Tricksters (8 page)

‘What are you talking about? What cow?'

‘Whose head are you going to chop off this time?' Morag asked.

‘I know I've written a cracking script. And I know what's going to happen when we act on it.'

‘You've been so busy scribbling, you don't even think about anyone else in your life.'

‘Such as you, I suppose.'

‘Such as me. Where do you think I got this gear I'm wearing? Why do you think I've made the effort to look glamorous? You leave me up here with seventeen pounds to my name? You promise to get three hundred and fifty pounds? I go downstairs to speak to Suki, eh?'

‘Suki?'

‘The owner's wife. She gives me a break on the room and lets me stay another night for nothing.' She spoke softly. ‘I'm looking forward to being with you.'

‘What do you think of the script?'

‘Have you memorised this?'

‘Yes.'

‘Okay. Go ahead. A. B. C.'

‘What?'

‘Anger . . . Blethers . . . and Catching.'

‘Yeah.'

‘Yeah, get on with it. Anger first.'

Murdo threw his head back, mouth agape, and jerkily rotated his head. With clenched fists crossed, he beat his ribs in the manner of someone trying to restore circulation to frozen hands. Rachel, looking off to the side and apparently indifferent to his convulsions, smothered a yawn and nodded once briskly. ‘Next: Blethers.'

Murdo looked down, remained with his head bowed for a beat or two, then slowly raised his gaze. He was weeping and shouting. ‘. . . THOU BLACK-MOUTHED MAID, THE ONLY TREE IN THE GARDEN OF EYES . . . A MUZZLE ON THEE.' Murdo paused theatrically. ‘WITH BOLD ASSURANCE YOU BENT ME TO YOUR WILL AND GNAWING DOUBT YOU BANISHED FROM MY HEART, AND SO ON THE SMOOTH PREDESTINED PATH OF MY YOUTH I MOVED THROUGH EACH DAY AND MY SENSE IMBIBED THEIR SAP.' He sobbed uncontrollably and laid his head on folded arms.

After a long pause Rachel murmured, without looking at him, ‘Try and get a little more volume, Murdo.'

‘Huh?'

‘A bit more like Pavarotti.'

‘Pavarotti?'

‘I'm only winding you up. Now, C for Catching.'

Murdo reached into his pocket and pulled out the jewellery box. He slowly raised it to eye level, opened the lid and gazed at the contents. His arms began to quiver with tension. With a strangled animal-like cry he lost his
grip of the box and it flew six feet or so in the air to be caught one-handed by Rachel.

‘Ugh . . . Oh!'

Rachel tossed the box back to him and he stuffed it in his pocket.

‘Have you got the pills?'

Murdo slapped his jacket pocket. ‘Yes.'

‘Well, do you want the truth?'

‘Yes.'

‘The script's not bad.' She handed it back to him.

‘The script's not bad? It's outstandingly good.'

‘You make a pretty good fool.' She embraced him.

‘If you deliver the lines I've written for you, Rachel, there's no way in the world we can fail to con anybody.'

‘That'll depend on the guy you pick.'

‘I've already picked him.'

‘Who?'

There was a brief pause. Both spoke simultaneously: ‘Sam the Scam!'

‘Okay. Enough's enough.' Murdo abruptly disengaged himself from her embrace and marched purposefully to the doorway. ‘I'm leaving you now and I may be gone for some time.'

Murdo stood beside the notice board at the entrance to the pier. His whole body stiffened. Rachel was running at full pelt towards him. She wore a nurse's uniform with a little white cap on her head. ‘Murdo, Murdo,' she shouted almost out of breath.

‘What's up?'

‘Murdo, you're behaving like a madman.'

‘It's got to be done.'

‘You're not going to go through with this nonsense, are you?'

‘You bet . . . What are you doing here anyway?'

‘I don't . . . I want to . . . You need help. You can't do this on your own.'

‘Oh, yes I can. But you're welcome to tag along, if you want to see me taking the piss out of the man from Etive Television.'

‘I can't let you do this on your own. I'm here to help.'

‘Do you think I can't beat him?'

‘Well . . .'

Murdo slashed the air with the script. ‘Because,' he said, ‘he's going to get whipped, kicked, trampled and thrashed.'

‘Stop that kind of talk. It
is
terrific being with you. You're a very attractive man, you know?'

