D&P23 - The Price of Butcher's Meat aka A Cure for all Diseases

by Reginald Hill

  Then the great consortium came into being—& it dawned on Lady D that funny old Witch

  Cottage—with its gingerbready

  appearance & magical

  history—could be a real little money spinner when the tourists started pouring in. So she wanted it back. Only Miss Lee had a tenancy agreement—so—like the Chinese train passenger in that awful non-PC joke the HBs so fond of—she told Lady D—you fuckoffee—me got 1st class ticket!

  Battle was joined—might v right—with Tom Parker trying to mediate. Then suddenly Miss Lee caved in—nobody knew why—big bribe was Mins best guess—& agreed to move out in the autumn—& relocate in new premises Tom had found for her.

  Min had just finished her story & I was nearly dressed—when she heard the sound of an engine—& looking out of the open window she screamed—oh look—its Uncle Sid!—& shot past me through the door.

  I went to the window & looked down.

  T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 1 3

  There was this gorgeous deep red Maserati coupe bombing up the drive.

  Minnie must have moved almost as fast—she came rushing out of the front door as the car came to a halt—& when the driver slid elegantly out of his seat—she flung herself into his arms. He lifted her high into the air & whirled her round. I got the impression as he spun that his gaze took me in—standing in my bra at the open window—so I backed away—& finished dressing. Modest—or what? But even that brief glimpse of him left me with the impression that—unlike hunky Ted the bart—Sidney was not someone to impress by flashing the flesh.

  & why should I want to impress him? The car? OK, maybe. What Id heard about him as a fast track finance wiz? No way! No—I think it was the fact that he looked as immaculate as his car when he got out of it—& he didnt show the least disinclination to being leapt upon & wrapped around by a 9 year old tomboy—who—I seem to recall—can be remarkably unhygienic creatures!

  There you go—another sharp psychological assessment from your wise young sister.

  Also—I admit—he did look quite dishy in a Hugh Grant kind of way.

  I delayed long enough to let him get the family greetings over—then I went to make my entrance.

  I was right. Seriously dishy—also seriously smooth—without being at all oleaginus—(dont know if thats how you spell it but its my favorite word this month!). Bit taller than Tom—same lively expressive face—the Parker soft brown

  eyes—hes one of those guys you know will always do the right thing—I dont mean morally—but like if your pants fell off on the dance floor—he would slip them into his pocket without missing a step! He was wearing a soft cream shirt under a linen suit that bore no signs of Minnies assault—& certainly hadnt come from M&S. On his feet he had soft leather sandals—no socks—& the sexiest toes imaginable! OK—maybe toes dont figure large in your erotic

  fantasies—but take it from

  me—Sids are the

  tops!

  I was introduced with Toms usual hyperbole—which Sidney took in his 1 1 4

  R E G I N A L D H I L L

  stride. Unlike Ted the bart he made no partic u lar effort to impress me—which impressed me!

  Tom of course was pressing him to stay at Kyoto—& Mary backed up the invite—while Minnie was ready to go on her knees to persuade him.

  But Sidney was adamant.

  —Im booked in at the hotel—he said—the honeymoon suite!—No—Mary—I am not married—alas. I thought I might as well see what all those healthy honeymooners will be getting for their money—

  The thought—need any help with your research Sid?—flitted across my mind.

  Then our eyes met—& it was like he could read what I was thinking—& I felt myself blushing.

  We sat on the terrace.

  Tom—inevitably—rhapsodized about the sea

  breezes—the pure air—the clarity that on a good day afforded a view all the way to Holland.

  Sid said—I never quite understand—dear Tom—why you fi nd the prospect of even a distant view of Holland so desirable—

  As he spoke—he gave me a complicitous smile. I tried to feel defensive of Tom—but the bond of affection between them was so obvious that I realized this was only the kind of ribbing that goes on between—say—me & George—or you for that matter!

  Anyway—he drew me into the conversation—effortlessly—made me one of the family—& though Im not a natural lover of smoothies—in a bottle or in the City—I soon found myself joining Minnie as a member of the Sid Parker fan club!

  You must be thinking your little sis is seriously repressed. In Sandytown only 5 days—& already Ive let 3 men—Ted the hunk—Fran the wheelie—& Sid the smoothie—get my juices running!

  Never fear. This is fantasy football. Lousy Liam has put me off forever! Im a career girl pure & simple. Recreational romping only!

  So there we were—sitting & chatting—when I heard this odd noise—like a deer

  barking—& there in the

  doorway stood Godly

  Gordon—the hairy

  healer—coughing to attract attention!

