The Price of Butcher's Meat (16 page)

T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 0 7

—yes indeed—she said triumphantly—mine!—it was Sir Harrys—my late husbands—Teddys uncle. I gave it to Teddy as a memento—there was nothing in the will—you understand—but I beleive Sir Harry would have wanted it—family meant much to him—& as Teddys circumstances have meant he has had to part with many Denham heirlooms—it is good he should retain at least one item—to remind him of dear Harry—& better days—

Meaning—I interpreted—that Teddy wouldnt dare flog it—cos shed be

asking him the time whenever they met!

Well—I had news for her—Id wondered why the bart took off his Rolex before entering the water—those things are supposed to be still working when theyre dredged up from a ten year old shipwreck. So when I collected the guys trunks—I checked it out—& its definitely a Hong Kong job—20 quid off a sampan—you could bend the expanding “gold” bracelet with two fingers if you took a fancy to! I reckon Ted-on- the-rocks has flogged the original—& invested in a fake—to fool auntie. Could explain how come he could afford a Buell. That

won- it-in-a-lottery story had

sounded pretty feeble!

Good for him!—I thought—& I said to her—yes—I understand—& Im sure someone as attractive—& talented—as Teddy will have little difficulty in fi nding someone his equal in name—& his superior in income—

Nicely put—eh?

She nodded—&

smiled—&

said—Im so pleased we understand each

other—my dear—now I must toil up this path to lunch—

She let go of my arm—& Ess—whod been veiwing our tete- a-tete with great

suspicion—went into ministering angel

mode—leaping forward—

presumably to ensure Lady Ds foot did not dash against a stone.

Her ladyship did not look at her—but gazed on me assessingly. I guessed she wanted to reward me for being a sensible peasant—possibly with an invite to lunch—which I wasnt crazy about—but might just accept—to put Esthers nose out of joint!

Then she said—in a very mea sured extremely condescending tone—Miss Heywood do tell Tom Parker to bring you to my hog roast this Sunday—

Her hog roast—which—according to Mary—the consortium was paying for!

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I resisted the temptation to do a curtsy—& said—that would be lovely—but Im probably going home on Saturday—

I expected her to react sort of amazed anyone could turn down a royal invite—instead she said—yes—of course—your family must miss you—family loyalties are so important. Come if you change your mind—meanwhile—do feel free to stay here as long as you

like—& dont be afraid to come

again—whenever the public beach is full—

There! In my place—or what?

I felt like kicking sand in her face.

Instead I said—very dignified—thank you—so kind—but I really ought to get back to my friends—& off I stalked!

Id gone about a dozen yards when Teddy caught up with me.

—dont take any notice of the old bat—he said—she cant help it—still thinks were living in the dark ages!—

Which might have impressed me with his independence—if he hadnt still been whispering—for fear of being overheard!

I said—better get

back—else you might be sent to bed without any lunch—

He grinned—hes got a great grin—& said—who cares about lunch—so long as the company in beds good? Look—Id like to see you again—soon—

I said—pushing it—is that an invitation to Denham Park then?—or do you need permission to invite someone to your own home?—

He winced—then said—of course not—though I warn you—the plumbings terrible! What Id really like is to give you a ride—on the Beast I mean. You could borrow Ests leathers. The trick is—to get the full experience—not to wear anything at all underneath!—

Who writes this guys scripts?!!

But—like a good thriller—it may be a load of crap—but you cant stop reading it!

I said—Ill think about it—& scrambled over the rocks—back to the main beach—even more crowded now than before. Suddenly the peace & friendli-ness of Kyoto House seemed very attractive.

So off I set to trudge back up the hill.

T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 0 9

But my exciting adventures werent over yet!

However—youll have to wait for the next exciting episode—as I have to go & interview a woman who says that an infusion of whortleberries & a nettle oil massage have taken 20 years off her age.

You see—Im a working girl too!

Much love

Charley xxx

15

FROM:

[email protected]

TO:

[email protected]

SUBJECT: sex on wheels!

Hi again!

