Love Over Scotland 4ss-3

by Alexander McCall Smith

  Domenica sat back and closed her eyes. She had decided that she would simply wait it out and think while she was doing so.

  And there was a great deal to think about. Had she made the right decision as to the distribution of her estate after her death?

  The lawyers at Turcan Connell would look after that very well

  – she was confident of that – but had she left Miss Paul adequate instructions about what would happen to her library of anthropological books and papers? And she could not remember whether she had been specific enough about the conditions she had attached to the legacy to Angus Lordie. That would require attention if she survived.

  But of course I shall survive, she told herself. Nobody succumbs this close to the coast, particularly in busy waters like these. At any moment we shall hear a boat and a friendly pair of hands will indicate where safety lies. At any moment . . .

  “Bot,” said Henry suddenly, cupping a hand to his ear. “Bot bilong roscol bilong boscru. Closap.”

  Domenica opened her eyes quickly. Henry had heard the pirate boats. She strained to listen. From somewhere close by came the sound of a couple of engines, their droning notes weaving in and out of another, as if in mechanical dance. She looked at Henry. He had now started their own engine, but was keeping the throttle low, to mask the sound, she assumed.

  Suddenly, at the very edge of their vision through the fog, they saw a dark shape glide by. A few seconds later, there was another glimpse of the outline of a boat, and then nothing.

  Henry swung the prow of their boat round and began to follow. Domenica was not sure about this. Was it a good idea, At the Warehouse 331

  she wondered, to set off in pursuit of the pirate boats in weather like this? If the pirates did find prey in such conditions, then would there be anything to observe, or would there just be the sound of shouts and, she hoped not, shots? That would hardly give her an insight into pirate activities. It was a basic rule of anthropological observation that one had to be able actually to see something.

  Now that Henry had seen the pirate boats, he seemed to have regained his confidence. Domenica looked at him inquiringly, but he simply waved a hand in the air. So she sat back and, as she had done from the beginning of this extraordinary trip, remained calm.

  They had travelled for about twenty minutes before the fog began to lift. Domenica peered about her and was astonished to discover that they were very close to the coast and were coming up to a town of some sort. Now they could make out the two pirate boats, some distance ahead, and they were cruising slowly up to a jetty beside a large warehouse.

  Henry cut the motor of his boat and waited. The pirate boats had now nosed into the jetty and had been secured by their occupants. Then the pirates clambered out and began to walk into the warehouse. One of the men coughed, and the sound reached Henry and Domenica across the water.

  “Roscol bilong boscru smok smok,” whispered Henry.

  Domenica nodded her agreement. From what she had seen in the village, the pirates were all heavy smokers.

  When the last of the pirates had entered the warehouse, Henry started his engine again and they began to inch towards the other side of the jetty. Domenica watched carefully. This was extremely exciting, and she could already imagine her telling this story to Angus Lordie or James Holloway, or Dilly Emslie

  – to any of her Edinburgh friends, in fact.

  “There I was,” she would say. “There I was with my good friend Henry, creeping up the jetty to peek through the windows of the pirate warehouse. What would I see within? Chests of booty? Wretched captives tied and gagged by these ruffians?

  Things that can hardly be described . . . ?”

  332 An Unexpected Development

  There is a certain self-conscious pleasure in describing, before the event, one’s more distinguished moments, and that is exactly what Domenica experienced, sitting there in the boat, waiting for the adventure to unfold. And it did unfold.

  106. An Unexpected Development

  Big Lou’s coffee bar was not full that morning – it never was –

  but at least Matthew, Pat and Angus Lordie were there, together with Cyril, of course, who lay contentedly beneath one of the tables. Cyril had one eye closed and one eye open, the latter fixed watchfully on Matthew’s ankles, barely eighteen inches away from him. It had been Cyril’s long-cherished ambition to bite Matthew’s ankles, not for reasons of antipathy towards him – Cyril quite liked Matthew – but because of the sheer attractiveness to a dog of that particular set of ankles. But he knew that he could never do this, and so he just watched with one eye, imagining the pleasure of sinking his teeth into that inviting target.

