She knew bloody well why it was. We've got our own lives, our own interests, our own timetables. There's stuff in my pack I don't want her getting touched by. And there's definitely stuff in hers I don't want to know about. Every time there's an animal rights raid, I find myself checking her alibi! But the real big thing is lots of little things, like the way we feel about muddy boots, setting tables, using cutlery, eating pickles straight out of the jar, watching rugby on the telly, playing music dead loud, what kind of music we want to play dead loud, and so bloody on.
I said, "An emergency's different."
"So this is an emergency now? Right. Whose place will you set up the emergency centre at? Your house or Cap's flat? And how long will you indenture Cap as your body servant before you set her free?"
"Don't go metaphysical on me, luv," I said. "What's that mean?"
"You're not thick, Andy, so don't pretend to be," she said. "Cap's life has been on hold since you got blown up. You know she's got a very full independent existence - that's one of the reasons you've never shacked up together, right? She's not one of those ground-you-walk-on worshippers who only live for their man."
"I know what she is a bloody sight better than thee, Ellie Pascoe!" I declared, getting angry. "And I know she'd be ready and willing to put in a bit of time taking care of me if that's what I need!"
"Of course she would," said Ellie with that smug look they get when they've made you lose your rag. "Question is, Andy, do you really want her to?"
No answer to that, at least not one I wanted to give her the satisfaction of hearing. And I didn't say much either when she started talking about the Cedars out at Filey, the convalescent home provided by our Welfare Association for old, mad, blind, and generally knackered cops. Alcatraz, we call it, 'cos the only way out is in a box.
What I did say, all grumpy, was, "Were it Cap that put you up to this then?"
She grabbed hold of a bedpan and said, "That's the daftest thing I've ever heard you say, Andy Dalziel. And if you let out so much as a hint to Cap what I've been talking to you about, I'll stick this thing so far up your behind, they'll need a tow truck to haul it out! You just lie here and think about what I've said."
"Yes, miss," I said meekly. "Tha knows, lass, Pete Pascoe's a very lucky man."
"You think so?" she said, looking a bit embarrassed.
"Aye,' I said. "It's not every husband's got a big strapping wife he can send up on the roof if ever a tile comes off in a high wind."
She laughed out loud. That's one of the things I like about Ellie Pascoe. No girlish giggles there. She enjoys a real good laugh.
"You old sod," she said. "I'm off now. I've got my own life too. Peter sends his love. Says to tell you that he's got things running so smooth down at the Factory that he can't understand how they ever managed with you. Take care now."
She bent over me and kissed me. Bright, brave, and bonny. Pete Pascoe really was a lucky man.
And she's got lovely knockers.
Any road, I did think about what she'd said and a couple of days later when I were talking to Cap, I said I were thinking of going to the Cedars.
She said, "But you hate that place. You once went to visit someone there and you said it was like a temperance hotel without the wild parties."
That's the trouble with words, they come back to haunt you.
"Mebbe that's what I need now," I lied. "Couple of weeks peace and quiet and a breath of sea air. Me mind's made up."
I should have known, men make up their minds like they make up their beds - if there's a woman around she'll pull all the bedding off and start again.
Next time she came she had a bunch of brochures.
She said, "I've been thinking about what you said, Andy, and I reckon you're right about the sea air. But I don't think the Cedars is the place for you. You'd be surrounded by other cops there with nothing to do but talk about crooks and cases and getting back on the job. No, this is the place for you. The Avalon."
"You mean that Yankee clinic place?" I said, glancing at the brochures.
"The Avalon Foundation is originally American, yes, but it's been so successful it now has clinics worldwide. There's one in Australia, one in Switzerland . . ."
"I'm not going to Switzerland," I said. "All them cuckoo clocks, I'd never sleep."
"Of course you're not. You are going to the one in Sandytown, where as well as the clinic and its attendant nursing home, there's an old house that's been converted into a convalescent home. My old headmistress, Kitty Bagnold, you may recall, is seeing out her days in the nursing home. I visit her from time to time, so it will be very convenient for me to have both my broken eggs in one basket."
