Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [92]
There were more people now. A runner, panting with effort, came towards him and Cyril moved obediently to the side to let him past. Then a woman walking a small dog that cowered as Cyril approached. Cyril ignored the other dog; he had picked up that scent again, slightly stronger now, even if still distant. He began to move more quickly, ignoring the distractions that now crowded in upon him. He paid no attention to a practice scull that shot past him, the two rowers pulling at the oars in well-rehearsed harmony. He paid no attention to the swan that hissed at him from the water’s edge, its eyes and beak turned towards him in hostility.
There was a bridge, and traffic. Cyril stuck to the path that led under the bridge. He saw trees up ahead, great towering trees in autumnal colours, and behind them the sky that Cyril saw as just another place, a blue place that was always there, far away, never reached.
He turned his nose into the wind. It was stronger now, the smell that he had been following. It was somewhere close, he thought, and he slowed to walking pace.
A long boat, the restaurant boat Zazou, was tied up at the edge of the canal, opposite the boating shed. Cyril saw the ramp that came down from the deck. He sniffed. There was a strong odour of food, of meat; and there was that familiar smell, the one that he had smelled in Valvona & Crolla that day – when was it? He had no idea whether it was a long time ago, for dogs have no sense of past time, but he had smelled it in that place. The smell of sun-dried tomatoes.
He began to make his way up the ramp onto the boat, stopping at the top, on the edge of the deck. Below him was the 192 Humiliation for Tofu
entry into a cabin in which there were tables and chairs. A group of four people sat at one of these tables. There was food before them, and glasses, and they were talking and laughing. Cyril jumped down and landed in front of the open door. As he did so, the people at the table stopped talking and turned to stare at him.
“Would you believe it?” said a man at the far side of the table.
“That dog’s got a gold tooth.”
“You’re right,” said a woman beside him. “What an extraordinary sight.”
A second man, who was sitting closest to the door, leaned forward to peer at Cyril.
“A gold tooth, did you say?” He stretched out a hand towards Cyril and clicked his fingers. “Come closer, boy.”
Cyril advanced slowly into the galley. As he did so, the man who had called him leaned further forward and patted his head gently.
“I know who you are,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen you in the Cumberland Bar, haven’t I? You’re Cyril, aren’t you? Angus Lordie’s dog. That’s who you are.”
62. Humiliation for Tofu
In Bertie’s classroom at the Steiner School, the talk was almost entirely of the forthcoming production of The Sound of Music. Miss Harmony’s casting decisions had not won universal approval; indeed, no choice of hers could possibly have secured that, given the fact that each of the girls wished to play the part of Maria and a good number of the boys had their heart set on being Captain von Trapp. The decision that Skye should be Maria at least forestalled an outcome that, by common consent, would have been disastrous – the casting of Olive in the principal role. Bertie’s nomination as Captain von Trapp was, by contrast, approved of by the girls, who were generally relieved that the part had not gone to Tofu; among the girls, only Olive Humiliation for Tofu 193
was hostile to this choice. Although she admired Bertie and considered herself to be his girlfriend (in spite of Bertie’s vigorous denials of any such understanding), it was a bitter pill to swallow to see Bertie so favoured and herself relegated to a yet undisclosed minor role – possibly in the chorus of nuns. A better outcome, of course, would have been for her to be Liesl, the teenage girl who had a dalliance with Rolf, the telegramdelivery