The Price of Butcher's Meat (15 page)

Playing with fire there—Tom—I thought. But I was rather flattered to find myself part of a Sandytown conspiracy—so I said—no bother!—& my reward was that big boyish smile.

The kids were off doing their own thing somewhere—so I didnt have to offer to take them—which was a relief. My dip in the hotel pool had whetted my appetite for a real swim—not paddling around in the shallows—keeping an eye on young Parkers.

So off I went—cozzie on under a wrap—towel over my shoulder.

Only a fifteen minute walk down into the village—might take a bit longer coming back up the hill—I thought—but sufficient is the evil—remember?

Met quite a few people who said hello—more than Im likely to meet in Willingden—being Tom Parkers guest gets you on the social register big time!

The beach was pretty crowded. School

hols—lots of

families—an ice

cream

van—a burger

stall—deck

chairs—all the usual stuff for screwing

money out of people. I guessed the Hope & Anchor was doing a pretty good business too. All in all—Sandytown looks like its booming. Good news for the consortium—Tom delighted because the prosperity gets shared around—

Lady D because she sees her investment paying out big.

Mary—in her oblique way—has made it quite clear that civic responsibility doesnt figure large in Lady Ds worldview. Profits the thing. With her own family money—plus the Hollis fortune—she could lounge her life away in luxury. But a lots never enough for the rich. She wants even more!

Sorry—boring!

But you can wake up now. Im getting close to the beach—& the hunk!

Like I say—it was crowded—so I wandered along to the farthest extreme of the bay—marked by a rocky outcrop running out into the sea from the foot of North Cliff. You could probably get round the end of this at low tide—but T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 0 1

now—with the tide well up—tho retreating—it created a bit of a barrier—reinforced by a sign on a steel post driven into the rock which warned—NO PUBLIC

ACCESS—PRIVATE BEACH.

This was just the kind of thing the HB would have erected! So naturally I went scrambling up there without a moments hesitation!

From the top of the outcrop—I found myself looking down on to another bay—much smaller than Sandytowns—but also a lot emptier. In fact there were only four people there—& I wasnt too surprised to see they were Lady Denham—Teddy & his sister—& Clara Brereton.

The younger ones were wearing swimming costumes—Clara a polka dot bikini—that showed her boobs & bum to advantage—slender she might be—but even malice couldnt call her skinny. Lovely pale skin—dont know what sunblock she uses but its worth every penny to keep that lovely pearly glow—probably bathes in asses milk every morning. Stopped feeling sorry for her—even if she does have to skivvy for Lady D!

Esther was in a black one piece—revealing she was no frump either—though while Claras

charms—asses milk

apart—look all

natural—I

guess Ests are the best money could buy.

Meow!

Mind—I had to look at her twice—because—sitting at Lady Ds feet—looking up at the old

bat—& listening to her with every sign of interest & pleasure—it was hard to recognize the sourpuss Id encountered the previous day. Once again I was put in mind of the sweaty laughing girl Id seen at the Bengel bar disco.

Her ladyship was—naturally—enthroned in a canvas directors chair—with the others—naturally—occupying rugs on the sand.

Teddy—yes Im getting to the meat of my tale—was sprawled alongside Clara—almost but not quite touching—looking up at her with what—even at a distance—I recognized as hot bedroom eyes. She was sitting on her haunches—holding her two yards of shapely leg close to her body—as if scared any relaxation would invite an immediate assault on her pudenda—

though whether it was concern for her

honor—or awareness of Lady Ds

proximity—that kept her virtuous—I couldnt tell.

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& Teddy the bart? Im happy to say—he isnt one of those prezzies where the wrapping promises more than the gift. Long—lean—as beautifully brown as Clara is gorgeously white—all of his contours muscle—enough hair on his chest to be interesting but well this side of apish—in short—or indeed at length—a dish.

I was going to beat a retreat—but drinking in Teddys delights—

objectively!—kept me there longer than I meant—& suddenly Lady Ds beady eyes clocked me.

Theres someone there—she boomed—damn cheek!

