!—as I have seen—& you will hear!

Weather was so warm today—I thought Id head for the beach—see if it had improved since the famous trip!

Tom was too busy to join me—thank heaven—I wanted to swim not talk—or rather listen! He said this was the day hed fixed for Mr Godley—the healer—to drive over & take a look at the setup in Sandytown—& he hoped Id be back in time to meet him—as he knew how it would help with my study—which Im finally making a bit of progress with. Remembering how Godly Gordon took against me first time we met—I dont anticipate much encouragement there—but of course I said I hoped so too.

Tom also said—rather awkwardly—re the meeting at the Avalon—Charlotte—as it is mainly—nay solely—concerned with the alternative therapists—we—that is Lester Feldenhammer & myself—deemed it unnecessary to invite Lady Denham—so—should you chance into her company—it might be diplomatic not to say anything about it!—

Playing with fire there—Tom—I thought. But I was rather flattered to find myself part of a Sandytown conspiracy—so I said—no bother!—& my reward was that big boyish smile.

The kids were off doing their own thing somewhere—so I didnt have to offer to take them—which was a relief. My dip in the hotel pool had whetted my appetite for a real swim—not paddling around in the shallows—keeping an eye on young Parkers.

So off I went—cozzie on under a wrap—towel over my shoulder.

Only a fifteen minute walk down into the village—might take a bit longer coming back up the hill—I thought—but sufficient is the evil—remember?

Met quite a few people who said hello—more than Im likely to meet in Willingden—being Tom Parkers guest gets you on the social register big time!

The beach was pretty crowded. School hols—lots of families—an ice cream van—a burger stall—deck chairs—all the usual stuff for screwing money out of people. I guessed the Hope & Anchor was doing a pretty good business too. All in all—Sandytown looks like its booming. Good news for the consortium—Tom delighted because the prosperity gets shared around—Lady D because she sees her investment paying out big.

Mary—in her oblique way—has made it quite clear that civic responsibility doesnt figure large in Lady Ds worldview. Profits the thing. With her own family money—plus the Hollis fortune—she could lounge her life away in luxury. But a lots never enough for the rich. She wants even more!

Sorry—boring!

But you can wake up now. Im getting close to the beach—& the hunk!

Like I say—it was crowded—so I wandered along to the farthest extreme of the bay—marked by a rocky outcrop running out into the sea from the foot of North Cliff. You could probably get round the end of this at low tide—but now—
with the tide well up—tho retreating—it created a bit of a barrier—reinforced by a sign on a steel post driven into the rock which warned—NO PUBLIC ACCESS—PRIVATE BEACH.

This was just the kind of thing the HB would have erected! So naturally I went scrambling up there without a moments hesitation!

From the top of the outcrop—I found myself looking down on to another bay—much smaller than Sandytowns—but also a lot emptier. In fact there were only four people there—& I wasnt too surprised to see they were Lady Denham—Teddy & his sister—& Clara Brereton.

The younger ones were wearing swimming costumes—Clara a polka dot bikini—that showed her boobs & bum to advantage—slender she might be—but even malice couldnt call her skinny. Lovely pale skin—dont know what sunblock she uses but its worth every penny to keep that lovely pearly glow—probably bathes in asses milk every morning. Stopped feeling sorry for her—even if she does have to skivvy for Lady D!

Esther was in a black one piece—revealing she was no frump either—though while Claras charms—asses milk apart—look all natural—I guess Ests are the best money could buy.

Meow!

Mind—I had to look at her twice—because—sitting at Lady Ds feet—looking up at the old bat—& listening to her with every sign of interest & pleasure—it was hard to recognize the sourpuss Id encountered the previous day. Once again I was put in mind of the sweaty laughing girl Id seen at the Bengel bar disco.

Her ladyship was—naturally—enthroned in a canvas directors chair—with the others—naturally—occupying rugs on the sand.

Teddy—yes Im getting to the
meat
of my tale—was sprawled alongside Clara—almost but not quite touching—looking up at her with what—even at a distance—I recognized as hot bedroom eyes. She was sitting on her haunches—holding her two yards of shapely leg close to her body—as if scared any relaxation would invite an immediate assault on her pudenda—though whether it was concern for her honor—or awareness of Lady Ds proximity—that kept her virtuous—I couldnt tell.

& Teddy the bart? Im happy to say—he isnt one of those prezzies where the wrapping promises more than the gift. Long—lean—as beautifully brown as Clara is gorgeously white—all of his contours muscle—enough hair on his chest to be interesting but well this side of apish—in short—or indeed at length—a dish.

I was going to beat a retreat—but drinking in Teddys delights—objectively!—kept me there longer than I meant—& suddenly Lady Ds beady eyes clocked me.

Theres someone there—she boomed—damn cheek!

They all looked—then Teddy rose to his feet—one movement—like a panther—except they dont stand on the hind legs—do they?—but you know what I mean! He cried out—its Charley!—hey Charley—come on down here & join us!—

Might have made an excuse & left—but I saw Sister Esthers face congeal from dimpling attentiveness to pack-ice mode—& that did it!

—Hi—I said—scrambling down—didnt mean to intrude—but the beach back there is absolutely packed—

Bit of an exaggeration—but without thinking Id pushed the right button for Lady D—to whom bodies on the beach ultimately translates into boodle in the bank—& she said—never mention it—my dear—any friend of Toms is always welcome here—

Clara smiled up at me—while Esther gave me a twitch of a nod—then—unfreezing her face—turned back to Lady D & said—now auntie—you mustnt lose your thread—not when you were telling me the fascinating story of your plans for the estate—

I was trying to work out how to sit close to Teddy—without drawing too much attention to the contrast between my kitchen table legs—& Claras works of art—when he solved the problem by saying—youve obviously come to swim—ready for a dip now?—come on!—

He grabbed my hand & started leading me down the beach.

