Murdo hardly talked after a gig anyway. Sometimes he forgot where he was. Usually he was tired. People maybe were wanting to chat. He just nodded as if he was listening but most times he wasnt. He couldnt concentrate; the conversation going on and on. Sometimes he needed to get away, outside the actual venue. A fiddler in the band smoked hash and he would be somewhere. Murdo just walked round the building. One time he did it and the venue was a church hall. When he went round the back it was a graveyard and the fiddler was there smoking and jumped out his skin. Telling the guys later he called Murdo Count Dracula! Standing there having a smoke and out he comes like up from a coffin.
But it was funny. Ye got a laugh in bands. Murdo missed it, he missed playing, missed the company, having a laugh with the guys.
He kept around the edge of the area. Much of the space was empty now, cleared of tents and stalls. The marquee was still closed.
He didnt want to go in until the band started. People would be sitting about. Then it was Oh there’s Murdo, and saying hullo and all that, Oh you’re Murdo, hullo. Hullo back.
It was okay if it was Aunt Maureen, he could speak to her. Uncle John too. Dad would want to know what he had been up to and where had he been? Ye disappeared again? I didnay disappear Dad I just went a walk. People go walks. I was just walking, just like whatever, what does it matter.
*
Inside the marquee the tables had been shifted to accommodate the dancing and two rigged together as a sandwich and refreshments bar. Beer was available as well as soft drinks. It wasnt as busy as people expected but it was still okay and a cheery atmosphere. Dad and Murdo sat with Aunt Maureen and Uncle John who had managed to get a table down the far side. Dad had given Murdo another twenty dollars which made $90 all in. He still hadnt spent anything.
The musicians came from someplace up near Canada. They played ordinary Scottish-style country dance stuff but it was lively and brought people onto the floor, and ye had to respect that. They were playing a medley of reels when friends of Aunt Maureen and Uncle John stopped to say hullo, and pulled over chairs to sit with them. They hadnt been at the pot-luck night. The conversation was to do with how things were at the Gathering, not as good as years gone past and how things had changed. They were talking about traditional country dancing. Uncle John made a comment about the dancers that made them smile. He called to Murdo: The Hielan Mishmash son eh!
Murdo grinned.
Tell us what it is?
Eh…
Murdo’s a musician, said Uncle John. Accordeon son eh?
People gazed at him. Aunt Maureen was smiling. Dad smiled too.
You play accordeon? asked a man.
Yeah.
The Hielan Mishmash! Uncle John chuckled.
Murdo said, It’s just where people dance but they dont know what they’re dancing and just like clump about. He shrugged and drank a mouthful of apple juice. They were waiting for him to say more but what else was there?
That was Dad. Dad must have told Uncle John about it. The Hielan Mishmash was the name the guys gave country dancing back home when people just clumped about the floor. Take your partners for the Hielan Mishmash! They didnt know the steps and just pushed, pulled and twirled roundabout with plenty of hooching, hand-clapping and feet-stamping. Why not? Who cares if it is a reel, a jig, a waltz, a two-step or a polka, or a jive, if ye were there for a good time. It wasnt school.
People could be snobbish about Scottish country dancing and that included musicians. Ye had to play this, that and the next thing and ye could only do it in a certain way. Up to a point okay but ye needed room for yer own take. Even traditional stuff. If something was necessary ye did it. It was good when ye heard a tune ye knew and it turned into something else; it started from there and ended there, but where did it go in between! That was the fun, that was exciting.
This band werent like that. They did the usual. The usual was good, just maybe not all the time. Except for dancing, ye had to have dancing.
At the table Aunt Maureen said how nobody was calling the moves like happened in the old days and people were agreeing with her. But sometimes back home they still did it. It was good fun. Take your partner by the hand, lead them down right to the band, turn and curtsey how do you do, clap clap hands and boogie boo; the twos step up now threes and fours, back you go straight down the floor — everybody moving in a neat formation. Murdo spotted the couple with the Phil Campbell T-shirts on the floor. Ye felt like saying, Hullo, how are ye, I’ve seen ye on the map. He pointed them out to Aunt Maureen. She made a sad gesture at the band and at her own ears. The music was too loud for her. She called a question to him: You enjoying yourself son?
Yes.
She had asked him twice already. But he was. Dad had asked him as soon as he sat down. Probably because he didnt have anybody his own age. Uncle John asked him too, Ye enjoying yerself son? Yes. So how come ye arenay dancing! Why dont ye grab a lassie!
Uncle John seemed to think ye just went up to a girl and said, Hullo may I have this dance? If ye did they would just look at ye. Probably they thought he could dance. He couldnt. People think ye can because ye play the tunes. But ye cant. You just play the tunes, they do the dancing. Musicians dont dance. That was the good side of the Hielan Mishmash: ye just got up and that was that.
The conversation shifted to the music from this afternoon, not the event with Declan Pike but the session that followed with Clara, Chess and Murdo.
Guitar isnay even his instrument, said Uncle John, it’s accordeon! Is that right son?
Murdo sipped at his drink. Yeah, he said, I suppose.
Aunt Maureen was smiling. So was Dad, but half looking at the table at the same time like he was a bit embarrassed.
Eventually Uncle John and one of the men went to the bar to place an order. A beer would have been good. Maybe Uncle John would buy him one. He had made a joke about it earlier on.
The one thing missing was a pal, so ye could just hang out, go for a walk or whatever, check things out. Then if ye did see a lassie, usually there were two together, so if a pal was with ye it made it like a foursome. On yer own it was pretty hopeless. Ye dont usually get “one girl”. A lot of “one guys” but lassies go in twos. Ye cannay ask one and not the other. Three together made it okay for one to ask one so if it was like the three girls from earlier on ye could ask one. Two would be left behind but that was okay. If the one with the white rose was there maybe Murdo could ask her. Maybe.
Aunt Maureen was chuckling, enjoying something Dad was saying to her — about Murdo, Murdo as a boy. Dad was talking about him. Another woman was listening to what Dad was saying and she peered at Murdo.
Murdo smiled at her, then got up and went a walk. He knew what Dad was telling them about, it was actually a story: The boy who fell down the pit.
Murdo headed across past the refreshments bar. It wasnt an actual pub so maybe there were no age restrictions. A beer would have been good. But $6 a bottle! That was what they were charging. He could have bought one and taken it outside to drink. Murdo continued along, skirting the dance area. People stood around the exit, smoking and toing and froing the portable toilets.
Outside it was quite deserted beyond the marquee area. Most every stall and tent had been taken down. This made it possible to see over to the carpark which was only a fraction full compared to the afternoon. Those who operated stalls and tents had dismantled them and just gone home. Murdo strolled for a little bit. It was kind of odd being here, in this landscape, the Scottish country dance music blaring through the external speakers, though it wasnt blaring and didnt carry all that far.