The Price of Butcher's Meat (3 page)

peace & quiet to restore the troubled spirit—

Seeing he was getting back into his groove—I cut in again—Sounds to me like a healers the last thing you need!—

—A good point!—he cried with delight. (Its a great technique this—being delighted with everything anyone says!)—To understand the healer it is of course necessary to understand the history. Some 2 years ago—when Mid-Yorkshire Council began discussion of their Eastern Region Development Plan—naturally Lady Denham & myself took a keen interest in their proposals for the Sandytown area . . .

—whos Lady

Denham?—I asked—reducing him to amazed silence—& dad—always glad to know something I dont—chipped in—This the Denhams of Denham Park?

—you know the family?—said Tom—delighted.

—know of

them—grunted dad—& little good—bad

landowners—worse

landlords—thought theyd gone to the wall long since—

—in a sense they have—agreed Parker—but Lady Denham—now alas a widow for a second time—only bears the name through marriage. Her 2nd incidentally. Before that she was Mrs Hollis—& before that Miss Daphne Brereton—only daughter of the Breretons of Brereton Manor—Sandytowns premier family—well to do—highly respected. Money calls to money—place to place—that is my experience—though I do not suggest that love was absent when she caught the eye of Howard Hollis—

1 4

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

—Hollis?—Dad interrupted—Hog Hollis?—him as got et by his own pigs?—

I saw the twins perk up. Anything grisly really turns them on!

—indeed—there was a tragic accident—said Tom—You knew Mr Hollis?—

—met him a couple of times—said dad unenthusiastically—folk reckoned he kept his pigs in the sea his meat were so salty & watery! Made a fortune but he were a right miserable sod—only time he ever smiled was for yon photo on them Hollis’s Ham freezer packs you see all over the supermarkets—& that were probably wind!—

I caught mums eye & we shared a moment of speculation about when dad had last been inside a supermarket!

Tom said—he was certainly a man who—despite his great success—

remained true to his roots. Perhaps it was the contrast offered by the more refined manners of Sir Henry Denham that made the widow look favorably upon his advances. Alas—fate is not sentimental—& within all too short a time Sir Henry was also brought low—

—et by the pigs too?—chimed in David hopefully.

Dad gave him a glower. He can say what he wants but he expects his kids to observe the conventions.

—a riding accident—said Tom—& while Daphne Breretons first marriage certainly left her with even more wealth than she brought to it—from her second—it is general knowledge—she derived little more than the respect due to an ancient name—

Pause for applause. Instead—Mary P gave a little gasp—maybe a repressed sneeze—echoed by dads openly incredulous snort.

Parker—unperturbed—went

on—She &

I—as principal landowners in the

area—had already been planning to put Sandytown on the map long before the MYC proposals. She had led the way by being instrumental in bringing the Avalon Foundation to Sandytown. You have heard of Avalon—of course?—

This time me & dad both nodded. Hardly need to tell you what dad said!

—oh aye—we know all about the Avalon. When I read in the papers—a few years back—the Yanks were building a fancy clinic out on the coast—I said to our Cass—that ud be a grand place for you to work—them Yanks T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 5

know how to pay nurses & you could get home in an hour—but it were like—

—banging my head against a brick wall!—chorused the twins—then collapsed in giggles.

Dad gave them a glower—& Tom Parker went rattling on.

—Lady Denham &

I—in our private

discussions—had preempted the

councils conclusion that Sandytown was perfectly placed to take advantage of the changes in recreational climate—both meteorologically & intellectually speaking—& formed a loose alliance—& put 1 or 2 projects in train. But now we approached the councils development officer—who was rapidly

persuaded by our projections of the increase in local employment—& of tourism—plus our plans for a mea sure of affordable housing—to join with us in the formation of the Sandytown Development Consortium—a true partnership between the public & private sectors—underpinned—through the good offices of my brother Sidney—by significant investment institutions in the City—

He paused—momentarily lost in the forests of his own verbosity—& his wife came in with a prompt—The Avalon dear—& the healer—