  T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 1 5

  In the excitement of seeing Sidney—Tom had forgotten all about him—& left him in his office! Tom of course was abject with apology—dragged him onto the

  terrace—made him sit

  down—& intro-

  duced him to Sidney in terms that made him sound a cross between Gandalf & Jesus. Smooth Sid was perfectly charming—of course—but I sensed the feeling—this is one bit of my dear bros plans for Sandytowns future that I need to keep out of any prospectus I prepare for my City chums!

  Mr Godley was soon on his feet again—saying he needed to be on his way—& refusing all urgings to stay for lunch. Tom—dead keen to get him involved in the Festival of Healing—reminded him about the meeting at the Avalon.

  —I think youll be really impressed by how open minded Dr Feldenhammer is—he said—this is a great opportunity for those of us who believe in the road less traveled—

  I saw Sidneys eyes glaze over in that expression us Heywoods know so well—the one we all wear when dad says something more than usually extreme in company—& family loyalty makes us keep our faces straight.

  Mr G just looked uncertain & muttered something indeterminate—leaving Tom looking a bit downcast—but far too polite to press. I dont like seeing Tom disappointed—so when Sid said he couldnt stay for lunch either & we all went outside together—I went up to Mr G as he got on his bike—& said—I dont think I thanked you properly for the lift—it was great—I really didnt feel up to climbing the hill!—

  He looked embarrassed—of course—but I think he was pleased—so I pressed on—saying—why dont you come to the meeting at the clinic?—no harm in looking the place over—is there? Usually costs a fortune to get in a place like that—be fun to see what they make of someone who wants to heal their patients without charging a penny!

  He looked straight at me—a bit puzzled—like fun was a foreign word.

  Then he said—youll be there?—

  Clearly he was worried in case I was going to be sitting in a corner—making skeptical noises—& notes for my thesis.

  1 1 6

  R E G I N A L D H I L L

  —perhaps for the refreshments afterward—but definitely not at the meeting—I said—patting his gauntleted hand reassuringly.

  Wow! Youd have thought Id zapped him with a cattle prodder!

  He shot up out of his saddle—jerked his hand away from me so sharply he almost left his gauntlet—then said—Ill see—

  & off he went—in a puff of blue smoke—definitely more Gandalf than Jesus!

  Nobody else noticed—they were too busy saying cheerio to Sidney. I went to join them—& help prise Minnie loose from his car door.

  His last words to me were more conventional—but hopeful too.

  —I hope I see you again before you go—Miss Heywood—

/>   I said—me too—& its Charley—

  —& why not?—he said laughing—Bye!—

  Minnie stood by my side—watching the Maz boom off down the drive.

  —Isnt he great?—she said—eyes ashine—if he wasnt my uncle—Id marry him!—

  Then she took my hand—& said—he liked you Charley. You could marry him & settle down in London—I could come & stay with you—all summer—& at Christmas!—

  I said—is that all?—what dull Easters wed have—

  She dug her nails into my palm—but not too hard—& said—but you do like him—dont you?—

  —I like his car—I said.

  This time her nails hurt—& I grabbed hold of her—& we had a

  wrestle—ending up rolling on the lawn—with Tom beaming down at us in delight—& Mary smiling too.

  But Marys gaze kept straying to the end of the drive—& the road to the hotel—& with this wonderful power of mind reading I seem to be developing (perhaps I caught it from Mr Godley as I sat in the sidecar!)—I guessed she was wondering whether it was some crisis of high finance that had brought Sidney to Sandytown.

  Chatting to her later—I brought up the subject of Sidney—casually! Far too loyal to criticize—& she really likes him—but it soon came out—as Id T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 1 7

  guessed—that shes bothered that Tom relies on his brother so much—

  fi nancially speaking—& she feels theres a lot more under that smooth surface than she understands.

  Bit like Sandytown itself—I think. Dont know why—but Im getting the impression theres a lot more going on beneath its smooth surface than meets the eye!

  OK—youre going to remind me of the time I decided the vicar had killed his wife—& buried her in Les Turpins coffin—cos Les was only seven stone when he died & the bearers staggered as they came into the church. Then the vics wife came back from visiting her sick sister in Beverley—& it turned out one of the bearers had taken badly at the last minute—& they had to get Iggy Earnshaw out of the bar to make up the numbers—& hed drunk seven pints already!

  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 1 1 8

  R E G I N A L D H I L L

  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

  16

  FROM:

  charley@whiffle.com

  TO:

  cassie@natterjack.com

  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 raun-chy 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 1 2 0

  R E G I N A L D H I L L

  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 Ol
lie—isnt it? Perhaps you can tell me—Ollie—if Teddy Denham is on the site—

  T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 2 1

  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 1 2 2