Tricksters (10 page)

‘Is that it?'

‘Wheesht! Repeat after me: What would you have me do?'

‘What would you have me do?'

‘Again, Murdo, say after me: Where would you have me go?'

‘Where would you have me go?'

A slight pause ensued.

‘What would you have me say, and to whom?'

‘What would you have me say, and to whom?' Murdo sighed.

There followed a longer pause.

Rachel released his hands. ‘Are you okay?' she said.

Silence reigned.

Finally, Murdo spoke. ‘Yes, I'm okay.'

‘Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?' Rachel said.

‘I'm not sure of anything.'

‘I am,' Rachel said. ‘I know exactly what I've got to do.'

‘If you want to know what's troubling me the most about all this,' Murdo said, ‘I'll tell you. You and I are going to make love presently. Then, in the morning, we'll go to Uist. I'll be running to Creagorry every day for a bottle of rum for the old man. You'll be in the bosom of your family for a few days, then you'll go back to university in Glasgow and I'll be left – a man almost forty years of age – a laughing-stock, an object of mockery, an object of pity . . . to you, Rachel, and to your pals.'

‘Listen . . .'

‘This is not the way I want things to be,' Murdo said. ‘Oh, sure, I want to go to bed with you. But it's what's going to happen afterwards, that's what's worrying me.'

‘I don't . . . I don't know what to say to you,' Rachel said.

‘Rachel, why are you doing this?'

‘Doing what?'

‘I'm only a pleasant diversion to you, Rachel, right? Your future is all mapped out. And there's no place for someone like me in it.'

‘I've gone over this a hundred times,' Rachel said. ‘What my parents want to do is control my life. The Rachel inside me wants her freedom. They're expecting me home tomorrow. I don't have the heart to face that.'

‘Christ, your home's only two hours away.'

‘I'm not going to Uist. I'm going straight down to Glasgow.'

‘But you'll lose if you do that . . . your father and mother . . . me.'

‘Maybe I'll lose something . . . but I'll gain something far more valuable. I'll be free.'

‘Free? Did you consider anyone else?'

‘My own needs, whatever they are, must come first, Murdo. If I'm not happy – if I'm forced to do things against my will – then I can't make anyone else happy.'

Murdo stood up and walked on weak joints across to the dresser.

‘Seems to me I can hear a kind of selfish rap to that, Rachel,' Murdo said. ‘Me, me, me, who's more important than me? I'd say you don't mind riding roughshod over the feelings of others.'

‘Come here, Murdo. Please don't go away from me.'

‘Is this the best you can do for your parents? Is this the best you can do for me? You'll give a night's relief to a guy who's old enough to be your father, and then you'll abandon all of us?'

‘Wrong!' Rachel said. ‘You've read it all wrong, Murdo.'

‘At least tell me the truth. How do you really feel about me? Are you attracted to me only because I'm weak and you can control me easily?'

‘No!'

‘Because I've got news for you, girl,' Murdo said. ‘I'm undergoing some kind of process of change. You know, I'm liberated, as well as being sober? And it's a good feeling.'

‘Murdo,' Rachel said, ‘do you think you'll be buried in Nunton cemetery?'

‘What's that got to do with it?'

‘Do you think you'll ever leave your old man, the Benefits office and the blow-outs at weddings and dances in Eochar Hall?'

Murdo sighed. ‘I'll have to leave all of that stuff behind some time. I'd go tomorrow . . . if I had a choice.'

‘You have a choice, Murdo,' Rachel said. ‘Come with me to Glasgow. I'm not going back to university either. I'll get a job. I'll support you. You're the one who should be going to university, Murdo.'

They were quiet for a while.

Murdo broke away from the dresser and went back towards the bed. ‘You have to do something first,' he said.

‘I'm more than willing. Come on, Murdo, give me a hug.'

‘That's only part of it. You have to do something else.'

‘What?'

‘You have to marry me,' Murdo said. He stopped talking. ‘I don't have a ring . . . I had one but . . .'

This made Rachel laugh. ‘If that's what you want . . . Okay.'

‘Don't just say “okay” as though I've just offered you a cup of tea,' Murdo said. ‘At times I don't understand you, Rachel. I don't know what's happening to us. I spoke to . . . er, to the Murdo deep inside me just as you asked me to – and the answer I got was that I shouldn't touch you without getting your commitment to marry me. Isn't there some little shred of hope for us?' Murdo sat down on the edge of the bed and placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘Oh, my darling,' he said softly.

‘I'll never hurt you, Murdo,' Rachel said. ‘That's exactly how I'm feeling just now, and I don't know what
else to tell you.' She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand.

Then, Murdo, in slow motion, drew the duvet back. He stood up straight and started to take off his clothes. ‘Oh, Rachel . . .'

Someone knocked timidly on the door. Murdo and Rachel were oblivious. They looked at each other lovingly.

‘We'll live together in Glasgow, eh?' Rachel whispered.

Murdo nodded in assent and removed his trousers. The knocking on the door resumed, louder this time.

‘I love you, Murdo,' Morag said.

‘I love
you,
Rachel.' Murdo said. He was about to leap into the bed with Rachel when Morag teetered into the room, carrying a bottle of champagne and flute glasses on a tray.

As soon as she opened her mouth it was clear that she been indulging in mood-altering substances. ‘Oh, it's love . . . As Neruda once said . . .'