I said—what about Clara?—& he said—oh shes all right—needs to stick close in case auntie needs her back scratched—or something fetched from the hall—

I glanced back—& up. The cliff rose steep & bare for about 80 feet—with a zigzag path marked by a guardrail—& then for the next 40 or 50 feet the incline became easier—with lots of greenery now—till presumably it flattened into the grounds of the hall. Quite a trip to send someone to fetch the hankie youd forgotten! Dont expect that would worry Lady D though—& to give her her due—it was quite a climb—up & down—for someone her age. Must be fit as a butchers dog—as the HB likes to say!

I said—must be nice to have your own private beach—

He said—strictly speaking its not aunties at all. Anything between the high tide & low tide marks belongs to the Crown—& the spring tides here reach several feet up the cliff—but it would take a bold trespasser to argue the point!—

I couldnt argue with this. We soon reached the edge of the water—where he paused—staring out to sea—& said something I didnt catch.

—sorry?—I said.

He spoke again—more clearly—but I still couldnt make any sense of it.

Seeing this he smiled—rather patronizingly I thought—& repeated the sounds.

—thalatta thalatta—he declaimed (thats how its spelt—I checked it out on the Net)—the sea—the sea—

—no argument there—I said—its the sea—sure enough—

—its Greek—he said—tho I hadnt asked—its what the Greek army—in retreat from Marathon—all shouted in releif—when they breasted a hill & saw the Aegean—which meant they were home. I know how they felt—my own heart always swells when I glimpse our own dear North Sea—

I suppose he was trying to impress me with his classical learning—& his poetic sensibility—but I just felt he was trying a bit too hard—plus when I checked the word on the Internet—I also got the history—& the plonker didnt even have his facts right! Not Marathon—but some place called Cunaxa—& not the Aegean—but the Black Sea!

I said—OK—now weve established what it is—are we going to swim in it?—

He said—of course—& then—youre not going to believe this—he pushed his trunks down—& stepped out of them—so there I was—standing alongside
this guy wearing nothing but his big nobbly Rolex—thats his watch I mean!—with his trio of womenfolk not thirty yards away.

I said—for Godsake!—

He said—dont be shocked—I always skinny-dip—

I said—Ive got 4 bros—plus I grew up on a farm—Im not shocked—but what about Lady D—& the others?—

He laughed & said—oh theyre used to it—auntie pretends to look the other way—but like many old country ladies she likes her meat well hung—& Ive often caught her taking a peek—

—through powerful binoculars you mean?—I said—sneering—quite unjustly!—hed have made a donkey envious!—then waded out till the water was deep enough to dive into.

He took his watch off—dropped it on his trunks—followed me in—came up alongside me—& stayed there—doing a pretty fair crawl—smiling at me from time to time—as if to say—dont worry—I wont sprint away & leave you—so youre quite safe—

Well—you know me—not the fastest thing on fins—but can keep going forever.

There was a buoy about 1/4 mile offshore. I fixed my eyes on it—& got into my rhythm. He stuck with me for a while—then dropped behind—& when I reached the buoy it was 3 or 4 minutes before he joined me. He tried a smile—but I could see he was knackered—& I started to feel guilty. Just cos he had a lousy chat-up line didnt mean he deserved to drown! & dragging that thing along beneath him must have been like a plane trying to take off with its flaps down!

We clung on to the buoy for a few minutes—then I said—ready for home?

He nodded—& I set off back—breaststroke this time—a lot slower—& it gave me room to keep an eye on him.

By the time we reached the shallows—he was so whacked—a little wave knocked him over when he tried to stand up.

Big-test time now—would he turn nasty—or could he take it?

He collapsed on the sand. Wed come ashore about 30 feet from where wed left our gear.

He gasped—do me a favor—Charley—fetch my trunks will you?—Id like to be buried decent—but not at sea—please!—

So that was OK. Dont mind a prat—so long as he can laugh at himself.

I fetched his watch & his trunks—he made himself decent—then we sat on the sand together—warming ourselves in the sun—till he got his breath back.

I said—do you ski as well as you swim?—

He said—better—youll be glad to hear—but I usually keep my clothes on. Why?—

I said—I was out in Switzerland before Christmas—near Davos—bunch of my mates from uni—thought I saw your sister there—at a dance—but could be wrong. Kind of place us poor students party at—not really her thing—I shouldnt think—

He pulled a face & said—might well have been—Aunt Daph had a rush of blood to the head—took me & Ess on a skiing holiday last Christmas—near Davos—

That was generous of her—I said—where were you staying?—Morasinis?—The Fluela?—

—O no—he laughed—dear aunties not that generous!—we had a chalet—but in fairness it was very comfortably appointed—

—so why would Esther be moving & grooving with the plebs?—I pressed.

—why not?—he said in the casual tone the upper classes use to disguise an evasion.—Could be there was a ski instructor she fancied—holiday romance—no strings—no harm—but wouldnt do for auntie—

I almost asked—whats it to do with her?—but I didnt need to—being such a clever observer of human behavior! She who pays the piper calls the tune—right? Lady D definitely would not care for the prospect of any of her money—now or later—finding its way into the pocket of a penniless foreigner. So if her beloved neice wanted to stay in her good books & her will—shed better pick her young men v carefully. The HB feels much the same—so the way youre going—Ill probably be getting your share!

I was also recalling that—according to George—Emil was a student—not a ski instructor. Teddy—I thought—either youre lying—or Ess lied to you—

I said—so Esther went slumming with us plebs—& Lady D never found out—

He said—happily auntie had her own
affairs
to divert her—