The Price of Butcher's Meat (6 page)

—Morning Mrs Parker—Mr Parker—he called.

—Morning Stan—replied Parker—How are things? Family well?—

—Yes thank you—all middling well. Yourself?—

—in the pink Stan—said

Parker—which was either a bit of an

exaggeration—or Mr Godleys healing hands really had done the business.

As they talked—I studied a site diagram beneath the welcome sign. It indicated that the main two storied modern block was the Avalon Clinic—the long single story was the Avalon Nursing Home—& the old house was the Avalon Convalescent Home.

A phone attached to the gate mans belt bleeped. He excused himself & turned away to answer it.

I said to Tom—how do the locals like having the clinic on thier doorstep?—

—some initial unease—lots of loose talk about lunatics & lepers—Tom replied—country folk are ready to believe the worst of strangers—but they also have an innate trust in authority. Round here that means Lady D &—to a lesser extent—myself. Once we showed the way—they followed—& suspicion has long been replaced by pride—

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—the jobs & the extra income helped—observed Mary dryly.

The gate man was saying into his phone—no definitely not—nobody in the last hour—yes—Ill keep an eye out—dont imagine hell go far dressed like that!—

He switched off—turned back to the car & said—sorry Mr Parker—one of our convies has gone walkabout—elderly gent—might be a bit confused—Id best bring his photo up on the computer. See you soon I hope—

—you too Stan—said Parker.

Mary set the car forward. Ahead the road began its descent to the village.

—Convies?—I said—thinking convicts!

—what?—Oh thats what the staff call those staying at the convalescent home. Patients at the clinic are clinnies—& residents of the nursing home are rezzies. What they call the staff I dont know—Mary—take care!—

Mary Parker—as I have said—drove very carefully—& shed stayed in low gear for the descent—so we werent doing much more than twenty miles an hour when she slammed the brakes on.

All the same—the sudden stop threw me forward—& I was glad for once Id obeyed the law & fastened my rear seat belt.

As they say—it all happened so quickly—but I still had time to glimpse a man rolling down the embankment rising steeply on the left to the clinics boundary hedge.

Then he bounced into the road & vanished under our wheels.

Everything stood still. The car—time—our hearts. We were all convinced wed run him over. But surely there would have been a bump?—I told myself.

Then there was one. Or at least the car shuddered.

For a moment this felt like a delayed confirmation of our worst fears.

But that didnt make sense. You cant run over someone after youve stopped!

Even as I reached this logical conclusion—a broad-domed almost bald head began to rise like a full moon over the horizon of the bonnet—& I realized that the shudder had been caused by the man gripping the front of the car to pull himself up.

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R E G I N A L D H I L L

He leaned on the bonnet. Heavily. There was enough of him to suggest that—if there had been a bump—it would have been a big one!

He stared at us unblinkingly—out of the kind of face movie animators dream up for ogres.

His mouth twisted in a snarl—& he spoke.

It took a moment to register that in fact the snarl was a smile—& the words he spoke werent a threat—but a greeting.

He said—how do folks—what fettle?—

Now he moved round the side of the car. He walked slowly—like a bear that would have preferred to be on all fours—rather than upright. He gave Tom & Mary—still paralyzed by the shock—a friendly nod in passing. Then he took hold of the rear door—& pulled it open—& looked in at me.

—how do lass—he said—heading for the village?—

I nodded—not trusting myself to speak.

—grand—he said—room for a little un?—

&—without waiting for an answer—he pulled himself in alongside me.

Up to this point—Id thought he was wearing a garishly striped summer shirt & a casual woolen jacket—but now I saw him clearly—& I thought—oh shit!

He was dressed in pajamas & a dressing gown. On his left foot was a leather slipper. His right foot was bare. There were leaves clinging to him & thorns sticking into him. His face bled through a few light scratches.

But looking at him more closely—as I had no choice but to do—I realized hed suffered more physical damage than could be explained merely by pushing through a hedge—& rolling down the bank into the road.

