by Ron Elliott
Dave gave his sheepish, winning, little boy grin.
‘Ta what?’
Dave smiled and she looked him up and down. ‘S fheàrr a bhith dhìth a chinn na a bhith a dhìth an fhasain,’ she said.
Dave said, ‘In my country that means, yes, hop in.’
‘It is better tae be without yir head than tae be without style,’ she translated.
‘Um, hmm. Good saying. Meaning I have some?’
‘Ye gave that cheeky smile again.’
‘You had mud smudges on your cheek. I didn’t want to say anything about it at the time.’
‘Dave Kelly,’ said Dave huddling into his heavy wet jacket, as she jerked through the gears of the jeep.
‘From Australia, where they goo oot in ta rain with nae protection.’
‘Only rains at night there,’ said Dave, deadpan, so she turned in confusion before she saw he was joking.
‘Ah’m only away tae Baile Ailein.’
Dave took out the damp tourist map he’d bought on the ferry. ‘Baile Ailein is Balallan, right?’
‘Aye, in yir English map, aye.’
‘How many hills between Balallan and Ardvourlie?’
‘Why are ye away there?’
Dave thought he heard a trace of suspicion. ‘See the sights. I want to see where the island of Harris meets the island of Lewis without water in between.’
‘Ye’re wearing a lot of ta water in between. It’s a fair ride, but Ardvourlie is before ta beinn. Beinn Dearg.’
The countryside got prettier, the flat bog giving way to more grass and lochs and tumbledown crofts as they drove south. Passing cars tooted horns and she waved as she explained that the newer, plainly rendered houses were part of an island renewal in the 1960s.
‘I’m Dave, by the way.’
‘Ye said.’
‘But you never said your name.’
‘Aye.’
‘Oh. Aye. Ye Scoots rrrr a coony loot.’
‘Aye. We huv tae be. Because mostly people come and take things from us.’
‘You got me. I was going to take your name. I was going to use it instead of Dave.’
She smiled.
‘Did not.’
‘Did.’
She smiled, but then pulled up at a junction that pointed to Leumrabhagh. ‘Ah’m away doon there.’
‘And I’m away up there?’
‘Aye, so ye say.’
‘Thanks for the lift. I think the rain’s passed.’
She shook her head at his obvious sumph-dom.
Dave got his bike out of the back and came back to her window.
‘If ye’re really sightseeing, there’s nowhere to stay doon Ardvourlie. Ye doon’t want tae try ta bealach. There’s a hotel up here.’ She pointed down the road she was about to turn into, where Dave could see a bigger building.
Dave gave her a smile and said, ‘In my country we have a saying too. You’re a bloody lifesaver.’
‘Why are ye gooin’ to Ardvourlie?’
‘A guy owes me money.’
‘If it’s Dewar, ye won’t get it.’
***
And that was that, Dave thought. He mounted his bike again, feeling a short spasm of pain in his abdomen. He pedalled, looking at the approaching mountains with the faintest of hearts. But then he came into the tiny settlement of Ardvourlie, in the shadow of the mountains. There was a loch called Seaforth on his map and a lone fishing boat headed in or out, sending slow glistening ripples in its late afternoon wake. There were sheep and small farms and finally a large country house, improbably signed Ardvourlie Castle.
Dave got off his bike and collapsed on the side of the road near an abandoned two-room schoolhouse. He fished in his pocket for Dewar’s address. He looked up as a hire car went past. Lucky bastard, he thought, before he recognised the driver when she stopped at the junction.
Dave leaned back into the roadside fernery, not wanting Margaret to see him. The Margaret who he’d sat next to on the plane. The Margaret who’d left him naked and about to be truncheoned on the barge in Amsterdam. She looked up and down the road for cars and then drove through the gate and down the long driveway towards a hunting lodge that backed onto the loch.
‘Who?’
‘Margaret St James.’
‘Who left ye naked?’
‘Yes. Well, another story. Not like now, with you. Warm and naked and not about to be truncheoned.’
‘Hmm.’
It was getting late and colder. Dave needed a plan. He decided to cycle back to the hotel the Lewis girl had pointed out. It was like coming home. There was a pool table, a dartboard and joke signs about being drunk. The big back window offered a view of the backs of small farms or houses. The pub went silent as Dave entered. They were sitting at tables in pairs and fours.
