Tricksters (3 page)

‘Yvonne?'

‘Maybe.'

‘The one with the facial hair?' Rachel said.

‘Now, Rachel,' Murdo said, ‘there's no need for you to be so sarcastic towards me just because I made some little mistake up in Golspie.'

‘Some
little mistake?'

‘Rachel,' Murdo sighed, ‘I'm out on my feet here. Okay, I had a small refreshment along with . . . uh, friends, last night. That's all. I'm feeling like a raw egg in a bowl today. I'm . . . what I need is sleep, know what I mean? But all you want to do is . . .'

‘Have a word with you?' Rachel said. ‘You can talk
rubbish all night with your friends, but you can't spare a minute to talk to me?'

‘You know I was doing some PR last night . . . so that I could get – so that
we
could get – some work.'

‘Is that what you were doing?' Rachel said. ‘I thought you were polishing the backsides of Yvonne and Sam. Why wouldn't you come up the stairs with me at midnight?'

‘I did come,' Murdo said. ‘You'd locked the door.'

‘I heard you,' Rachel said. ‘At four o'clock in the morning.'

‘I went back downstairs again.'

‘Oh!' Rachel said. ‘You went down to have some more drams with your friends?'

‘No,' Murdo said. ‘I went to the van here. And I wasn't a happy unit about that. I was looking forward to the last night of our tour.'

‘I'm sure you were,' Rachel said. She spoke solemnly: ‘The Day of Judgement has arrived, Murdo.'

‘What on earth are you talking about?'

‘We're in a fix,' Rachel said. ‘Deep in the pit of poverty, Murdo. The bottle has been . . . uh, drained . . . the fire has been doused.'

‘What've . . . how much money have we got left?'

‘Forty-seven pounds and fifty-three pence,' Rachel said.

‘That's not much,' Murdo said.

‘No, it's not,' Rachel said, ‘but it's enough to . . . well, you know yourself, don't you?'

‘No, I don't know,' Murdo said. ‘We've enough for what?'

‘There's enough to pay for the room and be out of here by twelve noon.'

‘I was only in the room for two minutes,' Murdo said. He thought for a second. ‘That means we've got two hours . . . nearly.'

‘Wouldn't your teacher be proud of you today, if only he could see how slick you are at the mental arithmetic!'

‘I just thought we'd plenty of time to . . .'

‘To do what?'

‘To . . . you know . . .'

Rachel chuckled and said, ‘I don't know.'

‘Well . . . to go for a wee lie down together,' Murdo said. ‘Just to heat myself up. I nearly froze to death in this van.'

‘If you're cold, wear long johns,' Rachel said. ‘And with regard to the other thing, forget it.'

‘Okay, okay,' Murdo said. ‘You pay the bill . . . before noon. What'll we have left?'

‘Seventeen or eighteen quid and smash,' Rachel said.

‘What'll we do with that?'

‘I can buy a ticket that'll take me back to Uist,' Rachel said.

‘What about me?'

‘You can stay here . . . along with Yvonne,' Rachel said.

‘For God's sake!'

‘Wrong, Murdo,' Rachel said, ‘it's for your own sake.'

‘How?'

‘Do you want me to show you how much money we made?' Rachel said. She made to hand over a notebook.

Murdo would not even look at it. ‘That's fine, Rachel,' he said airily. ‘I trust you.'

‘I don't trust you, though,' Rachel said. ‘Do you know this, Murdo?'

‘What?'

‘We could've made a fortune on this tour.'

‘We could have.'

‘Everything went brilliantly for us at the start.'

‘It did that,' Murdo said. ‘I was – we were marvellous in Harris, Uist and Barra . . . aye, in Argyll and Lochaber, too . . .'

‘And then something happened in Golspie,' Rachel said.

‘Yeah . . . Golspie,' Murdo said.

‘You don't want me to mention Golspie, do you,Murdo?'

‘No.'

‘Okay,' Rachel said. ‘Time's wearing on. We tried to make some money from the concerts and we failed. We'll have to go down another road now. And you'll have to get shot of those rags you're wearing.'

Murdo looked down at his clothing. ‘What's wrong with this gear?' After a pause, he said, ‘Oh, I get it. People'll know I'm a
media person,
isn't that it?'

Rachel gave her cheek a light slap. ‘When you gaze at the stars at night, Murdo, don't you ever get homesick?'

