When he returned inside Uncle John was by the entrance, chatting to a couple of older guys who were both wearing the kilt. Murdo! he said. Where’ve ye been? I was looking for ye!
I was only out a minute!
Ye’re aye disappearing!
No I’m not.
Uncle John put his arm round him and drew him closer. My nephew from Scotland, Murdo.
Hi Murdo, nice to meet you. You know the isle of Skye?
Yeah.
I went over three years ago with my wife and daughter. It was wonderful.
The other man pointed at the kilt he was wearing. This is the Macleod tartan. You know the Macleods?
Yeah.
I’m a Tormod. There’s Torquils and Tormods.
Okay, said Uncle John. He smiled at the two men and led Murdo a few paces off. He spoke quietly: So ye enjoying the music son?
Yeah.
What do ye think of the accordeon player?
Yeah… He’s fine.
Uncle John held him by the elbow. Ssh, he said, I had a wee word with him. Ye’re alright for one. Just wait till the break. Then you go up.
Murdo hardly heard.
Uncle John said, I asked him for ye.
Murdo nodded.
What I’m saying son I asked him for ye. I’m talking about doing one on the accordeon. They’ll be taking a break in a minute then you go up. Uncle John smiled.
No. Thanks but eh no.
It’s fine son ye just go up during the break.
No what it is Uncle John, really, I’m not eh…
Son it’ll be alright, it’s no anything to worry about.
I know, I mean I just eh… I would rather not.
Uncle John gazed at him.
Is that okay?
Of course. No bother at all son, it’s only if ye wanted to. The guy’s happy to oblige. Ye would just go up at the break. Uncle John said, Nobody’s forcing ye!
Thanks.
It was only if ye wanted to.
Thanks Uncle John.
Uncle John patted him on the side of the arm, then returned to the company of the two older men.
Murdo walked along by the rear of the marquee. A row of chairs was lined closeby the canvas with a passageway between it and the second end row. The good thing back here was the shadows. Only the dance area was brightly lit. He might have sat down except it was tricky finding free space. Couples sat together and ye were too close to them. They would think ye were trying to whatever, listen in.
The idea of playing one, it was not on. There was nothing wrong with Uncle John asking, it was just impossible. He was still there with the two old guys, now standing aside to let pass a woman with a laden tray. Ye could see her smiling, so he had made a jokey comment. Uncle John was good. He tried to help and make things happen for people. Maybe Murdo could have played.
He couldnt.
Aunt Maureen was talking to Dad now. More stories. Dad glanced roundabout, probably wondering about Murdo. Where Murdo was sitting was quite shadowy and Dad wouldnt have seen him. So this was him disappeared again! That was Dad, disappeared. The story about “The boy who fell down the pit”. It was one Dad told them when he was wee, him and Eilidh. He would have been four, so Eilidh seven. It was one with a moral to it. Ye were not to wander off or bad things would happen. The wee boy in the story used to wander off by himself and his Mum and Dad were fed up giving him rows about it. One day he went into the forest and fell down a pit. Help me help me! Get me out! Nobody heard his screams. His Mum and Dad thought he was lost and gone forever. He was trapped down there for days and he had to eat worms and spiders and beetles. All the creepy crawlies. He had to eat them all or starve to death. Except not the frog! He would not eat the frog. There was a frog down the bearpit but the boy wouldnay eat it. Frogs come from tadpoles and the boy liked tadpoles.
Murdo knew that was right because he liked tadpoles as well. Eilidh didnt. She was like Oh of course he would eat it. Why wouldnt he? Of course he would! That was Eilidh. He would have to eat it else he would starve to death! If it was France he would eat it. People eat frogs’ legs in France. They nibble them.
Are the frogs wearing them? said Murdo.
Good question, said Dad who told it to Mum. Are the frogs wearing their legs when people nibble them?
The boy didnt eat the frog because the frog was his pal, and nobody would eat their pal! If he had he would never have got out the bear pit. Because that was how he escaped. He climbed on the frog’s back and out they hopped. It was a good story. Dad used to tell them. Even if he gave ye a row; after the row was over and ye were getting put to bed he sat down with ye and told ye a story, Murdo and Eilidh, just the two of ye there and him sitting, and quiet, ha ha, that was Dad.
Last song before the break: A Dashing White Sergeant. Some knew the steps but most didnt. Ye could learn if ye wanted. The web was full of these instruction videos. But who cares? Ye want to relax and not have to go and do stuff.
What was interesting here was how the fiddle took the lead and that gave it an American feel. Murdo thought so. But it might just have been hearing the fiddle, thinking of Chess Hopkins — it wasnay Macpherson played the fiddle on “Macpherson’s Farewell”, it was him. The fiddler here was nowhere even close to Chess Hopkins.
But so what, if he was doing his best? Maybe he was.
There was a sadness in music. Even if it was cheery, or supposed to be cheery, ye still heard it. Even The Dashing White Sergeant.
*
During the break he walked about. He was back at the table when the band began a medley they introduced as “The Happy Hoedown”. There was a cheer and an immediate rush for the floor when people heard the opening tune. They grabbed partners, whooping and punching the air.
A man had been talking to Aunt Maureen and Dad and they were straining to hear what each other was saying. Murdo wasnt trying to listen. He couldnt hear anyway. The man had a beer in one hand and kept giving angry looks at the band. But it wasnt the band’s fault. Dad and Aunt Maureen seemed to agree with the man but surely if people wanted a conversation they should have shifted to the back of the marquee? Uncle John was away doing that, sitting with a couple of men at the side, but that was them. Most people wanted to dance. They were there for a good time. What was wrong with that?
A woman was heading towards Dad, coming straight towards him. There was no mistaking this; stretching out her right hand, her forefinger pulling and beckoning him to come to her. Murdo hadnt seen her before. Aunt Maureen called to her: Hi Ruthie!
The woman seemed not to see Aunt Maureen and was wagging her finger at Dad like she was giving him a row. It was quite, in a way, comical, seeing Dad like this. But weird. When she took both his hands and yanked him up off the chair he allowed it. He smiled at Murdo and Aunt Maureen like Oh I’m helpless, I’m helpless. Then he was on the floor with her and standing, they were looking for a gap, then they were dancing. Dad. Dancing.
Murdo sipped his juice and watched how he was doing it. He knew a few of the steps. The woman was good. She looked to be leading Dad, holding his waist and guiding him through bits. They stayed on the floor for the next dance too.
That was something, Dad, imagine Dad.
One tune the band played was the “Ballad of Glencoe”. Murdo could have grabbed the accordeon for that. He could sing it too:
Oh cruel was the snow
that sweeps Glencoe
and covers the grave o’ Donald
It was a waltz. Dad was still there with the woman. Aunt Maureen was gazing at dancers too. There was a spare seat next to her. Murdo moved onto it. Hi Aunt Maureen.
Well hi Murdo you enjoying yourself?
Yeah.
It’s nice.
Yeah.
And he was enjoying himself. Although nothing was going to happen. He knew that. It didnt matter. Being here was great and just seeing everything, how everything was. Okay if he had had a pal they would have had a laugh, maybe chatted to a couple of girls or whatever.