‘The Nerudas have it easy,' Murdo said. ‘They get all the building work in the islands.'

Morag carried on speaking. ‘As Neruda once said . . .'

‘Oh, champagne!' Rachel said. ‘Isn't that wonderful, Murdo! I'd really adore a glass of it just now.'

‘As Neruda once said . . .'

‘You can drink the whole bottle,' Murdo said to Rachel. ‘I'll stick to tap water.'

‘As Alasdair MacAulay once said . . .'

‘Alasdair MacAulay?' Rachel said. ‘What happened to Neruda?'

‘You're so ignorant,' Morag said, ‘that neither of you wanted to hear what Neruda said.'

Murdo smiled indulgently at the women. ‘Okay, what did Alasdair MacAulay say then?'

‘He said that there were three things that we must take care of: a suckling babe, a poor widow and a barn door.'

Rachel spoke as though what she had heard was a source of wonder to her. ‘Did he say that? That's pretty funny. I don't know what it has to do with anything, but I like it. I'm just going to say this in the passing – it's high time you took a holiday . . . for at least a month.'

‘Oh,' Morag said, ‘I'm going on one very soon . . . to Stornoway!'

Murdo was growing impatient. He held his trousers in the fig-leaf position. With difficulty he extracted a bundle of notes from a pocket and thrust it into her fist.

‘Here, take this,' he said. ‘I hope you enjoy Stornoway . . . A good thing is worth waiting for.'

‘From your lips to God's ears!' Morag said.

Suddenly she fell silent. It was as though she had been struck by lightning. She examined Murdo carefully. It was obvious as she looked at him from top to toe, with her head bobbing up and down, that she was trying to gauge how tall he was.

‘What did you say just then?' she said, almost choking.

‘When?' Murdo said.

‘Murdo, hurry up,' Rachel said in a plaintive voice.

‘A good thing is . . .'

‘A good thing is worth waiting for?' Murdo said.

‘A good thing is worth waiting for!' Morag said in a squeaky voice. She was almost delirious. ‘Those are the blessed words! You've got it! The Lord Himself sent you my way!'

Rachel squeezed her head under the pillow and said in a muffled voice, ‘Aw, no! Get rid of her, Murdo.'

Murdo propelled the old lady who was still babbling towards the door. ‘We'll talk about all this in the morning . . . Have a nice mug of Horlicks . . . Come on, now . . . Good night, sleep tight . . . You'll feel a lot better after forty winks . . .' He closed the door and turned the key.

Morag railed excitedly at him from the corridor. ‘I know who you are. You're the Eriskay Giant. Did you bring my money?'

Murdo was confused. He scratched his head and walked over to the bed.

‘The Eriskay Giant?' Rachel said. ‘Well, big boy, come on over here till we see if the poor soul's telling the truth.'

Murdo turned off the light and slipped smoothly into the bed. All that could be heard were soft murmurs and the rustling of bedclothes in the blackness.

Morag
has gone to the demnition bow-wows since she returned to Stornoway. She's drinking more and more. She has a nice wee flat in The Cairns in which she drinks a litre of vodka every single day. The taxi drivers who run the cutter for her call her ‘The Pension Plan'.

John,
with his bullhorn in his hand, can still be seen around Uig pier. Make sure, if you spit when he's around, you don't lick your lips after it.

Nigel
is still a man who spends his days not doing very much. Last year he sold six of his Jesus or Frank Bruno statuettes.

Suki
is making a fortune in the Tartan Pagoda. She's crammed a team of Thai girls into a caravan round the back, and every night a couple of them, taking turns, perform lap dancing in the Cocktail Bar.

Murdo
is as happy as a sand boy. At university, he's heavily involved in politics and President of the Debating Society, Student Senate. This doesn't leave much time for study. However, he's doing his best. He almost had a slip at Christmas time. He put a lot of work into a
paper for the Sociology lecturer. When he found out it was worth only a Beta Minus he was bitterly disappointed. He went on a drinking bout that night. The following day he realised that his life was slipping towards the toilet again, and he did the right thing. He sobered up. He went to the lecturer and asked him where he was going wrong. The guy gave him some tips to improve his writing skills. Since then, he has been on the wagon and his grades have improved significantly.

Rachel
is having a rather bumpy ride just now. Recently she's been phoning and writing to her parents. When they ask her what she meant when she told them there was to be an addition to the family, she tells them she's
not
pregnant and that she hopes to bring a boyfriend home with her at the end of term. What she doesn't tell them is that it's not Murdo who'll be along with her but a tall, dark and handsome young man whom she met at the university. His name is Said Khan.

Dolina,
the loopy old woman Sam was courting, is now back at home. She's kept awfully busy writing letters to a young guy who's in Barlinnie just now doing an eight-year stretch for culpable homicide. They expect to get married in 2015 when he'll be released and she'll be seventy years of age.

Sam
dropped out of sight after his summons to a board meeting of Etive Television directors. Rumours persisted, however, that he was on the streets selling
The Big Issue
and that he was detoxing in some kind of hostel. No reliable information could be found about him until it was reported that he had been seen in the Caberfeidh
Hotel in Stornoway at the time of the National Mod. It seems that he, Murdo Morrison of MGAlba and Margaret Mary Murray of BBCAlba – both members of the Committee for the Support of Gaelic Media – were whispering in a corner until the wee small hours. He has a new nickname: Lazarus.