Reginald Hill - A Cure for All Diseases

Yes – I know – mysterious! – but all will be explained later. Meanwhile we drove for a mile or more alongside a high wired fence through which I could see rows & rows of concrete buildings with all the charm of a concentration camp. Finally we reached the main entrance to the site – with a huge double gate – & a sign reading HOLLIS’S HAM – the Taste of Yorkshire – except that someone had been at work with a spray can – & it now read – the Taste of Death.

There was a man up a ladder with a bucket & scrubbing brush. He paused in his work as we passed & gave a wave. Tom wound down the window & called – Morning Ollie! More trouble, eh? – but Mary didnt slow down enough to give the man time to reply – & Tom closed the window again but not before wed got another near fatal dose of the porky pong!

A few minutes later Mary signalled to turn seawards as we approached a sign saying Sandytown via North Cliff.

Tom said – my dear – why dont you takes us round by South Cliff – & through the town – so Charlotte can give us her reactions – first impressions are so important –

Obediently Mary switched off the signal & drove on.

I didnt correct Tom about first impressions. Diplomatically I hadnt mentioned the famous excursion. Now I began to see for myself what Tom – of course – had already told me – that Sandytown – originally just a fishing village – is situated in a broad bay between two lofty headlands – North Cliff & South Cliff.

A loop of road runs down from North Cliff – through the village – then up to the coastal road again – via South Cliff.

Got that? – or do you need a diagram! –

As we approached the South Cliff turn off – I could see the headland here was dominated by a complex of buildings. One of them looked like an old mansion house – green with ivy – with a long extension – in keeping but definitely recent. A couple of hundred yards away was a modern two storeyed building – the stonework brilliant white – broad reflective glass windows catching the drift of small white clouds across the bright blue sky. Alongside that – a long single storeyed building – in the same style.

We turned off the coast road – but before we began the descent proper – at Toms request Mary pulled in by a gilded entrance gate – set in a dense thorn boundary hedge – bit like the entrance to heaven in that Pilgrims Progress you got for a Sunday School prize – remember? – we used to tear pages out to roll our ciggies!

A large elegantly designed sign board was inscribed Welcome to THE AVALON FOUNDATION. There was a small gatehouse from which a man emerged – his face breaking into a smile when he recognized the car.

– Morning Mrs Parker – Mr Parker – he called.

– Morning Stan – replied Parker – How are things? Family well? –

– Yes thank you – all middling well. Yourself? –

– in the pink Stan – said Parker – which was either a bit of an exaggeration – or Mr Godleys healing hands really had done the business.

As they talked – I studied a site diagram beneath the welcome sign. It indicated that the main two storeyed modern block was the Avalon Clinic – the long single storey was the Avalon Nursing Home – & the old house was the Avalon Convalescent Home.

A phone attached to the gate-mans belt bleeped. He excused himself & turned away to answer it.

I said to Tom – how do the locals like having the clinic on thier doorstep? –

– some initial unease – lots of loose talk about lunatics & lepers – Tom replied – country folk are ready to believe the worst of strangers – but they also have an innate trust in authority. Round here that means Lady D & – to a lesser extent – myself. Once we showed the way – they followed – & suspicion has long been replaced by pride –

– the jobs & the extra income helped – observed Mary dryly.

The gate-man was saying into his phone – no definitely not – nobody in the last hour – yes – Ill keep an eye out – dont imagine hell go far dressed like that! –

He switched off – turned back to the car & said – sorry Mr Parker – one of our convies has gone walkabout – elderly gent – might be a bit confused – Id best bring his photo up on the computer. See you soon I hope –

– you too Stan – said Parker.

Mary set the car forward. Ahead the road began its descent to the village.

– Convies? – I said – thinking convicts!

– what? – Oh thats what the staff call those staying at the convalescent home. Patients at the clinic are clinnies – & residents of the nursing home are rezzies. What they call the staff I dont know – Mary – take care! –

Mary Parker – as I have said – drove very carefully – & shed stayed in low gear for the descent – so we werent doing much more than twenty miles an hour when she slammed the brakes on.

All the same – the sudden stop threw me forward – & I was glad for once Id obeyed the law & fastened my rear seat belt.

As they say – it all happened so quickly – but I still had time to glimpse a man rolling down the embankment rising steeply on the left to the Clinics boundary hedge.

Then he bounced into the road & vanished under our wheels.

Everything stood still. The car – time – our hearts. We were all convinced wed run him over. But surely there would have been a bump? – I told myself.

Then there was one. Or at least the car shuddered.

For a moment this felt like a delayed confirmation of our worst fears.

But that didnt make sense. You cant run over someone after youve stopped!

Even as I reached this logical conclusion – a broad-domed almost bald head began to rise like a full moon over the horizon of the bonnet – & I realized that the shudder had been caused by the man gripping the front of the car to pull himself up.

He leaned on the bonnet. Heavily. There was enough of him to suggest that – if there had been a bump – it would have been a big one!

He stared at us unblinkingly – out of the kind of face movie animators dream up for ogres.

His mouth twisted in a snarl – & he spoke.

It took a moment to register that in fact the snarl was a smile – & the words he spoke werent a threat – but a greeting.

He said – how do folks – what fettle? –

Now he moved round the side of the car. He walked slowly – like a bear that would have preferred to be on all fours – rather than upright. He gave Tom & Mary – still paralysed by the shock – a friendly nod in passing. Then he took hold of the rear door – & pulled it open – & looked in at me.

– how do lass – he said – heading for the village? –

I nodded – not trusting myself to speak.

– grand – he said – room for a little un? –

& – without waiting for an answer – he pulled himself in alongside me.

Up to this point – Id thought he was wearing a garishly striped summer shirt & a casual woollen jacket – but now I saw him clearly – & I thought – oh shit!

He was dressed in pyjamas & a dressing gown. On his left foot was a leather slipper. His right foot was bare. There were leaves clinging to him & thorns sticking into him. His face bled through a few light scratches.

But looking at him more closely – as I had no choice but to do – I realized hed suffered more physical damage than could be explained merely by pushing through a hedge – & rolling down the bank into the road.

There was a lot of him – but a kind of pallor & the looseness of the skin on that broad face suggested that there used to be a lot more. Your nurses eye would probably have done a full diagnosis in half a sec – but even I could see enough to work out hed recently been very ill.