That were the clincher, of course, her managing to make it sound like I'd be doing her a favour by coming here. I asked who'd be paying. She said my insurance would cover most of it and in any case hadn't I always said that if you ended up with life left over at the end of your money, the state would take care of you, but if you ended up with money left over at the end of your life, you were an idiot!
There's them bloody haunting words again!
Any road, I blustered a bit for the show of things but soon caved in.
When I told Ellie Pascoe I thought she'd have been dead chuffed, but she seemed right disappointed I weren't going to the Cedars. Even when I assured her I wouldn't let Cap be out of pocket here, she still didn't seem too pleased.
Women, eh? You can fuck 'em but you can't fathom them.
But Cap were happy and that meant I felt pretty pleased with myself when a couple of weeks later she drove me here to Sandytown.
I soon stopped being pleased, but. Cap had hardly set off back to the car park to drive home afore it was being made clear to me that the Avalon weren't like a five-star hotel with the guests' wishes being law.
"Convalescence is a carefully monitored progression from illness to complete health," explained the matron. (Name of Sheldon - calls herself chief nurse, but with tits a randy vicar could rest a Bible on while he preached the gospel according to St. Dick, she were a shoo-in for the role of matron in one of them Carry On movies!)
"Oh aye," I said, taking the piss. "And visiting hours from three to quarter past every third Sunday!"
"Ha ha," she said. "In fact, no visitors at all to start with until we've had time to observe you and assess your needs and draw up your personal program - diet sheet, exercise schedule, medication plan, therapy timetable - that sort of thing."
"Bloody hell," I said. "Schedules, timetables - makes me feel like a railway train."
She smiled - I've seen more convincing smiles in a massage parlour - and said, "Indeed. And our aim is to get you puffing out of the station as quickly as possible."
I could see she liked her little joke. But I didn't argue. I just wanted to sleep!
That were a couple of days ago. Spent most of the time since then sleeping 'cos every time I woke up there were some bugger ready to pinch and prod and poke things into me. Assessment they call it. More like harassment to me!
Third day, matron appeared all coy and girlish, straightened my sheets, plumped my pillows, and said, "Big day, today, Mr. Dalziel. Dr. Feldenhammer himself is coming to see you."
And that's when I first set eyes on Lester Feldenhammer, head quack at the Avalon. I could tell he were a Yank soon as he opened his gob. Not the accent but the teeth! It were like looking down an old-fashioned bog, all vitreous china gleaming white. Bet he gargles with bleach twice a day.
"Mr. Dalziel," he said. "Welcome to the Avalon, sir. Your fame has preceded you. I'm honoured to shake the hand of a man who got injured in the front line of the great fight against terrorism."
I thought he were taking the piss, but when I looked at him I could see he were sincere. They're the worst kind. Never trust a man who believes his own crap.
I thought, I'll have to watch this one.
He shook my hand like he wanted to make sure it were properly attached and he said, "I'm Lester Feldenh
ammer, director of the Avalon, also head of Clinical Psychology. I think we've just about got your program sorted out, but the greatest aid to speedy recovery must come from within. I've taken the liberty of putting in your bedside locker a little self-help book I've written. It may help you to a fuller understanding of what's happening to you here."
"Gideon Bible usually does the trick," I said.
"We like to think of them as complementary," he said. "I'm really looking forward to monitoring your progress, Mr. Dalziel. On matters physiological, you will, of course, have access to our specialized medical staff. On all other matters, I'm your man. Anything you want to know, you have only to ask."
"Is that right?" I said. "So what's for dinner?"
He decided this were a joke and laughed like an accordion.
"I can see we're going to get along famously," he said. "Now, there's something I'd like you to do for me."
He pulled out this little shiny metal thing.
"I'm not swallowing that," I said. "And if tha's thinking of getting it into me by some other route, thad best think again."
This time, mebbe because it were a joke, he didn't laugh.
"It's a digital recorder," he said. "State of the art, practically works itself. What I'd like you to do, Mr. Dalziel, is keep a sort of audio diary. Make a record of your feelings, your experiences, anything that comes into your mind."
