Lightly Poached (20 page)

‘Then the lawyers will get the most of it,' concluded the second old man.

The auctioneer's men approached and G realised the piano was about to go up for sale. Mentally I had set a price over which I must not go but when the time came I continued bidding until I had exceeded it by two pounds and the piano became mine. Admittedly I need only have gone thirty shillings above my limit but at the crucial moment the Irish male behind me belched and the auctioneer went up ten shillings. The old men gave me congratulatory nods but still clung to it and I was glad that it would be the carrier and not myself who would have the job of prising it away from them.

Some of the smaller items were now coming up for sale and I bought a set of copper bottles because I liked their shape and an old copper warming pan which I suspected would have to be useful as well as ornamental. Behind me the two Irish women were commenting on how cheap the last jumble of items in the sale were going. A lot comprising a step-ladder, a zinc bath and a sweeping brush was displayed. The auctioneer managed to push the bidding up from one shilling which was the minimum bid he would accept to two shillings.

‘Come on,' he urged, ‘we don't intend to give things away.' There came a bid of another sixpence and he knocked them down for that amount.

‘Mother of God for half a crown!' gasped one of the Irish women, and a few moments later when three bedroom chairs went for the minimum bid there was an ejaculated ‘Jesus Christ for a shilling!' In fact the Jesus Christ bid had been my own and I glanced behind me half smiling at the two women. ‘You can't lose anything on that,' one of them assured me.

‘Well, did you get your piano?' Tearlaich, Angy and Behag had threaded their way through the crowd to my side. The men's breath was swamped with whisky fumes and their eyes were over bright but they showed no other signs of inebriation.

‘I did,' I replied. ‘And several other things besides. Did you get your bed, Tearlaich?' He nodded affirmation. ‘I got this rug.' Behag unrolled the bundled rug she was carrying. ‘Will it go in the car to get home, d'you think?' I doubted it.

‘I got a mangle,' said Angy.

‘A mangle?' echoed Behag in surprise. ‘Why would you be wantin' a mangle?'

‘Aye, well you see my wife was thinkin' if she could get a bit built on to the house she might start takin' in bed an' breakfasters. Her mother used to do it at one time an' she tells me some of them leave the sheets that clean if you can put them through a mangle you don't need to wash them before you put them back on the beds again.'

At twelve there was a break for lunch so we went to join the queue where we were to pay for our purchases and when that was done we discussed arrangements for getting our goods back to Bruach.

‘We'll be best hirin' a lorry,' advised Tearlaich. ‘I know a man with a lorry would do it for us and then we wouldn't need to wait on the railway.' It sounded a good idea so after arranging to meet us later for a meal Tearlaich and Angy went off to see the man with the lorry while Behag and I indulged in a modest, and, because it proved to be early-closing day, a hurried shopping spree. Behag bought a purse for her small daughter, a milk sieve for Morag and a box of cartridges for Hector as well as a frilly blouse for herself and a variety of cakes and ‘teabread'. I bought fruit and vegetables and, after a certain amount of hesitation, succumbed at last to permitting myself the luxury of a new alarm clock. We managed to snatch a quick cup of tea before the small café we chose slammed its doors and with an hour to go before we were to meet the two men we sought refuge from the unceasing rain in a nearby church.

‘Oh, it's lovely to be off my feet for a while,' sighed Behag. ‘I feel as if I'm wearin' sandstone shoes.'

‘Slip them off,' I encouraged.

‘Will I?' She looked doubtful. ‘What will the minister say if he comes in an' sees me?'

‘Town ministers are used to it,' I assured her, ‘and anyway you'll hear anyone coming.'

She slipped off her shoes and leaned back in the pew, her eyes closed and a contented smile touching her mouth. I wandered round renewing contact with carved wood and chiselled stone, refreshing my memory of skilled craftsmanship, and contrasting it with the utilitarian artefacts of Bruach with their total lack of ornamentation.

‘These kind of churches must cost a terrible lot of money,' Behag said when I too went to sit down.

‘Yes, but they're beautiful, aren't they?' I replied.

‘Morag doesn't like them,' she told me. ‘She says she doesn't get the same feelin' of religion in them as in our own.'