Well that was fun! If the berries & nettles have made her 20 years younger—

she must have been nigh on 100 before. Fits under my grasping at straws category. Ready to beleive anything except that youre going to die.

Back to the land of the living. Now where was I . . . ? Oh yes. The foot of the hill.

The road up North Cliff seemed a lot steeper than when Id come down—& showing off to the bart had taken more out of me than I thought.

By the time I reached Witch Cottage I was ready for a rest—so I sat on the little garden wall. There was an ancient motorbike plus sidecar parked outside. Some poor sod hoping to alleviate his saddle soreness by having needles stuck in his bum—I theorized.

I heard the door open behind me—& glanced round to see Yan Lee ushering a man out. He was wearing motorbike leathers—& putting on a

helmet—but the brambly beard was a dead giveaway. It was Gordon Godley—the healer from Willingdene. I remembered Tom saying hed agreed to come over—to check the setup here in Sandytown. Remembered too my sense he knew a lot more about the setup here than hed let on.

& when I saw them exchange a hug & a kiss—not a one cheek peck either—but a full lip job—I thought hello!—not so unworldly after all—bit of pillow talk going on here Id guess—wonder if theres a book on faith healing in that Teach Yourself series!

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When he clocked me sitting on the wall—he stopped dead in his tracks like hed seen a rabid Doberman. Behind him Miss Lee gave me her little Oriental bob—went back

inside—& closed the

door—leaving him & me

standing facing each other—both stock still—like a pair of gunfighters in a spaghetti western—each waiting for the other to make a move. While his bik-ing leathers didnt do for him what they did for the bart—they did have a juvenating effect—& I adjusted my estimate of his age down a few notches—more 45 than 55—

He cracked first & finally started toward me like a man on his way to the gallows!

Funny—not nice having a really off-putting effect on somebody—not even somebody you dont care a toss about! Id have moved off without passing the time of day—but I felt I owed it to Tom to make it clear—in case Mr G

hadnt grasped it on our previous meeting—that I wasnt a permanent blot on the village landscape. Wouldnt want it on my conscience that I was responsible for putting the Sandytonians out of reach of godly Gordons healing hands!

So I said

brightly—hello—Mr Godley. Charlotte Heywood—remember?

(Not that there was much doubt of that—the way he was looking at me!)—On your way to see Mr Parker—are you? Im staying with the family for a couple of days. Its lovely round here—isnt it? (Doing my best to give the place a puff!)—but I wont be sorry not to have to face this hill every day—

Even as I said it—I thought—oh no!—sounds like youre trying to hitch a ride!

Sure enough—what I could see of his face beneath the fungus turned color a couple of times—like you when youre nerving yourself up to go in off the high board!—then he mumbled something about a lift.

My first instinct was to say—no way!—

Then I thought—dont be a prat—youve cut off your nose to spite your face once already by letting Lady Ds patronizing ungraciousness drive you off her empty beach. Its stupid—& bloody difficult!—to cut off your nose again.

So—a moment later—I was sitting in the sidecar—bouncing up the hill!

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I couldnt help but contrast the Godley motorbike experience with what Teddy Denham had promised me on the pillion of the Beast. This was a bit like being dragged behind a tractor—in an old tin bath! At least it meant I didnt have to make small talk.

When we got to Kyoto I hopped out—said thanks—& dashed inside—yelling at Tom as I passed his workroom—Mr Godleys here!—

When I got to my room—I met Minnie coming out. Said shed been looking for me—but I wasnt fooled. I remember when I was her age—I was always looking for a chance to get my sticky little fingers on your gear & makeup! I said I wanted to get out of my wet cozzie—& went in—thinking shed stay outside. But she followed me in—& sat on the bed watching as I toweled down—like she was a judge at a gymnastics floor exercise—so I said—OK

how many points do I get?—& she said—quick as a flash—7 for performance—

8 for interpretation—

Cheeky little cow—but you cant help but like her.

I took the chance to pump her for info about Miss Lee & Lady D—not that it took much pumping!

Seems Miss Lee got Witch Cottage on a long lease from Lady Ds land agent—whose arthritis shed fixed with a couple of judiciously placed pins.

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.

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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

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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!