‘That’s very kind of you,’ said the teacher. ‘It’s at times like this that one needs one’s friends, don’t you agree, Bertie?’

Bertie nodded.

‘So I think we should all go inside now,’ said Miss Maclaren Hope. ‘And we can all make nice Welcome Home cards for Bertie’s mother. Agreed?’

61. Big Lou on Art and Fashion

‘So,’ said Big Lou, as she directed a jet of steam through the milk for Matthew’s mid-morning coffee. ‘So – Moray Place it is, then. Going up in the world, I see.’

Matthew laughed. ‘India Street to Moray Place is not going up in the world at all,’ he said. ‘Sideways, perhaps. But not going up.’

Big Lou, of course, had no time for the games of Edinburgh society. She lived in Canonmills, at the bottom of the hill, and would be very unlikely to move, she thought, upwards, downwards or even sideways. She knew her neighbours, and liked them. Everybody on her stair was helpful, fulfilling their duties on the cleaning rota, and there were never any noisy parties. In fact, there were never any quiet parties either, but that suited Big Lou, and all the other neighbours, very well.

‘I’m really happy with the flat,’ said Matthew. ‘And there’s a garden, Lou. A really nice garden. You should come and see it.’

‘What are you going to grow?’ asked Lou. ‘Tatties?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘They don’t go in for tatties in Moray Place,’ he said solemnly. ‘Flowers, I suppose. And some bushes, perhaps we’ll plant some …’ He trailed off; he had never gardened.

‘Aye?’ said Big Lou. ‘Some what?’

‘Some ground cover,’ said Matthew quickly. He had seen the expression somewhere and it had stuck. Ground cover was definitely the thing.

‘Was it expensive?’ asked Big Lou. ‘Fifty thousand?’

Matthew stared at her in disbelief.

‘More than that?’ asked Big Lou. ‘Sixty?’

‘A bit more, Lou,’ he said, adding, ‘Quite a bit more.’

Big Lou handed him his coffee. ‘It’s nonsense,’ she said. ‘This town’s becoming far too expensive for its own good. For fifty thousand you could get a really good place in Arbroath.’

‘I doubt it,’ said Matthew. ‘Not today.’

Big Lou shrugged. ‘Maybe I’m a bit out of date.’

Matthew raised an eyebrow. ‘You could be. Just a bit.’

Big Lou changed the subject. ‘That’s Angus away,’ she said. ‘Dog and all.’

‘I envy him going to Italy,’ said Matthew. ‘It’s the spiritual home of all us artists.’

Big Lou looked at him. ‘You’re not an artist.’

‘Or those concerned with buying and selling art,’ added Matthew sheepishly.

Big Lou was not convinced. ‘To be an artist you have to be able to paint or make sculpture or do something like that.’