We collected ‘Joanna' and drove to the restaurant, ‘Now this is the way of it,' Tearlaich explained as we were having our pre-departure meal. ‘This fellow says he'll collect the stuff first thing in the mornin' as soon as the sale room's open an' he'll take it across the ferry in his own lorry an' have it at Bruach by tomorrow evenin'.'

‘It doesn't sound possible,' I said.

‘Aye, it's possible right enough. So long as there's no hitch on the way,' replied Tearlaich.

‘There's sure to be a hitch,' Angy put in. ‘The road to Bruach's as full of hitches as a herrin' net's full of holes.'

‘That's because we have to rely on botchers, half the time,' retorted Tearlaich. ‘No, you can take it from me there'll be no hitches this time. This fellow's a professional.'

‘Is he going to charge a lot for it?'

Tearlaich told us how much and after dividing the cost among us we agreed that though it seemed a lot we must accept that such speedy delivery naturally cost more than goods coming by train, ferry and carrier. We expressed ourselves content with our bargain.

‘Here's to Bruach, with beds, mangles, pianos and rugs,' proclaimed Tearlaich gustily as we set off in ‘Joanna'. ‘An' I believe the rain's lifting at last.'

‘An' not before it's time,' said Angy.

‘I've been wet inside an' outside for the past twenty-four hours,' confided Tearlaich, producing a half-bottle of whisky. ‘I'm no' wantin' to dry out yet.' He put the bottle to his mouth. ‘Are you sure you won't take a wee drop yourself?' he asked Behag and me for the second time. We both shook our heads.

‘An' did everybody enjoy the roup, then?' he enquired.

‘I enjoyed it fine,' replied Behag. ‘It was as good as a ceilidh.'

‘I enjoyed it too,' I told him. ‘The people around me kept me pretty well entertained and the auctioneer was quite amusing too.'

‘That auctioneer!' burst out Angy. ‘I couldn't get over him. God! the way he could keep on speakin' without takin' a breath an' sayin' the same thing over and over again like a bloody corncake. You'd think he'd wear a hole in his tongue.'

‘I can tell you why he can do that,' Tearlaich volunteered.

‘Did you know him then?' queried Angy.

‘I didn't know him but my uncle worked for this auctioneer's father at one time and I mind my uncle saying how the old man used to breed parrots. He said he used to feed the young birds on a porridge made of maize and oatmeal and they turned out such good talkers he started feeding his children on the same stuff. There's not a one of them that's stopped talking since.'

‘Is that true?' asked Behag.

‘True as I'm here,' affirmed Tearlaich. ‘I know because a fellow was with me during the war and he'd married one of the auctioneer's sisters. He said if he hadn't been called up he would have volunteered because he needed to get away from home for some peace and quiet.'

We took our time on the journey home, calling in to take a strupach once again with Tearlaich's friendly cook and by the time we reached the ferry the rain had ceased and a full moon spread light over the dark water. I flashed ‘Joanna's' headlights to indicate we wished to cross.

‘It's slow enough comin',' complained Angy after we had waited nearly half an hour. He got out of the car and wandered down the pier. A moment or two later he was back and talking to us through the window. ‘I'm seein' a great pile of stuff here waitin' to go across on the ferry,' he informed us in a puzzled voice. ‘They're part covered with a tarpaulin but they're pretty wet all the same.'

‘It's queer they should be here this time of night,' said Tearlaich. ‘What sort of things are they?'

‘There's a mattress,' began Angy with commendably restrained glee. ‘An' some chairs with a rug on them an' somethin' else pretty big.'

‘And that could be a piano?' I questioned with mounting dismay.

‘It could well be,' admitted Angy.

‘Oh God! I'd best go and see what went wrong,' muttered Tearlaich. struggling out of the car and hurrying down the pier. Behag and I followed.

‘That's the way of it,' he confirmed when he and Angy had made a more thorough inspection. ‘There's a big crate and one or two other things that's not ours but the rest is what we bought ourselves.' He scratched his head. ‘That man swore to me …'

I cut him short. ‘Does that mean it will have to stay there out in the open all night?' I demanded.