‘I know, I know.'

‘Let me know honestly how you feel.'

‘I'm feeling powerful.'

Rachel moved swiftly behind him, slipping her arms through Murdo's armpits. ‘Why did you pick Sam?' she said.

‘Why? Because he's the guy who made
Our Land
and he's a big player.'

‘Never mind that bloody programme. I don't want to talk about that just now. And neither do you.' After a brief pause, she placed her hands on his chest. ‘Why did you pick Sam?'

‘He has no respect for anyone but himself. As far as he's concerned, there are only two types of people in the world: those who are used by others and those who are able to use people. He thinks that I can be used, but he's got another think coming.'

‘I'll help you.'

‘Please yourself. I'll play him like a salmon on the hook.'

‘Did you hear what I said? I'm going to help you.'

‘Did
you
hear what
I
said? I'm going to pull this off on my own.'

Rachel let her hands run down his chest and leaned over him until her chin was resting on the top of his head. ‘Murdo?'

‘Mmmm.'

‘What would you say if I told you I don't really care about the money?'

Murdo was preoccupied scanning the script. ‘Do you think it would be over the top if I started spitting?'

‘I'm spending the night . . . here.' Rachel settled herself against him even more cosily, until her bosom was up against the back of his head. ‘How do you fancy a soft, warm bed yourself?'

‘That would be very . . .' He paused. ‘Listen, Rachel, I've got work to do. I'm not thinking about beds but of the glorious day that has dawned – the day that has always been my
destiny.'

Murdo slumped down still further.

‘Why don't we take a chance?' Rachel said. There was a slight pause. ‘I'm willing.'

‘But why did you suddenly lose interest in the money?

‘Ohhh – two reasons. One, Suki has given us this room for nothing tonight. And two, I want you to be with me, Murdo.'

Suddenly somebody emerged from the Tartan Pagoda. He made for the door of a Range Rover and took out a brown leather briefcase.

‘Look, Murdo, that's the guy we've been looking for.'

‘Where? Who is it?'

‘That half-wit in the baseball cap who's probably from Corstorphine but imagines he's in Hollywood – that's him on the other side of the Range Rover.'

They looked at Sam as he gave some instructions involving exaggerated hand gestures to the driver of the Range Rover. He turned away and moved briskly down the line of vehicles in the direction of the Bar Restaurant beyond. As he approached Rachel and Murdo, the couple turned their backs and pretended to read the ferry timetable.

‘I recognise him,' Murdo said. A new thought occurred to him. ‘Maybe he'll recognise me. I've been on television, you know?'

‘Murdo, you've been on
Gaelic
television.
Speaking Our Language.
At half past four in the morning. Those Etive TV guys didn't see you. Nobody saw you. The odd member of your fan club maybe saw you, but that folded last year when two of them died.'

Murdo's head went down, his face crumpled and tears were not far away. ‘There's no need for that, Rachel . . .'

Rachel spoke in exasperation. ‘Look, when anybody comes home at the weekend and hears Gaelic on the telly, it's high time to get into the jammies. That means that it's really, really late.'

‘I'm a semi-famous actor.'

‘Semi-famous? You're an unknown, darling. Actually, you're not even an unknown. You're a fucking missing person!'

‘I think you might be right,' Murdo said plaintively.

‘I'm sorry, Murdo. It
is
terrific being with you. It's my fault, Murdo. I shouldn't have mentioned
Speaking Our Language.
You were terrific in that programme. First time round, they got thousands of letters singing your praises.'

‘Really?'

‘Really. Now, are you up for socking it to Etive Television?'

As Sam passed them Rachel extended her forefinger towards him and curled it as though squeezing a trigger. With an almost imperceptible nod of her head towards the retreating Sam, they casually followed their prey. They walked very slowly – this caused by Murdo's suddenly acquired ataxic gait – towards the entrance of the Bar Restaurant.

With Rachel in the lead, the pair made their way to the table occupied by Sam. He was busy with a bottle of Tippex, meticulously altering receipts with the small brush. When he saw how fetching Rachel looked in her nurse's uniform, his eyes almost popped out of his head. He hastily put down his tools and openly ogled her.

‘May we join you?' Rachel said.

‘Uh-huh,' Sam grunted.

