“I’ll give it back to you, Mr O’Connor,” Bertie said generously. “I don’t want to take all your money.”
Lard O’Connor shook his head. “Not a chance, Bertie,” he said. “You won that fair and square. Just as I earned that money fair and square in the first place.”
Stuart threw Lard a glance, and then looked away again quickly.
“What do you do for a living, Mr O’Connor?” Bertie asked politely as he dealt a fresh hand of cards.
“I’m a businessman,” said Lard. “I have a business. But it’s pretty difficult for us small businessmen under this government, you know. So I vote for the Liberal Democrats. That’s what I do. That Ming Campbell. He’s the man. And David Steel, too.”
“I’m sure they’re very glad of your support,” said Stuart dryly.
“Aye, I’m sure they are,” agreed Lard.
The game of cards continued for a further half hour, and then Gerry returned. He stood at the door, smiling broadly. “Mission accomplished, Lard,” he said.
Lard looked round and stared at his assistant. “You found the car?”
Gerry nodded. “I did. It had been removed withoot authority, as we say. Some boys had been using it for their own purposes.
So I spoke to them aboot it and explained this is not the way tae treat an Edinburgh car.”
Lard smiled. “And they agreed with you, Gerry?”
“They took a bit of persuading, boss,” said Gerry. “You know how ill-mannered some of these boys can be. Nae manners.”
Lard sighed. “Yes,” he said. “You’re right there, so you are.
But the important thing is that you’ve got your car back, Stewie.
How about that then?”
Stuart reached forward and shook Lard’s hand enthusiastically. “You’ve been very kind, Mr O’Connor,” he said. “I really am very indebted to you.”
A Game of Cards and a Cultural Trip 179
Lard shrugged off the thanks. “It was nothing,” he said. “I’m only sorry that youses were inconvenienced. It gives people the wrong impression of Glasgow when they come over here and their car is taken aff them. Very unfriendly.”
“Well,” said Stuart, looking at his watch. “No harm done.
Now that we have our car back we can get back to Edinburgh.
You’ve been very kind to us, Mr O’Connor.”
Lard made an expansive gesture with his right hand. “No bother. No bother at all.” He paused. “But it would be a pity if you were to rush off so quickly. Young Bertie here has hardly had the chance to see Glasgow, have you, Bertie? There’s plenty of time to get back to Edinburgh later on, especially as you now have your car back. A leisurely drive at your own convenience.”
Stuart began to explain that they really should get back as Bertie had a saxophone lesson, but was cut short by Lard.
“What do you think, Bertie?” asked Lard. “What would you like to see while you’re over here?”
Bertie was ready with an answer. He had decided that he liked Glasgow and that there was a great deal that he wished to see.
He would like to go to a fish and chip shop and get a . . . No, he could never do that. His mother would be sure to hear about it and there would be a terrible row. And so he said: “The Burrell Gallery, Mr O’Connor.” And then he added: “If that’s convenient to you.”
Lard frowned and looked at Gerry. “You know where that is, Gerry? The Burrell? You heard of it?”
Gerry shook his head. “I’ve got a map, boss. I can get you there.”
“In that case we should be on our way,” said Lard. “We can go in my motor, and then you can pick yours up when we finish and you can drive back to Edinburgh. How about that, Stewie?”
Stuart realised that he had little option but to agree. But a visit to the Burrell was a good idea, anyway, as it would enable him to say to Irene that they had spent their time in Glasgow well. He could clearly not tell her that he and Bertie had played cards, for money, with a Glasgow gangster, but he could tell her 180 A Game of Cards and a Cultural Trip that they had gone to the Burrell with two charming Glaswegians who had helped them locate the car.
They set off in Lard O’Connor’s green Mercedes-Benz. Gerry drove, with Stuart beside him in the front passenger seat, while Bertie sat in the back with Lard.
“It’s a very nice car, Mr O’Connor,” said Bertie, running his hands over the soft leather of the seats.
“It is that,” said Lard. “You work hard, Bertie, just like me, and one day you’ll be able to get yourself one of these.”
“But what does your business actually do, Mr O’Connor?”
asked Bertie.
“Distribution,” said Lard. “We circulate things We make sure that things don’t just stay in one place forever. We encourage changes of ownership.”
“What things?” asked Bertie.
“Bertie,” interrupted Stuart from the front seat. “Don’t keep asking Mr O’Connor questions. He’s very busy thinking. Leave him be.”
They travelled on in silence. Then Bertie said: “Mr O’Connor, have you heard of Rangers Football Club?”
Lard O’Connor smiled. “I’ve heard of them. Aye, I’ve heard of them.”
Bertie looked out of the window. There was much about Glasgow that he still had to find out. “Everybody says that they’re very good,” he said. “They say that they’re the best football team in the country.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Lard, catching Gerry’s eye in the rear mirror. “There’s a team called Celtic. Have you heard of them?”
“Yes,” said Bertie. “But I’ve heard they’re not so good.”
Lard O’Connor said nothing. Then he began to smile. “You know, Bertie, you’re a clever wee boy. Very good sense of humour. Very good. You and I have got a brilliant future together
– I can tell.” Then he tapped Stuart on the shoulder. “What do you think, Stewie? What say you that we get together a bit more regularly. You. Me. Bertie. What do you think?”
Chapter title
181
55. At the Burrell
They drew into the grounds of Pollok House, and drove up the drive towards the building that housed the Burrell Collection.
Lard O’Connor, sitting in the back of his green Mercedes-Benz, with Bertie at his side, was impressed by the sylvan setting.
“Crivvens!” he exclaimed. “Who would have guessed that we had this in Glasgow! Right under our noses! You’d think we were in Edinburgh, wouldn’t you?”
“You have some fine museums over here,” said Stuart. “Very fine.”
Lard listened carefully. “Fine museums, you say, Stewie? Well, that’s good to hear.”
Gerry parked the car and they walked over to the entrance to the Burrell. Guidebooks were bought – Stuart insisted on paying, as a thank-you for the finding of his car – and Lard and Gerry graciously accepted. Then they made their way into the first of the exhibition halls. There, hung on a wall, was a giant Flemish tapestry depicting a hunting scene, complete with dogs.
“Jeez,” said Lard. “Look at those dugs on that carpet.”
“It’s a tapestry, actually,” said Stuart.
Lard looked at him. “That’s what I said,” he muttered. “You trying to show me up, Stewie?”
Stuart paled. “Certainly not. I was just . . .”
“Because some people think,” Lard continued, “that just because you haven’t had much formal education, then you don’t know anything. You wouldn’t be one of those, would you, Stewie?”
“Of course not,” said Stuart. “There are a lot of educated people who know very little about the world.”
“You hear that, Gerry?” asked Lard. “Stewie here says that there lots of folk in Edinburgh who don’t know anything about anything. That’s what he said.”