The Price of Butcher's Meat (63 page)

But this didn’t feel like one of them, not for me any road.

I said, “Hope you’re right, lad.”

And off he went, doling out yon Third Thought crap like a farmer
with a muck spreader.

Leaving me thinking, There’s a loose end I’d love to tie up afore I
leave here! Mebbe I’ll get him to himself later on at the Festival of
Health opening ceremony and have a real heart- to-heart. One or two
others I’d like a last word with, even if it’s only to say good- bye. They’ll
all be there at Brereton Manor. Some I’ll kiss, some I’ll kick, likely
there’ll be a bit of booze going, I feel up to supping my share this time so
I must be getting better! Then fi rst thing tomorrow morning Cap’s coming to collect me, and it’s good- bye, Sandytown!

One last thing is to clear all my recording from Mildred.

Let’s take a look . . .

Fuck! Bet it’s dead easy, but one thing cunning old Fester never told
me was how to erase stuff. Got to be sure it’s all gone afore I give it him
back. Mebbe I’ll just hang on to it, then take it down to the rugby club
one Saturday night and get the lads down there to record fifty choruses
of “The Indian Maid” over what I’ve said, then post it back to Fester!

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Meanwhile Pet’s coming to pick me up any moment. Don’t want to
risk losing this during the drunken orgies, so I’ll pop it back in the bog
cistern for safety. Young Charley’s a whiz with electronics, I’ll have a
word with her, she’ll likely know how to clear it.

Good-bye, Mildred. I’ve enjoyed it but we can’t keep on meeting like
this.

Good-bye!

3

FROM:

[email protected]

TO:

[email protected]

SUBJECT: definitely the end! or maybe the beginning!!

Cass, I lied! Next time Id be writing from home—I said. Should have remembered—you dont get away from Oz till it lets you go! So still here—George downstairs drinking tea with the Parkers—Min wrapped round his legs!—while Im up here packing—he thinks! Too much to get off my chest to you to think of that. So here goes.

Everyone assembled for the opening ceremony of the Festival of Health—& I mean everyone. Real buzz in the air—funny that—death hasnt depressed Sandytown—its brought it alive! The council freeloaders were all there again—ready to start on the booze where theyd been cut short at the hog roast. The Denhams of course—Ess looking v gorgeous & sexy in a—I think—Versace two piece—could scratch her eyes out!—Ted in a linen suit straight Out of Africa—every inch the benevolent Lord of the Manor. Then there were the Parkers—Tom—energy bursting out of him like a space rocket before liftoff—Mary—creamy Laura Ashley frock almost as pale as her face—

looking like an Avalon convie—the kids running riot—Min asking me every two minutes when George was arriving. Diana was here too—of course! Too busy to stop & talk—acting as if she was a principal mover & actor—assuring me in passing that shed been on her feet the whole morning—despite the high price she knew she would pay for such exertions.

The nature of the occasion required a strong presence from the Avalon—

principal among them Dr Feldenhammer in a white suit—looking ready to operate at the drop of a hat or a hernia—in his train Nurse Sheldon—suffering in 4 8 4

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the

heat—but clinging close to her boss & interposing her ample frame between him & any pretty young thing that took his fancy with an admirable determination that made me wonder if maybe he hadnt just exchanged one strict keeper for another.

A thought has occurred—remember I was puzzled why Feldenhammers been so willing to throw his weight behind Toms support of alternative therapies? Simple answer—Sidney Parker! Min told him about seeing the doc & his Indian patient on the beach—& I bet Sid dropped a couple of large hints to get the doctor jumping aboard brother Toms hobbyhorse! Almost feel sorry for Feldenhammer—being blackmailed 3 ways for 1 offense!

Naturally all of Toms motley bunch of quacks were there too. I had a word with Miss Lee—looking more oriental than ever—even though its become clear in the past few days that her origins as Miss Doris Godley—late of Leeds

& Tescos—far from being a well kept secret—was generally known—& disregarded as being of no importance! I asked her where her brother was—she said he was around somewhere—but I couldnt see him anywhere.

