‘Was it Raigmore he was in?’
‘No. He was in the asylum. He went bonkers when this girlfriend he had jilted him. Broke his heart.’
‘. . . THOU BLACK-MOUTHED MAID, THE ONLY TREE IN THE GARDEN OF EYES . . . A MUZZLE ON THEE,’ Murdo declaimed. He paused theatrically. ‘WITH BOLD ASSURANCE YOU BENT ME TO YOUR WILL AND GNAWING DOUBT YOU BANISHED FROM MY HEART, AND SO ON THE SMOOTH PREDESTINED PATH OF MY YOUTH I MOVED THROUGH EACH DAY AND MY SENSE IMBIBED THEIR SAP.’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Rachel said, ‘he’s on about that damned woman again.’
Murdo got angrily to his feet. ‘I’m getting rid of it! This damned thing is only a cancer to my soul!’ Murdo yanked the ring-box out of his pocket and with both hands he held the box above his head. His arms were trembling with suppressed anger. ‘Two thousand quid’s worth . . . and it wasn’t good enough for the bitch! Well, she wasn’t good enough for me. I’m slinging it into the loch!’
‘Put that ring away, Angus,’ Rachel said.
With a strangled animal-like cry Murdo lost his grip of the box and it flew in the air to be caught clumsily by Sam. ‘Ugh . . . Oh!’
As Rachel comforted Murdo who was weeping unrestrainedly by now, Sam opened the box and a flashy engagement ring was revealed. He was about to remove the ring from the velvet pad into which it was slotted when the fist of Rachel enfolded it and slipped it out of his hand. ‘You keep that ring, Angus,’ she said. ‘It’s worth money.’
Sam was interested.
‘I don’t care,’ Murdo said. ‘Let me throw it in the loch.’
‘Look,’ Rachel said, ‘take it back to the shop you bought it in next time you’re down in Glasgow. They’ll give you half of what it’s worth. You’ll get a thousand back easy.’
Sam was even more interested. ‘Can I see it, please?’ he said.
‘No!’ Rachel said.
‘What would he take for it?’ Sam said. ‘Three hundred?’
‘No way!’ Rachel said.
‘Let him speak,’ Murdo said.
Rachel stood up and grabbed her bag. ‘Angus, listen to me,’ she said. ‘Your porch-light’s gone out just now . . .’
Murdo had his forefingers stuck in his ears and his entire upper body was swaying violently from side to side.
‘He looks perfectly sane to me,’ Sam said.
‘Aw, to hell with the pair of you!’ Rachel said.
‘I don’t care . . . I’m going to sling it,’ Murdo said. He stretched his hand out as though to retrieve the ring.
Sam pleaded. ‘No, don’t do that, Angus. I’ll do you a favour. I’ll give you . . . Uh, what will you take for it?’
‘I don’t care . . . make me an offer.’
‘Well . . .’ Sam said, lifting his case into full view, opening it and taking out three bundles of money. ‘What if I give you . . . Let’s see . . .’ He made a fan out of the notes and waved them in their faces.
‘I don’t care . . . I’ll take anything. Five, twenty, fifty . . . whatever . . .’
Rachel placed her hand on top of Murdo’s and addressed Sam. ‘What the hell’s going on? Is this you taking advantage of a poor soul who’s had his heart broken?’
Murdo plucked the money from Sam’s hands. In a lightning move, he thrust his hand into the briefcase and got another fistful of notes. He tossed all the money carelessly into Rachel’s lap. ‘You take the money, Rachel,’ he said. ‘I don’t care.’ Murdo seized the ring from Rachel and stuffed it into the breast pocket of Sam’s jacket. ‘You’ve got the ring now,’ he said. ‘And I’ve got the money.’
Sam tried to make a grab for the notes, but Rachel hid them behind her back.
‘GIVE ME BACK THAT MONEY! IT’S MINE!’
‘Wrong,’ Murdo said. ‘I understand how you feel, but you made a mistake. You thought I was just another loser to be used, and I’m not. I know the difference between right and wrong. You did wrong, darling. And I’m going to broadcast far and wide that I got the better of the man who made Our Land.’
Sam turned to Rachel. ‘What do you have to say to the hero?’