‘You were there at a table in the corner, nursing a whisky.’
‘Aye.’
Dave ordered, ‘Two whiskies.’
The barman said, ‘That’s a bit like orderin’ two beers in an Aussie pub, mate.’ He pointed to the row upon row of different whisky bottles. ‘It disnae narrow it doon much.’
‘Sounds like a man who’s been in an Australian pub.’
‘Aye. Ah was there fir a few years.’
‘And you’re back.’
‘Och aye. Everyone cooms back.’
‘Two of whatever she’s drinking.’
The publican grew solemn. He began to pour the two whiskies. He spoke to the orange brown liquid in the glasses. ‘Ye might want tae be a wee bit careful when ye’re in another rooster’s yard.’
Dave put money on the bar. ‘Careful is my middle name. Cheers.’ He took the whiskies over and sat.
She looked at him like her luck had changed.
‘Ha.’
‘Ouch. Careful, I’m tender.’
‘She looked at him like a stray cat, turnin’ up tae be fed again.’
‘So,’ she said.
‘Aye,’ he said and took a sip.
The other patrons were shaking their heads at Dave. An old lady waggled her finger.
‘Ye dinae get yir money,’ she said.
‘No. A very long ride for not much. So, he’s not a popular local identity, huh?’
‘He’s no’ local. He came here some years ago and started buyin’ up bits of croft and cheatin’ us, and trickin’ stupid souse heads out of their land.’
She seemed bitter, Dave thought, from personal experience. ‘Yeah, well I’m not a big fan myself.’
‘Oh aye, but then doon’t stand in ta fire.’
‘Meaning my own fault right. See, I’m getting the hang of all these wise sayings.’
She looked towards the door suddenly but then back to Dave. Dave became aware that the pub had gone silent. He looked towards the door to see a big sandy-haired man in fishing clothes. The finger-waggling old lady was looking from the fisherman to Dave and back as at an imminent collision.
Dave said, ‘This’d be the rooster yard reference.’
Deidre looked at Dave then to the publican where the fisherman was getting a drink. She said, ‘If that means ah’m a brood hen, then aye.’
He came to their table and Dave realised he was much bigger than he’d looked over in the doorway. He said, ‘Deidre.’
‘Deidre!’ said Dave. ‘Deidre, I’m delighted to meet you.’
Deidre said, ‘David Kelly from Australia, this be Lewis MacDonald from Harris.’
Dave stood and offered his hand. ‘Must be confusing.’
Lewis engulfed Dave’s hand with his own and squeezed. ‘What would that be?’
‘Lewis from Harris.’
‘That’s a good one,’ he said, looking at Dave like warm beer.
Deidre spoke urgently then angrily in Gaelic.
Lewis spoke calmly back also in Gaelic.
Dave said, ‘Uluru, Dwellingup, Balgas.’ Dave smiled.
Lewis said, ‘Ah doon’t like ye, Ken.’
‘Ken?’ asked Deidre.
The publica
n said loudly, ‘Harris MacLeod, ye’re banned from here on Thursdays.’
Dave turned to see another giant fisherman in the doorway. This one had red hair.
The other patrons got up from their chairs and delicately lifted their drinks, moving back to the walls.
The publican brought up half a pool cue from under the bar.
Harris smiled towards Deidre’s table. ‘Well look at this fookin’ get together. And ah wisnae invited.’
Lewis turned, flexing his biceps and fingers.
‘Ye’ll both be banned noo. Where’s oor deal?’ yelled the barman.
Dave turned to Deidre. ‘Either you’re very popular, or Lewis here isn’t.’
‘Ye’ll no’ be so smart with nae front teeth,’ said Lewis, and Dave turned to make sure he was talking to Harris MacLeod.
‘So, it’s kind of a farmyard full of roosters and only one hen, then?’
Deidre scowled at him but then laughed out loud.
Harris MacLeod stepped forward. ‘And who’s this wee tiddler then?’
Lewis MacDonald said, ‘Ye can wait yir turn. He’s my’on first.’
‘And who says ah’ll wait. He can fish his own waters.’