"You mean, you want me to start talking to myself?" I said. "Like the nutters do ?"
"No, no," he said. "Not to yourself. Just talk as if you're speaking to someone who knows absolutely nothing about you."
"Like you, for instance?" I said.
He gave me a smile I couldve played "Chopsticks" on and said, "I do in fact know a little about you. And I don't want you to think you're addressing me specifically. In fact, let me assure you, Mr. Dalziel, I will never listen to any part of it without your permission."
"So if you're not going to hear it, what's the point?" I asked.
"The point is you saying things, not me hearing them," he said. "You can keep a record of all those interesting little thoughts we so easily lose track of. Also you can ask yourself some of the really Big Questions. Think of it as part journal, part self-interrogation. I'm sure a man with your skills will be able to detect truth through no matter how cunningly woven a web of evasion and deceit. Will you do that for me?"
I said, "Mebbe. But if I don't get some grub soon, I may just swallow it anyway."
He went off, laughing. And that's how I come to be lying here, talking to myself like a loony. Took another couple of days afore I dug Fester's little toy out. Man in bed's got to play with something. Nowt else to do. Newspapers these days aren't fit to wrap chips in. Telly's worse, and they don't feed me enough grub to enjoy a good crap!
Can't even do a runner. First, I've got no clothes. Spoke to Cap on the phone and she says she'll bring me some soon as they let her visit me. Second, got to face it, my leg's getting there, but I'm not back to running mode yet. I dumped them poncy elbow crutches they gave me at the hospital and got Cap to buy me a stout walking stick. I'm okay for short bursts, but after a couple of minutes, I'm ready for a sit-down.
Got to keep reminding myself, there's a world out there, a real world with people in it, and pubs, and it's likely full of scrotes pissing themselves laughing 'cos I'm stuck in here, talking to a machine. Let them laugh. I'll be back. Sure as eggs.
4
FROM:[email protected]
TO:[email protected]
SUBJECT: an exciting journey!
Hi!
Nothing from you - maybe your teaky bronzy doc is keeping you busy-nudge nudge.
Ive made it to Sandytown-just finished unpacking in Kyoto House-built on a cliff top to catch all them healthy breezes-very eco-friendly-solar panels-wind driven generator-etc etc. Lovely room-looking out over the North Sea-all blue & sparkly just now-but I hope we get a storm before I go. Funny that-only other time I was here I prayed for warm sunshine-this time I want thunder & lightning!
The journey first-we stopped off at Willingdene as planned-to meet Gordon Godley-the healer.
I quite liked him-nutty as a fruitcake-but sort of nice with it.
Hard to say how old-45? 55?-not helped by a mad black beard threaded with silver-like a bramble bush on an autumn morning-but v young v gentle gray eyes-a nose like a flying buttress in a dolls cathedral & a lovely smile. I could see the unclaimed treasures of the area queuing up to have his hands laid on their aching joints.
Dont think he took to me though. Tom didnt help-introducing me with a version of my thesis proposal that made me sound like the witch-finder general-out on the rampage! Mr Godley wouldnt meet my eye-answered my questions with monosyllabic grunts-so I soon gave up.
However-he listened to Toms pitch with great courtesy-tho I got the impression-using my finely honed analytical powers-that in fact he already knew a lot more about the Sandytown project than he was letting on. In the end-to shut him up I think!-he accepted Toms invite to make a visit to see if he felt called to bring his ministry there-Toms dead keen to get him onboard for what he calls the Festival of Health-scheduled for Bank Holiday weekend-Ill be long gone-thank heaven!-
Finally-at Marys request-Gord laid his healing hands on the sprained ankle.
As we left Tom claimed his injury was much improved.
-I felt a warmth-he asserted-A definite warmth as from a powerful sunlamp-
Back in the car-out of earshot of Mr Godley-I observed that-in view of the nature of the injury-I would have been more impressed if hed felt a definite coldness.
