The Butcher and the Butterfly (25 page)

Dotty was a
simpleton. Kind at heart like most simpletons and extremely strong
willed. If she believed in something then she would always keep to
it no matter what anybody, including her father, said. So when she
got home way past supper and her father went mad at her she had
what she thought was the perfect defence.

‘You wanted the
bee hives painted up before dark, so I made sure they was?’

Her father had
stared at her, his eyes gleaming with the disappointment that he
was once again about to be put right by his retarded daughter.

‘Was I wrong to
make sure’s I finished the job?’ To make it even worse for him she
cocked her head like a questioning dog.

He had no choice
but to drop the attitude and he told her to sit whilst he fetched
up her supper.

She sat at the
large table meant for at least six people with her elbows resting
upon its tatty surface. Her home was large and as with the table it
was meant for six plus people. A farm house bestowed with a happy
feeling even though this family, Dotty and Ted (that’s the dad’s
name) had been through a lot of bad times. Four deaths in as many
years will leave a stain on a family that takes years of washing to
get rid of.

Her hands were
caked in white paint and her clothes stunk of the fumes but she
minded not. She was happy to be home with her dad even though he
was moody. Because dad doesn’t stay moody too long, Dad wouldn’t
stay moody all night. By the time bedtime came he would be too
tired to be moody and be happy just to read her a story and wish
her good night.

Ted put the plate
down on the table, the steaming potatoes and meat wafted up Dotty’
nose and made her appetite jump up.

‘Yummy yummy for
my tummy!’ Dotty sang to the plate.

‘That’s right,
sweetie.’ Ted said as he walked away back to the kitchen. He
reached the doorway and Dotty knew he was stood there looking at
her whilst she ate.

She was halfway
through the meal when her dad asked how many more hives she had
left to paint.

‘Bout thirty,
maybe more. Hard to say, haven’t been count’n em.’ Her dad
sniggered and she did too but Dotty didn’t know why, she just did
it because she knew it made her dad feel good.

‘Ok. That’s good.’
Her dad said with a deep sigh and almost regrettably said, ‘I need
you to go Mr Thatcham’s house soon. You know Mr Thatcham’s house,
Dotty? The one with the picket fence you like?’

Dotty didn’t look
up from her plate. ‘Yeah, I knows it.’

‘Good,’ her dad
continued, ‘because that picket fence needs a painting and he has
asked for you especially.’ Ted let the words sink in for a minute.
‘Aint that a neat trick?’

Dotty was silent
for a moment as she weighed things up. How she loved being in the
woods painting the bee’s homes. It was warm, quiet and she could
sing all the day long without being laughed at. Plus there was no
one there who looked at her funny as she didn’t like that. No sir.
Didn’t like it one itsy bitsy.

‘Don’t like Old
Man Thatcham. He laughs at me when I goes to his shop with the
pigs.’

Ted scratched at
his forehead and looked down to the wooden floor. ‘That was a long
time ago, Dotty. He has seen that you are a good painter and he
would like it if you painted his fence for him. I promise that he
won’t laugh at you. He has grown to like you now.’

There was silence
in the dining room for a while as Dotty finished off the meal. The
plate was near enough clean when she let out a large burp.
Laughing, she quickly covered her mouth and looked to her dad.

‘Oops. Sorry Dad.’
Dotty sniggered quietly but she did she looked blankly at the
fireplace across from her.

Ted walked over
and picked the plate up off of the table. He stood by his daughter
and put a rough hand on her muscular shoulder.

‘Look, if you go
there and paint his fence it means a lot to yer old dad and if he
does laugh at you, well, you just come a running back to me and I
will deal with Old Man Thatcham.’ Ted looked down at Dotty who
returned the gesture by looking up at him. ‘How does that sound,
Little Dotty?’