There was a lot of him—but a kind of pallor & the looseness of the skin on that broad face suggested that there used to be a lot more. Your nurses eye would probably have done a full diagnosis in half a sec—but even I could see enough to work out hed recently been very ill.

An escaped loony—I thought! Then I recalled the gate mans phone call.

This had to be the convie whod gone missing—a bit of a relief—though not much!

He said—youll know me again luv—

T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 7

I realized Id been staring.

I said—yes—sorry—hello—Im Charlotte Heywood—

Automatically I offered my hand. Good manners never hurt anyone—

remember dad drumming that into us? Then hed head out across the fields—to chase some daft bugger off his land—with his shotgun!

The escaped convie took it—& held it in a surprisingly gentle grip.

—glad to meet you—he said—Andy Deal—

—Tom Parker. My wife Mary—said Tom—are you all right?—

—grand—he replied—nifty bit of driving that luv. Lot of women I know would have run me over—while they were still looking for the brake—

Somehow it came out as a genuine compliment.

Mary—reassured—gave him a smile & started the car again.

I realized the man was still holding my hand. He peered into my face

& said—Heywood—thas not one of Stompy Heywoods brood out at Willingden—are you?—

—Steve Heywoods my father—I said—but Ive never heard him called Stompy—

—thats likely cos tha never got in his way at the bottom of a loose scrum.

Aye—I thought I could see a likeness—

Being told I resembled dad wasnt the biggest compliment Id ever had! I dont—do I? Answer yes—& Ill publish details of your steamy affair all over the internet!

I snatched my hand free—& gave him a glower—& he grinned as if this confirmed his identification.

Ahead of us a banner stretched high across the road—& inscribed WELCOME TO SANDYTOWN—HOME OF THE HEALTHY HOLIDAY—told us we were now entering the village. Except it wasnt a village—more a small town. Usually when you go back to places you recall as a kid—everything seems to have shrunk—could impress you with the physiological explanation for this phenomenon—but I wont! Sandytown was different—very much bigger than I recalled—looking prosperous too—our route took us past several shops—a small supermarket doing good business—an art & craft gallery—a working pottery—a jolly café—a Thai takeaway—& a seafood restaurant called Mobys!

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The cobbled streets were clean & litter free—the buildings freshly

painted & well kept. Distantly I could see bathers sporting in the dark blue waves of the sea—& holidaymakers taking thier ease in deck chairs set on the golden sand. Posters everywhere showing an outline map of Yorkshire—with a big cross on the coast—& the legend—SANDYTOWN IS OUR

TOWN—LETS PUT IT ON THE MAP!—while across the main street hung a banner reading FESTIVAL OF HEALTH—AUGUST BANK HOLIDAY.

Maybe the Headbanger didnt bring us here at all—but found some run-down shantytown to put us off family trips forever!

Tom Parker—clearly delighted at these signs of activity—gave a running commentary on each individual attraction—& occasionally leant out of the open window to greet pedestrians—as Mary drove us slowly along.

—right luv—this ull do me—said Mr Deal suddenly.

I looked out & saw an old freshly whitewashed building displaying a sign which read THE HOPE & ANCHOR—LICENSEE A. HOLLIS. One of the pig family?—I wondered. Mary pulled in. Deal leaned forward & said—Thanks for the lift luv. Sorry if I scared you back there. Lost me footing. Lost me bloody slipper too. Not to worry. I dont doubt Prince bloody Charming ull come looking for me. Tom—tha seems to be a local lad in good standing. I daresay tha gets on well with them up at the Avalon?—

—yes indeed—said Tom—I know Dr Feldenhammer very well—often visit—

Wrong answer—I thought. You cant survive as a student for 3 years without getting a nose for a touch!

—grand. Thing is—Im staying up there for a couple of nights—& I seem to have come out without me wallet. So if you could sub me a fi ver—better still 10—Ill leave it with old Fester for you to collect next time you call in—right?—

It would have taken a lot harder man than Tom Parker to refuse.

The money was passed over—20 in the end I noticed—& Mr Deal got out.

