Deadheads

4

'There's one thing you've got to give these jumped-up South Yorkshire miners,' declared Andy Dalziel. 'They never forget how to push the boat out.'

In proof of his assertion, he brandished a half-pint tumbler in one hand and in the other a bottle of malt whisky over which he had clearly established proprietorial rights. Not that there were any serious challengers. The sun was high and hot and it was the beer, soft drinks and chilled white wine that were attracting the greatest trade. Everyone was dressed for the weather. The children were naked; a few of the ladies, including Ellie and Daphne, might just as well have been, for all the protection their skimpy bikinis afforded; those who weren't in swimming gear were in summer dresses, or slacks and sport shirts; and even Dalziel had made the double concession of removing the jacket of his shiny grey suit and covering his head with a huge khaki handkerchief, knotted at the corners.

'He looks grotesque,' murmured Ellie to Pascoe. 'And that nose! I bet what really happened was that Patrick's mother punched him! You don't really believe he had it away with her, do you?'

'I hope you don't use such phrases in the Chantry Coffee House,' answered Pascoe primly. 'And yes, that's what I believe. Erotic bragadoccio is not among Andy's many vices, but certain nods and winks and a general impression of remembered pleasure whenever the lady is mentioned convince me I'm right.'

'Yes, I know what you mean,' admitted Ellie. 'I've noticed it with Daphne. I don't know what Patrick's doing to her but a kind of blissful glaze comes over her eyes every time I mention him. Get me another glass of wine, love. I'm too hot to move. Isn't this glorious! I bet you wish you'd brought your swimming trunks.'

She arched her back with cat-like complacency at her own forethought. Pascoe looked down at her and shuddered and was glad that he wasn't wearing his tight-fitting trunks. Not that Ellie would have been anything but amused and flattered to see the evidence of his desire, but she might not have been so happy to observe the reaction maintained when he turned his attention to Daphne.

She came out of the sea now and flopped down alongside Ellie, water still trickling down the curves and promontories of her body.

'Isn't this lovely?' she said. 'Diana, you are taking care of Rose, aren't you?'

The little girl had elected herself guardian of the baby at first sight and was now digging a protective moat in the sand around her. Rose clearly regarded this as a first step towards the castle which was her proper due.

'She's fine,' said Ellie. 'It's role-stereotyping, of course, and in principle I object. But I'll hire her by the hour if you like! Daphne, I'm so glad everything's turned out so well.'

'Yes. I like a happy ending too.'

'You didn't tell Patrick about your little adventure, did you?' asked Ellie casually.

'Oh no. I got a bit too close for comfort, but I steered myself safely away. I suppose you think I should have done the perfect frankness bit, do you?'

'Not I,' said Ellie. 'Confession may be good for the soul but it's pretty lousy for marriages. Ah, here comes our genial host now.'

She had found Dandy Dick's charm at their introduction a little too carpet-salesmannish for her taste and the sight of him now stepping swiftly through the shallows didn't change her impression.

'He's not exactly Johnny Weissmuller, is he?' she said, looking at the small body whose well-developed muscles and heavy tan couldn't conceal its age.

'Go on. Make me feel good,' said Daphne drily. 'I hope one day you get seduced by that fat cop with the swollen nose.'

'Please, no!' said Ellie. 'I take back everything I've said!'

Elgood walked along the beach, enquiring after everyone's well-being but not stopping till he reached Patrick Aldermann who was talking to a couple by the huge food-hamper which a catering firm had supplied. He put his arm round Aldermann's shoulders and said, 'Patrick, there you are. I wanted to ask you; I've been trying to establish a few plants round the cottage, but nowt seems to take properly. All I'm doing is providing salad suppers for a swarm of bloody insects. It struck me, if anyone knows how to sort this lot out, it'll be our Patrick. Would you take a look? Come up with me now. I've got to pop up to make myself decent. It's all right for the ladies to flash the flesh, but when you get to my age, you don't want to put folk off their food!'

'Of course,' said Aldermann. 'It'll be a pleasure.'

The two men made their way across the beach and up the broken cliff face.

'All sweetness and light,' said Dalziel in Pascoe's ear. 'Does you good to see it. That stuff'll rot your night-stick.’

‘It’s a rather pleasant Orvieto,' said Pascoe, replacing the bottle in the cool-box. 'And I'm pouring it for Ellie.'

'Oh aye? And that's another thing,' said Dalziel. 'I wouldn't have let my wife lie around a beach like that. She'd have frightened the bloody seagulls!'

He roared with laughter, and Pascoe thought with surprise, he's a bit tiddly. It was hardly surprising. The whisky bottle was two-thirds empty. Also, it was quite clear that the fat man was suffering from the sun. He squinted upwards now with a malevolent eye and said, 'No wonder most foreigners are half daft. All that bloody heat boiling their brains. Well, I'm off to find somewhere cool inside. I'll see you later.'

Pascoe watched him stride determinedly towards the cliff, stumbling occasionally as the sand caved in beneath his bulk. He returned to Ellie and handed over the drink.

'Back in a moment,' he said.

He caught up with Dalziel as he began the ascent.

'You following me or something?'

'No, I just felt like a leak,' said Pascoe.