  An Unexpected Development 333

  The conversation had ranged widely, but had been largely dominated by Angus, who was in an argumentative mood. From time to time, Matthew had thrown an anxious glance in the direction of Big Lou, about whom he was still worried. He had not yet had the opportunity to tell Angus about the trip that he had made to Glasgow with Stuart and about their conversation

  – if one could call it that – with Lard O’Connor. He had felt cheered by the trip, but now, seeing Lou still in a despondent state, he wondered whether he was putting too much faith in Lard’s agreement to help. He had tried to convey to him some sense of the urgency which he thought attended the issue, but Lard had been remarkably casual and had told Matthew not to fash himself. Now Matthew wondered if Lard would ever get round to coming over to Edinburgh.

  They had finished their first cup of coffee and were on the point of ordering refills when Angus, who was sitting facing the doorway, noticed two shadows on the window which told him that somebody was coming down the stairway from the street.

  One of the shadows looked extremely large.

  “Here comes a substantial customer,” he remarked.

  Matthew turned round, as did Pat, just at the moment that the door was opened. Lard O’Connor stepped into the room, to be followed, immediately, by Eddie. Matthew gasped.

  Seeing Matthew at his table, Lard nodded to him and then walked up to the bar, Eddie trailing behind him reluctantly.

  “You’re the wummin they call Big Lou?” Lard asked.

  “Aye,” said Lou. “That’s me.”

  Matthew noticed that as she answered Lard, Big Lou was looking at Eddie. Her expression was a curious one: there was anxiety there, but also an expression that looked very much like regret.

  “Hello, Eddie,” said Lou. “I hadn’t expected to see you.” Lard turned to Eddie and gestured for him to come up to the bar.

  “Eddie wanted to say something,” he said. “Didn’t you, Eddie?”

  Eddie looked helplessly at Lou. Matthew noticed that there was a bruise on one of his cheeks, and one of his eyes, he thought, was badly bloodshot, the surrounding skin discoloured.

  “Eddie?” Big Lou’s voice was strained.

  334 An Unexpected Development

  Eddie looked at Lard, who nodded his head in the direction of Lou.

  “Don’t keep us waiting,” muttered Lard. “You know fine what to say.”

  “I’ve come to pay you back, Lou,” said Eddie. “I can’t manage the full thirty-four grand, but here’s twenty-five. That’s all I’ve got left.” He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and took out a folded cheque, which he pushed over the counter towards Lou.

  “And?” said Lard, glowering at Eddie. “You have another statement to make, don’t you?”

  Eddie looked down at the floor. Witnessing his humiliation, Matthew felt almost sorry for him, but then he remembered.

  Eddie did not deserve his sympathy. “That thing about the coffee bar,” he said. “That piece of paper you signed. I’ve decided to give my share back to you.” He paused, and looked over his shoulder, as if looking for an escape route.

  “And?” said Lard menacingly.

  “So here it is,” said Eddie. “I’ve put it in writing.”

  “Always get things in writing,” s
aid Lard, turning to address Matthew. “Every time. Never rely on gentlemen’s agreements.

  Some people just aren’t gentlemen, know what I mean?”

  Matthew nodded. “You’re right there, Lard,” he said.

  Big Lou reached out and took the document which Eddie had passed over the counter. She looked at it, nodded, and then slipped it into the pocket of her apron. “Thanks, Eddie,” she said.

  There was a silence. Matthew looked at Eddie, knowing that he was staring at a broken man. Angus felt that too, and looked away in embarrassment. Pat busied herself with her empty coffee cup. She had never liked Eddie either, but the sight of him being obliged to behave like an errant schoolboy was not a comfortable one.

  “One last thing,” said Lard. “Then you can go.”

  Eddie fixed his gaze on the floor. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “Sorry, Lou.”

  “Right,” said Lard to Eddie. “You can go now.”

  Wur Planets are oot o’ alignment 335

  Eddie tried to straighten himself up. It was as if he was attempting to salvage at least some shred of dignity, but he could not. He slumped back into his dejected position. For a moment he hesitated, then he turned round and walked out of the café.

