Espresso Tales - Alexander Hanchett Smith [123]
Sharon arched an eyebrow in amazement. “Do you think that anybody would actually tell you something like that?”
“It depends what it was,” cut in George. “And anyway, I don’t think that it’s very fair not to tell him, Shaz. You’ve got him all upset now. You should tell him.”
“No, Georgie,” said Sharon. “I’m not going to tell him.”
“Would you tell me then?” asked George.
Sharon thought for a moment. Then she leant over and cupped a hand around George’s left ear and whispered to him. George’s eyes widened. Then he let out a laugh. “Really?” he asked. “Did it really?”
Sharon nodded with satisfaction. “Yes, it did. Funny, isn’t it?”
“Do you think it’s true?” asked George.
Sharon shrugged. “Who knows?” She paused. “So that’s it, Bruce. That’s what we thought of you.”
Bruce looked at George. “You’re marrying this person?” he asked quietly. “You’re actually going to go ahead and marry this person? This . . . this haggis? ”
It was as if George had been given an electric shock. Pulling himself up to his full height – and he was considerably shorter than Bruce, and Sharon – he poked a finger in the direction At the Gallery
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of his erstwhile friend. “You are not to call my fiancée a haggis,” he said. “Don’t ever let me hear you call her a haggis.”
And with that, he turned to Sharon, took her arm, and nodded in the direction of the door.
“Goodbye, Bruce,” he said. “I’m sorry that this has happened. But you’ve only got yourself to blame. Come, Shaz. We must go.”
Sharon gave Bruce a look of triumph. “Would you really like to know what was written on the wall? Would you?” She paused. She had spotted a piece of paper and a pencil on the counter and she went over to this and scribbled a few words. Then she folded the paper, passed it to him, and quickly rejoined George at the door.
After they had gone, Bruce sat down. He held the piece of paper in his hands, fingering it for a moment before he opened it and read what she had written. He crumpled up the paper and threw it across the room.
79. At the Gallery
Matthew came back from Big Lou’s eager to tell Pat about what had happened. “Cyril bit somebody,” he said, grinning. “There’s a woman who lives in Scotland Street. One of your neighbours, I believe. She’s got a little boy who looks as if he’s seen a ghost most of the time. He was patting Cyril and Cyril was lapping it up and then this hatchet-faced woman said something to Cyril that he didn’t like, and he bit her in the ankle! Not a serious bite. A nip really. I don’t think he even broke the skin. But she howled and tried to kick him but Cyril backed off. It was the funniest sight. And we had to keep a straight face through all this. And Angus Lordie had to say how sorry he was and gave Cyril a wallop with a rolled-up copy of the Scotsman. Poor Cyril.”
“I know her,” said Pat. “Domenica can’t stand her. She says that she pushes that little boy an awful lot. She makes him learn 260 At the Gallery
the saxophone and Italian. Domenica says that he’s going to rebel the first chance he gets.”
“Mothers can be like that,” said Matthew. “They create a lot of problems for their sons. Anyway, it was a very amusing incident.”
They returned to the business of the gallery. An auction catalogue had arrived with the morning’s post and Pat had already perused it, noting down the lots in which she thought Matthew might have an interest. There were early twentieth-century studies of Kirkcudbright Harbour which she thought he might go for, and Matthew was busy looking at photographs of these, wondering about the price at which he would be able to sell them if he were to bid for them, when the door opened and a woman came into the gallery. For a moment he did not recognise her, but then he realised who she was. This was Janis, his father’s new girlfriend, the florist with whom he and his father had enjoyed a somewhat less than satisfactory evening in the New Club. He rose to his feet and greeted her. He tried to sound warm, but it was difficult.
“So this is your gallery,” said Janis, looking around her. Matthew nodded.