He turned in his seat-hed wanted me to sit in the front-but I insisted he needed the space because of his ankle-& gave me a delighted smile & said-see Mary how good Charlotte will be for us. Scientific objectivity-thats what we want. No chance of charlatanism ruining the good name of Sandytown with her keen eye upon us!-
Im not sure what lasting effect the healers hands might have on the sprained ankle-but one thing I feel certain of-Tom Parkers optimism is incurable!
Mary drove well & very carefully. If shed been at the wheel I doubt theyd have ended in the tank trap. On the other hand I couldnt regret that they had. My acceptance of their invitation might have been made in pique-but now I found I was really looking forward to the visit. Dont know if Ill get much useful thesis fodder out of it-after my start with Godly Gordon I guess Ill need to brush up my interviewing techniques-but being cast in the role of detached scientific observer tickled my fancy.
Like a camera-I will record-& not judge.
Or maybe Ill judge just a little! I am after all Steve Heywoods daughter.
Difference being-Ill keep my judgments to myself!
& you-of course!
Short break there.
Eldest kid-Minnie (= little Mary)-burst in to say lunch would be ready in 20 mins-& see if Id got everything I needed. Gave the impression shed been sent-but I suspect it was mainly her own idea-to check out the new fish! She talked nonstop-while her eyes gobbled everything up-especially my laptop. Shes 9 going on 90-reminds me of me at that age. Havent been bothering much with security-but now I may reactivate my password!
Got rid of her-by main force!-after a couple of minutes-so now I can get to the really exciting bit of the journey here-so pay attention!
Even at Marys steady pace it wasnt a long drive-but long enough for me to learn a little more about the Parkers. Old Yorkshire family-made their money in building-Tom trained as an architect-offices in Scarborough but seized the opportunity offered by mod tech to work from home-4 kids-Minnie 9-Paul 8-Lucy 6-Lewis 5-apples of his eye-Marys too-but Tom comes first. I get the impression she doesnt like letting him take off alone-not cos she dont trust him sexually-but cos she worries what scrapes his enthusiasm might get him into! Like driving into the tank trap-I suppose!
He talked-with great affection-of his financier brother Sidney- younger-& invalid sister Diana-older. Without saying much-Mary gave the impression she has a
few reservations about Sid in the City - & a whole bucketful about sister Di!
More to Mary than meets the eye. When Tom started rattling on about Kyoto House-inviting her agreement that it was in every way superior to the old Parker family home theyd swapped it for-she replied dutifully-I suppose youre right dear-but the old place did have such a pleasant garden-& so sheltered-
-yes-thats it entirely-he declared-as if shed confirmed everything hed said-It was indeed sheltered-from the benefits of the sea breeze-& sheltered from the view too-no outlook save for fields & trees! Now-from Kyoto up on North Cliff-on a clear day you can see halfway across to Holland - & when Im working out ideas for the development scheme I dont need to sit at my drawing board-I just go into my garden & look down & there it all is at my feet-as it were!-
-did you design Kyoto yourself?-I asked.
-naturally!-marvellous feeling-not having anyone looking over your shoulder at the drawing board-do you follow? The opportunity afforded me by the consortium-of getting involved in planning & building on a large scale-was not the least of its attractions. Its going to be something new-I promise you-nothing piecemeal or accidental-every step carefully thought out-every detail pertinent & planned!-& a carbon footprint no bigger than a cats!-
The quality of light ahead was now giving promise of the sea. Against the intense blue sky I could see the rather sinister silhouette of a large house-more than a house-a mansion-with enough towers & turrets to give the impression it had had youthful ambitions to grow into a castle!
-Denham Park-said Tom.
-where Lady Denham lives? - I guessed.
-oh no. She lives at Sandytown Hall-he replied - which her first husband - Hollis - acquired - along with the Lordship of the Sandytown Hundreds - an ancient traditional rank-acquired by purchase - unlike her subsequent title-
It sounded to me like shed got that by purchase too-& I think I detected a little twitch from Mary. Us psychologists are v sensitive to twitches!
-the Denham property-Tom went on-& the baronetcy of course-went to her nephew-in-law-Edward-
A Cure for All Diseases Page 3