A Cure for All Diseases. Reginald Hill
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– I havent taught myself Chinese – alongside it in the same frame was what I presumed was an English version – telling the world that Yan Lee had earned her qualifications – with distinction – at the Beijing Institute of Acupuncture & Moxibustion! (You tell me – youre the familys medical expert!)
Tom settled into a dusty armchair – to read a dusty newspaper – & I wandered around – checking out the bookshelves. Us psychologists can tell a lot from bookshelves! Fiction mainly – chic-lit – historical romances – couple of classics looking like they were lifted from school. Non-fiction limited to royal reminiscences – & Delia – plus – which I almost missed – a very tatty paperback – Teach Yourself Acupuncture. Set book from the Beijing Institute maybe?
Miss Lee re-appeared as I was looking at it – so I quickly shoved it back into place – & hoped she hadnt noticed. Tom chit-chatted for a moment or two about local matters – then started talking about my thesis – making me sound like an FRS on a WHO funded research project! Miss Lee listened – then said – so you would like to talk to my patients to see if I really do them any good physically? I said – no – I would like to talk to those whose physical improvement is undeniable – with a view to understanding the mental processes involved. I have no interest in passing judgment on the status of acupuncture as medical therapy –
She gave me a little smile – like she didnt believe a word of it – & said – OK – Ill have a word with a couple of them – see what they think – & get back to you – now I must get back to work –
After that Tom whipped me round his aroma-therapist – middle aged Madonna lookalike – his reflexologist – like an undertakers receptionist – pallid complexion – black skirt & top – probably a Goth in her teens & couldnt yet afford to upgrade – his herbalist – funny little man with a young-old face – would have made a good Lord of the Rings elf. All happy to help me – after consulting patients first of course – Tom very persuasive – or – more likely – they see Toms enthusiasm for a complementary therapy centre at the Manor as their route to fame & fortune – so what he wants – he gets!
(Cynical? Moi? A lifelong beleiver its love makes the world go round? Love of self – or love of money – of course!)
Tried to see Toms homeopath but he was laid up with a bad cold.
– maybe hes treating himself for pneumonia – I said.
Tom thought this was very funny – once hed worked it out – & insisted on repeating it to everyone else we encountered – adding Wildean wit to my other talents. He was still chortling as he led me into the Hope & Anchor –the pub wed left Mr Deal heading for. Wouldnt have surprised me to find him still drinking there after what dad said about him – but no sign of him among the tourists eating bar snacks in the main bar – nor in the smaller room we turned into. No food here – just four or five men drinking pints – & one leaning on the bar – in close confab with the barman.
Tom introduced me to them. Barman was Alan Hollis – the landlord – & the other was Hollis too – Hen Hollis – the disaffected sibling – who was the 1st guy Id met clearly not a fan of Toms. Must see him as tarred beyond redemption with the Denham brush! Talking of tarred – this miserable old sod looked like hed not been near a bathtub since his 21st. If theres any family resemblance – Lady D must have been mighty releived when the pigs et hubby Number 1! Sorry. Shouldnt judge by appearances – specially in my line of work – but hes one of those long rangy guys – mean little eyes in a small narrow head – & a beard that made Mr Godleys look like it had been worked on by Errol Douglas – full of crumbs from the crisps he was stuffing between his sharp yellow teeth. Like a ferret on stilts – I thought – & he didnt like the look of me either – glowering at me like I was the whore of Babylon – I wish! – before he banged his glass on the bar – & left.
Landlord Alan is v different – mid thirties – not bad looking – easy to talk with – hard to believe hes related to horrible Hen – no physical resemblance – hes one of those steady calm-looking guys – the sort you want to see slipping into the pilots seat when the aircrew all go down with e-coli – while Hen looks like hes on friendly terms with most known bacilli! But cant choose your relations – can you? As we well know!
The seated drinkers were fine too. Tom introduced me round – but I only really registered one of them – a man in a wheelchair. Hes called Franny Roote – & Tom made a big point of him being one of his alternative therapists.
Then Tom said – but shouldnt you be up at the Hall – lunching with Lady D? –
Thats when it struck me with a shock – this was who Esther Denham meant when she said the legless wonder. What a cow!
– cant have a private life in Sandytown – said Franny – quite right Tom – but not for another ten minutes or so – & I much prefer the presence of new beauty to the prospect of old pork –
Gave me a big grin as he spoke – big attractive grin – so – telling myself Id better check if his kind of therapy fitted into my research area – I plumped myself down next to him – & we got talking – while Tom got deep into some Consortium matter with a couple of the others.
Interesting guy – this Roote – something about him thats different – & I dont just mean the wheelchair – something about the way he looks at you – & the way he talks. I found myself telling him all about me & my plans – not just me either – but you & George & Adam & Rod & the twins & mum & dad & the farm – OK – might be a line – but made me feel he was really interested – gives off a real sense of power – like theres nothing he cant do – sexy too – though maybe being paralysed from the waist down means there is something he cant do? – need a bit of professional guidance here sis!
Youll be thinking I must be really frustrated – going on about Teddy the hunky bart – & now Fran the dishy paraplegic! Could be Toms right – & theres something in the Sandytown sea breezes that gets the red corpuscles bubbling – but I know that really my interest is purely professional – Ive given men up – remember!
Finally I got him talking about himself – fascinating – though as far as my research is concerned I soon realized Franny doesnt fit in at all. His thing is 3rd Thought – have you heard of it? I recall in my 1st year at uni going to a talk given by a guy called Frere Jacques – in dads terms very much a daft bugger! – who founded the movement. Lots in it about modern living making us lose touch with death – the need to establish a hospice of the mind – & a lot of similar gobbledygook which us smart 1st year psych students all rubbished like mad – but the guy himself was gorgeous – had an aura – & a lovely ass. Frannys the same – except his aura aint pure white like Frere Js – more shot silk – changing & mysterious – & I didnt get the chance to check out his ass! Anyway – thing is – with 3rd Thought theres no physical therapy involved – no taking up your bed & walking – not surprising really – guy in a wheelchair isnt likely to get far promising miracle cures. So – nothing here for me – except – I really enjoyed talking to him – & including him in my research gives me a good excuse for doing it again! So we ended by exchanging mobile nos & email addresses before he went off to Big Bums.
Anyway thats it for now. Spent the afternoon – after a sandwich in the pub – meeting the rest of the inhabitants of Sandytown – every single one of them it felt like! – then back here to Kyoto. Quiet night in – reading – & hammering the kids at snap! Make sure you answer this one sis. Dont see why you should get the details of my wild life in Sandytown while all I get from you is a pregnant (?) silence. So – no prevarications – I want dirt – I want dimensions!
Love
Charley xxx
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