I thought—maybe hes avoiding me. I mean the pain of being in the presence of someone who inspires a deep but unrequitable passion must be intense. Made me feel a bit guilty—& a bit complacent too. I resolved if I saw him to try & put him at his ease. Being an object of desire has its responsibilities too—but youll know all about that!

Someone tapped me on my shoulder with a force that almost knocked me over. It was Andy Dalziel. I said—remind me not to get arrested by you!

He grinned & said—best keep thy nose clean then lass!—Ill be back on the job soon—

I said—winding him up—& will you be reopening the case?—

That got a reaction.

—why?—what do you mean?—very perturbed.

I said—I mean the case of Dr Feldenhammer & his dalliance with a patient—for all we know hes a serial interferer!—

He shook his great head & said—nay lass—bit of humanity eh?—us men are weak vessels—determined woman gets her hands on us—we are putty—& from what I hear—yon Indian lass were real determined—

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—so—as usual—its the womans fault?—

—nay—he said—its a design fault—so blame the engineer—not the engine—

Interesting—seemed to come from the

heart—but before I could dig

further—Franny Roote came rolling up in his chair.

Andy said—Ive been looking for you Roote—whats kept you so long?—

& Franny replied—my ministering doesnt run to a timetable Andy—as youll find if you care to join your fellow patients next time I call at the Avalon—

—Ill not be there next time—said Andy—Im off home tomorrow—& theres a few things I need to get sorted afore I go—starting with thee!—

I thought this sounded promising—but before anything more could be said the Sandytown Brass Band—which had been playing a selection from the Shows—suddenly struck up the kind of fanfare you get when the Queen turns up somewhere—& as it died away over the loudspeakers a voice I recognized as Diana Parkers said—ladies & gentlemen—the opening ceremony will now commence—please give your attention to the man of the moment—Mr Tom Parker!—

There was a dais in front of the hotel—high enough for those on it to be visible to all of us crowded on the lawn. Tom advanced to the microphone—

getting a rapturous round of applause. He held up his hands till the noise died away—then he said—this is a splendid & significant occasion—long anticipated—& marred only by the absence of one of its prime movers—who was a dear friend to me—as she was to everyone in Sandytown. Let us therefore observe a minutes silence in memory of one so tragically taken from us—Dear Daphne Denham—

You could have heard a feather drop—let alone a pin.

Then Tom marked the end of the silence by clapping his hands—& everyone joined in—producing an even bigger round of applause than the one that had greeted him—& all for Lady D. I felt the tears in my eyes—even Andy looked moved & poor Franny bowed his head to hide his expression.

Then Tom made his speech. Id feared he might get carried away—he can rattle on forever about the wonders of Sandytown as Ive tried to 4 8 6

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show you—but this was a masterpiece of concision—wise—witty—& to the point. Health was the basis of happiness—he said—Happiness was the outcome of health. Sandytown was devoted to offering both conditions to all who visited her.

A quick run though the attractions on offer—including of course the Avalon & all his team of alternatives—who would all be available for consultation in some ducky little tents scattered around the grounds—then—with a cry of—Be Healthy—Be Happy!—he declared the Festival open.

While all this was happening—Franny had contrived to put some distance between himself & Andy Dalziel—who said—he can run—but he cant hide.

I said—whats so urgent that it cant wait—on a lovely day like this?—

He said—how about the truth?—

I said—the truth about what?—

He said—dont disappoint me lass—

& I felt sick inside—because I wanted it all to be over—& Id been telling myself that any doubts I had were daft—I was a newly qualified psychologist not a copper—& if the pros were happy then who the hell was I to carry on worrying! Hows that for humility! But now big fat Andy Dalziel was kicking me when I was down.

He moved off—then another finger tapped me on the shoulder—by contrast with the Dalziel thud! not a tap at all—a real tentative touch—like being brushed by a falling leaf.

I guessed it was Gordon Godley—but when I turned there was this young guy standing there—clean shaven—hair cut short to his skull—smiling at me shyly.

It was the shy smile that gave him away.

I said—Jesus—is that really you—Gord?