They all looked—then Teddy

rose to his feet—one

movement—like a

panther—except they dont stand on the hind legs—do they?—but you know what I mean! He cried out—its Charley!—hey Charley—come on down here & join us!—

Might have made an excuse & left—but I saw Sister Esthers face congeal from dimpling attentiveness to pack- ice mode—& that did it!

—Hi—I said—scrambling down—didnt mean to intrude—but the beach back there is absolutely packed—

Bit of an exaggeration—but without thinking Id pushed the right button for Lady D—to whom bodies on the beach ultimately translates into boodle in the bank—& she said—never mention it—my dear—any friend of Toms is always welcome here—

Clara smiled up at me—while Esther gave me a twitch of a nod—then—

unfreezing her face—turned back to Lady D & said—now auntie—you mustnt lose your thread—not when you were telling me the fascinating story of your plans for the estate—

I was trying to work out how to sit close to Teddy—without drawing too much attention to the contrast between my kitchen table legs—& Claras works of art—when he solved the problem by saying—youve obviously come to swim—ready for a dip now?—come on!—

He grabbed my hand & started leading me down the beach.

I said—what about Clara?—& he said—oh shes all right—needs to stick close in case auntie needs her back scratched—or something fetched from the hall—

T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 0 3

I glanced back—& up. The cliff rose steep & bare for about 80 feet—with a zigzag path marked by a guardrail—& then for the next 40 or 50 feet the incline became easier—with lots of greenery now—till presumably it flattened into the grounds of the hall. Quite a trip to send someone to fetch the han-kie youd forgotten! Dont expect that would worry Lady D though—& to give her her due—it was quite a climb—up & down—for someone her age. Must be fit as a butchers dog—as the HB likes to say!

I said—must be nice to have your own private beach—

He said—strictly speaking its not aunties at all. Anything between the high tide & low tide marks belongs to the Crown—& the spring tides here reach several feet up the cliff—but it would take a bold trespasser to argue the point!—

I couldnt argue with this. We soon reached the edge of the water—where he paused—staring out to sea—& said something I didnt catch.

—sorry?—I said.

He spoke again—more clearly—but I still couldnt make any sense of it.

Seeing this he smiled—rather patronizingly I thought—& repeated the sounds.

—thalatta thalatta—he declaimed (thats how its spelt—I checked it out on the Net)—the sea—the sea—

—no argument there—I said—its the sea—sure enough—

—its Greek—he said—tho I hadnt asked—its what the Greek army—in retreat from Marathon—all shouted in releif—when they breasted a hill & saw the Aegean—which meant they were home. I know how they felt—my own heart always swells when I glimpse our own dear North Sea—

I suppose he was trying to impress me with his classical learning—& his poetic sensibility—but I just felt he was trying a bit too hard—plus when I checked the word on the Internet—I also got the history—& the plonker didnt even have his facts right! Not Marathon—but some place called Cunaxa—& not the Aegean—but the Black Sea!

I said—OK—now weve established what it is—are we going to swim in it?—

He said—of course—& then—youre not going to believe this—he pushed his trunks down—& stepped out of them—so there I was—standing alongside 1 0 4

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

this guy wearing nothing but his big nobbly Rolex—thats his watch I

mean!—with his trio of womenfolk not thirty yards away.

I said—for Godsake!—

He said—dont be shocked—I always skinny-dip—

I said—Ive got 4 bros—plus I grew up on a farm—Im not shocked—but what about Lady D—& the others?—

He laughed & said—oh theyre used to it—auntie pretends to look the other way—but like many old country ladies she likes her meat well hung—& Ive often caught her taking a peek—

—through powerful binoculars you

mean?—I said—sneering—quite

unjustly!—hed have made a donkey envious!—then waded out till the water was deep enough to dive into.

He took his watch off—dropped it on his trunks—followed me in—came up alongside me—& stayed there—doing a pretty fair crawl—smiling at me from time to time—as if to say—dont worry—I wont sprint away & leave you—so youre quite safe—

Well—you know me—not the fastest thing on fins—but can keep going forever.

