The Loud Halo by Lillian Beckwith Read Free Book Online Page B

little resentfully to know where the Post Office had hidden itself and if, when they found it, they could buy stamps there. They implied both by their tone and their remarks that they had found Bruach a little unaccommodating so far. I directed them on their way but their resentment had kindled a response in me, not against Bruach or the Bruachites but against the tourists themselves, for they were coming now in their coachloads and carloads, robbing the village of its privacy and awakening the hibernating avarice of the crofters.
    The moment the first tourists arrived (always pronounced ‘towrists’ in Bruach) the crofters began to look more alert. Except for the old die-hards like Yawn, who would have noth-to do with tourists and only gave them a ‘withdraw the hem of his garment look’ when they ventured near him, they thoroughly enjoyed the colour and the air of prosperity the presence of the visitors imparted to the village. Soon notices began to appear outside croft houses adjoining the roadside, proclaiming that they were ‘Tearooms’ or offering ‘Bed and Breakfast’, and of these there were more than enough to cater for the number of people who came. Some drew more custom than others, perhaps because of their position, perhaps because of the fare they offered, but it was comforting to see how little rivalry there was between them. Admittedly, Hamish, having been dissatisfied one season with the amount of trade his wife’s tearoom had attracted, had tried to increase it the following season by the added lure of a ‘toilet’, and with this intention he had erected a notice-board in his front garden. Painstakingly, because he was crippled with rheumatics, he had painted the word on it in large white letters, but unfortunately spelling was not Hamish’s strong point and he was soon having to endure much mockery from his neighbours for having left out the ‘i’ so that the notice stated somewhat confusingly ‘Tolet’. In an attempt to rectify his mistake he had hastily inserted an ‘i’ in the appropriate position but the letters were already so cramped that it merely looked like an emphatic full stop separating the words ‘To’ and ‘let’. That at any rate is how the tourists interpreted it and throughout that season Hamish and his family were pestered by people anxious to rent their thatched cottage, until Hamish, almost beside himself with vexation, had resolved to clarify the position beyond doubt in time for the next season. This he had done by simply adding the letters ‘W.C.’ above the ‘To. let’ already on the board. I do not know if it brought increased custom to his tearoom but I do know that whenever I passed by Hamish’s cottage there were groups of puzzled tourists studying the sign and debating among themselves as to its meaning.
    However, on Sundays, despite the presence of tourists, Bruach reverted to its normal piety. Sheets put out to bleach were taken in if they were dry, or if they were still wet, rolled up so that the sun should not be employed to whiten them. In some houses male guests might be asked if they would mind shaving on the Saturday night because the landlady could not allow the use of a razor on the Sabbath, and always, last thing on Saturday night, the ‘Tearoom’ and ‘Bed and Breakfast’ notices were draped over with sacking, though with such artful nonchalance that the words were never completely obscured.
    â€˜He Breeah!’
    I paused and turned round in the direction of the hail to see Janet talking to Dugald who was at work in his potatoes. She waved an indication that she was about to join me and I sat down on the grass verge of the road while I waited for her. The hot sun was burning through my dress and the parched grass was warm and brittle against my bare legs. The breeze was soft as thistledown and spiced with lark song, while out in the bay a