The Price of Butcher's Meat (12 page)

She’s got a real lip on her, Cap.

She’d brought my civvies as promised and it were only by promising
to be a good little patient and do what matron tells me that I stopped
her from taking them back.

When I asked if she had any news from the Factory, she said nothing, except that Pete had told her everything was going fine and nobody
was missing me. He’d asked her about visiting me. I told her no way, not
till I were properly up and about. He’d seen me at the Central while I
were still good for nowt. Next time he saw me, I wanted to be back to
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something like full steam, else he might start feeling sorry for me. I don’t
doubt the vultures are already circling over the Factory and if Pete
comes back from a visit with a long face, they’ll be flapping to land!

Cap said I were daft, I needed my friends. I said I knew what I
needed better than her, and she rolled her eyes and said that what I
clearly needed was another week in bed. And not long after, she took off.

Said she wanted to walk over to the nursing home and see her old headmistress who’s on her last legs it seems.

Her parting line was, “Maybe that’s where I should have put you,
Andy.”

I saw her out. As I made my way back to my room, who should I see
coming out of it but Franny Roote!

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

“Looking for you, of course, Andy,” he said. “A few of your fellow
convies—sorry, convalescents—are interested in Third Thought, and
after I finished with them, I asked Pet where I’d find you.”

“Pet?” I said.

“Nurse Sheldon. I’d have thought you’d have been on fi rst- name
terms by now, Andy.”

“Well, we’re not. And neither are you and me,” I said grimly. “Now
bog off!”

I wasn’t in the mood for chatting with Roote, not the way things had
gone with Cap. Don’t know who it was said that pleasures are always
paid for, but the bugger got it right. My pleasure had been a couple of
pints of ale, one of which I didn’t really enjoy, and here I was, still paying for it.

Which reminds me. I owe yon fellow Parker twenty quid. Well, it
will have to wait. I know its only teatime, but I need my beauty sleep!

11

FROM:

[email protected]

TO:

[email protected]

SUBJECT: titled hunks & legless wonders Hi!

No reply yet to mine of yesterday. Too busy? Doing what?—I ask myself.

Well—Im busy too—but its not going to stop me fi nding time to tell you all about it—which youd better read—therell be a test!

If theres anyone left in Sandytown that I havent met yet—anyone of importance I

mean—they must be living in a cave! Late breakfast this morning—Tom & Mary said I should ignore all sounds of early reveille—their kids like kids everywhere want to sleep forever during term time but are up with the lark in the hols. Minnie—I suspect—must have got a death threat warning to keep her away from my door—but it worked—& I didnt come down till half ten!

Just enjoying a coffee with Mary—Tom I guess was out even earlier than the kids!—when the doorbell rang. Mary went to answer it—& came back with this hunk—in tight black motorcycle leathers—& you know what they can do for a guys figure.

Not that this one wouldnt have looked good in pinstripes.

6' 2''—handsome as

hell—in that old fashioned Hollywood kind of way—before the new 3 day dead look came

in—athletic build—wide

shoulders—narrow hips—lovely bum—not bronze exactly—his face I mean—

dont know about his bum—yet!—but a very even & natural looking light tan!

OK—he clearly thinks hes Gods gift—but like the man said—when you got it—baby—fl aunt it!

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This was Teddy Denham—Sir Edward Denham no less—Lady Ds nephew-in-law—& one of her hopeful heirs! Having heard from Lady D that Tom was back—hed come straight round to say hello—& check on the now famous ankle.

Mary introduced us—& he said Lady D had mentioned me—with a bit of a grin to suggest I might be amused by the terms of the mention—& he shook my hand—with enough warmth to make it personal.

My gaze had been so fixed on him that I hardly noticed his companion—

which was OK—as she made it pretty clear she didnt really think me worth noticing either!

This was his sister—Esther—beautifully turned out—beautiful too if shed give her face a chance. Thought she looked a bit familiar at first glance—but her fi rst—& only—glance at me when introduced made me change my mind.

Reminded me of dads comment about the vicars wife—like shed bent to sniff a flower & found it were growing in a cowpat! If anyone had looked at me like that before I think Id have remembered.

