“It just occurred to me, Mr. Dalziel-would you like a lift back up to the home? Or do you have transport arranged?”
I suppose I could’ve told him I preferred to walk. Or that Roote were giving me a lift. But sod that. Only a fool turns down what he wants out of pride, and what I really wanted now were to crash out in my pit.
“Nay,” I said. “That ’ud be grand.”
I looked at my beer glass. It were half full. I realized I didn’t want it.
Only a fool sups what he don’t want out of pride.
But I could feel Roote watching me, and this time pride won.
I drained the glass, set it down, and hauled myself out of my chair.
“Thanks, mate,” I said to the landlord. “Good pint that.”
“Thank you, sir. Hope we see you again soon,” he said.
“Never fret, I’ll be back.”
Roote caught my arm and said in a low voice, “Mr. Dalziel, just one thing. About Mr. Pascoe, I’ll leave it up to you.”
Whether I told him or not, he meant.
I gave him a nod and left.
I wouldn’t trust Roote as far as I could throw him, which, the way I were feeling just then, was about half a yard. But credit where due, I couldn’t fault him over how he’d dealt with Pete.
Which don’t stop me wondering, now they’ve finally got me tucked up in bed and talking to myself under the sheet, if one of the reasons Franny Roote took off abroad with no forwarding address was ’cos he didn’t want Pete Pascoe feeling responsible for him, then why when he came back to England did he opt to settle here in Mid-Yorkshire? Okay it’s right on the fringes of our patch, but it’s still our patch!
Can’t get that tune buffalo woman’s nephew were whistling out of my mind. How did the words go? Let’s see…summat about an Indian maid…aye, that’s it!
There once was an Indian maid,
and she was sore afraid
that some buckaroo would stick it up her flue
as she lay in the shade.
And so on. Gets dirtier. Not the kind of thing I’d expect Fester to choose for his Desert Island Discs. And why should it bother him so much?
Questions, questions, lots and lots of sodding questions hopping madly round my mind to that jaunty little tune. But it’s always the same one leading the dance.
What the fuck is Roote really up to here in Sandytown?
Never fear, one way or another, I’ll find out afore I go!
But all I want to do now is sleep.
So it’s good night from you, Mildred, and it’s good night from
7
FROM: charley@whiffle.com
TO: cassie@natterjack.com
SUBJECT: Min of Information!
Hi Cass!
Thanks for pic. He is truly gorgeous! I want one of my own. Does he have a brother? Nice smile. Whats he got to smile about-I wonder?!!
Back to dull old Sandytown! After lunch yesterday Tom excused himself-to catch up on all the stuff that had piled up in his absence- amp; Min-whos clearly decided to make me her own! — asked me if Id like to go swimming with her. I thought she was being kind- amp; meant the sea- amp; said yes please-but it turned out she meant the swimming pool at this 5 star hotel Tom told us about-the Brereton Manor. Seems the Parkers have membership of the Health amp; Leisure Club-natch-but the kids arent allowed in without a responsible adult-so Min the minx had elected me! Mary tried to rescue me-but I said-no problem- amp; off we went.
Minnie led me over the road- amp; through a gate-then across a golf course that looked to be in the final stages of construction.
— Should have been finished for Easter-Min told me proprietorially.
Serious money being spent here-I thought-confirmed when we reached Brereton Manor. Must have been a grand old house-now much modified amp; extended-all the eco-friendly-carbon unfriendly-stuff theyve got at Kyoto-but tastefully blended in-the kind of detail that costs a fortune. Presumably the idea is youve been invited to a 1920s weekend house party-rather than asked to cough up a small fortune for b amp; b! Not many people around. Still bedding in. Official opening is not for a fortnight-Bank Holiday weekend-when Tom launches the Festival of Health-which I shant be around to enjoy-thank heaven!
This info again supplied by Min!
She sailed in thru the front door like a grand duchess- amp; the receptionist greeted her with a big Hi Minnie! amp; gave me a smile too.
Everyone else we met en route to pool seemed to know Minnie. Swish pool-long way from Olympic-but big enough if you like that sort of thing. I did 10 or so lengths-very boring-specially as I had to stop from time to time to admire Minnies breaststroke-or backstroke-or diving. At 9 you need a lot of admiration! After-we sat in some very comfortable chairs in the café area- amp; had a Coke-talked. Or rather-I listened! Didnt mind. I was getting interested in what made Sandytown tick-you know me-never happy till Ive got the inside of things outside! — amp; nothing that goes on round here seems to escape Mins sharp little eyes amp; ears! By the time shed done-I was thinking of her as my personal Min of Information!
The original house-as I knew-belonged to the well-heeled Breretons-the famous Lady Denhams family-but became superfluous to requirements when she married even better-heeled Hog Hollis-local lad made good-who built up his pig farm into Hollis’s Ham-the Taste of Yorkshire- amp; ended up master of just about everything he surveyed-Lord of the Sandytown Hundred-at Sandytown Hall.
He died-fattening the pigs who helped fatten him (I had to practically kick Minnie onward from all the gory details-mostly imagined I guess-of the poor sods death!)-leaving his wife even richer than hed found her- amp; eventually she remarried-Sir Henry Denham- amp; Denham Park became her official address-though-probably not caring for the pig pong but reluctant to do anything that might interfere with her pig profits-she spent a great deal of her time at the hall.
When Sir Harry in his turn died (dont know what she does to the poor sods!)-she returned permanently to Sandytown Hall-refusing the chance to move back to her childhood home-Brereton Manor-when her ancient father finally died-because-according to Minnie-the hall was a more prestigious address- amp; the manor had certain inconveniences of access- amp; had fallen into such a dilapidated condition it would cost a fortune to put right.
— daddy owns nearly all the land all around-explained Minnie-where the new entrance drive is- amp; where theyre building the golf course. I think it was Uncle Sids idea that they should work together amp; turn the manor into a posh hotel. Uncle Sid knows all about money-which is why Lady D listens to him-mum says-
— thats nice-I said-so your uncle is a sort of financial adviser to the consortium-right?-
— I think so-she said uncertainly. Then she grinned amp; went on-Uncle Sid says Lady Denhams tight as a ducks arse- amp; thats watertight-watching me closely to see how I reacted.
I just laughed-you cant be Stompy Heywoods daughter without hearing far worse expressions than that! — which emboldened her to say-me amp; Uncle Sid call her Lady B-not Lady D.
— B for Brereton? — I guessed.
— no-B for Big Bum-she screeched.
I was beginning to feel intrigued by this Sidney Parker-who chose to talk to his niece like she was an intelligent human being rather than a backward dwarf-which is how awful Uncle Ernie always spoke to me. Min was vague about his actual job- amp; even from Mary-hes in banking-was the best I could get-which reminded me of dads response when Mrs Duxberry boasted her moronic son was in banking-oh aye? — you mean-like Bonnie amp; Clyde?-