44 Scotland Street - Alexander McCall Smith [101]
“Nothing here. Nothing.”
And Pat had to agree. “I can’t imagine that we could sell any of these for more than . . . forty, fifty pounds.”
“Exactly,” said Matthew. “Let’s say thank you, but no.” He glanced at his watch. It was early for coffee, but he felt that he wanted to get out of the gallery, which suddenly seemed oppressive to him. That feeling would pass if he could get out and see his friends in Big Lou’s coffee bar.
With Matthew across the road at Big Lou’s, Pat picked up the telephone and dialled the office number that Bruce had given her when he had reluctantly agreed to find out how to contact the Ramsey Dunbartons. She listened anxiously as the telephone rang at the other end and when Bruce answered, with a gruff
“Anderson”, she almost put down the receiver. But she mastered her feelings, and asked him whether he had obtained the necessary information from Todd.
“I have,” said Bruce. “And here’s the number.” He paused. “I don’t know whether they’ll be terribly pleased.”
“Why not?” asked Pat. “Surely they’ll understand that there’s been a mistake.”
“Yes,” said Bruce quickly. “Your mistake.”
Pat ignored this. “We’ll see,” she said.
Bruce laughed. “Right, we’ll see. Now, is there anything else you wanted to say?”
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Pat was on the verge of saying that there was not, but then, for reasons which she could not understand, and before she could stop herself, she said: “That girl – that girl, Sally – do you like her?”
There was a silence at the other end of the line, and Pat felt herself tense with embarrassment. It was a ridiculous question, which she had no right to ask, and Bruce would have been quite entitled to tell her to mind her own business. But he did not, and replied quite brightly: “What do you think?”
“Do you mean what do I think of her?” It was a question that she could have answered with a remark about how she wore his dressing gown and the flaunting that this entailed, but she said instead: “Or what do I think you feel?”
“Yes,” said Bruce. “What do you think I feel?”
“You hate her,” said Pat. “You can’t stand her.”
Bruce whistled down the line. “Very wrong, Patsy girl. Very wrong. I want to marry her.”
76. Remembrance of Things Past
Neither Ronnie nor Pete had arrived at Big Lou’s when Matthew came in that morning. As Matthew approached the counter, Big Lou, who had been tidying the fridge, looked up and greeted him warmly. There was nobody else in the coffee bar – indeed Matthew was the first customer that morning – and she was pleased to have somebody to talk to.
She prepared Matthew’s coffee and brought it over, sitting down next to him in the booth.
“Those other two are late,” she said. “Not that I mind. They never have anything interesting to say – unlike you.”
“And I just have bad news today,” said Matthew, rather gloomily. “My Peploe?”
“Not a Peploe?” asked Big Lou. “Somebody’s looked at it?’
“It may be a Peploe,” said Matthew. “But whatever it is, it’s gone.”
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Remembrance of Things Past
Big Lou drew in her breath. It did not take her long to work out that Pete must have heard the discussion about it going to the flat in Scotland Street, and must have stolen it from there. She was sure that he was in league with that man, the man whom he described as John, but whom he then denied knowing. Well, she for one was not fooled by that.
“I’ll wring his neck when he comes in,” said Big Lou. “He’s your man. Pete’s taken it – or he’s mixed up in it.”
“It’s not him,” said Matthew. “It’s somebody from the South Edinburgh Conservative Association.”
Big Lou was trying to work out the meaning of this puzzling remark when Matthew explained about the tombola.
“That’s not too bad,” she said. “At least you know where it is
– and you’re still the owner.”
Matthew nodded. Everybody seemed confident about the recovery of the painting, and perhaps they were right. It was a stroke of good fortune that it had fallen into the hands of the Conservative Party, as they would