44 Scotland Street - Alexander McCall Smith [58]
“Practically nothing. A new biography of James the Sixth,”
said Stuart. “It’s getting a good review here from somebody or other.”
Irene opened the kitchen blind and looked out onto Scotland Street.
JAMIE SEXT: James VI of Scotland, James I of England (1566-1625), son of Mary Queen of Scots. Became the infant King of Scotland on the forced abdication of his mother in 1567. When Elizabeth of England died in 1603, he became King of England, being the great-grandson of James IV’s English wife, Margaret Tudor.
Irene and Stuart: A Breakfast Conversazione 121
“I have no idea,” she said, “no idea at all why people continue to write royal biographies. They go on and on. Even about the Duke of Windsor, about whom there was nothing to be said at all, other than to make a diagnosis.”
Stuart lowered the paper. “Some of these kings were influential,” he said. “They ran things then.”
“That’s not what history is about,” snapped Irene. “History is about ordinary people. How they lived. What they ate. That sort of thing.”
Stuart looked down at the review. “And ideas,” he said, mildly.
“History is about ideas. And monarchs tended to have some influence in that direction. Take Jamie Sext, for example. He had ideas on language. He was quite enlightened. He would have enjoyed the newspapers, if they had been around.”
Irene stared at him. “Which newspaper?” she asked. But he did not answer, and she continued: “What a peculiar thing to say!”
“No,” said Stuart. “Not really. In fact, it’s quite interesting to speculate what people would have read if these papers had existed. Queen Victoria, for example, read The Times, but what would Prince Albert have read?”
“The Frankfurter Allgemeine?” ventured Irene. They both laughed. This was undoubtedly very funny.
“And was she amused by The Times?” asked Stuart.
“No,” said Irene. “She was not.”
Irene joined him at the table.
“Enough levity,” she said. “We must talk about Bertie. We have to do something. I can’t face going back to that awful Macfadzean woman. So Bertie’s going to have to go elsewhere.”
“Couldn’t he wait?” asked Stuart. “He knows a great deal as it is. Couldn’t we give him a gap year?”
“A gap year?”
Stuart seemed pleased with his suggestion. “Yes, a gap year between nursery and primary school. So what if he’s only five?
Why not? Gap years are all the rage.”
Irene looked pensive. “You know, you might have something there. It could be a year in which he did his Grade seven theory and one or two other things. It would take him out of the 122
Irene and Stuart: A Breakfast Conversazione system for a while and allow him to flourish. We could make a programme.”
“Send him abroad? Perhaps he could work in a village in South America, or Africa even.”
Irene thought for a moment, as if weighing up the suggestion.
“Hardly. But it would be a rather good way of letting him develop without having to look over his shoulder at other children. I’m sure he’d benefit. And perhaps I could take him to Italy – to perfect his spoken Italian.”
Stuart laid aside his newspaper. “I was thinking of taking the pressure off a bit, rather than adding to it. I thought of a year out, so to speak. Perhaps we should leave Italian for the time being.”
This suggestion did not go down well with Irene. “It would be a criminal waste of everything we’ve done so far if we let his Italian get rusty,” she said coldly. “And the same goes for the saxophone and theory of music. For everything in fact.”
“But perhaps at this age we should concentrate on his langue maternelle,” said Stuart. “Italian is a very beautiful language, admittedly, but it isn’t his langue maternelle. ”
“Neither here nor there,” said Irene dismissively. “There is evidence – ample evidence – that the development of linguistic skills in the early years leads to much greater facility with language when one’s older. Every minute is precious at this age. The mind is very plastic.”
Stuart opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and was silent. He knew that he could