A young Thai girl carrying a tray of dirty dishes passed them. She executed a formal bow and said, ‘Kam sah ham ni da.'

‘What's she saying?' Sam said.

‘I suppose she's asking how the pig is,' Murdo said.

Sam looked at Murdo blankly, and then continued falsifying his receipts.

The Thai girl, carrying a notebook and pen, came up to the table. ‘What you have?' she asked.

‘A bottle of water and two glasses, please,' Rachel replied. She unbuttoned Murdo's jacket. ‘Medication time, Angus.'

At the sound of her voice Sam looked up from his receipts.

Murdo was fiddling with an array of medicine bottles on the table.

Rachel acknowledged Sam's interest with a tight smile of apology. She half rose to accept the mineral water and glasses which the girl laid on the table. Placing her palms together and bringing the tips of her fingers up to her chin the waitress bowed. ‘Welcome,' she said.

‘Thank you,' Rachel said. ‘God, I hope these new pills work. I'm just hoping that he doesn't have another one of his . . .
attacks.'

When he heard this, Sam looked down at his papers. He glanced over at Murdo who was nervously tossing his head from side to side and snapping his teeth together, as though trying to bite his left ear. Suddenly, he emitted a high-pitched scream, shuffled his feet on the floor and, with clenched fists crossed, beat his ribs in the manner of someone trying to restore circulation to frozen hands.

Rachel was calmly opening the medicine bottles and measuring out an assortment of brightly coloured pills onto the table. She filled the glasses and held hers up. ‘Good health,' she said.

Murdo chinked her glass with his own, crammed a fistful of pills into his mouth and gulped a mouthful of water. ‘Goo' healsh . . . ish lo' liff.'

Sam leaned forward and indicated Murdo with a tilt of his head. ‘What's wrong with him?'

Rachel tapped her breast. ‘Heart.'

‘Oh, right,' Sam said.

‘His heart's knackered and there's nothing they can do for him.'

‘I'm sorry to hear that.'

During this exchange, Murdo pulled a sheaf of papers
from his pocket, threw his head back, mouth agape, and jerkily rotated his head.

‘He's just been discharged from hospital in Inverness this morning,' Rachel said.

‘Was it Raigmore he was in?'

‘No. He was in the asylum. He went bonkers when this girlfriend he had jilted him. Broke his heart.'

‘. . . THOU BLACK-MOUTHED MAID, THE ONLY TREE IN THE GARDEN OF EYES . . . A MUZZLE ON THEE,' Murdo declaimed. He paused theatrically. ‘WITH BOLD ASSURANCE YOU BENT ME TO YOUR WILL AND GNAWING DOUBT YOU BANISHED FROM MY HEART, AND SO ON THE SMOOTH PREDESTINED PATH OF MY YOUTH I MOVED THROUGH EACH DAY AND MY SENSE IMBIBED THEIR SAP.'

‘I'm sorry, sir,' Rachel said, ‘he's on about that damned woman again.'

Murdo got angrily to his feet. ‘I'm getting rid of it! This damned thing is only a cancer to my soul!' Murdo yanked the ring-box out of his pocket and with both hands he held the box above his head. His arms were trembling with suppressed anger. ‘Two thousand quid's worth . . . and it wasn't good enough for the bitch! Well, she wasn't good enough for me. I'm slinging it into the loch!'

‘Put that ring away, Angus,' Rachel said.

With a strangled animal-like cry Murdo lost his grip of the box and it flew in the air to be caught clumsily by Sam. ‘Ugh . . . Oh!'

As Rachel comforted Murdo who was weeping unrestrainedly by now, Sam opened the box and a flashy
engagement ring was revealed. He was about to remove the ring from the velvet pad into which it was slotted when the fist of Rachel enfolded it and slipped it out of his hand. ‘You keep that ring, Angus,' she said. ‘It's worth money.'

Sam was interested.

‘I don't care,' Murdo said. ‘Let me throw it in the loch.'

‘Look,' Rachel said, ‘take it back to the shop you bought it in next time you're down in Glasgow. They'll give you half of what it's worth. You'll get a thousand back easy.'

Sam was even more interested. ‘Can I see it, please?' he said.

‘No!' Rachel said.

‘What would he take for it?' Sam said. ‘Three hundred?'

‘No way!' Rachel said.

‘Let him speak,' Murdo said.