Espresso Tales - Alexander Hanchett Smith [52]
Angus Lordie snorted dismissively. “Doesn’t work,” he said.
“They have had exactly the same amount of time to think about it. Uncle A thinks about it while he’s holding the boy’s head under the water. Uncle B thinks about it while he stands there and watches the poor boy drown. No difference, in my view.”
106 Bertie Makes a Move
Big Lou wanted to side with Matthew, but could not. “Yes,”
she conceded, a note of reluctance in her voice. “Angus is probably right – in this case. But you’re right, too, Matthew, when it comes to most of the things we do. There must be a difference between the things you do on a sudden urge and the things you do after you’ve thought about them for a long time.”
“So what do you think, Lou?” asked Angus. “Is there a difference between Uncle A and Uncle B as far as you’re concerned?
What did that book of yours say?”
“It hinted at an answer,” said Big Lou. “But mostly it just raised the question. Books don’t always give the answers, you know. Sometimes they just raise the questions.”
Angus smiled. “So nothing’s certain, then?”
“That’s right,” said Big Lou.
“Except death and taxes,” interjected Matthew. “Isn’t that how the saying goes?”
“They don’t pay taxes in Italy,” observed Angus. “I knew a painter in Naples who never paid taxes – ever. Very good painter too.”
“What happened to him?” asked Matthew.
“He died,” said Angus.
33. Bertie Makes a Move
In the days that followed his visit to George Street with his mother, Bertie had been preoccupied with his plan. The purchase of the Watson’s blazer from Aitken and Niven was feasible only with the co-operation of the boy from round the corner. Unfortunately, there was a difficulty with this as he was not sure exactly where this new friend lived. He had met him only on the one occasion and although the other boy had given him his name – he was called Paddy – he had not been specific as to where he lived. He had pointed in the direction of the far end of Fettes Row, which was just round the corner, when Bertie Makes a Move
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Bertie had asked him, but he had given no number. Nor had he given Bertie his surname, which would have allowed the telephone directory to be consulted. So all that Bertie could do if he wanted to contact him was to wait in the street in the hope that he might appear.
And there was a difficulty with doing even that. Bertie was now allowed out alone in Scotland Street and Drummond Place, provided that he did not cross any busy roads and provided that he told Irene exactly where he was going. This allowed him to sit on the steps outside No 44 and watch people going in and out of their houses. It also allowed him to stand at the end of Scotland Street Lane in the hope of seeing one of the motorcycles that occasionally roared out of the vintage-motorcycle garage (out of bounds).
Bertie liked the motorcyclists, who sometimes waved or nodded to him. He would like to have a motorcycle like that, which he could ride to rugby matches, and he would do so, he thought, when he was bigger.
His mother would not like it, of course – she said that motorcycles were noisy things – worse than cars – and that if she were the Lord Provost of Edinburgh she would ban them from the streets. But even if he got hold of a motorcycle, she would still try to spoil it for him, thought Bertie. Motorcyclists wore leather outfits, sometimes with badges on them; she would force him to wear leather dungarees, he thought, and all the other motorcyclists would laugh at him. If Paddy lived on Fettes Row, then he would have to go and seek him there. But again there were obstacles. Although one section of Fettes Row was accessible, the other section, where Paddy lived, lay beyond Dundas Street, and the crossing of Dundas Street was definitely forbidden.
Bertie wrestled with this. He could not tell his mother that he was going to the other side of Fettes Row because she would forbid him outright. And if he lied, which he did not want to do – for he was a