Indeed!—he resumed—the Avalon. The siting of such a famous center of medical care & recuperation on our doorstep seemed to me a hint almost divine. At the center of our development plan is the conversion of Brereton Manor—Lady Ds childhood home—into a 5 star luxury hotel & recreational health center. All the conventional attractions—golf—tennis—horse riding—

swimming—beauty treatments—saunas—gymnasia—& so on—will be on offer here—& available to all visitors to our town—not just those who can afford the manors necessarily high prices. However—to place us firmly in the new niche market where Sandytown—I forecast—will rapidly dominate—we are offering a range of complementary therapies for those who find that conventional medicine does not answer their needs—

He paused—for breath not applause—then pressed on—alternative medicine is—you will agree—another great 21st century growth area. We already have several practitioners in residence—an acupuncturist—a refl exologist—a homeopath—a Third Thought counselor—but spiritual healers are harder to 1 6

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

come by. I was hoping to talk to Mr Godley—the gentleman at Willingdene—

with a veiw to persuading him to be—as it were—a visiting con sultant—

By now dad had heard enough—indeed too much!

—healers!—he snorted—Load of mumbo jumbo. Me—Id rather be treated by my vet—even though the bugger charges a fortune—

—then perhaps you should read this

article—suggested Parker who

seems quite unoffendable—it claims that Mr Godley has had some astonishing results with animals—

A sharp glance from mum made dad choke back his suggestion of what Tom could do with the article—but David burst out—Charley thinks its all a load of bollocks too!—

—David!—said mum sternly—Language!—

—but its true—the little gobshite defended himself—You do think its all rubbish—dont you Charley? You were telling us you were going to write a composition about it—

Parker looked at me quizzically—& I said—Ignore him. His ears are bigger than his brain. What he misheard is that Im proposing to do a thesis on the psychology of alternative therapy. The medical establishment says its mostly nonsense—the practitioners point to what they claim are well documented successes. Im not interested in joining in the debate—but in looking at a variety of these therapies—& seeing if I can find any common psychological elements in their practice & their results—

Good—eh? Should be. Parkers not the only one who has a selling line off pat!

Across the table I could see the Headbangers eyes starting to roll & Id hardly finished before he broke out—There you have it Mr Parker. My clever daughters already spent three years with her nose in a pile of musty books—

learning a lot of nowt about a lot of nowt just to get some letters after her name—& now she wants to spend another God knows how long doing much the same just to get some more. She can go on till shes got the whole damn alphabet—but wheres it going to lead? thats what Id like to know. Ive tried talking sense into her but its like—

Here he glared at the twins—daring them to finish his sentence again. I T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 7

think David would have—but Freddie kicked him under the table. Bet she wants to wheedle some more spending money out of him for her school trip this autumn! Since G & me went skiing—she thinks shes owed a month in a 5 star in Miami!

Tom Parker endeared himself to me by saying—But that is marvelous Charlotte—understanding the mind is the fi rst step to restoring the body—we need more young people like you to put this sick world of ours to rights!—

See—you dont have to go shogging off to Africa to be a saint!

Later—as Mary helped Tom limp from the room—he said to mum—A delicious meal Amy—best Ive had—outside of Sandytown—& Mary added—Yes—

thank you both for your kindness. Youve got a lovely family Amy—

Well you know how much dad loves to hear mum being praised—so he hardly moaned at all about our guests when theyd gone upstairs—though I thought hed explode when we heard next morning the car wouldnt be ready for at least 3 days!

I did my bit—keeping them from getting under his feet. No problem—like I say—I really got to like them—& they seemed to like me too. Tom showed real interest in my thesis proposal—& today he said—Charlotte (they both call me Charlotte—which is nice)—you know we intend calling on Mr Godley the healer on our way home—why dont you come with us? You could talk to him about his patients—for your thesis—

I said—but youd be well on your way home by the time you got to Willingdene & you wouldnt want to turn round & come all the way back here—

& Mary said—actually we did wonder if youd like to come all the way to Sandytown & spend a few days with us at Kyoto House—

I said—Kyoto?—thinking Id misheard.