Dotty took in a
massive breath. Her moon sized eyes gazed deep into her Dad. How
she loved him and would always love him because what Dad said he
meant. What dad promises he delivers. Dad is always there. Will
always be there. When the monsters come at night and try and bite
her toes; Dad is there. When the rain clouds come and the thunder
smashes overhead Dad is there to sing it all away. When she feels
ill and her head aches the way it does when people laugh and throw
things at her Dad is there to make her laugh and to rub her
forehead and make the pain go away. If the entire world was to
disappear and all that was left was her and her Dad then Dotty
would be the happiest Little Dotty in all of the world.

The young woman
nodded. ‘Ok, Dad. I’ll do it.’

Ted smiled and
planted a massive kiss on Dotty’ forehead making her giggle.

‘Now get on
upstairs and get out of those dirty work clothes before
pudding.’

2

With no sons to
help on the land the farm was falling apart. That was the simple
truth of it. Ted could work himself to the bone, and he was for all
intense and purposes, but it still did no good. Dotty was there to
help but she was a simple as the day is long and her mind couldn’t
understand how important some tasks are. It isn’t her fault; it’s
just the way it is. Thank god she can paint.

Ted sat in his
chair gazing into the fireplace, watching the flames take hold of
another piece of wood. He has lost his three sons and wife in the
last four years, the last being his eldest son Dorian and now it
was all coming to an end. It would have ended last year if it
wasn’t for the kindness of the townsfolk, especially Mr. Thatcham.
They had given up their own time to help harvest and to lay down
crops. Tending to the crops was an easy job, Ted could do that on
by himself but seeing to the animals, well that was a job that
needed constant attention. Attention that his two eldest boys were
mighty keen on giving. He sighed deeply. How his father would look
in disgust at what was happening to the farm. But what was Ted to
do? Three sons dead. Two in a fire, one during childbirth taking
his poor mother with him. Their mother, his wife.

Louise.

She had been a
good wife. Caring, supportive and always had the right answer to a
question be it to do with the kids, local farmers or the running of
their own farm, she was there. But not anymore. Ted was, give or
take, on his own for the first time in twenty years. When Louise
had been here he felt safe, secure, wanted. Yeah, that’s the right
word for it; wanted. All men need to feel that they were needed and
Louise certainly did that.

But now she wasn’t
here and she had left Ted with nothing but a slow daughter and a
farm gone to the dogs. He didn’t begrudge her that but was he the
slightest bit jealous…

Selling up was the
only option left. And that’s where Mr. Thatcham came in. He was the
local butcher and had fingers in many other pies. His money ran
deeper than the mines on the far side of town and he was the key to
getting out of this. Ted would still run the farm, have extra hands
to boot, but all the profits would go to Mr. Thatcham and Ted would
get a weekly wage like the rest of em. Ted would have a bit of
money from the sale of the farm but not much. Debts ran high, money
owed to cattle feed companies, vets, council, farming groups you
name them Ted owed them.

Dotty was totally
unaware of all this and even if she were to know there was little
chance she could understand it. As far as Ted was concerned it
would stay that way. Yeah she was simple but he loved her. She was
her own person and he could see a lot of himself in her. The way
she muddled through, the way she got an idea and stuck with it no
matter what was thrown at her. There is a lot to be said for
someone that can go on no matter what the Fates throw in their
faces. Painting the fence for Mike was just the start of it. It was
a small gesture to get the ball rolling and to keep the price
higher on the farm than Mr Thatcham would like. There was no charge
for Dotty. There never would be. How could you charge money? Louise
would have said that Dotty was being taken advantage of, but what
else could Ted do? He was stuck between a rock and a fucking money
rich bastard, hell bent on owning this place ever since Ted had
discussed it with him six months prior. Check Mate sucker. Not to
sell meant the end of everything. To sell wasn’t ideal, believe me,
but life doesn’t always deal you a good hand. Sometimes you have to
throw your hand in and pray for a better one next time round.

Ted was just about
to get up and do the final check of the animal barns when he heard
screaming coming from Dotty’ bedroom.

He ran up the
stairs two at a time and turned to the first door on left when he
reached the hallway. In the dark gloom he could make out Dotty sat
upright in bed; the bed sheets wrapped around herself tightly.
Tears shone in the moonlight and her screams where turning into
sobs.

