She preened herself and said, Kind of you to say so, Franny. Its true I have been blessed with a strong and lasting constitution. In fact I do believe I never saw the face of a doctor in all my life on my own account, but only on the two unhappy occasions when I was told of the death of a husband.
Roote looked solemn for a moment, then said slyly, But surely, Lady D, you have seen the face of Dr Feldenhammer, very much on your own account, and on occasions not so unhappy?
She laughed archly, like a cracked hurdy-gurdy playing The Rustle of Spring, and I reckon if shed had a fan, shed have rapped his knuckles with it as she said, You naughty boy, that tongue of yours will get you into trouble one day.
Then I shall call on you for a character reference, said Roote. Can I introduce my old friend Andrew Dalziel?
Id seen those buffalo eyes taking me in during all this by-play and I dont think she much liked the look of me or mebbe it was just my outfit.
I said, How do, missus? and in return she gave me a nod that would likely have broken my nose if shed been close up, then turned to hoist herself on to a bar stool, showing off a pair of haunches a man would be proud to have the tattooing of. The landlord put her drink before her and she leaned forward to engage him in a low-voiced conversation.
The lass gave Rootes hand a quick sympathetic squeeze, then went to the bar to join her aunt.
I took a drink of me ale. Didnt taste as good as before. Nowt wrong with the beer, but. It were me. Should have stopped with the first and certainly skipped the scotch. I definitely werent feeling up to snuff. Mebbe that was what made me say, all surly, Youll not get anywhere there, lad. Rich aunts look after dependent nieces.
One thing for Roote, he may play games but he doesnt play silly games, like pretending not to understand.
Dependent nieces have wills of their own, he said giving me a stage wink.
Aye, and so have rich aunts, and they make bloody sure anyone gets cut out of them who doesnt toe the line, I said. Any road, it could be a long wait if shes as fit as she looks.
Oh yes. Dear Lady Denham is nothing if not healthy. And wealthy, of course, he murmured.
And wise? I said.
In making and keeping hold of money, very wise indeed, he said.
Why am I not surprised? I said. And I bet you know how much shes kept hold of, to the last decimal place.
He grinned and said, You are forgetting, I suspect, that thanks to dear Peter Pascoes aid and acumen, I am now a man of moderately independent means, even without the income I generate by my writing. If such a one as I could have any interest in the fair Clara, it would only be centred on her pilgrim soul.
When an ex-con starts talking about pilgrim souls, I know hes talking crap, but I knew Roote werent lying about the money. Pete had felt so grateful and guilty, hed moved heaven and earth to make sure Roote got top compensation from Criminal Injuries, plus the leisure complex where he got shot had had a Personal Injury clause in their insurance which a smart brief persuaded a judge covered Rootes case. Best of all, Roote had just got back from the States on the day he got shot and when Pete were sorting out his stuff, he realized his travel insurance didnt expire till midnight. The buggers wriggled and wiggled like they always do, but in the end the same brief whod done the leisure complex got them to cough up for total disability. When eventually it turned out Roote was going to be able to manage a wheelchair, this got considerably pared down, but it still amounted to a hefty chunk of money.
I said, Independent means aint the same as independence.
I were just talking about money but soon as I said it, I saw it could be taken as a crack about his legs. Me and buffalo woman had a lot in common. But I knew better than to say sorry and get the piss taken out of me, so I went on quick, So whats this writing thats making your fortune? Youre not Lord Archer in disguise, are you?
Happily not, he said. Nor did I mention a fortune. Its academic stuff mainly, so it pays peanuts when it pays at all. I managed to finish my PhD thesis during my convalescence. Yes, strictly speaking its Dr Roote now, but no need to be embarrassed I dont use the title. Strangers find it confusing and keep telling me about their back pain. Now I am completing Sam Johnsons critical biography of Thomas Lovell Beddoes. You recall dear Sam, my old supervisor, who was so foully murdered before he could finish his masterwork?
Aye, I remember the case, I said. So youre getting paid in advance for writing this Bed-loving fellows life?
I fear not, he said. Though my publishers in California, the Santa Apollonia University Press, have made a substantial research grant available to me. There are however profitable spin-offs in the form of articles and interviews and seminars. In addition I have a small retainer fee for my work as a consultant for Third Thought.