He turned & said—thanks for the lift—missus—& for the loan—Tom—

For the first time Tom Parker got a real look at him—full length—standing by the open

door—in his pajamas—with one bare foot. It was clearly a shock—& I think that inside he was bidding a fond farewell to his 20

quid—but he still managed that beaming smile as he said—our pleasure—

our very great pleasure—goodbye—

T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 9

Now the man turned his gaze on me.

—bye luv—he said—remember me to your dad—

—bye Mr Deal—I said.

He moistened his lips & leaned forward. For a dreadful second I thought he was going to kiss me!

—Dee Ell—he said very distinctly—get that straight—else thall niver go to heaven. Dee Ell. Cheers—

He turned & limped into the pub.

—oh dear—said Tom—I doubt if theyll serve him—looking like that—

I said—would you refuse to serve him Tom?—

He glanced round at me—then he smiled.

—you know—I dont believe I would!—he said—but the further adventures of Mr Dee Ell are no concern of ours! Mary—drive on. Lets get home & see the children!—

Which is what we did.

Minnie has just burst in again to tell me lunch is ready—knocking at doors must come late on the Parker curriculum! Better go. Watch this space for more exciting news from sunny Sandytown!

& dont forget that pic!

Love

Charley xx

5

There! What do you think of that, Mildred?

I did it!

Jumped the gun, surprised myself even, and now I’m in disgrace,
quacks tut- tutting and feeding me pills, matron’s bosom heaving like
Moby Dick in a hurricane, Cap on the phone, spitting blood, and calling me a stupid infantile prat, and saying the only clothes she’ll be
bringing me’s a change of nappies!

But it were worth it.

I think.

Can’t say it’s done me a lot of good, but. To tell truth, I’m feeling a lot
worse now than when I arrived here!

And I can’t even take credit for putting together a cunning plan.

In fact, there were no plan at all.

Today the weather were so nice, they suggested I have my lunch outside. The grub’s pretty good, all fresh local stuff nicely cooked, but they
don’t exactly pile your plate up. When I asked if I could have a pint of
ale to wash it down, the lass serving me said, “Couple of days, maybe,
Mr. Dalziel. You’re still on assessment. No alcohol till your diet sheet’s
been finalized, that’s the rule.”

She smiled as she said it, a real smile, nowt made up about it. I
smiled back. Weren’t her fault, and she was a nice lass with a lovely
bum which I admired as she walked away. But it did piss me off a bit,
specially as I looked around the terrace where I was sitting and saw half
a dozen old farts at another table supping vino and wearing real clothes,
like they were on holiday on the Costa Saga.

But sod it, I thought. No reason not being dressed for dinner should
T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 4 1

stop me taking a stroll around to explore the place. They’ve started me
on physio with Tony down in this little gym. Queer as a clockwork orange, but he knows his stuff, and though I’m still a long way off Olympic qualifying, I’m feeling a lot lisher than when I came.

I checked there were no one looking, then stood up and went down
the steps from the terrace with a lot of care. Didn’t fancy breaking me
other leg!

Once on the lawn, I just meant to have a bit of a wander, but I’m
still best in a straight line and as I’d got up a fair head of speed, I just
kept going with the house at my back till I found myself plowing
through some shrubbery.

Here I stopped and checked back. The house were out of sight.

That would get the buggers worrying, I thought. Bit childish, mebbe.

But if they’re going to treat me like a kid, I might as well enjoy myself
like one!

So on I went till finally I came up against the boundary hedge.

Thick and thorny. Good for keeping intruders out. And prisoners in!

I wandered along it for a while. I were beginning to feel knackered
now and I was just thinking of setting off back when I spotted this gap.

Not a gap really. Just the point where two sections of hedge met but
without getting all intertwined.

I heard a car go by on the road. The road that led into Sandytown.

The road to freedom.

I felt a sudden urge to take a look at it.

And why not? I thought. I’m not a prisoner! And my dressing gown’s
one of the thick old tweedy kind, none of them flimsy cotton kimonos or
whatever they call them.