Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [127]
“I have reached a decision on that,” Irene replied. “I would like a home delivery, of course. I would like my son, Bertie, to play a part in the delivery of his little brother or sister. I would like him to be the one to welcome the baby to the world.”
Nurse Forbes sat quite still. She spoke quietly, as if in shock.
“You’re proposing that Bertie should actually . . .”
Irene laughed. “Oh, not by himself, of course! With the midwife. Bertie could help to bring the baby . . .”
“But I am the midwife,” said Nurse Forbes. “And I forbid it. Birth would be a very, very traumatic experience for a little boy. And, I’m sorry to have to say this, it would be completely inap-266 Poor Lou propriate for a son to attend to his mother in this way. Any boy would be deeply, deeply embarrassed to do this. No, I forbid it.”
“Melanie Klein . . .”
“I don’t care who your MSP is. I forbid it!”
85. Poor Lou
Angus Lordie went with Cyril down the steps that led into Big Lou’s coffee house, the very steps down which the late Dr C.M. Grieve, or Hugh MacDiarmid, had tripped and fallen all those years ago when visiting what was then a bookshop. The steps were still perilous, and Angus had once almost fallen; now he was careful to avoid the place where the railings largely disappeared and the step which was cambered in the wrong direction. These snares negotiated, he pushed open the door of the coffee bar and entered the dimly-lit interior, Cyril walking obediently at his heels. Big Lou was standing in her accustomed position behind the bar, a book open in front of her. She looked up as Angus came in and nodded in his direction. Angus greeted her and walked up to the bar with Cyril.
“I must say, Big Lou,” he began, “I must say that you’re looking more than usually attractive this morning.”
Big Lou glanced up from her book. “I’m looking the same as I always do,” she said. “No different.” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “Is that smell your dog?”
“My goodness,” said Angus. “That’s no way to refer to a regular customer! Cyril pays good money here, same as anybody else. And he licks the plates clean, which is more than can be said of most of your clients.”
“Malodorous beastie,” said Big Lou.
Angus smiled. “Now, now, Lou. Cyril may have the occasional personal hygiene issue, but that’s absolutely normal for dogs. They may be smellier creatures than the opposition, that is, than cats. But they are infinitely more intelligent and agreeable in every respect. You should understand that, coming from Poor Lou 267
Arbroath. You have working dogs up there, don’t you?”
“There are some,” said Lou. She closed her book and slipped it under the counter. “The usual?”
“If you don’t mind. And a dish of warm milk for Cyril, please, with just a dash of espresso in his. Not too much. Just a dash.”
Angus made his way over to his table, sat down, and opened the newspaper. The news, he noticed, was uniformly grim, with seemingly endless vistas of conflict opening up in every corner of the world. It was always thus, he reflected: the struggle for resources, the struggle for space, the struggle for primacy. And as we grew in numbers, remorselessly straining the earth’s capacity to sustain us, so the levels of conflict rose.
“Bad news, Cyril,” he said. “Look at this, boy. Bad news for us; bad news for dogs. We’re in it together, I’m afraid.”
Big Lou now came across with a cup of coffee for Angus and a dish of milk for Cyril. She laid the dish down on the ground, near Cyril’s snout, and he looked up at her with moist, appreciative eyes. Then she put the coffee in front of Angus.
“Lou . . .” Angus had noticed her strained expression and reached out to hold her forearm. “Lou? Are you . . .”
She tried to move away, but he tightened his grip.
“Lou, you sit down. You sit down right there.”
She tried to pull away again, but he resisted, and she sat down, opposite him, her head lowered.
“What is it?” he asked gently. “You’re greeting.” He used the Scots word for crying, instinctively, because that was the word that had been used with him as a child