44 Scotland Street - Alexander McCall Smith [153]
Angus Lordie smiled. “But Domenica rather likes all that,”
he suggested mischievously. “She’s a bit of a Jean Brodie, you see.”
Pat looked at Domenica, wondering whether she would take offence. Hadn’t Jean Brodie been a fascist? Wasn’t that the whole point about Spain and the betrayal and all the rest? Matthew simply looked confused. What was this man talking about? And where was that peculiar dog of his?
They were all standing in the drawing room overlooking the Drummond Place Gardens. It was about nine o’clock, and the sky was still light. The branches of the trees moved gently against the sky and the stone of the buildings opposite, for there was a slight breeze. Pat sipped at the drink that Angus Lordie had given her – a gin and tonic flavoured with lime; she was happy to be here, with these people, with Matthew, whom she liked more and more for his gentleness; with Angus Lordie, who amused her and seemed so grateful for her company, and who was not a threat to anyone; and with Domenica, whom she admired. What a difference, she thought, between this company, interesting and sympathetic, and the company of Bruce and his friends in the Cumberland Bar. What a profound mistake to fall in love with A Most Remarkable and Important Discovery 321
that man – she realised that now. She had no feeling for him, not even revulsion; she felt nothing. At that crucial moment, when she had seen him awake and smiling at her, she had realised that she was free.
Angus Lordie interrupted her thoughts. “We should do something about the picture now,” he said. “Let’s go into my studio and get to work.”
They followed him from the drawing room, down a booklined corridor, and into a large room, two floors high, with large skylights set into the ceiling. Matthew, who had been clutching the painting, now handed it over to Angus Lordie and watched anxiously as their host laid it down on a table and reached for a large, opaque bottle. He placed the bottle beside him and then raised his glass of whisky to Matthew.
“Paint-stripper,” he said. “In the bottle that is – not the glass!
Hah!”
Matthew said nothing, but narrowed his eyes as Angus Lordie took the top off the bottle and sprinkled a viscous liquid across the painting. Then he rubbed this gently with a cloth.
“Draw near and see,” said Angus Lordie. “We’ll give this a moment to act, and then I’ll give it a wipe. All should be revealed.”
Slowly the surface of the painting began to blister and bubble. The shore of Iona disappeared, and then the coast of Mull. Next went the sea; those blue waves which had rather impressed Matthew became grey and then brown.
“Now a gentle wipe,” said Angus Lordie. “That’ll get rid of all this superfluous paint. Here we go.”
They were all huddled over the painting now. Pat noticed that Matthew looked pale, and that his breathing was shallow. Domenica, catching Pat’s eye, gave her a conspiratorial nod. And Angus Lordie, absorbed in his task, looked only at the surface of the painting, which was now changing colour markedly.
“Now then,” Angus Lordie said, dabbing at a section of the painting. “Gently does it. Gently.”
“An umbrella,” whispered Domenica. “Look. An umbrella.”
“Yes!” said Angus Lordie, triumphantly. “Yes! And look what we have here. A beach. Yes! And do we have people in evening
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Gain, Loss, Friendship, Love
suits dancing under that umbrella, which is being held up, is it not, by a butler? Yes we do! We do!”
Angus Lordie straightened up. “Yes!” he shouted. “Exactly as I had suspected! A Vettriano!”
110. Gain, Loss, Friendship, Love
Matthew was quietly pleased. He had lost a Peploe (which he had never really had, anyway) but he had gained a Vettriano (which he had never known he had). After the initial shock of the discovery, he turned to Angus Lordie and embraced him warmly. “I’m so glad that you offered to do this,” he said. “I would never have imagined it. A Vettriano!”
Angus