Mavis Belfrage by Alasdair Gray

Author:Alasdair Gray
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2014-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

4

Four coffees later McCrimmon said, “And that is the true story of my last and worst encounter with Beaverbrook.”

The teacher was excited and appalled. He had suspected great press barons were greedy, selfish and unscrupulous, but had not thought them petty, vindictive and superstitious.

“Amazing – really amazing,” he murmured, “but I think the lassie wants us to leave.”

The room was empty but for them and a bored waitress lounging near the till.

“Forget her – she kept me waiting for my coffee. I’m surprised that you haven’t asked why I’m back in Scotland.”

“You told us you were here to relax and meditate.”

“Did I? So I did. I wasn’t being strictly accurate. There are better places to relax than smoky old Glasgow. No laddie. I’m here with a purpose.”

McCrimmon pressed his lips together and nodded heavily.

“If you’d rather not tell me –” said the teacher after a silence.

“Know something? I like you. There’s not many I would waste my sweetness on but I think you’re what I would call trustworthy. Notice how many new buildings are going up nowadays?”

“Yes.”

“And a lot more are going to go up which means even more old stuff will be hammered down. It’s inevitable. All progress is inevitable. But when these filthy old tenements and warehouses and cinemas are replaced by motorways and multistorey flats and shopping centres folk are going to miss them, hence this little toy –” (McCrimmon tapped a camera case with his finger) “– I paid two hundred quid down for it and it’ll make my fortune. I will emerge as the Recording Angel of Glasgow’s recent past.”

“You won’t believe this,” said the teacher excitedly, “but I’ve thought of doing that!”

McCrimmon seemed not to believe it or found it a negligible idea in others. He said, “I’ll show more than the buildings of course, I’ll show the people. We don’t just have smooth characterless buildings going up, we’ve smooth characterless people taking over. Like the three who’ve just left.”

The teacher could not help showing surprise because he liked the three who had just left and did not think them very different from himself. McCrimmon said quickly, “Don’t get me wrong – they’re nice enough folk but speaking as an artist you cannae beat the hard dour folk formed by the First World War, the General Strike, the Thirties’ Depression and the single-room flat – the faces of folk who took abject poverty for granted. Closet-on-the-stair faces. Jawbox-with-one-brass-swan-neck-cold-water-tap faces. Black-leaded-kitchen-range-with-polished-steel-trim faces. There aren’t many left.”

“A lot of folk still live like that,” said the teacher with a faint smile.

“I wish I knew where. All the single-end flats I’ve seen this week had a tiled fireplace and modern sink unit with gas water-heater. What’s wrong with you?” he asked, for the teacher, gripped by a strong idea, stared at him like an equal and said, “Are you free just now Tony? Because if you are I can take you to exactly the place you want – recess bed, jawbox, polished fire range, wally dugs, the lot.

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