Angus thought that was probably true. He had never thought about it in those terms, but when he looked at the friends present that evening, he realised that neither he nor Domenica had acquired them in exactly that accidental way. There, for example, standing by the window deep in conversation with the sculptor Sandy Stoddart, were Dilly and Derek Emslie. Dilly had served on a committee with Domenica years earlier and had become a friend through that shared membership. And Derek had played football with Tim Clifford and with Alistair Moffat too, who was standing near the kitchen door with Hugh Andrew, Professor Higgs, and David Robinson, who had come with his wife, Joyce, who had once acted in an amateur production of The Tempest with Domenica and Richard Godden, both of whom were chuckling over a shared joke on the other side of the room. And so it continued, round the room; with links between people that went in all sorts of directions and had made for friendships that would otherwise not have come into existence. The forges of friendship, thought Angus, may be busy ones, but their doors are always open.
He looked at Bertie, who had been given permission – by his father – to act as waiter and was moving about the room with a tray of cheese straws, bursting with pride, Angus observed, at the important adult role he had been given. Dear wee boy, thought Angus. May life be kind to you … some day. May you get what you want: a friend, a fishing rod, a Swiss Army penknife – such little things to us, but to you so very much. He looked at Domenica across the room, who at that moment looked back at him and smiled. Bless you, my darling, he said beneath his breath. Bless you.
And at that moment, in Angus’s eyes, the room was transformed. This small crowd, brought together to mark the return of their hosts from a short absence, became not just a collection of people conversing with one another at a party, but an infinitely precious band of souls. Souls, thought Angus; that is just the right word. And he remembered reading something that had made a deep impression on him – a small thing, in one view of it, but a very major thing in another. He had read that in the language used for radio communication at sea, the number of people on board was always expressed in terms of souls. “We have ten souls on board,” a sailor might say when asking for assistance from a passing ship. Ten souls. Not ten people. Not ten passengers. Not ten customers. Ten souls.
And this realisation that he had was not specifically religious – although it could easily and appropriately be that. It was, rather, a spiritual notion – the idea that each of us, even the least of us, has a rich hinterland of value behind us: the lives we have led, the thoughts we have had, the love we have given and received – the little things of our lives that may not mean much to others unless and until they are granted the insight that Angus was suddenly vouchsafed; that insight that brings love into the heart, sudden, singing, exalting love. To see another as a soul was to acknowledge the magnificent, epic course that life is for each of us, and to experience sympathy for the other in his or her negotiation of that course. It was quite different from seeing others simply as people. The word soul had a big job to do, and it was the only word that could do it.
James was saying something to Angus that he did not catch. “What?” he asked. “What did you say?”
“I said they’re expecting a poem,” James repeated. “As they always do.”
Angus put down his glass, and the hubbub of conversation in the room died away. He looked out of the window. He had not prepared anything because he had been so busy with the cheese straws, and sometimes in this life one must choose between making cheese straws and writing poetry. But that did not mean that the words were not there; they were, and now, in the silence of that room, in the presence of his friends, Angus cleared his throat and spoke the words that came to him so easily, and expressed, so fully and unerringly, what was in his heart.
Dear friends, he began, some questions occur
At quite the wrong moment; as do those nagging doubts
As to whether we’ve done everything we needed to do –
Rich territory, I believe, for obsessive-compulsive disorder.
A party like this, composed of friends, may not be the place
For the question that comes to my mind;
I ask it, though, because it seems to me
That although nobody likes a moralist,
Especially at a party, this question
Is not just the moralist’s preserve:
How, dear friends, are we to lead our lives?
Of the Decalogue I learned as a boy
Few commandments remain;
Fidelity, we’re told, is neither here nor there
(Especially when you’re having a good time)
It is quite de trop in fashionable circles –
A meretricious view, I know;
While coveting the goods of others
Is positively encouraged by those slick
Practitioners of the advertiser’s art
Who want us to have those things
We do not need but which they are so keen
For us to buy; the Buddhists are right:
You’ll never satisfy a material appetite.
Honouring one’s father and mother
Is hard when Dad is a donor, perhaps,
Or otherwise somewhere else, and
Mother has her career to consider.