‘All right, just a minute, Rae . . . let me . . .'

Suddenly, Rachel jumped out the van, flung open the rear door and began to rake among the clothing strewn around the floor. She threw some bits and pieces in Murdo's direction. ‘Put these bits and bobs in a plastic bag,' she said. ‘This is yours . . . trews . . . Balmoral bonnet . . . this tie – I think that belonged to your old man before you. Oh! The engagement ring you bought in Woolies . . . the one you tried to give me in Inverness when you were drunk . . .' She tossed a little cardboard box towards him.

Murdo failed to catch it. He had to keep on forcing scraps of clothing down into the plastic bag until, finally, he picked up the box containing the ring and carefully placed it in his pocket.

Rachel continued her recital: ‘False breasts . . . drawers . . . a wig . . . Jew's harp . . .'

‘Uh . . . I forgot I had so many props,' Murdo said.

‘Never mind,' Rachel said, ‘I've still got a good memory.'

‘What do you want me to do?' Murdo said.

‘Get out!' Rachel said. ‘Get out of my sight!'

‘You've put me off my stroke,' Murdo said, pulling a half bottle of spirits from the inside pocket of his fleece. He cracked open the cap. ‘I think,' he said, ‘I'll have a mouthful of this – a drop to wet my throat, know what I mean?'

Rachel seized the bottle and took it from him. ‘You've just quit, Murdo.'

‘I just need a charge,' Murdo said.

‘Did you need one in Golspie?'

‘Oh, come on, Rae,' Murdo said. ‘I just don't want to start shaking like a fishing rod.'

‘The shakes never killed anybody,' Rachel said.

‘In Golspie it was different,' Murdo said. ‘Things were coming to an end.'

‘Coming to an end?'

‘Between me and you,' Murdo said.

There was a long pause before Rachel spoke again. ‘Murdo?'

‘What?'

‘Do you like me?'

Hurriedly Murdo pulled her by the shoulders to his chest. He tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away. She laughed and handed him the bottle.

‘Take a sip, Murdo,' she said. ‘It'll calm you down.'

Murdo refused to accept the drink.

‘That's good, Murdo,' Rachel said.

Murdo sank to his knees and seemed to be on the verge of tears. ‘Listen, Rae,' he said, ‘I always tried to do my best for you.'

‘Your best?'

‘Didn't I write the comedy sketches when you wanted to go on the road?' Murdo said.

‘But you weren't terribly good at bringing them alive onstage at the latter end.'

‘I wasn't always drunk,' Murdo said. ‘I did well in Tarbert, Harris, Sgoil Lianacleit in Benbecula and in Castlebay . . .'

‘Golspie,' Rachel said.

‘But we made it anyway,' Murdo said. ‘We're still together.'

Rachel glanced at her wristwatch. ‘Until two o'clock,' she said, ‘at the very latest.'

‘Maybe we could put on a show here,' Murdo said.

‘I'm going back to Uist,' Rachel said. ‘You put on a show here.'

‘I don't know,' Murdo said.

‘I'll tell you what your only option is,' Rachel said. ‘You'll have to get hold of some money.'

‘What good's that going to do?'

‘Well, first of all,' Rachel said, ‘I'll get my money back. Who knows? Maybe we'll make a fresh start. I just don't know.'

‘I'd be – er, I
am
willing to help you, Rae, any way I can,' Murdo said. ‘You must know that. I've always been fond of you. But . . .'

‘Fond?'
Rachel said. ‘You're only willing because you're fucking
crazy
about me.'

‘Crazy?'

‘I know what your heart's desire is, Murdo,' Rachel said.

‘What?'

‘Me,' Rachel said. ‘Me, Rachel. The Doctor's daughter from North Uist.'

‘What do you want me to do, Rachel?' Murdo said. ‘Do you want me to sell the van?' He placed a finger on
his ear lobe. ‘You wouldn't want me to sell my earring, would you?'

‘It's just a wee notion that's come to me . . . uh, gradually, like.'

‘What kind of notion?'

‘Subjects like guilt and redemption,' Rachel said.

‘Oh, I know nothing about those subjects, Rachel,' Murdo said. ‘I only went to Torlum School. In Donald Macleod's wee blue bus.'

‘Oh, you know about them all right, Murdo,' Rachel said.

