The Price of Butcher's Meat Read Online Free PDF

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 favor 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.
    â€œConvalescence 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!)
    â€œOh aye,” I said, taking the piss. “And visiting hours from three to quarter past every third Sunday!”
    â€œHa 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.”
    â€œBloody hell,” I said. “Schedules, timetables—makes me feel like a railway train.”
    She smiled—I’ve seen more convincing smiles in a massage parlor—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 mysheets, 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.
    â€œMr. Dalziel,” he said. “Welcome to the Avalon, sir. Your fame has preceded you. I’m honored 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 Feldenhammer, 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