  “Well, that’s that all sorted,” said Lard cheerfully. “Now, how about youse fixing me up with a cup of coffee or something?”

  Big Lou turned back to her espresso machine and soon had a large, scalding cup of coffee ready for Lard. Heaping several spoons of sugar into the cup, Lard quickly drained it and suggested another one.

  “You single-handed here, hen?” he asked Lou.

  Big Lou smiled at him. She had no idea who Lard O’Connor was, and why he had intervened on her part, but she felt profound gratitude to him. “Aye, I run the place myself,” she said. “But I’m not very busy most of the time.”

  Lard looked around the café. “You could put in some music,”

  he said. “And maybe one of they fruit-machines. Cheer things up a bit.”

  Hearing these remarks, Angus shot a glance at Matthew.

  “Let’s hope she doesn’t give this chap half the business,” he whispered.

  Lard did not hear him. He was leaning across the bar, smiling at Big Lou, who was preparing a second cup of coffee for him.

  “I don’t believe it,” said Matthew sotto voce. “I just don’t believe it.”

  Lard and Big Lou were now deep in conversation and Lard, reaching out over the bar, had taken Big Lou’s hand in his.

  “Oh no,” said Angus. “Worst fears realised. Close all ports.

  Prepare to abandon ship.”

  107. Wur Planets are oot o’ alignment Big Lou looked down at Lard O’Connor’s hand, resting on hers.

  Then, very politely, she lifted it with her free hand and placed it back on the counter. Lard O’Connor continued to smile.

  336 Wur Planets are oot o’ alignment

  “Thank you for what you’ve done,” she said. “But we hardly . . .”

  “Aloysius O’Connor,” said Lard.

  “Thank you, Mr O’Connor. I have no idea how you persuaded Eddie . . .” Lou’s voice tailed off. It was hard to utter the name.

  She had loved him, and in a way she still did. Why had he treated her as he had? She had imagined that she might change him, that he would not need to see those girls, but it had been hopeless. Everybody says that about these things, she told herself. They are just too deeply embedded. And he hadn’t cared about her feelings, not in the slightest.

  Lard looked grave. “It’s amazing what direct talking will achieve,” he said. “The trouble with this side of the country is there’s not enough direct speaking. All that blethering. No direct speaking.”

  “Well, you’ve been very helpful to me, Mr O’Connor.”

  “Please . . . Aloysius.”

  “Aloysius.”

  “That’s better.”

  Big Lou took a step backward. “Well, I have to get on with my work,” she said. “Maybe some day we’ll . . .”

  “Aye,” said Lard. “Mebbe.”

  From their table, Angus, Matthew and Pat watched as Lard left the coffee bar. He nodded curtly to Matthew as he made for the door, and shot a glance at Angus, who quickly looked away.

  Lard was almost at the door when he hesitated and looked back towards Matthew. Then slowly he walked over to the table and leant down to whisper to him.

  “Tell Stewie everything’s tickety-boo,” he said. “But wur still a wee bit skew-wiff on this deal, pal. No quite eexy-peexy. Wur planets are oot o’ alignment like. So I’ll be on your case for a wee bit of reciprocation. Understaund?”

  Matthew sat quite still. He looked up at Lard and blinked.

  He was silent. Lard then winked at him and made for the door.

  “That was a most interesting face,” said Angus. “I wonder if he might sit for a portrait one of these days. What a mug! Did you see it, Pat? Ever seen anything like it?”

  Wur Planets are oot o’ alignment 337

  “What did he mean by reciprocation?” asked Pat. “Do you think that . . . ?”

  Matthew waved her question aside. Reciprocation could mean only one thing: he would be expected to participate in something illegal – launder money, perhaps, or hide a weapon. He thought for a moment. Could he pay Lard off instead? Could he offer him ten thousand pounds instead of a favour, or would that just whet his appetite for more? And what if Lard got wind of the fact that he had four million pounds in the bank? It hardly bore thinking about.

  He looked at his watch. “It’s time to get back to the gallery,”

  he announced. “Let’s go, Pat.”

