44 Scotland Street: Chapter 70 of Alexander Mccall Smith’s latest series
On the following Monday, Matthew left Pat in charge of the gallery while he went across for his morning coffee at Big Lou’s. He was vaguely cross with Pat that morning for two unconnected reasons. He knew that by lunchtime he would have forgiven her, and all would be back to normal, but for now, feeling inclined to show her that he was mildly displeased, he pointedly went over to Big Lou’s by himself without inviting her.
“Would you mind watching things while I go for coffee?” he said, picking up his copy of The Scotsman .Pat looked up from her copy of the Burlington Magazine. She was reading about Gaspard Dughet, brother-in-law of the more famous Nicolas Poussin. Gaspard had married Poussin’s sister, and therefore become brother-in-law of the more famous painter. After his marriage, he became known as Gaspard Poussin.
Pat looked up from the auction catalogue she was perusing. “Would you change your name for professional reasons?” she asked. “Would you change yourself from Dughet into Poussin?”
“No,” said Matthew. “And anyway, I’m going for coffee.”
He was displeased with Pat for what he saw as her anti-social behaviour at dinner a few nights previously. When he had invited her to Nine Mile Burn, he had done so to cheer her up, and while he had entertained the possibility that she and James might get on, he had not envisaged the chemistry working quite so quickly, to the extent that the two of them went off for a walk together even before coffee was served. That, he thought, bordered on the rude, as if his company, and that of Elspeth, was somehow tedious.
Then there was a strictly professional matter. When he and Pat had gone to the sale at Lyon & Turnbull, Matthew had successfully bid for a painting that, although described simply as Scottish School, was in his view probably by one of the better Scottish painters of the late eighteenth century. Pat had been doubtful and only that morning had discovered, after close examination of the lower right-hand corner of the painting, the signature of the artist. And this was not a name that anybody with a knowledge of Scottish painting would recognise. Scottish School was therefore anything but a misattribution; it was quite correct and meant that Matthew had overpaid for it.
Matthew might have been grateful to Pat for making the discovery, but instead he felt embarrassed, and rather resented the fact that she was right and he was wrong. This resentment, together with his feelings about her abandoning their dinner party, had resulted in a certain froideur in his attitude when she came in to work that morning. By the time he reached Big Lou’s, however, he was beginning to thaw, and had decided that when he returned after coffee he would congratulate her in a rather warmer way over her discovery of the signature.
Big Lou greeted him cheerfully. “The usual, Matthew?”
Matthew nodded. He looked at Big Lou. He had not yet had the opportunity to discuss with her the news that she had accepted an offer for her coffee bar. Now, seeing Big Lou in her accustomed position behind the bar, administering with such practised confidence to the needs of her customers, he felt a momentary pang. The world was full of unwanted change: people stopped doing the thing they were doing just when you got used to them doing whatever it was they were doing; people moved to different towns and cities, with scant regard for those they left behind; people retired – so selfishly, we sometimes think; they died, equally selfishly, in some cases. And all the time we wanted nothing other than stability and predictability – for things to be the same as they always had been. Of course there would have to be change here and there – in places where change was needed because things had deteriorated, or were unfair, or did not work as they were meant to – but generally, what was wrong with things the way they had always been? That was how Matthew viewed the world, and that was why he felt so unsettled by the news that Big Lou was selling up.
He watched Lou as she steamed the milk for his latte. “So, what’s this I hear, Lou?” he asked. Big Lou did not turn around. “You heard something, Matthew? Aboot what? Aboot the cat’s mither?”
Matthew laughed. “Oh, that’s old hat, that news. No, about you, Lou. Are you selling this place?”
Big Lou finished preparing the milk, and now poured it into the waiting cup of coffee. “Aye,” she said. “I’ve had an offer, and I’m going to accept it.”
Matthew did not conceal his dismay. “But why, Lou? Why give up …” He made a gesture of hopelessness. “Why give up all this?”
Big Lou slid the cup of coffee across the bar. “Because this place doesn’t really make much money, Matthew. Even after I started making those haggis rolls …”
“Which we all love so much,” said Matthew.
“You dinnae buy them,” said Lou, accusingly.
“I like smelling them,” said Matthew.
“Well, that doesn’t help my profits, does it, Matthew? No, I need to get my hands on some money, and that’s the way to do it. Sell.”
Matthew took a sip of his coffee. Big Lou had always made it exactly the way he liked it. What would he do in the future – the future without Big Lou?
“You see,” Big Lou continued, “I’m going to be sending wee Finlay to ballet school. And that costs a lot, Matthew. That’s why.”
Matthew looked into his coffee cup. “And if you weren’t sending him to this … this ballet place … what then? Would you stay?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t need the money.” Matthew looked into his coffee cup again. How many years were we on this Earth? It depended on our luck. But however lucky we were, it was not all that long. And during that brief time we might have a few chances, now and then, to do something that was really worthwhile. These chances sometimes occurred when we were not expecting them, as when we were drinking coffee and thinking about how sad it was that something we liked might come to a stop. He looked at Lou. “I’ll pay,” he said. “But you haven’t had your second cup,” said Lou.
“No. I’ll pay Finlay’s fees. I can easily afford to. In fact, I want to.”
Big Lou stared at him. “I couldn’t let you, Matthew. It’s awfie kind of you but …”
“Lou,” said Matthew. “I mean this as much as I’ve ever meant anything. And all I’d say to you is that I really want to do this. And I’ll get something in return.”
Big Lou frowned. “What could I possibly give in return?”
“Elspeth’s bored,” said Matthew. “She’s a great cook. She likes making coffee. Take her on as a partner in the business, Lou.”
Big Lou said nothing. She looked up at the ceiling, and then down at the floor. She loved her coffee bar. She loved this place. She did not want it to come to an end. Big Lou liked Elspeth, and she could understand how she must feel, cooped up with those triplets at Nine Mile Burn.
“Why not?” said Big Lou, with a smile.
Matthew looked into his coffee cup. How many years were we on this Earth? And during that brief time we might only have a few chances to do something that was really worthwhile