The Unbearable Lightness of Scones

The Unbearable Lightness of Scones by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online

Book: The Unbearable Lightness of Scones by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online
Authors: Alexander McCall Smith
problems, Aberdonians were at the other. It was a form of verbal retention, he thought; one did not want to part with the words unnecessarily. Words needed to be hoarded, at least in the verbal stage. He thought of a possible title for a paper, “Verbal Retention in a Cold Climate.” That was rather good, even if not as good as
Shattered to Pieces
, a title of which he was inordinatelyproud. It was quite in the league of
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
or
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
.
    Irene was watching him look out of the window. She had not imagined that Bertie’s psychotherapy would come to a premature end and that she would be deprived of these comfortable conversations with this fascinating man in his wrinkle-resistant blue linen jacket. Suddenly she felt very lonely. Who would there be to talk to now? Her husband?
    Her words came out unbidden. “And what about Bertie? What about the Bertie project? Weren’t you going to write him up?”
    Before he could reply, she added, “And then there’s Ulysses.”

11.
A Spoiled Secret
    Matthew and Elspeth had left their wedding party in Moray Place Gardens not in a car, but on foot, which gave their going-away not only an intimate, but also a contemporary conservationist feel. Matthew, of course, was modest and would have eschewed any ostentation; he ridiculed the appearance in the streets of Edinburgh of stretch limousines and had no car himself, instead preferring to walk or take a bus wherever possible. For her part, Elspeth had a car, but only a small one, which had a permanently flat battery and was therefore little burden on the environment.
    They did not have far to walk. India Street, where Matthew – and now Elspeth – lived, was only two blocks away, down Darnaway Street and along a small section of Heriot Row. They were to go there when they left the wedding party, now winding down after the ceilidh band had packed up their instruments and the dancing had stopped. Then, on the following day, they were to leave for their honeymoon, to a destination Matthew had kept steadfastly secret from Elspeth.
    When they reached the front door of his flat on the third floor, he fumbled for the key in the pocket of his kilt-jacket.
    “You should keep it in your sporran,” said Elspeth, “along with all the other things that men keep in their sporrans.”
    Matthew looked at her in surprise. “But what do men keep in their sporrans?” he asked. He had no idea, but he knew that his was always empty.
    “Oh, this and that,” said Elspeth. She had only the haziest notion of what men did in general, and none, in particular, of what they kept in their sporrans. Indeed, as she looked at Matthew standing before the door of their new home, it occurred to her that she had done an extraordinary thing – or at least something that was extraordinary for her – that she had married a man, and that this person at her side – much as she loved him – was, in so many important ways, quite different from her. He would look upon the world through male eyes; he would think in a masculine fashion; he was something else, the other.
    “You could look in my sporran if you like,” Matthew said.
    She looked down at the leather pouch and very gently reached down to touch it.
    She said nothing; both were somehow moved by what was happening; this sharing of a sporran was an unexpected intimacy; ridiculous, yes, but not ridiculous.
    “I’ve found my key,” said Matthew, after a while. “Here.”
    He slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. Inside, at Matthew’s request, and placed there by his best man a few hours before the wedding, a large bunch of flowers dominated the hall table, red and white carnations.
    “Thank you for marrying me,” Matthew said suddenly. “I never thought that anybody …”
    “Would marry you? But there must have been lots of girls who …”
    “Who wanted to marry me?” Matthew shook his head.
    She said, “I don’t believe

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