But although the rules are vague
And widely disregarded now
Some precepts remain: live with love –
That is a rule we all can understand;
Forgive those who need forgiveness,
Which I think is everybody, more or less;
Be kind – that, perhaps, is first and foremost
In any postmodern, new-fangled
Code we devise for ourselves;
Yes, be kind: love one another,
And most of all tend with gentleness
The small patch of terra firma
That is allocated to each of us,
In our case, Scotland.
Wish that for Scotland there may burn,
As in all other places too,
A flame of Agape, that disinterested love,
Translated by Jamie Saxt as charity,
That illuminates our world,
That is our beacon, and in the darkness
Is our singular comfort, our sole night-light.
VISIT THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF
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THE 44 SCOTLAND STREET SERIES
“Will make you feel as though you live in Edinburgh.…
Long live the folks on Scotland Street.”
—The Times-Picayune (New Orleans)
44 SCOTLAND STREET
All of Alexander McCall Smith’s trademark warmth and wit come into play in this novel chronicling the lives of the residents of a converted Georgian town house in Edinburgh. Complete with colorful characters, love triangles, and even a mysterious art caper, this is an unforgettable portrait of Edinburgh society.
Volume 1
ESPRESSO TALES
The eccentric residents of 44 Scotland Street are back. From the talented six-year-old Bertie, who is forced to arrive in pink overalls for his first day of class, to the self-absorbed Bruce, who contemplates a change of career in between admiring glances in the mirror, there is much in store as fall settles on Edinburgh.
Volume 2
LOVE OVER SCOTLAND
From conducting perilous anthropological studies of pirate households to being inadvertently left behind on a school trip to Paris, the wonderful misadventures of the residents of 44 Scotland Street will charm and delight.
Volume 3
THE WOR
LD ACCORDING TO BERTIE
Pat is forced to deal with the reappearance of Bruce, which has her heart skipping—and not in the most pleasant way. Angus Lordie’s dog, Cyril, has been taken away by the authorities, accused of being a serial biter, and Bertie, the beleaguered Italian-speaking prodigy and saxophonist, now has a little brother, Ulysses, who he hopes will distract his mother, Irene.
Volume 4
THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF SCONES
The Unbearable Lightness of Scones finds Bertie still troubled by his rather overbearing mother, Irene, but seeking his escape in the cub scouts. Matthew is rising to the challenge of married life, while Domenica epitomizes the loneliness of the long-distance intellectual, and Cyril succumbs to the kind of romantic temptation that no dog can resist, creating a small problem, or rather six of them, for his friend and owner, Angus Lordie.
Volume 5
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING SEVEN
Bertie is—finally!—about to turn seven. But one afternoon he mislays his meddling mother, Irene, and learns a valuable lesson. Angus and Domenica contemplate whether to give in to romance on holiday in Italy, and even usually down-to-earth Big Lou is overheard discussing cosmetic surgery.
Volume 6
BERTIE PLAYS THE BLUES
New parents Matthew and Elspeth must muddle through the difficulties of raising their triplets—there’s normal sleep deprivation, and then there’s trying to tell the children apart from one another. Angus and Domenica are newly engaged, and now they must negotiate the complex merger of two households. And in Bertie’s family, there’s a shift in power as his father, Stuart, starts to stand up to overbearing mother, Irene—and then there’s Bertie, who has been thinking that he might want to start over with a new family and so puts himself up for adoption on eBay.
Volume 7
SUNSHINE ON SCOTLAND STREET
Scotland Street witnesses the wedding of the century of Angus Lordie to Domenica Macdonald. While recovering from the trauma of being best man, Matthew is taken up by a Dane called Bo. Cyril eludes his dog-sitter. Narcissist Bruce meets his match in the form of a sinister doppelganger. Bertie, set up by his mother for fresh embarrassment at school, yearns for freedom, and Big Lou goes viral. However, the residents of Scotland Street rally, and order is restored by the combined effects of understanding, kindness and, most of all, friendship.
Volume 8
Alexander McCall Smith, Sunshine on Scotland Street
(Series: # )
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