Why was he so keen to impress me with his ability to earn an honest living, if you can call all this airy-fairy arty-farty stuff honest?
Third Thought? I said. You mean that dotty cult thing the lentil and sandals brigade are into?
How well you grasp the essence of things, Mr Dalziel! What more is necessary to say? Though the movements founder, Frère Jacques, has written a couple of hefty tomes to bring out the fine detail.
Always a sarky bugger!
He rattled on about how this Jakes fellow had nearly died and realized he werent ready for it, so hed started his movement to help folk get used to the idea afore it were staring them in the face, so to speak.
A Hospice of the Mind, he calls it, said Roote. My own initial connection with Third Thought was, I freely confess, based purely on self-interest. Then I had my own close encounter, and as I struggled to come to terms with my lot, my mind turned more and more frequently to Frère Jacquess teachings, and I renewed my connection, but this time with genuine fervour. Eventually Jacques invited me to become a paid acolyte.
He glanced at me sort of assessingly then leaned forward and said in a low voice, It occurs to me, Mr Dalziel, that after your own recent trauma, you yourself might be seeking a new philosophy of being
The bugger were trying to convert me!
I said, If thas thinking of sending me a bill for this chat, lad, Id advise thee to have third thoughts about it.
He laughed so loud the two women at the bar glanced our way, the old bird with a disapproving glower. Probably thought Id just told a mucky joke.
Roote settled down after a bit, supped his parrot piss, then said, So how are you getting back up to the Home?
On my own two feet if I have to, I answered. If youre thinking of offering me a lift, I warn you, Im not sitting on thy knee!
He grinned and said, Ill be delighted to take you back in my car, though I suspect it may not be necessary.
Whys that?
He glanced at his watch. It looked expensive.
I suspect that within a few more minutes someone from the Avalon staff is going to arrive. Theyll order a drink, glance round, look surprised to see you, have a quick chat, finish their drink, head for the door, then as an afterthought say, Would you care for a lift, Mr Dalziel, or are you sorted?
What makes you think that?
Because not long after you arrived, Alan will have made a call to the Avalon in case they havent noticed one of their convies has gone missing. And hes probably just been reassuring Lady Denham that she neednt worry about you frightening off the more sensitive customers all afternoon as youll be out of here in ten minutes tops.
Whyd she be worried about that? I asked.
Because she owns the Hope and Anchor, he said. In fact, dear Lady Denham owns a great deal of real estate in and around Sandytown. I told you she was wealthy as well as healthy. Mobys, however, where they are going to lunch, belongs to her dear friend Mr Parker. She enjoys the food there but never goes unless someone else is paying, in this case her nephew, Teddy Denham, who can ill afford it.
For someone not interested in money, youve got a sharp eye for how other folk spend it, I said.
He said, Only because as a disciple of Third Thought, I have a deep interest in the human condition. Doesnt Paul tells us that the love of money is the root of all evil?
Paul? I said. Thought that were one of Ringos. No, sorry, bit further back. Adam Faith, right?
Not often you can shut Roote up, but that did it.
The women finished their drinks and slipped off their stools, the lass like a snowflake, the old lady like an avalanche.
Clara gave a shy little wave as her aunt said, Alan, perhaps my scatterbrained nephew has gone straight to Mobys. If he does turn up here, tell him thats where we will be. And dont forget to get payment for our drinks. A gentleman does not invite guests and expect them to pay for themselves. Talking of money, these ideas you have about modernizing the cellar, I think we really need to do an in-depth costing. I need quotations, not estimates. If I have time Ill drop in later to take a closer look.
The landlord bowed his head deferentially, or mebbe he were worried in case his expression showed this werent the best news hed had today!
Of course, Lady Denham, he said.
Now she glanced our way and said, Toodle-pip, Franny. Dont forget youre lunching with me this week.
Engraved on my heart, Lady D, said Roote.
Her gaze shifted to me and she ducked her head and gave a little snort like she were wondering whether to charge but headed for the door instead.
I muttered, Will that be lobster at Mobys?
Alas, no. Belly pork at Sandytown Hall, I fear, said Roote with a little shudder.
Afore I could ask what he meant, the door opened as the women approached and a Yankee voice gushed, Daphne, Clara, how nice. How are you, dear ladies?