She looked like her idea was to say hello- good-bye!—but he said yes hed love a coffee—& sat down beside me—& soon we were chatting away like wed known each other forever. After ten minutes—Tom turned up. He & Teddy greeted each other like old mates—Esther gave him a condescending cold fi sh nod—which he took like it was a loving hug! Then Teddy asked after Toms ankle & got the full miracle recovery story.

—of course—declared Tom—I benefited from instant & expert first aid from our dear friend Charlotte here (this got me a well arent you the talented one grin from Teddy the bart)—but—Tom went on—I feel I must also give credit for the incredible speed of my recovery to Mr Gordon Godley of Willingdene (he stressed the long e & smiled at me as if to say he was glad of the error that had led to me being here in Sandytown)—the famous healer whom I hope to entice to join our caring community—

As he spoke—he did a little jig to demonstrate his recovery. Esthers face had screwed up like a pigs bum at the mention of healer—& when she saw the jig I thought she might vomit in disgust. Fortunately for the high polished floor-boards her mobile rang at that moment. She looked at the caller display—& her face rearranged itself so quick it might have been computer enhanced.

T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 8 1

—Aunt Daphne!—she trilled—how are you?—

She rose & moved away—not with the usual sorries most of us mutter when the mobile catches us in company—but more like shed have preferred the rest of us to move out of the room & leave her sitting!

But the change of expression revived my first impression—now I was really sure Id seen her before—or her twin! Remember—last December—the skiing in Switzerland near Davos—I gave you a full account about me & louse Liam—unlike the censored stuff youre giving me! Dad did his nut—till I assured him Id be back for Xmas—& it was costing hardly anything—travel by bus—hostel

accommodation—bunk beds in

dorms—which made him

think—wrongly!—naughties would be out of the question. But it was George asking if he could come too that persuaded dad to cough up the readies.

The HB thought George would be a chaperone—I thought hed just be a bit of a drag—but we were both wrong! In the end—like I told you—turned out he was getting as much action as I was!

Anyway—our après-ski consisted of a beer-swilling disco in the Bengel bar—cross between Willingden Village Hall & the Black Hole of Calcutta—

where all the impoverished young stuff went—& thats where Id seen the sourpuss look- alike—but not sourpuss—laughing like a drain—as she did high energy dirty dancing with this skinny blond guy—with hair down to his shoulders—& a soup strainer mustache. His name was Emil—second name Geiger-Counter according to George—but that was just his version of something like Kunzli-Geiger. How G knew him—I think they had a pee together—thats how guys bond—its in all the textbooks!—& next day hed met him on the piste & they had a bit of a race—which G lost. G was clearly impressed that a skinny fellow like Emil should be able to beat him at skiing—&—I suspect—tho he didnt spell this out—should have such a big whang! Must ask G when I ring home. She didnt have a name—just an initial—Ess—& one of my mates—watching the way they danced—christened them Ess & Em—which I had to explain to George—who thought it was the funniest wordplay since madam Im

Adam—remember?—& rewarded my

mate accordingly!

But still couldnt believe dirty dancing Ess & sourpuss Esther could be the same—though I recalled Mary had mentioned Lady D took the young 8 2

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Denhams on a ski holiday last Christmas. Shed stepped into the hallway—

but her voice stayed at that upper-class level that assumes that servants—& others of that ilk—like me & the Parkers—are—or better had be—stone deaf.

So we heard her quite clearly saying—no—not in the least inconvenient—

no—a social call merely—in the circumstances you might call it a sick visit—an irksome duty—but a duty nevertheless—as you of all people will understand—Aunt Daphne. Five minutes—scarcely that—

Tom meanwhile had asked Sir Teddy how work was going—& the bart pulled a face—& said—lets just say I hope Aunt Daph doesnt serve up pork for lunch—again!—

I said—do you have much actual contact with the pigs?—

—indeed—he said ruefully—from first squeak to final freeze pack—I over-see quality control—

This was nepotism—Yorkshire style!—I thought.

