Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [135]
Stuart stared at Angus. One did not come across people like this when one worked in the Scottish Executive.
“I have a lot of time for Lin Yutang,” Angus went on. “People don’t write essays any more, or not many of them do. He wrote Stuart Lends a Hand 283
beautifully about tea and flowers and subjects like that. He said that flowers were offended by loud conversations. One should talk softly in the presence of flowers.”
“Very nice,” said Matthew. “I’ll remember that.”
“And then there’s Michael von Poser’s essay, ‘Flowers and Ducks’,” Angus continued. “Another lovely bit of whimsy. But back to Hornel, Matthew. People like him, and I’d buy it. Look at how art has out-performed other investments. Imagine if one had a few Peploes about the house. Or Blackadders. She’ll be the next one.”
“I had a Vettriano,” said Matthew, thoughtfully. Angus looked down at the floor. That had been an incident in which he had unfortunately put a rather excessive amount of paint-stripper on Matthew’s painting, obliterating all the umbrellas and people dancing on the beach. It had been most regrettable, and it was inconsiderate of Matthew – to say the least – to bring the subject up again.
The conversation drifted on in this vein, and then Angus mentioned his discussion with Big Lou that morning.
“Big Lou is pretty miserable,” he said. “I saw her this morning.”
Matthew, who had been unable to go for coffee that day, frowned. “Miserable? Why?”
“That man of hers,” said Angus. “That Eddie character.”
“Not my favourite person,” said Matthew.
“Nor mine,” said Angus. “I never liked the cut of his jib. From the moment I met him. Well, we were right. You and I were absolutely right.”
“He’s left her?” asked Matthew.
He thought that this would be sad for Big Lou, but only in the short term.
“Not as far as I know,” said Angus. “But the penny’s dropped anyway. She realises that he’s no good. I didn’t ask her how it happened, but I suspect that she found out about the girls he gets mixed up with. You know what he’s like in that department. But that’s not the point. The point is money.”
“This club of his?” asked Matthew.
Angus nodded. “He’s taken her for thirty-four thousand pounds.”
284 Stuart Lends a Hand
Matthew whistled. Turning to Stuart, he explained the background. “Eddie wants to set up a club. Lou has a bit of money. It was left to her by some old farmer in Aberdeenshire or somewhere. It’s the answer to this character’s dreams.”
“I wonder if it was a loan,” asked Stuart. “Would she have any way of getting it back?”
“Fat chance!” snorted Angus. “She can kiss that money goodbye.”
Stuart was silent. He was a very fair man, and it caused him great distress to hear of dishonesty or exploitation. That this should happen under his nose, round the corner, to somebody who sounded like a good woman, angered him. It was awful, this lack of justice in the world. We believed that the state would protect us, that the authorities would pursue those who preyed on others. But the truth of the matter was that the authorities could set right only a tiny part of the injustice and wrong that was done to the weak. Justice, it seemed, was imperfect. It would be wonderful to be able to bring about justice. It would be wonderful to be some sort of omniscient being who saw all, noted it down, and then set things right. But that was a wish, a wish of childhood, that we grew to understand could never be. Except sometimes, perhaps . . . Sometimes there were occasions when the bully was defeated, the proud laid low, the weak given the chance to recover that which was taken from them. Sometimes that happened. “When I was young,” he said.
“I used to read stories about people who sorted this sort of thing out. The end was always predictable, but very satisfying.”
“Sorry to have to tell you this,” said Angus. “But the comicbook heroes aren’t real. They don’t exist.”
Stuart laughed. “Oh, I’ve come to terms with that,” he said.
“But I have a friend who does exist. He’s quite good at sorting