The World According to Bertie - Alexander Hanchett Smith [44]
He looked up. ‘Why not make her dinner at your place? Candlelight. A nice bottle of something. That’s what I would do if . . .’ He broke off, his attention suddenly attracted by something he had seen on the other side of the room. ‘Interesting.’
‘What?’
‘That chap over there,’ said Angus, inclining his head to the far side of the bar. ‘That one, with the grey jacket. Yes, him. You know who that is?’
Matthew looked at the person indicated by Angus. He was a man somewhere in his late thirties or early forties, neatly dressed, with dark hair. He was engaged in conversation with a couple of other men seated at his table. One of them was leaning forward to listen to him, while the other sat back and looked up at the ceiling, as if weighing up what was being said.
Matthew turned back to Angus. ‘Never seen him,’ he said. ‘Who is he?’
Angus leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘That, Matthew my friend, is Rabbie Cromach – Big Lou’s new friend. That’s who he is!’
Matthew turned back to stare at the man. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Well, that’s interesting.’
‘Yes,’ said Angus. ‘But what’s more interesting is the company he’s in.’
Matthew’s heart sank. It seemed that Big Lou was destined to choose unsuitable men – men who bordered on the criminal. Was she doing it again? He hardly dared ask. ‘Bad company?’ he said finally.
Angus smiled. ‘Depends on your view of a number of things,’ he said. ‘The Act of Settlement for one thing. The Hanoverians. General Wade. The list could go on.’
‘I’m not with you,’ said Matthew.
Angus leaned forward again. ‘Sorry to be obscure, but you’ll soon see what I mean. That man directly opposite Rabbie – the one with the blue jacket – him, yes him. He’s an eighty-four-horsepower fruitcake, if I may mix my metaphors. Always writing to the papers. Got chucked out of the public gallery at the General Assembly a few years ago and out of the Scottish Parliament too. Shouting his heid off about Hanoverian usurpers. Get my drift?’
Matthew looked in fascination. ‘Jacobites?’
‘Yes,’ said Angus. ‘Those two – I forget the other one’s name, but he’s in it up to here – those two are well-known Jacobites – the real McCoy. They actually believe in the whole thing. King over the Water toasts and all that.’
Matthew looked at the three men in fascination. It struck him as odd that people could harbour a historical grudge so long – to the point of disturbing the succession to the throne. But then, the whole story was such a romantic one that people just forgot what the Stuarts, or many of them, were actually like. Of course they thought that the Hanoverians were German – and they were right.
Through Matthew’s mind there suddenly ran a snatch of song, half-remembered, but strangely familiar. ‘Noo a big prince cam to Edinburgh-toon / And he was just a wee bit German lairdie / For a far better man than ever he was / Lay oot in the heather wi’ his tartan plaidie!’
One could get caught up in sentiments like that. Perhaps it was not as ridiculous as it seemed.
Angus now patted Matthew on the forearm. ‘Matthew,’ he said. ‘I want to tell you a story. About those characters. Interested?’
30. A Circular City
Matthew was interested. Angus Lordie’s views on the world were often rather quirky – off-centre, in an unexpected way – but he had an extraordinary knowledge of things that were out of the experience of most people. This came in part from his unconventional background, and in part from his interest in what he termed ‘things behind things’.
On another occasion, when they had been talking to one another in the Cumberland Bar, Matthew had asked him: ‘And what exactly do you mean by “things behind things”?’ To which Angus had replied: ‘It’s all about what people really mean. Most people, you see, act on two levels – the public, and the private. They have a public life which anybody can see, and then they have a private life, which is what really counts. So take