He began talking
before he got to her telling her it would be alright, that there
was nothing to fear now that dad was here. Telling her it was all a
dream and that dreams can’t hurt her. She felt heavy in his arms
which wasn’t unkind it was another one of those truths. How he
would love to lift her up and hold her tight in his arms and sway
her back to sleep but it was impossible. His Little Dotty stood
taller than he and she weighed sixteen stone give or take.

Her sobs were
massive and her breath caught on each one as he cuddled her. Her
arms gripped him tight and her chest heaved in and out, in and out,
like a pump struggling to gather air. Her hair clung to her wet
face in long strands and Ted wiped them away. She looked like she
was six again; so helpless, so fragile. Times back, when Ted was
new to being a single Dad, he wished she would go away, far away so
that he didn’t have to deal with this. He was scared now to think
back to those thoughts, to the conversation he had had with Doyle
Cartwright. By the old kings that felt like a lifetime ago. He took
another deep breath and started to pat her back matching his
breaths with hers and then slowing his down to see if she would
copy and like the times before; it worked.

Ted continued to
calm her but for a while it seemed to do no good then all of a
sudden her breathing eased and she released the tight grip she had
and Ted let her fall slowly back into bed; her head resting softly
on the white pillow and her hair moved away by her shaking right
hand.

Ted knew that he
had to wait for her to come around before he pushed her to find out
what her dream was about. He had learned quickly after Louise had
died that Dotty would think before speaking; a trait he
admired.

‘What was it
Dotty? Can you tell me?’

Dotty was quiet
for a moment her eyes looking out of the window. The sobs would
pipe up now and then but she had calmed down enough to realise it
was all a dream.

‘There were
hundreds of butterflies in the Butcher Shop, Dad, hundreds upon
hundreds of em.’

Ted shook his
head. ‘That doesn’t sound horrible. You love to flutter with the
butterflies, my angel.’

Dotty rubbed at
her soar, wet eyes and looked her Dad with nothing but dread upon
her face. ‘They were all dead. Dead like Mom. Dead like Ernie,
Graham and little Clay. The room was all red, a scary red and the
Butcher man was laughing at me because I wanted to save the
butterflies.’ She had never looked so fearful of anything before
and Ted was scared for her and in a way; scared for himself.

‘But I couldn’t
save them, Dad, I couldn’t save them!’ Dotty began to cry
again.

Ted was
speechless. He didn’t know what to do so he did nothing. He just
sat on the edge of the bed and let his daughter cry herself back to
sleep and when she was finally gone he lifted himself up and
continued on with his chores more tired than he had felt in a long
time and thinking about the dream and what it could mean.

Dotty slept
soundly throughout the rest of the night. She dreamed still but
these were good dreams. She could see her Mum walking along a path.
A forest path; a bright green, a happy green. She was smiling and
waving as she walked along it without a care in the world, her
hands brushing against the dandelions and the hocks and the
sunflowers and all the while she was singing. It was a song that
Dotty had never heard before but from now on, when she was alone or
when she missed her mum Dotty would sing it and sing it with the
same smile on her face:

3

At roughly the
same time that Dotty was having her nightmare Mike Thatcham was
awake and in a rather private meeting. In the town hall, behind the
main hall, was a room meant for big time conferences and meetings
of the town counsellors and business men. It could seat around
forty but tonight it seated just three: head of the mines to the
north; Doyle Cartwright, chief librarian Daisy Hicks and local
business man and entrepreneur Mr Mike Thatcham. The room was dark
apart from a few lanterns lit at the far end of the room. There
were electric lights but the power couldn’t be trusted. The room
was warmer than it should have been this time so the fire place was
unlit. The three persons were at the far end, bathed in the soft
glow of the few lit lanterns and they were huddled over a large
wooden box, each one gawking at it like it was a diamond reflecting
in it the very reason for existence.

Talking between
them had ceased for a moment as they each individually interpreted
the information all three had divulged a mere ten minutes ago.

Finally Mike
pulled himself up straight and gently clapped his hands
together.