little bits and pieces for a few private clients. Modest stuff. I don’t think he liked the pace in the firm—you know what those legal firms can be like these days. He lives quite close to us in the Grange. I often see him taking his dog for a walk. Nice man. Not such a nice dog.”
“Well, he wanted it, obviously,” said Isabel. “Is he a collector?”
Peter put a finger to his lips. “We’re making a bit of a noise,”
he whispered. “I’m getting one or two looks.” He leaned over and whispered in Isabel’s ear. “Buie is a Jura name. His father probably came from there, or somewhere nearby. There are lots of Buies on the island. McInnes painted on Jura, didn’t he?”
Isabel indicated that she was going to leave. “Come and see us,” she whispered to Peter. “Bring Susie to have a look at Charlie. Any time.” She paused. “Why are you here, Peter?”
“Susie’s birthday is coming up,” he said. “There’s a little watercolour coming up a bit later on. Tiny one—this big. I might go up to eighty pounds!”
Isabel smiled. “Be careful.”
Jamie followed her out of the saleroom and out onto Broughton Street. He looked at his watch; he had to be at the 6 2
A l e x a n d e r M c C a l l S m i t h Edinburgh Academy in half an hour to give a lesson. Isabel could not linger either; Charlie would need feeding soon and although Grace was looking after him, she wanted to see him. It was strange; a separation of just a few hours made her anxious.
Was this what being a parent was going to be like? A life of anxiety, of fretting about little things? Have a child and give a hostage to fortune; yes, but have any human link, any friendship, and a hostage was given.
Jamie explained that he would have to go; it would take him fifteen minutes to walk to the school and he liked to have a few minutes in hand. Then he inclined his head back in the direction of the saleroom. “You could have gone higher, you know.”
“Yes,” said Isabel. “I could have. But I didn’t.”
Jamie looked into Isabel’s eyes. “Just how well-off are you, Isabel?”
The question took Isabel by surprise. He had not spoken in a hostile manner, but it was a potentially hostile question.
“I’ve got enough to get by,” she said. “That should perhaps be obvious—not that I want it to be.”
Jamie continued to look into her eyes. He was experiencing a strange feeling: a feeling that she was his but not his. And at the root of it, he suspected, was the fact that their positions were so different. Everything about their relationship, in fact, involved contrasts; she was older than he was; she had so much more money; she lived on the south side of the city and he on the north; he was dark and she tended to the fairer. Jack Spratt and his wife.
Nothing was said for a while. “You’re not answering me,” he said eventually.
She remained patient. “Well, it’s a question that I don’t have to answer.” She spoke quietly. “And why do you want to know, anyway? I don’t ask you what you earn, do I?”
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6 3
“I’m quite happy to tell you,” he said. “But, anyway, you’re right. It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”
She looked at him. She might have been cross, but could not find it within her. She could not be cross with him; she could not. You can say anything to me, she said to herself; anything at all. Because we’re lovers. And I love you, Jamie, every bit of you; I love you so much.
She reached out and touched him. She swept the hair back off his forehead and then she slipped her hand down to the back of his neck. “There are shares in a company,” she said. “They came from my mother. The company had land and buildings in Louisiana, and in Mobile too. It did well.”
“You don’t have to tell me this,” said Jamie. “I’m sorry—”
“Eleven million pounds,” said Isabel. “Depending on the value of the dollar.”
Jamie was silent. He stared at her in astonishment.
“Is your curiosity satisfied?” she asked.
Jamie seemed flustered. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t know why I did. I really don’t.”
Isabel took his hand. “Could you telephone the school and tell them that you can’t come in?” she said on impulse. “We could go home.”
He shook his head.
“Go on,” she urged him.
He shook his head again. “Siren,” he said.
They kissed, and she watched him for a few moments as he walked down Broughton Street. He must have sensed her gaze, as he turned round and waved to her before continuing. She blew him a kiss, which he did not return.
Isabel turned away and began to walk along Queen Street.
The late-morning air was bright, the air warm for the east of Scotland. She was worried that she had divulged something that 6 4
A l e x a n d e r M c C a l l S m i t h she should have kept private. A few minutes earlier she had thought of the giving of hostages. Well, she said to herself, I’ve just given another one.
I S A B E L A R R I V E D H O M E to find that Grace had taken Charlie out into the
