‘What are you saying?’ Davy said.
‘It’s a present I’m giving you, Davy,’ Margaret said.
‘For free?’ Davy said.
‘Put your hand in the glove compartment down there,’ Margaret said. ‘You’ll find the documents –MOT, Certificate of Insurance, Registration Document and stuff like that. You can sell it when you’ve finished your business if you want.’
Davy opened the plastic folder and examined the contents. ‘Oh, thanks a million. I’m really grateful to you . . . umh, what did you mean when you said “finished your business”? Is it when I reach Lochboisdale I’m clear?’
‘Oh, no, Davy,’ Margaret said, ‘I’m afraid you’ve got to go a good bit further than Lochboisdale.’
‘How far?’ Davy said.
‘To Hamburg,’ Margaret said.
‘I couldn’t find my way to Castlebay never mind Hamburg,’ Davy said.
‘You’ll be okay,’ Margaret said. ‘You’ve got a good guide.’
‘Who?’ Davy said.
‘Tommy, my sister’s boy,’ Margaret said.
‘But I don’t know the man,’ Davy said. ‘It’ll be hard . . . umh, it won’t be easy making conversation to a stranger on such a long journey. It’s not just a short hop between Uist and Germany, you know?’
‘Oh, I know,’ Margaret said, ‘and so does Calum. Weren’t he and Tommy over there a fortnight ago?’
‘I never heard anything about that at all,’ Davy said.
‘What a lawyer you’re going to make, Davy!’ Margaret said.
‘How?’ Davy said.
‘You tell lies almost automatically,’ Margaret said.
‘Well,’ Davy said, ‘I’ve got to say I’m not nuts about going on a trip to Germany with a bugg– umh, with a guy I don’t know.’
‘It won’t be just the pair of you,’ Margaret said. ‘There’ll be folk you know very well travelling too.’
‘What folk?’ Davy said.
‘Well,’ Margaret said, ‘your wife’s going with you.’
‘My . . . wife?’ Davy said.
‘Yeah, Tamara. She and her pal Tanya’ll give you both plenty of tender loving care on the journey.’ Margaret stopped at her father’s house. Neither of them spoke for a good while.
Finally, Davy said resignedly, ‘Do I really have to go through with this?’
‘Yes. That is if you don’t want to join your pal Calum in prison and if you want to train for a new profession in Edinburgh. You’ll have those city girls pawing the ground for you. You’ll have your Land-Rover. And because you’re far too good-looking for a man, I’ll have to fight them off to get into my own office in the morning.’
Davy fidgeted in the passenger seat. ‘Of course, you’re right. When I think about it, it’s . . . well, it puts a different complexion on things.’
‘That’s good, Davy,’ Margaret said. ‘Now, I’ll have to leave you, I’ve got a lot of phone calls to make tonight yet.’ She got out of the Land-Rover, allowing Davy to slide across to the driver’s seat. ‘You know what you’ve got to do, now.’
‘Yes,’ Davy said brusquely. ‘I make for Lochboisdale. To the pier. The others’ll be waiting for me there. I don’t stop at the hotel. You’ll look after my motorbike for me till I come back.’
‘I’ll do that, my boy,’ Margaret said. ‘You’re all right now, are you?’
‘Yeah,’ Davy said.
‘Just making sure,’ Margaret said. ‘You couldn’t drive properly back there.’
‘I’ve got two hours to get up there,’ Davy said. ‘I’ll take it easy.’
‘You’ll remember everything, won’t you?’ Margaret said.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Davy said impatiently. ‘Lochboisdale pier. I pick up Tommy and the hook – umh, the Russian girls and we’re off to Germany.’
‘Here,’ Margaret said, handing him an envelope, ‘take this.’
‘What is it?’ Davy said.
‘A little money,’ Margaret said. ‘But the word people like us employ – lawyer-types, you know? – is retainer”.’
The Land-Rover door was closed with a bang. Davy moved off slowly, honking the horn enthusiastically.