Then Mary said—I wish theyd put someone in charge of odor control too—

Teddy smiled sadly—& said—you should try living out at Denham Park Mary—

From the doorway Esther said—Teddy—we have to go—Aunt Daphne has some family matter shed like to discuss with us—

Very peremptory—sweetness soured—light switched off—normal service resumed.

—whats the panic—Ess—said Teddy—glancing at his flashy Rolex—we arent due there for ninety minutes—

There! Hed called her Ess! Short for

Esther—which is one of those

names that really need shortening! It had to be her—tho the resemblance had faded as she was now back in sourpuss mode. But if—as I recall G

saying—Emil was just a poor student—then that would explain why they were meeting in the Bengel bar—where there was no chance of running into Lady D or her chums—who were probably drinking over at Klosters—with Big Ears & his tribe of Noddies.

—so why cant she just talk to us over lunch?—Teddy concluded.

—in front of Clara?—said Esther.

She spoke the name like it was a nasty taste.

—Claras family too—said Ted—winning a Heywood Brownie point.

T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 8 3

—not our family—& besides the legless wonders going to be there too—

I saw Tom & Mary exchange disapproving glances—but neither spoke.

—is he? Whys that?—asked Teddy frowning.

—he seems to amuse her—& he doesnt eat much—look—Im off—you can follow whenever you find the strength to drag yourself away—

She nodded at the Parkers—didnt even glance at me—& spun on her heel—very tall sharp heel it was—she knows how to dress—must run in the family—the bart looked a real dish in his leathers—& I could imagine him peeling them—James Bond-like—to reveal an . . . immaculate dj! (Got you going there!)

Disappointingly—despite his protests—Teddie didnt have much trouble dragging himself away—tho he did gabble a rueful apology before heading after the Ice Queen.

As he left—Tom said to me—come on Charley—time to finish our tour—

When Tom decides something—its instant action!—& we were out of the house in time to see Esther climbing behind the wheel of a Range Rover—

what else?—pretty ancient—but the landed gentry probably regard new RRs like new Barbours—as evidence of arrivisme. Ted—by contrast—was straddling a new looking Buell Lightning—in midnight black—with the words Sexy Beast scrawled across the tank in silver. Narcissism? I wondered. Or a gift from an admirer . . . ?

As they pro cessed at speed down the drive—I said—thought Mary said they were a bit strapped for cash—no wonder if they spend it on 7k mobikes!—

—as much as that?—said Tom—well—he really was lucky then—Ted didnt buy it—won it in a charity lottery—cast your bread upon waters—eh Charlotte?—

Lucky old Ted—I thought. No wonder he thinks the world owes him a living!

Walking down the

hill—I wondered—dead

casual—if there might not

seem to be some confl ict between Toms eco-enthusiasm & the bloody great carbon footprints the Denhams—young & old—seemed bent on planting all over the roads of Sandytown.

—just

so!—cried

Tom—as if delighted by some sharp & helpful 8 4

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aperçu—this is how I see things too. Physician—heal thyself—then pass the cure on! To convert is better than to convict—to persuade than to prescribe.

We all have our complementary roles—mine I see as a gatherer—bringing together the full spectrum of ability. It did not take long—dear Charlotte—to see how useful a talent like yours—to observe & analyze—would be to our little community—

It dawned on me then that in Toms eyes I was—like Gordon Godley—an opportunity not to be missed. The bugger was trying to recruit me!

But hes such a poppet I could only feel flattered!

As we once more approached Witch Cottage—recalling the small incident yesterday—I asked how Miss Lee—the acupuncturist—got on with Lady Denham. Tom—whos clearly into universal love—said—fine—fine. But hes also into transparent honesty—& he

added—there has been a small

contretemps—I believe—regarding the terms of Miss Lees tenancy—but Im confident a mutually satisfactory resolution has been reached—

I said—you mean Lady D owns Witch Cottage?—

—indeed—he said—& much more besides—the Breretons were substantial property own ers in the town—& Hog Hollis—Lady Ds first—rarely missed an opportunity to invest in bricks & mortar—

Id have liked to hear more—but realized I was only going to get a sanitized version of any unpleasantness from Tom—& made a note to bring the matter up with that young mistress of unsanitized versions—Minnie!