  They crossed the road, Matthew still deep in thought.

  “You’re worried, aren’t you?” said Pat.

  Matthew nodded. “It’s occurred to me that I’ve already broken the law,” he said miserably. “I incited this awful man to beat Eddie up. If Eddie goes to the police, then I’m implicated.”

  “Eddie won’t go to the police,” said Pat. “They would want to know why Lard beat him up. He would have to tell them that he took Big Lou’s money.”

  “But she gave it to him,” said Matthew. “Eddie’s done nothing illegal.”

  “He won’t go,” said Pat. “Eddie probably has other things to hide from the police. There’s that club of his. And the girls and the rest. He won’t go.”

  They opened the gallery in silence. Pat was aware of Matthew’s anxiety and was worried about what she had to do next, which was to tell him that she was moving out of the flat in India Street. There was a good reason for this, of course, and she could not put off telling him any longer. That afternoon, a friend was coming to help her move her things back to her parents’ house in the Grange, and she would have to let Matthew know about this before she made the move.

  She waited. One or two people came into the gallery and one of them bought a painting. That seemed to cheer Matthew up, and Pat decided that the moment had come.

  “Matthew,” she began. “There’s something I must tell you.”

  338 Wur Planets are oot o’ alignment Matthew stared at her. I should have realised, he said to himself. I should have realised that it could never last. It never does. How long has it been? Three days? Four days?

  “I’m going to have to move out of India Street,” Pat said.

  “I’m going this afternoon.”

  Matthew’s face crumpled. “This afternoon? Today?”

  “Yes,” said Pat. “I’m sorry.”

  Matthew nodded. Pat noticed that he was looking at the floor, tracing an invisible pattern on the carpet with the toe of his shoe.

  “You see . . .” Pat began to say.

  Matthew cut her short. “It’s all right,” he said flatly. “I understand.” And he thought: girls just don’t like me. Well, they may not actively dislike me – they tolerate me – but they don’t find me interesting, or exciting, or anything really. And there’s nothing I’ll ever be able to do about
that. I really like this girl

  – really like her – but she doesn’t like me. And who can blame her?

  “I don’t think you do understand,” said Pat. “What I was going to say is that since you and I . . . well, since you and I are an item, then I don’t think that we should be flatmates too.

  It complicates matters, doesn’t it? And I need my space, just as you do.”

  Matthew stared at her. When people talked about needing space they usually meant that they wanted the maximum space between you and them. This was different. Was it still on?

  “You mean that you’re not wanting to get rid of me?” he stuttered.

  “Of course not,” said Pat, moving over to his side. “I don’t want that. Do you?’

  “No,” said Matthew. He looked at her and thought: I have found myself in you. Bless you. And then he thought: what a strange, old-fashioned thing to think. Bless you. But what other way was there of saying that you wanted only good for somebody, that you wanted the world to be kind to her, to cherish her? Only old-fashioned words would do for that.

  108. On the Stairs

  Now that Domenica had indicated that she was returning to Scotland within a few days, Antonia Collie took steps to conclude the lease on the flat across the landing – the flat once occupied by Bruce and Pat and which had been sold to a young property developer. This person had developed the property by painting it and by installing a new microwave and a new bath before deciding to offer it for rent. Antonia was indifferent to the fresh paint, the microwave and the bath, but keen on the view from the sitting room and the prospect of having Domenica as a neighbour. Negotiations for the lease had been swift and Antonia now had the keys to the flat and could move in at any time she wished.

  Antonia, having gone out to purchase one or two things for the kitchen, returned to No 44 to discover a small boy sitting on the stone stairs, staring up into the air. She had seen this small boy once or twice before. On one occasion she had spotted him walking up the street with his very pregnant mother (he had been trying to avoid stepping on the lines and was being roundly encouraged by his mother to hurry up), and on another she had seen him in Valvona & Crolla, again with his mother, who was lecturing him on the qualities of a good olive oil. She knew that he belonged to No 44 and she thought she knew which flat it was, but apart from that she knew nothing about him, neither his name, nor how old he was, nor where he went to school.