‘I’m just speechless,’ Rachel said. She looked admiringly at Murdo. ‘I’d say that’s exactly what he is – a hero.’
‘Okay. Okay. That’s . . . So I’ll, uh, say . . . that’s it, then.’
‘Beat it, you horrible creep,’ Murdo said. ‘You’re only getting what’s due you, and don’t you be slagging off our folk. That programme was full of lies about us . . . Here’s a health to the noble Gael . . . bullshit! We’re just like everybody else – good and bad mixed. We’ve a saying in Uist: “When the lid of the pipe-box drops, the bullshit stops.” We’ve just dropped the lid here. Play or walk.’
Rachel and Murdo watched him go out the door. Their faces broke into huge grins. They raised one fist triumphantly over their heads, punching the air like winning prize fighters.
13
Rachel’s revenge
24 August 2010, 2 p.m.
Rachel and Murdo were giggling and laughing in turns as they drove out of Uig, Rachel at the wheel of the van.
‘What do you think will happen,’ Murdo said, ‘when he finds out the ring’s from Woolies?’
‘You’re terrific at recognising them, though.’
‘Stick with me – you haven’t seen anything yet,’ Murdo chuckled.
When Rachel steered the van into a passing-place on the right-hand side of the road and came to a halt he raised his voice. ‘Why did we stop here?’
‘We want to send our last farewell to Sam the Scam.’ She pointed to the ship gliding smoothly below them in the bay.
‘That’s him leaving the island nearly a thousand pounds lighter,’ Murdo said.
‘Congratulations on how well you did in the restaurant,’ Rachel said. ‘Do you know this? I can’t get over how bold you’ve become.’
‘What do you mean – “bold”?’
‘Well, you were sitting there in the restaurant and you were about to launch an attack on Sam the Scam.’
‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid . . .’
‘Why should I feel afraid?’ Murdo said. ‘Listen, I used to go to dances in Eochar, get into fights with the local boys and the Loch Carnan folk. Survive that and you’ll survive anything.’
‘Murdo, I was afraid he’d eat you alive. There’d be nothing left of you but bones . . . and a hank of hair.’
‘Wheesht, girl,’ Murdo said. ‘Stop your idle talk. That’s himself away now.’
‘Good riddance,’ Rachel said. In one swift movement she plucked the spectacles from Murdo’s face, threw them casually out the window and gave him a great big kiss.
Murdo blushed. ‘What are we doing now?’
‘We’ll go right now.’
‘Are we heading straight for Glasgow?’
‘Portree.’
‘Why?’
‘First thing, we’re going to buy a new outfit for you. You’re just an untidy old midden, Murdo. You look like a tsunami survivor.’
‘Then we go to Glasgow?’
‘No,’ Rachel said, ‘we’re going back to the Tartan Pagoda. Surely you remember, Murdo, the night of a thousand kisses?’
Murdo did not say a word. Eventually he spoke. ‘That’s it, then?’
‘No,’ Rachel said, ‘I’ve business to attend to in the town as well.’
‘What kind of business?’
‘I’m going to phone two or three people I know.’
‘Male or female?’ Murdo said, a note of jealousy in his voice.
‘I suppose they’ll be male,’ Rachel said, smiling.
‘Who are they?’
‘Reporters.’
‘What do you mean?’ Murdo said. ‘You say you’re going to phone newspaper people you know. Yet you’re not sure whether they’re male or female. Who can make any sense out of that?’
‘Can’t fool you, Murdo, eh?’ Rachel said. ‘I should’ve said that I knew the numbers of some local newspapers. I’
ll give Oban, Stornoway and Portree a bell and I’ll tell him – or her – about the scandal.’
‘What good will that do?’
‘Allow me to tell you something about news gatherers, in print, on radio or on television,’ Rachel said. She drew a deep breath. ‘News men – can’t live with them, but also, unfortunately, can’t live without them.
‘If it’s Lachie Macdonald who gets himself into bother because of his liking for booze, women, young boys or any other addiction, newspaper men don’t give a fig. But if you have fame that’ll make a difference. They’ll go off in a frenzy. Imagine what it’d be like if you were George Michael or Wayne Rooney and you broke the law and a reporter found out about it . . . well, they’d be at you in a flash.
