Pedigree Crush With A twist of Passion:Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty Nine
The nearest bus stop was a mile and a half away from the farm. She sorely regretted not bringing her car and just dumping it in bushes somewhere close by. Not only was she trudging up the dirt track in the heat of summer but it was all uphill and she was wearing bloody Jesus sandals. She wore a flowing skirt in purples and reds. It came to her to her ankles, with bells on a string at her waist that tinkled when she walked. On top she had on a loose vintage top with no bra. She had to admit that part did feel very liberating, but to be authentic she had on no deodorant or perfume…in this heat! Bloody hippies, why can’t they be at least half civilised, I bet there’s no champagne on ice when I get there either, she thought. She had developed a taste for the stuff and had become adept at distinguishing which fruit had been used in which label.
When she got to the enormous farmhouse, she gave a low whistle; she wasn’t the only one who’d done well for herself. She knocked on the door and was told by a pretty girl with a baby at her breast that Beth was in her studio, the girl pointed her in the right direction.
‘Hi there, come on in. Take a seat, if you can find one.’
Beth had aged, although Connie recognised her immediately, she could see that she was different. If she had to describe it in one word, it would be, passionless. The passion that she’d had for life had left her eyes. She smiled, but it was just a smile. Beth, like the rest of them, had always looked down her nose at Julie, but she was the best of the lot. They had talked sometimes, and she knew what it was like to be disapproved of by Violet.
Her work had changed too. She still did her fluffy paintings of nature and animals, recorded the changing seasons in oil and watercolour and used the elements for inspiration in her sculpture and pottery, but in amongst the fluff, there was dark art. Pieces of tortured metal, bent and moulded to reflect pain and suffering. Connie bought a lot of art, she knew what was good and what wasn’t. Beth was good.
‘Connie,’ she said, extending a hand.
‘Not from around here then? Spanish, Basque, right?’
‘Not bad, Barcelona. I’m just bumming around your island for a few months, heard there might be some work going here. I’m a good worker.’
Beth gave a dry laugh, ‘There is always work here. And we can always use a good worker. We don’t pay,’
‘Si, that’s fine.’
‘Just do what you think your stay is worth and come and go as you please. We don’t use locks here.’ She gave another little laugh, ‘I hope you’ve got a strong back, its potato picking this week. If you go back to the house, someone there will show you to a dorm and get you something to eat. Good to have you aboard, welcome Connie, stay as long as you like.’

Some women buy extravagant Parisian fragrances, in tiny bottles, for vast amounts of money. Connie brought with her Listeria in a tiny bottle, which had cost a fortune. When you have money, you can buy anything. There is nothing that doesn’t have a price tag.
She worked in the fields for the rest of that week, until she never wanted to see another chip. In the evenings, she singled Beth out to chat to, showed an interest in the farm and how it operated and wormed herself a week working in the creamery. She was impressed by the size of the operation. Their brand was called Nature’s Riches and they had an impressive turnover of cheese, milk, cream, yogurt and ice cream. Their cheese in particular had won awards, and was being stocked in the organic section of the leading supermarkets. She had imagined a couple of women turning handled on a churning bucket, but in fact, the operation was bang up to the minute. The machinery was floor to ceiling high and it took the strength of several men, to do most of the manual work. The women were used for packing, labelling and order processing.
This suited Connie’s purpose well. She wanted complete control of which cheeses were where. What she planned to do was risky. If one cheese was taken out of place she could have the death of many people on her hands. That was never her intention. She wanted to bring down one family, not innocent people, and she didn’t want to kill anybody. She didn’t blame herself for John’s death at all. The people he owed money to got him; they would have done that with or without the tip off about where he was living. If he didn’t owe so much money, he wouldn’t have died, it was that simple. What she took credit for, was the misery that he died in and the fact that he left this world estranged from his family. That she pushed him to lower himself to stealing twenty grand from his mother with no means of returning it before he died. He drew his last breath a lonely man.
Andrew singled her out. He wanted to sleep with her. The last time he’d seen Julie his lip had curled. She disgusted him, though he was civil to her, when he had to be. But he wanted Connie, she stirred his blood. His eyes were enflamed with lust. He brushed against her, made excuses to consult with her, did everything in his power to woo her into bed. And she flirted with him. She was disappointed when his obvious desire for her elicited no reaction from his wife. She didn’t care. They had practised free love since the day they had met. But this was different. The love had left her eyes. She didn’t love, need or desire her husband any longer so he slept at will with members of their community. Beth slept alone, since the rape, she preferred it that way.
When Connie took Andrew to bed it was because she wanted to. She could have had any man on the farm, and indeed, many of the women, but Andrew had captivated her imagination. His body was lean and taut; he was more animal than man. He turned her on, and she found herself watching him, wanting him, and thinking about him while she worked. She wanted to see if he was as good at satisfying a woman as he was at swinging an axe. He was.
She tipped the vial of listeria into the first basin in the production process. Every piece of equipment in that creamery, every utensil would have to be destroyed. Listeria mainly affects the very young and the very old, it’s dangerous for pregnant women to contract because it’s harmful to the unborn. Connie has never had children, but Julie had a little girl, once. She was murdered.’
After the tip off, the investigating authorities arrived fast. They locked down the farm and took samples from everything. Connie was sure that none of the contaminated products had left the first storage room, but nevertheless, all of their outlets had to remove the Nature’s Riches stock from their shelves. It went Nationwide and featured on the evening news. Woods’ Kibbutz Farm was finished. Andrew was depressed. He grieved for all the children that he might have killed, though in fact, no actual harm was done. Connie watched his sorrow and revelled in it. He hadn’t grieved for Julie’s daughter, had he? He was besmirched in the press, his lifestyle laid open for public scrutiny. The intimate details of his sex life were examined with several of his concubines coming forward to tell their stories. They were raided by the vice squad. A massive cache of drugs were found. Most of the adults in the commune used them, and their high of choice was as varied as a Woolworth’s pick `n` mix. That was without the ‘crop’ that was kept under infra red lights, in the top barn. The haul was all for personal usage, but at street value it was worth hundreds of thousands. Social Services descended on the community to investigate how the members looked after their children. Many of the children, including two of Beth and Andrew’s, were taken into care. His family rallied, but he felt their disapproval for besmirching the family name again, too.
Andrew smoked less marijuana and more opium. He turned to Beth for solace, but she had none to give. They’d always liked the Cedar on the back lawn, where the children played.
It was the children who found him.