The Uncommon Appeal of Clouds: An Isabel Dalhousie Novel (9) by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online

it came to her: Auden’s poem. She had been thinking about “Angels in Italy” while
     all the time she might have been remembering Auden’s “A Summer Night.” Was that not
     about sitting outside, at night, in a deckchair in the company of friends; and with
     Vega “conspicuous overhead”?Auden had later described how during those few minutes sitting under the stars with
     his friends he had experienced a mystical understanding of
agape
, that non-sexual love of others. He had been vouchsafed a glimpse of
agape
and it had stayed with him for some time before it had faded. Had she felt something
     similar?
    “And I met somebody else,” Isabel said. “Martha Drummond.”
    Jamie raised an eyebrow. “That rather odd woman? The one who lives round the corner?”
    “Yes, her.”
    He shrugged. “And?”
    “We had coffee at Cat’s. She said that there was somebody who wanted to speak to me
     about something.”
    Jamie said nothing.
    “Do you remember reading about the theft of a painting from a house in Stirlingshire?
     A painting by Poussin?”
    Jamie said that he had a vague recollection of it. “It was quite valuable, wasn’t
     it?”
    “Yes. Not as valuable as that da Vinci that was stolen from Drumlanrig Castle—the
     one they eventually found in the safe of a Glasgow firm of lawyers. But it was still
     worth a few million.”
    Jamie began to lift himself out of his deckchair. The flimsy contraption started to
     wobble and then, with a sudden loud ripping sound, the canvas gave way. This had the
     effect of making him fall, causing the restraining bar on the chair to slip from its
     home and the whole chair to fold in upon itself.
    Jamie gave a howl of pain. His left hand had been unfortunately placed and had become
     trapped in the collapsing frame.
    “Jamie!” She struggled to get out of her chair. There wasanother ripping sound, but the canvas held and Isabel was on her feet. Jamie had extricated
     himself from the chair mechanism and was nursing his hand.
    “Painful,” he said.
    “Are you all right?”
    He nodded. “I knew that would happen.”
    They both laughed. “Why does anyone sit in dangerous chairs?” Isabel asked.
    “Why does anybody do anything dangerous?” Jamie asked, examining his hand for signs
     of damage.
    “I don’t know,” said Isabel. “Boredom, perhaps. Danger gives a bit of spice to our
     lives.”
    He turned to her, resuming the conversation that had been interrupted by the failure
     of the deckchair. “You were saying, this person—whoever it is—wants to speak to you.
     It’s going to be about the theft of the Poussin, isn’t it?”
    She looked down at the ground. “Yes.”
    He sighed. “You’ve done something like this before. That artist you traced. When we
     went to Jura. Remember?”
    “Yes. But this is different.”
    He reached out to take her hand. “Do you think it’s a good idea? Do you really think
     so?”
    She began to lead him back to the house. “Yes, I know. I know what you mean. It’s
     vaguely ridiculous that here am I, the editor of a philosophical review of all things,
     and I keep getting involved in the messes that people get themselves into.”
    Jamie agreed. “Yes, it is ridiculous. And yet it seems to go on happening.”
    Isabel sighed. “I don’t exactly advertise.”
    “Well, you know my views,” said Jamie. “I don’t think it’s a terribly good idea.”
    “No, it may not be a good idea, but some of the things we have to do are not particularly
     good ideas—but we have to do them anyway.”
    “You don’t have to do this. Nobody says you have to do this.”
    “No. But this poor man, this Munrowe man—apparently he’s pretty cut up about it. And
     all he wants to do is talk. I can’t really refuse to talk to him.”
    They made their way into the house. Isabel slipped an arm around his shoulder and
     asked him if he was cross with her.
    He hesitated. “No, I’m not cross. If anything, I suppose I should be proud