‘Wait a minute . . .'

‘I'll wait until the ferry sails at two o'clock, if you want,' Rachel said. There was a moment of silence. Then her voice became decidedly harder. ‘Why did you take the money, Murdo?'

‘I hate talking about money,' Murdo said.

‘Did you buy yourself new clothes – something you really needed?' Rachel said. ‘No! You did what you always do. You drank it!' She stopped talking for a short while. ‘And what's the particular attraction this Yvonne has for you, anyway? Do you think a big, strapping lassie like her can do some trick that no other woman can do? Do you fancy her putting a leash round your neck before you go to bed?'

‘No.'

‘No,' Rachel said. ‘Rough handling like that wouldn't be to your taste at all. You'd rather be petted by some girl . . . you know, “drowning in the ocean of a thousand kisses”.'

‘Hey, that's right,' Murdo said.

‘But you were never treated like that, were you?' Rachel said.

‘No,' Murdo said. ‘No, I wasn't.'

‘Would you enjoy it,' Rachel said, ‘if you and a young girl were to be kissing and fondling one another constantly? To be squeezing and stroking and tickling and sucking? Murdo, son of Winey Ronald, being along with a comely maiden with soft lips and white teeth, eh? You and . . . me, for example?'

‘I think I'll have that drink now,' Murdo said.

‘You'll not!' Rachel said. ‘Do you know how much you owe me? You've really got to repay me, Murdo.'

‘I'm off, Rae,' Murdo said.

‘It's a free country,' Rachel said. ‘Remember, though, unless you come back here before two with some money, you'll be left behind here on your own.' She smiled. ‘And you certainly won't be “drowning in the ocean of a thousand kisses”.'

‘You'd leave me here without a coin in my pocket?'

‘Don't you have any money?' Rachel said.

‘Ten pence.'

‘Do you want to stick that in with the takings?'

‘No.'

‘Didn't think so,' Rachel said.

‘Rachel,' Murdo said, ‘there's profit and loss in every business.'

‘Newsflash, Murdo,' Rachel said,
‘we
had a profit.
I
had an enormous loss!'

‘What's all this talk about?' Murdo said. ‘Is it about the cash I . . . umh, borrowed?' He remained silent for a couple of beats. ‘I can't carry on like this. What'll I do for you?'

‘Put the money back, Murdo!' Rachel said.

‘I'm getting bored with this conversation,' Murdo said. ‘This isn't about money, is it?'

‘No.'

‘But you're pretending it is,' Murdo said. ‘That's your privilege. I'll tell you what I'm going to do.'

‘What?'

I'll sell . . . the van . . . the ring . . . anything,' Murdo said. ‘I'll give you the money and we'll call it quits.'

‘What's going to happen then?' Rachel said.

‘We'll go our separate ways,' Murdo said. ‘I'll go back to the old man and the Benefits. You'll go back to the university, I suppose.'

‘Murdo, when you were a wee boy, did you have a special toy you were fond of?' Rachel said.

‘Yes,' Murdo said, ‘I had a wee tractor my Uncle Duncan made out of a sardine tin.'

‘What happened to it?'

‘What happened to it?' Murdo said. ‘What do you mean? One of the wheels got buckled and the whole thing fell apart.'

‘Did you ever try to repair the wheel?' Rachel said.

‘No.'

‘You never learned how to repair things,' Rachel said. ‘So, if a relationship between you and somebody else gets broken, you just skin out.'

‘Are you talking about us?'

‘Maybe.'

‘Me and you, Rachel?' Murdo said. ‘It'd never work out.'

‘The Benbecula stud can't get it up any more?'

Murdo struggled to retain his dignity. ‘Rachel,' he said, ‘I'm going to do you a favour. I want you to be happy with me.'

‘You get the money,' Rachel said, ‘and I'll be happy.'

‘I'll get it . . . the money I . . . uh, I got on loan,' Murdo said.

‘You stole!' Rachel said. ‘You went into my purse in Golspie and you stole a bundle of cash. That wasn't a loan!'

‘No?'

‘No,' Rachel said. ‘You stole it! You could've asked.'

‘I could've, if I'd been brave enough.'

‘You bought drink with that “loan”, didn't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘Do you like me?'

‘I like you,' Murdo said.

‘But in spite of that,' Rachel said, ‘you turned your back on me and went for the drink.'