‘Not if I can help it,' responded Tearlaich. The ferry was now nosing into the pier. ‘I'll go and see what they have to say.' He threw the words over his shoulder as he went to meet it. Behag and I went back to the car and waited while Tearlaich, Angy and the two ferrymen lifted the tarpaulin. There seemed to be explanations interspersed with protests, arguments and gestures but eventually the tarpaulin was thrown off and the four men, helped now by two youths who had suddenly appeared out of the darkness, carried the goods down the pier and loaded them on the ferry. At last I was able to drive ‘Joanna' aboard.

‘There was a message from the lorry man,' Tearlaich disclosed. ‘Seemingly just after we'd booked him for our lot he had another customer wanting something delivered here urgent tonight so he rushed off to the sale room, loaded up our stuff and brought the whole lot together to save himself another journey. He couldn't get across the ferry because the tide was out so he had to leave it here.'

‘I knew there'd be a hitch,' exulted Angy. ‘All the same,' he added, ‘it's funny he got past without us seein' him.'

‘Unless it was while we was takin' our tea,' suggested Behag and we decided that is when it must have been.

‘What's going to happen to the stuff when we get it across?' I asked.

‘It can stay in the waiting room,' Tearlaich replied. ‘It's all right, I've arranged all that.'

It was much too nice a night to waste it on anger or recrimination even if there had been anyone to be angry with. The surrounding hill peaks were washed with moonlight and tiny drifts of tinselled cloud sailed across the sky. It was so calm that one could see the wash of the ferry like a white arc across the water. Behag and I got out of the car.

‘I'll tell you what we should do,' said Tearlaich. ‘We should get Miss Peckwitt to give us a tune on her piano.'

‘Not here,' I demurred but I knew, and I suspected Tearlaich guessed, how quickly I should comply. I was longing to finger those piano keys.

‘Come on!' he urged and calling to Angy bade him drag up the long wooden crate which had come along with our own goods to provide me with a seat.

I played first ‘Main's Wedding' and Tearlach and Angy started to sing with gusty enthusiasm. When I changed to a reel they pulled Behag into a ‘Dashing White Sergeant' and the two youths set each other before leaping into their versions of a Highland Fling. It was a wonderful experience, playing the piano on the open water while the dancers swirled in the moonlight and I enjoyed it so much that I did not know the ferry had cocked a snoot at the island pier and had made three wide circles so as not to berth until the dancers paused for breath. I stopped playing and got back into ‘Joanna' ready to drive her ashore.

‘I could have listened all night,' approved one of the ferrymen as I passed him. ‘I fairly enjoyed that.' Parking ‘Joanna' I went to stand beside Behag and watch the unloading of the goods. There came the sound of an engine approaching and a dusty van drove halfway down the pier. Three men alighted from it.

‘Is it the corpse you're wantin'?' one of the ferrymen called to them.

‘Aye, that's what we're here for,' they confirmed.

‘What a time to come for a corpse,' I murmured to Behag. ‘I suppose that means the ferry will have to go over and collect it for them?'

‘I suppose so,' she assented.

Tearlaich came to stand beside us and I repeated my question to him. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Well, y'see, Miss Peckwitt, it's like this.' He rubbed a self-conscious hand over his chin and with horrid suspicion I followed his glance to where the long wooden crate waited on the otherwise empty ferry.

‘Tearlaich!' I almost choked. ‘You surely didn't …?'

‘I reckon I'd best go and give them a hand,' he said and hurried to join Angy and the three men from the van. I watched, horrified, as they lifted my erstwhile piano stool, carried it off the ferry, past us and up the pier where, not ungently, they loaded it into the waiting van. ‘Oh God!' I whimpered and turned to Behag, intent on denouncing both Tearlaich and Angy but seeing her anxious expression I went silently back to the car. She slipped in beside me and I believe had I been able to decide at that moment whether I was more angry than shocked I should have driven off and left the two men to find their own way back to Bruach. As it was I waited until they were in their seats.

‘Did you know that was a coffin you got me to sit on?' I taxed them.

‘Surely we did,' admitted Tearlaich. ‘But it wouldn't have given way. It was in a good strong box.'

‘You shouldn't have let her do it,' Behag rebuked them. ‘Women doesn't take to corpses the same as men. You've upset her.'