‘And below these guys there’s a veritable army of people who have to be careful. If you work in the media, for example, if you do the wrong thing, and if people find out about it, you’ll be harassed.’
‘Even a director in Gaelic television?’ Murdo said.
‘Oh, the people are going to find out about Sam,’ Rachel said. ‘Definitely.’
‘No one ever said you didn’t have a fast mouth on you, Rachel.’
‘Thank you,’ Rachel said. ‘My father says it’s part of my natural charm.’
‘Well, you were misled by your father,’ Murdo said, ‘but never mind that, how is your tongue going to help you?’
‘I’m going to tell the local papers first.’
‘What are you going to tell them?’
‘That I saw with my own two eyes almost four thousand pounds in his briefcase. I’ll say it isn’t proper for a director to be running around with that kind of cash. Something weird’s going on. They ought to interview Sam, and also it’d be prudent to find out about the carry-on with Suki and Nigel.
‘Most of the time it’s from the little newspapers that the big boys get their stories anyway. The people who are most vulnerable to those vultures are the ones who’ve gained a degree of fame in their chosen professions – footballers, golfers, boxers, pop stars, writers, academics. Most nine-to-five folk think that these guys get too much money for what they do – even their fans, so when they read the stories in the papers or see them on telly or online, they shudder, but deep down they’ll be happy.’
‘And they’ll need, these famous people, an able lawyer, won’t they?’ Murdo said. ‘Somebody like you perhaps?’
‘Perhaps,’ Rachel said.
‘So Sam’ll get clobbered by the media.’
‘That’s not all. Our local hero won’t have the red carpet rolled out for him when he heads home to Perth. Pity Etive Television where he’s heading.’
‘Why?’ Murdo said.
‘TV executives abhor financial malfeasance. The MD will say, “Samuel, you’re like a lump of burning white phosphorus. You’ve made yourself radioactive. If we retain you in the job, not a cheep will come out of the phones. If the advertisers find out that someone in our company has been skimming money, they’ll stop giving us money. And we’ll all be in the poor house.” ’
‘What happens then?’ Murdo said.
‘The Board will release a press statement.’
‘What will they say in it?’
‘They’ll lie. The MD will say, “It is with regret that Etive Television announces the departure of BAFTA-winning director, Sam Kerr. Mr Kerr is seeking fresh challenges in other fields. We are obliged to say that we wish him well as he moves on.” And that’s it.’
‘What a box-up Sam made!’ Murdo said. ‘I mentioned the Eochar dances a while back. They were seriously brutal. All punches and cracking noises. The following day an old guy used to creep around the pathway to the hall collecting teeth and putting them in a jam-jar – I don’t know what he needed them for – and I thought we had a pretty tough life. But when I hear about life in the media, Eochar was only a picnic.’
‘Come on, Murdo,’ Rachel said, ‘you and I are going on a picnic. Portree first, then back to Uig where you’ll get your heart’s desire.’
14
Murdo has doubts
24 August 2010, 10 p.m.
In Room 5 of the Tartan Pagoda Suki stood motionless by the bed. She was cradling a large cardboard box, wrapped in gaily coloured paper and bedecked in tartan ribbon in her arms. Gracefully she placed the box on the bed. She stood back to admire the effect and brought her hands together, once, in a girlish gesture of approval.
Rachel’s voice was heard from outside. ‘Stop it, Murdo.’
From outside the door Murdo said, ‘I’m about done in, Rachel.’
Murdo staggered into the room carrying Rachel over his shoulder in a parody of a bridegroom on his honeymoon night. He was breathing heavily, faint in the body and weak in the legs. He addressed Suki breathlessly. ‘Out of my way, lady . . . before I peg out.’
Suki stepped smartly to the side, and Murdo staggered past her and unceremoniously dumped a giggling Rachel onto the bed.
‘Mind the present!’ Suki said.
Rachel scrambled to her knees and placed a hand on the box. ‘Oh, you’ve brought us a present, Suki? That’s exceedingly kind of you. Isn’t it, Murdo?’
‘What is it?’ Murdo said.
‘Open it and see,’ Suki said.
Rachel tore the wrapping paper from the box excitedly. ‘I think I know what’s inside this box.’ To Murdo she said, ‘Wait till you see this, Murdo.’ She pulled out layers and layers of packing material and eventually took out a leather case. Puzzled, she slowly opened the case and a camera was revealed. She looked enquiringly at Suki.
