The World According to Bertie

wondered if he would ever be able to join in. He looked at the new spread of photographs and his eye was caught by some familiar faces.

Yes, there was Mr Roddy Martine whom Bertie had seen in a previous copy of the magazine months ago. Mr Martine was very lucky, thought Bertie. All these invitations! And this was a party to launch his book about Rosslyn Chapel, and there was a photograph of Mr Charlie Maclean, balancing a glass of whisky on his nose. Mr Charlie Maclean entertains the guests, the caption read, while Mr Bryan Johnston and Mr Humphrey Holmes look on.

That was very clever, thought Bertie. They must have had such fun at that party.

“Bertie?”

He looked up from Scottish Field and all the colour, all the warmth of the world of those pages seemed to drain away. Now he was back in monochrome. Dr Fairbairn.

Irene came from behind Dr Fairbairn and took a seat in the waiting room. Ulysses was strapped to her front in his tartan sling. She glanced with disapproval at Scottish Field and picked up, instead, a copy of The Economist.

90

It’s Never Rude to Say Things to a Doctor

“Dr Fairbairn’s ready to see you now, Bertie,” she said. “Just half an hour today.”

Bertie went into the consulting room and sat in his usual seat.

Outside, he could see the tops of the trees in Queen Street Gardens. They were moving in the breeze. It would be a good place to fly a kite, he thought, if he had one, which he did not.

“Now, Bertie,” said Dr Fairbairn. “You’ve had a very big change in your life, haven’t you? Your younger brother. Wee Ulysses. That’s a big change.”

“Yes,” said Bertie. Ulysses had brought many changes, especially a lot of mess and noise.

“Having a new brother or sister is a major event in our lives, Bertie,” said Dr Fairbairn. “And we must express our feelings about it.”

Bertie said nothing. He was staring at Dr Fairbairn’s forehead. Just above his eyebrows, on either side, there was a sort of bump, or ridge. And it was just like the bump he had seen on Ulysses’s brow, whatever his mother said. Other people did not have that, Bertie was sure of that – just Dr Fairbairn and Ulysses.

“Yes,” Dr Fairbairn went on. “Perhaps you would like to tell me what you’re thinking about Ulysses. Then we can look at these feelings. We can talk about them. We can get them out in the open.”

Bertie thought for a moment. Was this really what Dr Fairbairn wanted? “Are you sure?” he asked. “You won’t think I’m being rude?”

Dr Fairbairn laughed. “Being rude? My goodness me, no, Bertie. It’s not rude to articulate these feelings to a therapist!”

Bertie took a deep breath. The leaves outside the window were moving more energetically now. A kite would fly so well out there, so high. “Am I allowed to?” he asked. “Mummy said it was rude . . .”

“Of course you’re allowed to, Bertie! Remember that I’m a sort of doctor. It’s never rude to say things to a doctor. Doctors have heard hundreds and hundreds of rude things in their job.

So Who Exactly Is the New Man in Big Lou’s Life?

91

That’s what doctors are for. They’re there to tell rude things to. You can’t shock a doctor, Bertie!”

Bertie looked out of the window again. Very well.

“Are you really Ulysses’s daddy, Dr Fairbairn?” he asked.

28. So Who Exactly Is the New Man in Big Lou’s Life?

Big Lou’s customers could be divided into two groups. During the earlier part of the morning, between eight and ten, there were always the same twenty or so people who came in for a morning coffee on the way to work. These were people whom Big Lou described as her “hard workers,” in contrast to those who came in after ten – Matthew and Angus and the like –

whose day was only just starting when the hard workers had already put in an hour or two at the office.

Coming from Arbroath, as she did, and from an agricultural background, Big Lou knew all about hard work. Indeed, unremitting labour had been Big Lou’s lot from childhood. It had been natural for her to help as a child on the farm, dealing with lambs that needed attention – a pleasant job which she enjoyed – or helping to muck out the byre – not such a pleasant job, but one which she had always performed with good grace.

And then there had been kitchen work, which again she had been raised to, and scrubbing floors, and dusting shelves, and carrying trays of tea to bed-bound elderly relatives. Big Lou had done it all.

“You don’t know you’re born,” she once said to Matthew.

Matthew smiled. “I’m not sure how to interpret that remark, Lou,” he replied. “At one level – the literal – it’s patently absurd.

Of course I know I’m born. I’m aware of my existence. But if you’re suggesting . . .”

“You ken fine what I’m suggesting,” interjected Big Lou. “I’m suggesting you haven’t got a clue.”

92

So Who Exactly Is the New Man in Big Lou’s Life?

Matthew smiled again. “About what, Lou? You know, you really shouldn’t be so opaque.”

“I mean that you don’t know what hard work’s all about.” Big Lou spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child.