Read Online Love Over Scotland by Alexander McCall Smith - Free Book Online
Authors: Alexander McCall Smith
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families are relieved to announce, it read, the engagement of Miss Lou Brown to Mr Edward McDougall. No flowers please.
When she had seen the notice, Big Lou’s hand had shot to her mouth in a gesture of shock. She was aghast, and she had telephoned Eddie immediately, her fingers shaking as she dialled his number. Before he answered, though, she replaced the handset in its cradle. Eddie was not good with words, and he had probably not realised how ridiculous the notice sounded. And very few people read such notices, in Edinburgh at least; it was different, of course, in Arbroath, where the personal columns were scoured for social detail by virtually everybody.
Matthew, of course, had read it and had hooted with laughter. Relieved? Were they serious? And as for the no flowers please, perhaps that was a typographical migration from the neighbouring deaths column. Even so, it made for a wonderful engagement notice. Poor Big Lou! She deserved something better, Matthew thought; something better than this rather greasy chef.
And now here was Eddie coming in for his morning coffee, his lanky hair hanging about his collar, which was none too clean as far as Matthew could make out. Eddie nodded in the direction of Matthew before he crossed the floor to speak to Lou.
“Well,” he announced proudly, “it’s mine.”
Big Lou looked at him uncomprehendingly and then burst into a broad smile. “The restaurant?”
“Aye,” said Eddie. “As from the end of the month. A year’s lease–and quite a bit cheaper than I had thought. They were keen to get me to take it. They lowered the price.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow. When people were keen to sell things and get other people to take things, there was usually a reason. Eddie might think that he had found a bargain, but there could be a serious snag lurking in the small print.
“Where is this place, Eddie?” Matthew asked.
“Stockbridge,” said Eddie. “Very close to Henderson Row.”
Matthew nodded. Stockbridge was a popular place for cafés and restaurants. But why had the owners been so keen to get Eddie to take the lease? “That’s a good place to be,” he said. “Was it a restaurant before?”
It was, Eddie said. He had spoken to the owner, who was retiring and going back to Sicily. He had been there for five years, he said, and was reluctant to leave.
“Have you looked at the books?” asked Matthew.
Eddie hesitated. “Books?”
Matthew glanced at Big Lou, who had picked up a cloth and had started to wipe the top of the bar, somewhat thoughtfully, Matthew felt.
“The accounts,” said Matthew quietly. “They show how a business has been doing. You know, profit and loss.”
Eddie turned to Big Lou, as if for support. She put down her cloth. “Eddie knows about restaurants, Matthew,” she said. “He kens fine.”
“But you should take a look at the books,” Matthew insisted. “Before you put your money into anything, Eddie, you should ask to see the books. Just in case.”
Big Lou turned round and slid the coffee drawer out of the large Italian coffee machine. Noisily, she banged the tray on the side of a bin to loosen the used grounds. “It’s not Eddie’s money,” she said quietly. “It’s mine. I’m subbing Eddie on this one.”
Matthew glanced at Eddie, who was smiling encouragingly at Big Lou. “Well, you should look at the books, Lou,” he said. “It’s basic…”
“Basic nothing,” said Big Lou firmly. “The real question is whether you know what you’re doing. It’s the same as farming. You can’t teach somebody to be a farmer. You either know how to farm or you don’t. You understand restaurants, don’t you, Eddie?”
Eddie nodded gravely. “I do, Lou, doll.”
Big Lou looked at Matthew. “See, Matthew?”
Matthew was not one to be defeated so easily. He winced when Eddie called Big Lou “doll”. It was so condescending, so demeaning. And Big Lou was not doll-like; she was a large-boned woman, larger than
When she had seen the notice, Big Lou’s hand had shot to her mouth in a gesture of shock. She was aghast, and she had telephoned Eddie immediately, her fingers shaking as she dialled his number. Before he answered, though, she replaced the handset in its cradle. Eddie was not good with words, and he had probably not realised how ridiculous the notice sounded. And very few people read such notices, in Edinburgh at least; it was different, of course, in Arbroath, where the personal columns were scoured for social detail by virtually everybody.
Matthew, of course, had read it and had hooted with laughter. Relieved? Were they serious? And as for the no flowers please, perhaps that was a typographical migration from the neighbouring deaths column. Even so, it made for a wonderful engagement notice. Poor Big Lou! She deserved something better, Matthew thought; something better than this rather greasy chef.
And now here was Eddie coming in for his morning coffee, his lanky hair hanging about his collar, which was none too clean as far as Matthew could make out. Eddie nodded in the direction of Matthew before he crossed the floor to speak to Lou.
“Well,” he announced proudly, “it’s mine.”
Big Lou looked at him uncomprehendingly and then burst into a broad smile. “The restaurant?”
“Aye,” said Eddie. “As from the end of the month. A year’s lease–and quite a bit cheaper than I had thought. They were keen to get me to take it. They lowered the price.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow. When people were keen to sell things and get other people to take things, there was usually a reason. Eddie might think that he had found a bargain, but there could be a serious snag lurking in the small print.
“Where is this place, Eddie?” Matthew asked.
“Stockbridge,” said Eddie. “Very close to Henderson Row.”
Matthew nodded. Stockbridge was a popular place for cafés and restaurants. But why had the owners been so keen to get Eddie to take the lease? “That’s a good place to be,” he said. “Was it a restaurant before?”
It was, Eddie said. He had spoken to the owner, who was retiring and going back to Sicily. He had been there for five years, he said, and was reluctant to leave.
“Have you looked at the books?” asked Matthew.
Eddie hesitated. “Books?”
Matthew glanced at Big Lou, who had picked up a cloth and had started to wipe the top of the bar, somewhat thoughtfully, Matthew felt.
“The accounts,” said Matthew quietly. “They show how a business has been doing. You know, profit and loss.”
Eddie turned to Big Lou, as if for support. She put down her cloth. “Eddie knows about restaurants, Matthew,” she said. “He kens fine.”
“But you should take a look at the books,” Matthew insisted. “Before you put your money into anything, Eddie, you should ask to see the books. Just in case.”
Big Lou turned round and slid the coffee drawer out of the large Italian coffee machine. Noisily, she banged the tray on the side of a bin to loosen the used grounds. “It’s not Eddie’s money,” she said quietly. “It’s mine. I’m subbing Eddie on this one.”
Matthew glanced at Eddie, who was smiling encouragingly at Big Lou. “Well, you should look at the books, Lou,” he said. “It’s basic…”
“Basic nothing,” said Big Lou firmly. “The real question is whether you know what you’re doing. It’s the same as farming. You can’t teach somebody to be a farmer. You either know how to farm or you don’t. You understand restaurants, don’t you, Eddie?”
Eddie nodded gravely. “I do, Lou, doll.”
Big Lou looked at Matthew. “See, Matthew?”
Matthew was not one to be defeated so easily. He winced when Eddie called Big Lou “doll”. It was so condescending, so demeaning. And Big Lou was not doll-like; she was a large-boned woman, larger than
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