He said—yes—sorry—I didnt mean to surprise you—

I said—no—yes—I mean I am surprised—but it suits you—really it does—

He grinned like a schoolboy—& I found myself grinning back.

It really did suit him—I mean—he hadnt turned into Brad or Leonardo—but he was OK—more than OK—he was pretty neat!

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I said—but why—then stopped myself cos I thought—you dont want to hear the answer. Then I found myself thinking—dont be silly—why not hear the answer?—no one has ever cut off their hair & beard for you before girl—probably never will again—enjoy it while you can!—

—Why did you do it?—I asked.

—I hoped—well I didnt really—not hoped—but I thought—if theres the faintest chance it would make a difference Id be crazy not to do it—but Im not expecting you to say straight off if it makes a difference—not till youve got used to it—I mean Im still getting used to it myself—

I think hed have gone on talking forever if I hadnt stopped him.

I said—its fi ne—& yeah I prefer it—but that doesnt mean anything except—I prefer it!—

—step in the right direction—he said—means I dont have to wear the wig

& the false beard!—

Hed actually made a joke! Godly Gordon had a sense of humor! For me that was a bigger step than short back & sides—not that I was going to tell him that!

I said—I heard about you & Clara—up at the Avalon—

That got him all shy again—not boy- girl shy—but this- is- real- private- stuff shy.

He said—yeah—well—you know—

I said—no I dont actually—so how does it work—

Then he looked at me straight on—not a sign of shyness—& said dead serious—its the spirit moving through me—I dont know how—I dont even know which spirit—all I know is I dont use it—it uses me—

I wanted to ask more—but that would have meant another step—this one from me—toward the kind of closeness that might get him to open up—

Careful girl—I admonished myself.

I said—maybe Ill give you a call—if ever I have toothache—

He said—yes—do—but I think of you anyway—I mean I hold you in the light—

I said—sorry?—& he said—I mean—whatever my gift can do to keep you from harm—you dont have to be present for it to work—not always—if youre being held in the light—

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I said—oh—& is that the only way you think of me then?—

Shouldnt have said it maybe—provocative!—& I felt real guilty when I saw him go all red—& look

away—& start stuttering—no—Im sorry—but sometimes . . .

I cut in quick—hey—thats fine—really—a girl likes to be held in the dark sometimes—as well as in the light!—look—shouldnt you be in your tent—curing lepers & stuff?—

He said—oh yes I suppose—not sure where it is—looking round like a Martian dropped on a York racecourse. So I said—lets go find it then—

We set off side by side—arms occasionally brushing against each other—

sort of companiable—till we reached a little tent with a tastefully designed shingle reading—Gordon Godley—Healer—hanging by the entrance flap. No queue though—I reckon most of the guests were getting stuck into the booze & buffet—appetite before ailment!—in fact there was only one person by the tent—Franny Roote—& I reckon he was still playing hide & seek with Andy Dalziel.

In fact—as we reached the tent—I saw Andy heading our way. Maybe Fran saw him too—for suddenly he spun his chair round—& did a sort of wheelchair racing start!

Unfortunately he was right alongside a taut guy rope. One of the wheels hit it—rose up—& next thing the whole contraption went over—& poor Franny was sprawling at our feet!

Gord moved quickly. He stooped down—put both his arms round Frannys torso & pulled him up—while I righted the chair & maneuvered it so he could sink into it.

But he didnt—he just clung tight to Gord—very tight indeed—I mean like they were doing the tango! I could see his face—Frannys I mean—filled with a sort of light—eyes shining—lips moving—but no words coming out.

They stood there—locked together—neither moving—like a statue of a pair of gay lovers.

Then Franny broke Gords grip—& pushed him away—finally letting go his own hold on Gord—till he stood there—all alone—unsupported—unaided.

Finally he took a short step forward—then another—then a third—& he threw his head back & screamed at the sky—I can walk!—

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That got everyones attention I can tell you! Suddenly no one was thinking about stuffing their faces anymore. The crowd at the buffet turned—dissolved & then reformed in a circle—with Franny & Gord at its center.