The Price of Butcher's Meat

13

How do, Mildred!

Don’t recall when I’ve slept for so long if you don’t count being in a coma! Must have needed it ’cos when I woke up this morning I felt more like my old self than any time since I’ve been here. Went for my physio session with Tony. Said he were pleased and suggested I finish with a massage. I said no thanks, thinking it were one thing doing knee bends with Tony on hand to steady me if I keeled over, quite another to be lying on my face with my bum in the air while he took a running jump at me!

Then this strapping blonde appeared, lovely smile, said her name was Stiggi and she was sure she could help me, wouldn’t I change my mind? So I did.

It were grand, nice and relaxing. Too relaxing. Suddenly, lying there facedown with her straddling me back, I realized I were close to embarrassing myself, so when she tried to turn me over, I let on I’d dozed off. She wandered off to do something and I scrambled into my jimjams and dressing gown. Hadn’t got dressed so fast since that time thirty-odd years back when I were banging Sergeant Pocklington’s missus and I heard his size fifteens coming up the stairs! All I need now is a bit more red meat on my plate and I’ll soon be ready to make Cap eat her

Hang about. I’m coming…oh, its you.

Hi there, Mr. Dalziel! How’re you doing? Hearing good things about you so I thought I’d drop by to check you out for myself…

Oh aye? Well, take a look, lad. What you see is what you get, isn’t that what them ET anoraks say?

IT I think you mean. Yes, they do, but it doesn’t really apply in my line of business any more than I expect it does in yours. We both know there’s no art to read the mind’s construction in the face, right?

If you’re trying to say you need to be a trick cyclist to be a good cop, you’ve come to the wrong shop. I’m not saying it never comes in useful, but I’ve got clever buggers working under me to do the fancy stuff. Me, its collars I’m interested in fingering, not souls.

Souls? Interesting choice of word, Mr. Dalziel.

Sorry. Limited vocabulary. Don’t have the Latin so I’ve got to make what I do have go a long way.

I believe it. And it’s a journey I’d like to make with you if you let me. To lay it on the line, Mr. Dalziel, physically you seem to be back on track after your little glitch. You’re looking good…

I’d look a lot better if they stopped feeding me like a prize greyhound.

I’ll talk to them. But as I was saying, how fast you’re recovering from the mental trauma of your experience only you can say. I hope pretty soon you’ll trust me enough to feel able to say it, but that’s entirely up to you. How’re you doing with the audio diary, by the way?

Eh? Oh that recorder thing. Sorry, went right out of my mind. Can’t even recollect where I put the bloody thing.

That’s okay. I’m sure it will turn up. So, before I go, anything I can do for you other than seeing you get more red meat on your plate?

One thing, there’s a guy lives locally, name of Parker. Says he comes up here sometimes.

Tom Parker? Oh yes, I know Tom well. Important man around here. He’s got big plans for Sandytown, he and his partner, Lady Denham.

Her in the pub? You’re not saying he’s shacked up with her? Nay, I met his missus, at least I assumed she were his missus…

No, sorry, I was using partner in its old prepermissive sense. Their union has much to do with Mammon and nothing at all with Hymen.

No need to talk dirty. Any road, I owe him twenty quid. Mebbe if I gave it to you, you could pass it on?

Happily. But better still, I’m having a little get-together tomorrow at lunchtime. Tom Parker has persuaded me that the Avalon ought to play a major role in this Festival of Health he’s organizing to launch the hotel. We’re meeting, some of my staff and his alternative therapists, to make sure we all understand our roles. Afterward there’ll be drinks and snacks and there’ll be a few other people there to help things along. I’d be delighted if you could join us, and if you did, then you could repay your own debt, couldn’t you? I’m a great believer in a man repaying his own debts; that, in some ways, is what my work is all about. So, won’t you come?

I’ll think about it.

Excellent. Nice to talk with you, Mr. Dalziel. About one o’clock.

Petula will show you the way.

Handy little gadget this. Didn’t realize I’d left it running when I shoved it in my pocket after Festerwhanger tapped at the door. It’s picked up every word him and me said.

Dead sensitive, like me!

Not that hiding it fooled old weasel eyes. I reckon he’d been listening at the door for a couple of minutes afore he knocked. Played it back to be sure and there it was, red meat on my plate. Coincidence? Mebbe. But I’ll take more care from now on. Simplest would be to toss the bloody thing into the sea. But, fair do’s, it could be the bugger’s on to something with this talking to myself thing. Admit it, Dalziel, your bollocks might be back to twitch mode, but you’re still not right in your head, not while you keep having these funny dreams about talking to God!

Mebbe its that postmenstrual traumatic sin thing they go on about these days. Likely there’s a lot of it about in a place like this, so no wonder if I’ve caught a dose.

Any road, if yakking about it helps, nowt wrong with yakking. But I’m definitely not going to spill my guts to yon Yankee wanker!

Jesus, there it goes again. Knock knock knock. Who’s there, in the name of Beelzebub? All right, I’m coming. There’d be less traffic living on Scotch Corner roundabout.

Oh, hello, matron.

Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Dalziel, but Dr. Feldenhammer said you were having some problem with your diet.

Only problem is seeing it, luv. I’m a growing lad. I need fettling.

I won’t argue with you there. Can I be frank with you, Mr. Dalziel?

Long as it don’t involve dressing up in leather.

You have a large frame, and I can understand your desire to fill it again. But this might be a good time to take stock and ask yourself if you really want to put back on all the weight you lost during your recent unfortunate experience.

How do you know how much I weighed before?

We have your medical records. No one comes to the Avalon without a complete legend.

So I’m a legend, am I? I’ll tell you what, luv. You fatten me up till I reach what you think is my legendary shape, then we’ll see how we get on from there, okay?

That sounds reasonable. Now I gather I’m to escort you to Dr. Feldenhammer’s lunch meeting tomorrow.

If you’re Petula, that’s right, matron.

Yes, that is my name. My title, incidentally, isn’t matron. I am Head of Nursing Care and usually I’m addressed as Mrs. Sheldon.

But I bet you’re undressed as Pet, right? Nay, don’t look offended, not when you’ve got such a bonny smile. That’s better. Let’s start again. If we’re going out together, I’m going to call you Pet. And if you’re going to get me back to my proper shape, you can call me Adonis. But Andy will do if you’re worried about folk talking.

Andy it is. Will you be up to walking to the clinic, Andy? Or shall I bring a chair for you?

Ee, I do love a cheeky woman. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I fancy a shower. Don’t suppose you’d like to come in with me? I’ve got these muscle pains when I try to scrub my back.

I’m sorry to hear that, Andy, but it would be more than my job’s worth.

Oh, I think I could guarantee that, Pet.

Who’s a big mouth then? One little twitch when the beautiful Stiggi’s straddling your bum and you’re making like Don Juan! And it were only a few days back you were thinking that lass would have made a good concentration camp warder! Funny how feeling better changes your view of folk. Reminds me of summat Pete Pascoe once said when I wanted to haul someone into the Factory for questioning. Let’s start him off at home, he said. Once you feel like a prisoner, everyone looks like a guard.

Clever clogs were right, as per usual! I don’t feel like a prisoner anymore and I can see yon Pet’s not a bad-looking woman, specially now I’ve got her to crack her face.

Time for that shower. What’s that, Mildred? Better make it a cold one?

Just for that you’re going back in the cistern!

Over and out!