When, for some reason, life seems speeded up?”
“Most certainly,” said Angus. “And do you think we are in such a time right now?”
“It seems a little bit like that to me,” said Domenica. “Here I am, back from the Malacca Straits. No sooner have I returned than Antonia announces her intention of becoming my neighbour on a permanent basis. Not that she asked me, mind you.
I’ve always thought that one should ask one’s neighbours before one gets too firmly settled in.”
“Impossible,” said Angus. “Neighbours are given to us on the same basis as we are given our families. There is no element of choice involved – none at all.”
“Is there not?” asked Domenica. “Well what about Ann Street? I was under the impression that the people who live in Ann Street will buy up any house that comes on the market in order to make sure that it doesn’t end up in the wrong hands.”
“Nonsense,” said Angus. “That really is an ancient canard, Domenica. People have been saying that about Ann Street for years. But it’s complete nonsense. It’s a very inclusive street.
138 A Powerful Ally in the Campaign to Free Cyril Anybody who’s got a million pounds to spend on a house is in.
They’re terrifically accepting.”
“Then all these stories about Edinburgh being full of icy types are false?”
“Absolutely,” said Angus frostily.
Domenica was not convinced, but she did not want to get involved at that moment in a discussion about the mores of Edinburgh; she had other news to impart to Angus.
“Yes,” she said. “Developments seem to be occurring at a frightening rate. And here am I with somebody else coming to live with me. No sooner have I dispatched Antonia, than I hear from my aunt that she would like to come and spend a few months in Edinburgh with me.”
“How nice for you,” said Angus. “Company, and so on.”
“Yes,” said Domenica. “I don’t begrudge her the visit. It’s just that she belongs to a generation that was used to paying rather long visits. We think in terms of three days; they thought nothing of descending on people for three months.” She paused.
“And she’s virtually one hundred years old; ninety-six I think.
But remarkably sprightly.”
“Then she will have a great deal to talk about,” said Angus.
“A lot will have happened in those ninety-six years.”
“Indeed,” said Domenica. “We can expect to hear a great deal about it.”
“Do I detect a certain lack of enthusiasm?” asked Angus.
“Well . . .”
“Because I would love to have somebody like that stay with me,” said Angus. “You should be more appreciative, Domenica.”
Domenica thought for a moment. “All right,” she said. “She can stay with you, Angus. Thank you for the offer.”
Angus looked flustered. “But I’m not sure that she would approve of my lifestyle,” he said. “You know . . .”
“My aunt is very tolerant,” said Domenica. “So thank you, Angus, it really is very kind of you.”
“No, Domenica. Sorry. She’s your responsibility. Blood is thicker than whisky.”
A Dinner Date with Pat . . . and a Surprise 139
“Whisky?”
“Why, thank you,” said Angus.
42. A Dinner Date with Pat . . . and a Surprise After leaving the Cumberland Bar, where he had been regaled by Angus Lordie with all the details of that extraordinary evening with the Jacobites, Matthew had returned to his flat in India Street to prepare for his dinner outing with Pat. Angus had not been much help in recommending restaurants, and so he had consulted a guide and chosen a small place, Le Bistrôt des Arts, at the Morningside end of Colinton Road, convenient for Pat –
it was ten minutes’ walk from the Grange – and well-reviewed by a normally picky critic.
He was at the table when she arrived. He appeared to be studying one of the spoons, but he was really looking at his reflection in the silver. The concave shape distorted him, but even taking that into account, Matthew felt that it captured the essential him. And the problem with that was that the essential him, he thought, was nothing special. I really have nothing to offer this girl, he told himself; me, with my distressed-oatmeal sweater – a failure – and my crushed-strawberry trousers –
another failure – and my Macgregor tartan underpants. I just don’t have it.
She slipped out of her coat. “You’ve been waiting for ages?
I’m sorry.”
“No,” he said. “Five minutes. If that.” He stood up to greet her, and she kissed him on the cheek. She did not always do that, and he flushed with pleasure. Matthew wanted this to work; he thought that it would not, but he wanted it.
“I’m going to order champagne,” he said impulsively. He might be a failure, but he was a failure with more than four million three hundred thousand pounds (the market was doing well). “Would you like that?”
140 A Dinner Date with Pat . . . and a Surprise She swept the hair back from her forehead, and he saw that there were small drops of rain on her skin. “What’s the occasion?” she asked.
He smiled. “Meeting you here. Being with you.”
He stopped. Did that sound corny? Nobody said that sort of thing, he thought. But he had said it spontaneously; he had meant it, and now, to his relief, he saw her return his smile.
“That’s a very sweet thing to say, Matthew. Thank you.”
He felt emboldened. “Well, I meant it. I like being with you.
I like you so much, you see. So much.”
She looked down at the table. I’ve embarrassed her, he thought.
I should not have said that. She doesn’t want to be liked by me.
“I like you too, Matthew.”
Well, he thought, that’s something. But how much did she like him? As much as he liked her? As much as she had liked Wolf? Or Bruce for that matter? Or was that a different sort of liking? Wolf and Bruce were sexy; they dripped with sexual appeal, if one can drip with such a thing. Dripping came into it somewhere, but Matthew was not sure where and did not like to think about it really, about the things that he did not have.
For a few moments there was silence. Then he said: “Do you think there’s much of a future for us?”
Pat raised her eyes to meet his. “What do you mean?”
“A future. You know. Are we going to carry on going out together?”
She seemed to relax – quite visibly – and it occurred to him that she might have misinterpreted him. He imagined that she had thought that he was proposing to her, and the thought appalled him. It was not that he would not like to marry Pat, but he had never thought of marriage to anybody. She would do fine, of course, if he did; but he hadn’t . . .
“I’d like to carry on seeing you,” she said, reaching for the menu. “So let’s not talk about it anymore. Let’s just carry on.”
She reached across the table and took his hand, gave it a squeeze, released it. He thought: she might do that with a brother – take his hand, squeeze it, and let go. If he had been A Dinner Date with Pat . . . and a Surprise 141
Wolf, would she not have taken his hand, squeezed it, and then clung on?
“All right,” he said.
“Now let’s choose something to eat,” she said.
Matthew turned round to catch the proprietor’s eye. “I’m going to order that champagne,” he said. “Bollinger.”
She glanced at the menu. It looked expensive, and she could not tell the difference between champagnes. “A bit extravagant.”
He shrugged. “Why not?”