Toilet tooth Festerwhanger.
Well, at least they really had sent Prince bloody Charming not some snotty-nosed orderly to round me up. Always supposing thats why hed come. I could see Roote thought it was. He gave me one of them little looks. Quizzical I think they call em. Like Pascoe sometimes. Mebbe him and Roote had more in common than I realized.
Stepping into the bar, Festerwhanger flashed the young lass a spotlight smile, then got folded into buffalo womans arms. It were like watching one of them Cumberland wrestlers tekking hold, except they dont clamp their gobs on to their opponents face and give his tonsils a tongue massage. I saw now what Rootes little insinuation were all about.
Eventually he broke loose, staggering a bit like a diver whod come up too quick. But to give him his due, he made a quick recovery, and soon him and Lady D were chatting away him all Yankee charm and her sort of girlishly flirtatious like an elephant dancing in that old Disney cartoon. I almost felt sorry for old Fester. Got the feeling she could chew him up and spit him out all over his consulting room couch. Finally she gave him a farewell kiss which made the first one seem like a rehearsal and set off again but stopped dead in her tracks as the door opened to admit another man.
Different this time, but. No gush and hugs. In fact if I can read a face, theres neither of them would have lost sleep if tother had dropped dead on the spot!
The new guy had halted right in the doorway so she couldnt get by.
If you dont mind, she said, haughty as a duchess talking to a gamekeeper she dont fancy shagging.
He didnt move. He looked about ninety and Ive seen healthier looking faces at an exhumation. His eyes were deep sunk, his few bits of hair clung to his pate like mould on an old plum, and he had a beard like a wildlife sanctuary. Despite the heat, he were wearing a mucky old donkey jacket, an old-fashioned striped shirt without a collar and the kind of baggy pants farmworkers used to tie up with string, only no self-respecting rat would have cared to run up these.
Suddenly I didnt feel so badly dressed.
Still he didnt move or speak. Then the landlord said warningly, Hen.
Now he smiled. Bare gums mainly, and the few teeth you could see through the foliage were greeny yallery shading to black at the roots. I half expected Festerwhanger to faint.
Then he stepped to one side and did a piss-taking bow and said, So sorry, Your Ladyship. Didnt see you there. So sorry. Would hate to get in Your Ladyships way.
You wont, she said. And went sweeping past him, young Clara in pursuit looking a bit embarrassed.
The old boy kicked the door shut behind them. The landlord said, Watch it, Hen. Its me as is responsible for fixtures and fittings. Your usual, Dr Feldenhammer?
The Yank whod been watching the incident with interest nodded. His usual was a short. Dark amber, enough ice to sink the Titanic. Jack Daniels mebbe. At least it werent purple. Festerwhanger sipped it, then turned and leaned against the bar. His face split into that toothy grin as he acted like hed just noticed us.
Well hello there, Franny he called. And Mr Dalziel too. Glad to see youre getting around, sir. Youre looking well.
Roote gave my thigh a told-you-so jab under the table. Id have given him a lets-wait-and-see kick back, only with him not having any feeling in his legs, it didnt seem worth the effort.
Aye, Im not so bad, I lied. Truth was, I felt distinctly woozy. The ancient geezer had got himself a pint without opening his mouth or handing over money, so far as I could see. Another time Id have been interested to find out what had just gone off here, but at the moment, I didnt give a toss.
Good. And you, Franny, how are you? Coming to Toms meeting on Friday, I hope?
Of course. Exciting times, Lester. Wont you join us?
Franny and Lester. Like an old music hall act. Roote had really got his useless legs under the table round here. Sounded like his social calendar were pretty full too.
Thanks but I mustnt stay, said the Yank. Just came out to drop an express packet into the post office. My nieces birthday back home. Almost forgot, which would have been a capital offence. Felt Id earned a quick one, but I need to be back up at the clinic pretty well straightaway.
I werent so ill I didnt notice there were too much bloody detail. Think a shrink would know summat like that. Plus, most country post offices Id come across shut up at midday on a Saturday.
The door opened again. This were getting like a French farce. New arrival were a well set-up young fellow, one of them craggy faces that has five oclock shadow at half past one. Looked like he reckoned the world owed him a living and the women in it owed him a shagging.