There was a buoy about 1⁄4 mile offshore. I fixed my eyes on it—& got into my rhythm. He stuck with me for a while—then dropped behind—& when I reached the buoy it was 3 or 4 minutes before he joined me. He tried a smile—but I could see he was knackered—& I started to feel guilty. Just cos he had a lousy chat- up line didnt mean he deserved to drown! & dragging that thing along beneath him must have been like a plane trying to take off with its flaps down!

We clung on to the buoy for a few

minutes—then I

said—ready for

home?

He nodded—& I set off back—breaststroke this time—a lot slower—& it gave me room to keep an eye on him.

By the time we reached the shallows—he was so whacked—a little wave knocked him over when he tried to stand up.

Big- test time now—would he turn nasty—or could he take it?

He collapsed on the sand. Wed come ashore about 30 feet from where wed left our gear.

T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 0 5

He gasped—do me a favor—Charley—fetch my trunks will you?—Id like to be buried decent—but not at sea—please!—

So that was OK. Dont mind a prat—so long as he can laugh at himself.

I fetched his watch & his trunks—he made himself decent—then we sat on the sand together—warming ourselves in the sun—till he got his breath back.

I said—do you ski as well as you swim?—

He said—better—youll be glad to hear—but I usually keep my clothes on.

Why?—

I said—I was out in Switzerland before Christmas—near Davos—bunch of my mates from uni—thought I saw your sister there—at a dance—but could be wrong. Kind of place us poor students party at—not really her thing—I shouldnt think—

He pulled a face & said—might well have been—Aunt Daph had a rush of blood to the head—took me & Ess on a skiing holiday last Christmas—near Davos—

That was generous of her—I said—where were you staying?—Morasinis?—

The Fluela?—

—O no—he

laughed—dear aunties not that

generous!—we had a

chalet—but in fairness it was very comfortably appointed—

—so why would Esther be moving & grooving with the plebs?—I

pressed.

—why not?—he said in the casual tone the upper classes use to disguise an evasion.—Could be there was a ski instructor she fancied—holiday

romance—no strings—no harm—but wouldnt do for auntie—

I almost asked—whats it to do with her?—but I didnt need to—being such a clever observer of human behavior! She who pays the piper calls the tune—right? Lady D definitely would not care for the prospect of any of her money—now or later—fi nding its way into the pocket of a penniless foreigner.

So if her beloved neice wanted to stay in her good books & her will—shed better pick her young men v carefully. The HB feels much the same—so the way youre going—Ill probably be getting your share!

I was also recalling that—according to George—Emil was a student—not a ski instructor. Teddy—I thought—either youre lying—or Ess lied to you—

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I said—so Esther went slumming with us plebs—& Lady D never found out—

He said—happily auntie had her own affairs to divert her—

The way he stressed affairs got me curious—but our interesting chat must have been observed—for now it was interrupted by a sergeant- major bellow—Teddy!—what are you doing down there?—Time for lunch!—

The bart flinched—& made a face—but he still started to get to his feet.

Shes really got him at the end of a leash—I thought as we headed back to the group. Must be hard for both of them—having to be careful who they got the hots for in case Lady D disapproved. Wonder how shed feel about me?

I was soon to find out!

The women

were all on their feet. Clara was gathering up their stuff—bags—towels—Lady Ds folding chair—while Esther gazed out to sea like she was trying to freeze it over. Lady D greeted me with a stern look—then she said—Miss Heywood—if you could lend me your arm—too much sitting makes me stiff—

Not much sign of stiffness—the speed with which she walked me away from the others—but it quickly became clear what she wanted was a private chat.

—a word to the wise—she said—Teddy is a fine young man—

—yes—I noticed—I said.

That got me a sharp glance—then she went on—but alas—he may flatter to decieve—

—you mean hes not to be trusted with a girls affections!—I exclaimed—all shock horror.

—of course I dont mean that!—I am talking of his circumstances—she declared—He may look like a good

catch—big

mansion—expensive

watch—but Denham Park is entailed—cannot be sold—& needs more spent on it in repairs than it would probably fetch anyway. As for the watch . . .

—Yes—I noticed the Rolex—I said—all bright eyed—thinking no harm in letting the old cow peg me as a predatory fortune hunter—could lull her into a false sense of security if I decide to have me wicked way with the bart!—That must be worth 5 thou of anyones money!—