Getting ready for Glasgow

The arrangements for the Glasgow Academy exchange were made jointly by Nicola and Ranald Braveheart Macpherson’s mother. Nicola did most of the negotiating with the school authorities and with the teacher with whom the boys would be boarding, while Ranald’s mother made lists of what would be required to support two boys for the four weeks they would spend in Glasgow. A clothing list was drawn up and lists of food preferences were compiled: Ranald was mildly intolerant of certain forms of Brie although he liked hard cheese, especially Parmesan. “It’s important to tell them,” said Ranald’s mother to her husband. “Ranald would probably be too polite to say anything.”

“I doubt very much whether they would be offering the boys Brie over in Glasgow,” said Ranald’s father, smiling. “Brie’s more of an Edinburgh thing.”

His wife looked at him disapprovingly. “I take it you’re joking,” she said.

He was unrepentant, and smiled again. “Just saying.”

A further look was flashed in his direction.

“At least don’t forget to tell them that he doesn’t like asparagus.” He paused. “Like me. Although, strictly speaking, I do like it – I like it very much, but there’s the issue of its side-effects.”

“I’ll tell them,” Ranald’s mother replied. Bertie and Ranald could barely contain their excitement. Bertie had the advantage of Ranald Braveheart Macpherson in that he had been to Glasgow once before, when he and Stuart had gone there to retrieve the Pollock family’s car, inadvertently left behind when Stuart, driving over for a meeting, had returned by train. That had resulted in their meeting with Lard O’connor (RIP), the well-known Glasgow gangster, who had taken a shine to Bertie and shown them round the Burrell Collection. This experience of Glasgow meant that Ranald turned to Bertie for guidance on what to expect of their Glasgow sojourn, and Bertie was only too pleased to give his friend the benefit of his knowledge.

“Do they eat the same food as us over there, Bertie?” Ranald had asked. “Or should we take sandwiches?”

Bertie assured Ranald that there would be no need for sandwiches. “The food in Glasgow is pretty good, Ranald,” he said. “They don’t have Valvona & Crolla, of course, but they have got a few shops of their own, I think.”

Ranald absorbed the information. “But what do they actually eat?” he asked.

“Pies,” replied Bertie. “They like pies over in Glasgow. I think they have pies every day.”

“They’re really lucky,” said Ranald. “Yes,” agreed Bertie. “They often have a pie for breakfast, and then another for lunch. And they drink Irn Bru too. They drink lots of that.”

Ranald Braveheart Macpherson’s eyes widened. “And we’ll be able to do that, too, Bertie?” he asked.

Bertie nodded. “Sure to, Ranald. You’re allowed to do lots of things in Glasgow that you aren’t allowed to do in Edinburgh.”

Of course, the joy that Bertie and Ranald felt over their impending trip was not unalloyed. In particular, they were both given pause to reflect by Olive, who had heard of the proposed exchange and was determined to do all that lay in her power to undermine the two boys’ delight in what lay ahead.

“I hear you’re going to Glasgow, Bertie Pollock,” she said in the playground at the Steiner School.

Bertie was guarded in his reply. “Maybe,” he said. And then he added, “How do you know that, Olive?”

Olive tapped the side of her nose. “Don’t think people don’t know what you do, Bertie. I know all about your movements – and so does Pansy.”

Pansy, Olive’s faithful lieutenant, nodded knowingly. “Everybody knows what you’re planning, Bertie. Don’t think you can get away with anything …”

“Because you can’t,” supplied Olive. “We know all about your plans, Bertie. Everybody knows.”

“I don’t care if people know,” said Bertie defiantly. “I’m going with Ranald Braveheart Macpherson.”

Olive made a face. “Oh, that’s really sad, Bertie. In fact, it’s tragic.”

“Yes,” agreed Pansy. “It’s truly tragic, Bertie. You and Ranald going off to Glasgow together. It’s really tragic.”

“I don’t think so,” said Bertie. “I don’t see what’s tragic about that.”

Olive shook her head. “That’s because you’ve got no insight, Bertie. Most people who are tragic – like you – have at least some insight into how tragic they are. You don’t though. You seem to have none.” “None at all,” said Pansy.

Olive changed tack. “Be careful that you don’t get head-butted,” she warned. “That’s what happens to people who go to Glasgow. They arrive at Queen Street Station and before they know it, somebody comes up to them and head-butts them. The hospitals in Glasgow are full of people who have come from Edinburgh and been head-butted.” “Full of them,” said Pansy.

“And there’s not much you can do about it,” Olive went on. “Some people think you can reason with people from Glasgow, but you can’t, you know. People have tried, but nobody has ever succeeded.” Olive sighed. “I feel very sorry for you, Bertie Pollock. I wouldn’t be in your shoes for a hundred pounds.”

“Or even more,” said Pansy.

Bertie glowered at Olive, but this seemed to have no effect. Now crowing, Olive went on, “I could go to Glasgow if I wanted to, but I don’t. I have no need to go to Glasgow, Bertie, and so it doesn’t worry me at all that you are going. All I ask is that you remember is that I warned you. I don’t want you to come crying to me afterwards and demanding why I didn’t apprise you. I have warned you. Glasgow is full of Campbells.” Bertie waited.

“And you know what the Campbells did at Glencoe, Bertie,” Olive whispered. “Well, there are still plenty of Campbells about, and they’re planning to do something like that again. They love doing things like that. Over in Glasgow, mostly – that’s where they’re planning to do it.”

Bertie closed his eyes. In theory, he knew how to deal with Olive. In theory, he knew that it was best to ignore her, but she had a way of needling others that made that very difficult to do. He sighed deeply. It seemed to him that he had many burdens in this life that other boys did not seem to have. He had to put up with Olive, and with Pansy too. Then there was his mother who, although she was now in Aberdeen, was always there in the background, ready to make him speak Italian or go to psychotherapy or yoga or do any of the other things that she seemed to enjoy imposing on him. But now there was the prospect of Glasgow, and that thought made it much easier to bear all these vicissitudes; Glasgow, the shining city on the hill, that place of laughter and friendship and something that he had once heard Glasgow was famous for: great craic. He thought that craic meant fun, and if it did, then there was plenty of craic in Glasgow, and in a matter of days he and Ranald Braveheart Macpherson, loyal Ranald, his friend, through thick and think, would soon be there for a whole wonderful, exhilarating month, enjoying all the great craic. A month in Glasgow! At long last. Glasgow! Glasgow! Glasgow! He intoned the name much as a Buddhist might say Om and it made him feel a current of sheer excitement. Rarely had Bertie felt such a thrill at the prospect of anything. This was the summation of his hopes – the gates of freedom, until now only imagined, were now before him, beckoning him to enter.

© 2020 Alexander Mccall Smith Available in book form from November as A Promise of Ankles (hbk, £16.99). The Peppermint Tea Chronicles is available now in paperback.