Dave felt a surge of adrenalin. He said, ‘They’re talking about me, aren’t they. Gentlemen, I know animal imagery. I come from the land of the kangaroo. Why don’t you both hop off?’
MacDonald swung his first punch from his stomach coming up towards Dave’s jaw. Dave saw the blur of it and swayed back but was still caught on the underside of his chin and crashed back into his chair. Deidre yelled, ‘Ye stupid fookin’ eejit. I’m talkin’ here.’ MacDonald looked down at him and MacLeod swung at MacDonald catching him on the side of the head. Dave heard yelling. There was wood breaking and glass smashing and a ringing in his head. He got up to see Deidre whacking the big redhead about the chest and arms with a whisky bottle. It was strong glass. Lewis MacDonald turned from fending off the barman to see Dave swaying by the table. He launched himself and they both crashed back into the wall. Lewis said, ‘Ken, I’m yir contact. For the Dewar business.’ ‘Oh,’ said Dave. ‘Right, good. I need lots of help there.’ ‘Och, noo ye stay away from Deidre.’ The publican yelled, ‘Ye bucks rrr banned. Both of ye. An’ ye, Deidre, ye’re banned too. Ye’re all banned.’ Deidre nodded but she was behind Lewis raising the bottle to dong him. Dave never saw if she landed it because Lewis raised his fist and smashed it into Dave’s face.
***
‘And here I fell,’ said Dave as he slid his head under the doona cover to find Deidre’s wondrous breasts once more.
‘Oh, aye, what ta cat dragged in,’ she said with perhaps less than total enthusiasm. She patted his head then grabbed him by the back of the neck to haul him up to face her again. ‘Wha’s this Dewar business?’
‘A story you might not believe.’
Deidre rolled out from under him and he watched her walk, white and naked, to her clothes. She pulled on a thick jumper and then hoisted her pants too quickly over her perfect firm white arse. She caught him looking and smiled. She said, ‘Ah doon’t believe anythin’ ye say. No’ a word.’
‘Aye, there you go.’
Deidre went over to the sink and put on the kettle.
Dave sat up and felt a sudden pain he was beginning to recognise. ‘Toilet?’
‘Oot back.’ She kept her back to him as he dressed.
‘That’s the end of that then.’
‘Maybe it was just the beginning.’
‘You are so full of it, Dave.’
‘Well, full of something, Terry. Coming to that. The point of this phone call.’
Dave came out of Deidre’s stone cabin and found his way behind. The farmhouse was made of stones with no obvious use of cement. It had two chimneys and an orange corrugated roof.
There was a lean-to shed with one stone wall and corrugated iron barely covering rusted bits of metal and the history of subsistence agriculture. Dave also noticed a collection of more modern, rusted radio bits and pieces amongst encrusted chook poo.
There were a couple of shaggy trees and a few shaggy sheep. The farm fell away steeply, a couple of paddocks going down to the edge of the loch. There was a small island not far out with a couple of low bent trees crouching away from the wind.
The toilet seemed a more modern addition of probably not much more than a hundred years.
Contrary to the beliefs of others, Dave was not full of shit. Not that morning. There was one laggardly condom filled with the diamond gravel. Dave supposed as he strained and wheezed that the previous night’s fighting and fucking had finally dislodged it from a bend or cul-de-sac of his internal river.
He went over to a rocky creek that wound down one side of the farm and washed the thing in the freezing water.
Deidre came out with two mugs of strong tea. One of the chimneys was smoking.
‘Ye’ll be wantin’ breakfast?’ she asked.
‘I could try, but I’m not sure food agrees with me.’ Dave straightened, and watched Deidre quickly look away from the shape in his hands.
‘One last link to the recent past,’ he said. He pushed the condom into his pocket and took the mug of tea, putting both hands around it to draw some heat. ‘Would you believe me if I told you that Dewar owes me money for diamond smuggling?’
‘Ahh,’ she said, turning to look across her farm. ‘Ah,’ she said again, like she’d just sat in a bath or seen an apple fall. Ah, like ah ha. ‘An’ Lewis?’
‘Lewis?’
‘Lewis from Harris. He said he was yir contact. Before ah brained him.’
‘Apparently. So, you do believe me?’