Tom

said—yes—perhaps I was

hasty—the Kyoto Protocol has proved

pretty toothless hasnt it? If Id waited I think Al Gore House might have been more appropriate—

Mary didnt look as if she agreed—but she nodded vigorously as Tom went on—please come—you could meet our other therapists—give us the benefit of your take on our great experiment—& most important—wed get more of your company!—

1 8

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

Well its always nice to be wanted—even so Id probably have said thanks but no thanks—only dad had come into the room at some point—& suddenly he spoke in that Wiz of Oz voice he uses when hes really laying down the law.

—nay—he declared—shes not been back home 2 minutes—shell not want to be gallivanting off afore shes needed her sheets changed—

Maybe I should have been touched by his desire to keep me close. All I actually felt was the usual irritation that—even at 22—he still wanted to treat me like a kid.

I said—no reflection on your own personal hygiene dad—but Ive changed my sheets at least twice since I came home. Now getting back to the matter in hand—thank you very much Tom & Mary for your kind invitation. Id be really delighted to accept—

So there you have it. Heres me—a rational being—with a degree certify-ing Ive spent 3 years studying what makes people tick—& what do I end up doing?

Going to visit a place Ive no reason to like—in the company of people I hardly know—just to prove Im not a kid anymore!

Now thats really mature—eh?

Watch this space for my next exciting adventure in darkest Mid-Yorkshire.

& I look forward to some truly madly steamy revelations from darkest Africa!

Lots of love

Charley xx

3

Ho’d on. How the fuck do I know this bloody thing’s working?

HELLO! HELLO! DALZIEL SPEAKING! LOOK ON MY

WORKS, YOU MUGWUMPS, AND DESPAIR!

Now, let the dog see the rabbit . . . I’ll try pressing this, like the
bishop said to

. . .

Christ, do I really sound like that? No wonder the buggers jump!

So it works. So what? Hears everything I say and plays it back word
for fucking word. What’s so clever about that? Old Auntie Mildred
could do exactly the same—plus good advice! So that’s you christened,
right? Mildred!

But listen, Mildred, you start telling me to wear my woolly vest and
it’s straight out of the window for you!

Yon Festerwhanger were right, but. Nice bit of kit this.

Jesus, Andy, listen to yourself! Nice bit of kit! You be careful, lad,
else you’ll end up like all these kids with their p-pods, walking around
with idiot grins on their faces and their heads nodding like them daffs in
the poem.

Keep a record of little thoughts you might lose, Fester said, and
mebbe some big questions you normally don’t have time to ask yourself.

Right, Dalziel, sod the little thoughts, let’s start with the biggest
question of them all.

How the fuck did I end up here in Sandytown talking to meself like
the village loony?

Let’s try and build it up bit by bit like Ed Wield ’ud build up a case
fi le.

2 0

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

Back to the big bang in Mill Street that set it all rolling.

That were the Bank Holiday, end of May.

Don’t recall much of June, mebbe ’cos I spent most of it in a coma.

Good thing about a coma, they told me, was it gave my cracked
bones time to start mending. Bad thing was it didn’t do much for my
muscle tone.

Never knew I had muscle tone before.

Found out the hard way.

First time I tried getting out of bed by myself, I fell over.

Let a week go by, then tried again. But this time I made sure there
was a nice fat nurse to fall onto.

Third time I took three steps toward the door and fell into Pete Pascoe’s arms.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Home,” sez I. “Soon as I bloody well can.”

“How do you propose doing that?” sez he in that prissy voice he
puts on.

“I’ll bloody well walk if I have to,” sez I.

He let go of me and stepped back.

I fell over.

I lay there and looked up at him with pride.

When I first met him he were a detective constable, soft as shit and
so wet behind the ears you could have used him to clean windows.