They laboured up a little further.

'Too bloody rustic for me,' growled Dalziel. 'This lot'll come down some day, all of it. Including that bloody cottage.'

'Must keep him on his toes,' agreed Pascoe.

Dalziel got to the top with only one stop for another couple of ounces of Scotch. Patrick was alone in front of the cottage.

'Where's Dick?' asked Dalziel.

'Having a shower and getting changed,' said Aldermann.

'What's he want with a shower? Just been in the bloody sea, hasn't he?' said Dalziel, passing into the dark of the interior.

Pascoe caught Aldermann's eye and the two men smiled.

'By the way, you might as well have these,' said Aldermann. He handed over a key ring with some small labels attached. 'It'll save you calling at Rosemont later. I've marked them all.'

'That's kind of you,' said Pascoe. 'We'll take great care. Especially in the garden. You're leaving in the morning, you said?'

'That's right. Shall I leave the alarm on?'

'Everything as normal, sir,' said Pascoe. 'We'll see to it.'

'Sir,' echoed the man musingly. 'Perhaps we could be less formal, if professional etiquette permits? With our ladies so friendly. .'

'And our lords too,' smiled Pascoe, nodding at the interior where Dalziel could be heard raucously demanding where Dandy Dick hid his ice. 'Peter.'

'Patrick.'

They shared a moment, then Elgood came through the door, dapper in black Italian sports shirt and immaculate grey slacks.

'Hello, there,' he said, nodding at Pascoe. 'Now, Patrick, what do you think? What ought I to do?'

He gestured at the small patch of 'garden' which surrounded the cottage, distinguished from what lay beyond only by a few straggly roses long since reverted to briar.

'Salt air. Sandy soil. You've got problems,' said Aldermann. 'You've also got wasps, I see, and a lot of other insect life which needs to be controlled.'

'Yes, it's a bloody nuisance, isn't it?' said Elgood, swiping at a passing fly. 'It's OK by the sea, fortunately, but up here, it's getting a bit much. I've brought down a boxful of stuff that ought to sort out the buggers, though.'

He kicked a cardboard box standing just inside the door. Aldermann stooped and opened it. He frowned as he studied its contents. Elgood obviously bought insecticide as he bought picnic food, indiscriminately by the hamper.

'You've got enough here to kill off most of the insect life of Yorkshire,' he said reprovingly. 'Also some of this is extremely dangerous to humans. You shouldn't use it without protective clothing. And you certainly shouldn't leave it lying around especially with children in the vicinity.'

Elgood looked rather put out at being reproached in this fashion but he said, 'All right, all right. I'll find somewhere safe.'

He picked up the box and led the way into the cottage, the other two following. Dalziel looked up from an armchair, his eyes opening wide as he saw the box.

'Reinforcements!' he said, holding up the now empty bottle. 'Grand!'

Elgood ignored him and looked around for somewhere to store the box. Finally he put it down in the small passage between the living-room and the kitchen, reached up to the ceiling and drew on a cord which pulled open a trap with a foldaway ladder.

'I had the attic properly boarded when I put the tank for the shower in,' he said. 'It's good for storage and insulation too.'

He went up the ladder with the box and returned a few moments later, closing the trap after him.

'Satisfied?' he said rather sarcastically to Aldermann, who didn't reply.

'Nice spot you've got here, Dick,' said Dalziel with a leer. 'Just the right size for a loving couple. Cosy.'

'Remind me to ask you some time, Andy,' said Elgood.

'That'd make the buggers talk!' laughed Dalziel. 'You staying on tonight?'

'No. I've got to get back. I'll be busy first thing in the morning. I'll probably come down on Tuesday, though. I like to relax the night before an important board meeting.'

He glanced at Aldermann as he spoke with a hint of gloating triumph which seemed to Pascoe unnecessary in view of the peaceful solution of their problems.

'Relaxation you call it!' said Dalziel. 'Things must have changed!'

'A quiet swim, a quiet night all by myself, that's what I call relaxing, Andy. Don't you find quiet nights all by yourself relaxing? You must have had a few.'

Elgood was not a man to mess with, thought Pascoe. But nor was Dalziel.

'Aye, that's right, I have. And they are relaxing. But then I've got a clear conscience and most of my enemies are locked up, so what's to trouble my sleep, Dick? What's to trouble my sleep?'

On the beach below, the only thing troubling Ellie Pascoe's sleep was Daphne's voice, low and confidential in her ear. Her euphoria at the revitalizing of her relationship with her husband was beginning to be just a little tedious. Perhaps, thought Ellie with a sudden rather painful flash of self-awareness, I prefer my friends to be at odds with themselves so that I can be witty and wise.

'You know,' said Daphne, 'for the first time I think I'm really getting close to an understanding of what things mean to Patrick; in fact, you might say, of what it really means to be Patrick.'

It occurred to Ellie to suggest that it might be better if Daphne concentrated her attention on understanding what it really meant to be Daphne, but, perhaps fortunately, suddenly sun, sea and Orvieto exerted their authority and Daphne's voice, and the ripple of the waves, and the crying of the gulls, became one lulling note. Here, it seemed to say, was a place where storms, nor strife, nor pain, nor evil, could ever come. Ellie slept.