21
Parting has to come
On Saturday morning, with an east wind rising, Margaret sat on a rock beside her father’s gate and watched MacAskill as he approached, riding a bicycle.
When he got to where she was he spoke. ‘Sorry I’m late.’ He waved a hand towards the bicycle as an excuse. ‘It’s hard fighting against the wind.’
‘Oh, aye,’ Margaret said, ‘as the old proverb says, “Come,” said the King; “Stay, said the wind.” ’
‘Don’t I know it!’ MacAskill said. ‘My hands have gone numb coming here.’
‘A good thing’s well worth waiting for,’ Margaret said.
‘Everything’s back to normal now, I take it,’ Mac-Askill said. ‘At long last.’
‘Do you know this, MacAskill?’ Margaret said. ‘For a guy I’m trying to help, you’re pretty grumpy. I could have had you come to Glasgow today to meet me. Have to go to Glasgow soon on business and I thought I’d go by plane today. I wouldn’t have to come back until Monday. I’m trying to be nice to you.’
‘What’s wrong in Glasgow? War broken out between the Glaswegians and the Edinburgh folk?’
‘It’s a pretty straightforward thing,’ Margaret said. ‘This chap and his wife – they’re singers, Eriskay Lilt they’re called – they made a CD last year for a label in Glasgow and though they’ve sold almost fifteen hundred copies to date, they haven’t received a brown penny up till now. I sent a long, brilliant letter to Glasgow saying I’ll have their back teeth unless they send a cheque immediately. And if I take a trip down there, they’ll regret it. I like to do a favour for folk now and again.’
‘Do me a favour,’ MacAskill said. ‘As long as I live, don’t do me a favour. I’ve seen how you work.’
‘I’ll tell you what to do,’ Margaret said. ‘Give me the money.’
MacAskill handed her a plump envelope and his eyes widened when she opened it and started to count the money. ‘God,’ he said, ‘you’re not going to do arithmetic out here?’
‘Shut up,’ Margaret said, mumbling as she continued to count.
‘Happy?’ MacAskill said.
‘No,’ Margaret said, ‘there’s only five thousand here.’
‘Well,’ MacAskill said, ‘himself was saying, because you gave away the Land-Rover without permission . . . and because he didn’t really have anything to do with the Elder . . . well, like, I thought it’d be appropriate to . . . hold on to three . . . until . . . well, umh, until I’d get a chance to speak to you.’
Margaret spoke harshly. ‘Give me two thousand out of what you’ve got in the inside pocket of your jacket.’
‘But, Margaret,’ MacAskill said, ‘that only leaves . . .’
‘A thousand,’ Margaret said. ‘A grand because I didn’t pay attention to business. It was me who hired the Elder and he was useless. That was my mistake. And I’m paying for it.’
‘But the Land-Rover . . .?’ MacAskill said in a pathetic voice.
‘Tommy asked somebody at MacLennan’s down at Balivanich what it was worth,’ Margaret said, ‘and the guy said he wouldn’t give a cassette of Iain MacKay for it. Give me the two thousand.’
Without the slightest degree of pity in her eyes Margaret stared at MacAskill.
Eventually, he handed over a wad of notes. ‘You’re difficult to satisfy, woman.’
‘Get out of my sight, you tightwad,’ Margaret said, ‘and I’ll be satisfied then.’
‘Margaret,’ MacAskill said plaintively, ‘I thought we were quite close. I imagined that we had something together.’
‘Perhaps we had,’ Margaret said, ‘for a while.’ She smiled. ‘We really can’t complain. That’s life, Mister MacAskill. We possess something. But only for a brief time.’
MacAskill mounted his bicycle and got ready to ride away.
‘Can I give you a lift anywhere?’ he said.
Margaret had a broad smile on her face as she waved her hand in dismissal. ‘If I want a lift, I’ll phone for a taxi. Beat it, and pray to God I don’t phone Mary.’
Norman Maclean, Dearest Dacha
(Series: # )
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