She looked across her farm again then back to Dave. She shrugged, closed and watching him.
Dave took a sip of his tea. ‘In my country, we have this big empty place called the outback. Apparently, it’s not empty. It’s chock-full of minerals.’
Dave told her about the car crash and the betting and his useless mate named Terry. Then he told her parts of some adventures in Amsterdam and Scone Castle. At times she smiled. She also looked stony-faced, mostly when he got to explaining his arrest.
***
The police from three or four countries left Dave with PC Rowntree and argued in the next room.
Colley said, ‘Do ye believe him?’
Mal said, ‘I’ve never believed him. Just following the diamonds.’
‘Which still could be heading for the Pink Panthers,’ said Van Shooten.
Colley said, ‘My people are following Dewar. He’s away back to Harris.’
‘Then why are we wasting time here?’ asked Van Shooten. ‘If this is an international smuggling ring, we need to uncover it.’
‘But the diamonds didn’t go to Belgium. He met no one from Montenegro,’ said Mal.
‘That Ken let us see,’ said Bruce. ‘In the brothel. After the brothel. In the woods.’
‘Dewar doesn’t have any criminal convictions. Merely associations,’ said Colley.
‘Fine,’ said Van Shooten. ‘Then call Interpol. Call Europol. Give all our work over to them.’
There was a simmering silence. It was at this point that Rowntree must have realised that she was not the only one interested in the conversation in the next room. She got up from the interview table and closed the door.
‘It was just getting interesting,’ said Dave.
Rowntree said nothing. She folded her long stockinged legs back under the table.
Dave said, ‘That’s why it was so easy to get through all the airports. They let me.’
‘They thought you were working for them, Ken,’ she said, censorious, like a schoolteacher. Like a policeman. Dave forgot about her legs.
When the other police came back in, Dave said, ‘On the barge, there was splashing and arguing.’
Van Shooten looked embarrassed.
Bruce said, ‘A police diver was trying to get a look. A lady on the next barge didn’t like him knocking over her pot plants.’
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‘Ah. Okay. Quite handy, when it happened, by the way.’
‘Good,’ said Van Shooten, ‘because we want you to keep going after the diamonds.’
‘No, I’m done. Quit while you’re ahead. That’s what I always say.’
‘Harris is a wee place,’ said Colley, ‘and we think ye are the only one who can get close to him.’
‘Folks. People. He told the two fellas you currently have in the holding cell to bump me off.’
‘We don’t believe he’ll do it though, not on home soil. Not himself.’
Dave looked around at his brand new friends, a poker table full of unreadable eyes. ‘You don’t believe I’m Dave Kelly?’
Colley coughed, then looked to Mal. He looked like a beaten-up boxer who didn’t know when to throw in the towel. He nodded to the inspector.
Colley said, ‘Let us suppose as a kind of hypothetical that ye aren’t Ken, and ye didn’t steal the original diamonds. Let us, therefore, consider the more recent charges.’
‘More recent?’
Van Shooten said, ‘Diamond smuggling into Holland. We will do anything to protect the diamond trade.’
Mal said, ‘Diamond theft. And smuggling out of Australia. Interference at the scene of an accident.’
Colley said, ‘Fraud. Perverting the course of justice. The assault on poor old Campbell.’
Rowntree said, ‘Desecration of a national shrine.’
They turned to her, askance.
‘The cemetery,’ she said. ‘We have photographic evidence.’
‘Extreme close-ups,’ added Bruce, almost apologetically.
‘Yes, we don’t take kindly to illegal immigrants relieving themselves on our heritage.’
‘Littering and exposure at the very least,’ added Van Shooten.
‘You’re in the shit, Ken.’
‘Dave.’
Mal said, ‘Yeah. Ken had immunity while he helped us. You on the other hand don’t even have that.’
***
‘Ye’re working for ta police?’ said Deidre in disgust.
‘Well, not so much working for, as parallel with, perhaps. Or, trying to run ahead of, you know like in the running of the bulls.’
Deidre looked at him again as if he was the stuff bulls left behind.
‘Hard to believe, I know,’ said Dave.
‘Och, no. Ah believe ye. It all makes sense, noo. Ta diamonds anyway.’ She turned and started to walk purposefully up along the creek.
