Yes, said Henry. That was exactly it. He paused for a moment and then asked Domenica whether she would like him to take her – discreetly, of course – to watch what they got up to. They could follow them in his small boat, he said. Would she like to do that?
Domenica only hesitated for a moment before she said yes.
She had not imagined that she would get mixed up in piracy, but this offer was just too tempting to resist. And she would not actually participate in any illegal activities. That was out of the question. She would simply watch.
“Tumora moningtaim,” said Henry. “Samting sikispela.
Klosap haus bilong mipela” (Tomorrow morning, then. Around about six. At my house).
“You look very pleased with yourself,” said Big Lou to Matthew as he entered the coffee bar that morning. “Have you sold a painting?”
“As a matter of fact, I have,” said Matthew, smiling broadly at Lou. “This very morning. A man came in and took a shine to those McCosh bird paintings I had. He said: ‘This man is the new Thorburn’, and bought all three of them.”
Big Lou wiped her cloth over the surface of the bar. “He saw a bargain,” she said. “Maybe you should have hung onto them.
There must be people who think that about their Hockneys and their Bacons.”
“But I don’t want to hold onto them,” said Matthew. “I want people to know about him. There he is, the finest wildfowl painter to come along for a long, long time. Right on our doorstep. Right outside Edinburgh. All those beautiful paintings. I want people to have them. I don’t want to sit on them.”
“Well,” said Lou. “They’ve gone now.”
Matthew smiled pleasantly. He was pleased about the sale of the paintings, but that was not the real reason for his positive state of mind. He looked at Big Lou, busying herself now with the mysteries of her coffee-making craft. Should he tell her?
“Actually, Lou,” he said. “I’m feeling rather happy.”
“Aye,” said Big Lou, without turning round. “Well, that’s good to hear, Matthew.”
“Aren’t you interested in hearing why, Lou?”
Lou laughed. “I’m going to hear anyway.”
“Pat,” said Matthew, simply.
“What about her?” asked Lou. “Is she coming over for coffee?”
“No, she has a lecture. She’s up at the university.”
Big Lou turned round with the cup of coffee. “Well, she is a student, after all,” she said. “I suppose that she has to show up there from time to time.”
Matthew did not take his cup of coffee to his table, but stayed where he was, at the bar. “Pat and I . . .” he began. “Well, Pat and I are going out together.” He paused, adding rather lamely: 308
“I thought you would be interested to hear that.”
Big Lou reached for her cloth and began to polish the bar with vigorous circular sweeps.
“Are you sure about this?” she said.
Matthew seemed taken aback, almost crestfallen. “Sure? Well, yes, of course I’m sure. I’ve liked Pat a lot right from the beginning. When she first came to work for me . . .”
“That’s the point,” said Big Lou. “She came to work for you.”
“I don’t see . . .”
Big Lou put her cloth to one side and leaned over to take hold of Matthew’s forearm. “Matthew: that girl is younger that you. She’s a nice girl, sure enough, but there she is at the beginning of her time at university. She’s just starting. She’ll be looking for something very different from what you’re looking for. She will be wanting a bit of fun. Parties and so on. What do you think you’re looking for? You’re almost twenty-nine. You’re thinking of settling down. That’s when men start to think of settling down. You need somebody your own age.”
“There’s only eight years between us,” said Matthew. “That’s nothing.”
Big Lou shook her head. “Eight years can be a big difference at certain stages in our lives. It all depends on where you are.
There’s a big difference between being two and being ten, and between being ten and being eighteen. You see? Big differences.”
“I’m not Eddie . . .” Matthew began, and immediately regretted what he had said.
Big Lou looked at him. “I didn’t say you were Eddie,” she said quietly. “I didn’t say that.”
She looked at him, and Matthew saw that her eyes were filling with tears. She lifted her cloth and wiped at her eyes and cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Lou,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I wasn’t thinking . . .”
“I ken fine what he’s like,” sobbed Big Lou, her shoulders shaking. “I ken he’s no a guid man. But I loved him, Matthew.