‘We call it a camera,’ Suki said. She glared at Rachel and Murdo in mock exasperation. ‘What a pair of mouth-breathers you two are! I’m not giving it to you. I’m going to take some pictures with it . . . tonight . . . of you pair in bed together! Aw, don’t worry, I’ll not get in your way. I’ll just stand up on the dresser over there.’
Rachel and Murdo stared in horror at Suki, their mouths open. There was a long pause. Finally, all three burst out laughing.
‘It’s for you, Murdo,’ Suki said. ‘I was very proud of you down there. There’s a young Thai girl working in the bar I’m pretty friendly with. I went over for a gab with her and I was there when you sorted Sam out.’
‘Thanks very much indeed,’ Murdo said. ‘Now, Suki, will you excuse us? Rachel and I have to be alone for a while . . .’
‘Tell me about it!’ Suki said. ‘I’m working downstairs in the bar, I see a young couple on one of the love-seats, she’s sitting on his lap, and they’re sooking the faces off one another . . . I feel like going up to them and saying “Hey, do you mind if I join you? It’s been so long!” ’
Rachel had a smile on her face. ‘Goodbye, Suki . . . And I’m deeply obliged to you. I’ve learned a lot from you. We can close our eyes and dream of whatever’ll make us feel better.’ She gestured towards herself and Murdo. ‘But this is the heart of the matter. This is what it all boils down to. Female and male together, and that’s it.’
Suki bowed gracefully, her hands in the prayer position.
‘Suki?’ Murdo said.
‘Yes?’
Murdo produced a full wallet and handed some banknotes over to her. ‘Could you possibly bring us up a bottle of champagne?’
Suki ignored the money and exited smoothly.
Murdo shrugged and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed.
Rachel took hold of his hand. ‘She’s lonely, Murdo,’ she said. ‘I feel sorry for her.’
‘She’s not the only one.’
Rachel, excited, seized both Murdo’s hands in her own. ‘I’m going to show you something, Murdo.’
‘You are?’
‘Yes, I’m going to show you how you can have a conversation between yourself and the hidden Murdo deep inside you.’
‘Okay, what do we do?’
‘Close your eyes, love.’
‘They’re closed.’
‘Allow your mind to drift with the wind . . . slowly, flo
wingly . . . just as morning dew departs from the greensward at sunrise . . .’
‘Is that it?’
‘Wheesht! Repeat after me: What would you have me do?’
‘What would you have me do?’
‘Again, Murdo, say after me: Where would you have me go?’
‘Where would you have me go?’
A slight pause ensued.
‘What would you have me say, and to whom?’
‘What would you have me say, and to whom?’ Murdo sighed.
There followed a longer pause.
Rachel released his hands. ‘Are you okay?’ she said.
Silence reigned.
Finally, Murdo spoke. ‘Yes, I’m okay.’
‘Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?’ Rachel said.
‘I’m not sure of anything.’
‘I am,’ Rachel said. ‘I know exactly what I’ve got to do.’
‘If you want to know what’s troubling me the most about all this,’ Murdo said, ‘I’ll tell you. You and I are going to make love presently. Then, in the morning, we’ll go to Uist. I’ll be running to Creagorry every day for a bottle of rum for the old man. You’ll be in the bosom of your family for a few days, then you’ll go back to university in Glasgow and I’ll be left – a man almost forty years of age – a laughing-stock, an object of mockery, an object of pity . . . to you, Rachel, and to your pals.’
‘Listen . . .’
‘This is not the way I want things to be,’ Murdo said. ‘Oh, sure, I want to go to bed with you. But it’s what’s going to happen afterwards, that’s what’s worrying me.’
‘I don’t . . . I don’t know what to say to you,’ Rachel said.
‘Rachel, why are you doing this?’
‘Doing what?’
‘I’m only a pleasant diversion to you, Rachel, right? Your future is all mapped out. And there’s no place for someone like me in it.’
‘I’ve gone over this a hundred times,’ Rachel said. ‘What my parents want to do is control my life. The Rachel inside me wants her freedom. They’re expecting me home tomorrow. I don’t have the heart to face that.’
‘Christ, your home’s only two hours away.’