Iain Banks - The Crow Road

"This is Fergus Urvill, who owns the factory?" Janice asked. She sat back in the white plastic chair, fanning herself with her napkin.

Kenneth looked at her. "Yep, that Fergus," he said. "Of course, you haven't had the dubious pleasure yet, have you?" He put his glass down on the circular table, and inspected the rolled up sunshade that protruded from the centre of the table like an unopened flower.

"No,'Janice said. "What's he like?"

Kenneth and Rory exchanged glances. "Bearing up remarkably well," Kenneth said.

Janice looked puzzled for a second, then said, "Oh; yes, of course; Fiona… " she looked embarrassed. Rory patted her hand on the table.

Kenneth looked away for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Yeah; anyway." He stretched his shoulders, sat back. "Fergus… Upper-class; huntin'-shootin'-fishin" type… Could be worse, I suppose."

"Still," Rory said. "Not what you'd call a happy man."

"Well, of course," Janice said quietly, and bit her lip.

Kenneth frowned. "His precious factory's making a profit," he said briskly, draining his glass. "The Greedy Party's in power. What more does he want?"

"A wife?" Rory suggested, and then sucked on one finger.

Kenneth looked down, studying his glass. There was silence.

Rory rubbed a mark off the white table's surface. Janice lifted the scooped neck of her bright print dress and blew down.

"Want some shade?" Kenneth asked Janice. She nodded. Kenneth stood, lifted the stalk of the sun-shade and opened the big parasol, casting a shadow over Janice and Rory.

"Did you know," Janice said to Rory, squeezing his hand. "In the Dewey Decimal System, glass-making comes under the code six six six?"

"Woo," Rory whistled. "Number of the beast! Spooky, eh?"

"Not many people know that," Janice said. She smiled.

Kenneth laughed. He sat back in his chair again, dragging it round so he was under the shade too. "Shame Ferg isn't superstitious." He chuckled. "Mind you, Hamish is. Maybe we should tell him that. The Tree has some pretty weird ideas about religion; he might just swallow the idea he's been working for the devil all this time. Renounce the whole business, start going round smashing windows."

"Really?'Janice said. "What is he? I mean what religion?"

Kenneth shrugged. "Oh, just Church of Scotland; but if they had a Provisional Wing, I think he'd be on it."

"He's always had a soft spot for the royal family — " Rory began.

"Yes; his head," Kenneth said.

" — Maybe he could start the Royal Church of Scotland."

"Maybe he could start thinking like a rational human being instead of a cave-man frightened by lightning," Kenneth said tartly.

"Oh, you're so cruel," Rory told him.

"I know," Kenneth sighed, rolling the base of his glass around on the table top. "Time for another drink, I think."

"My round," Janice said, rising.

"No," Kenneth said, "Let —»

"Sit down," Janice told him, taking his glass from his hand. "Same again?"

Kenneth looked glum. "No; Virgin Mary this time. Gotta drive."

The two men watched Janice head for the bar.

"What did Fergus ever say to you?" Kenneth asked Rory.

"What?" Rory said, blinking. "What about?"

"God, I hate it when you're mysterious!" Kenneth shook his head. "You know damn well. Before the crash; way before. What did Fergus ever tell you? Was it after you came back from India that second time; before you went back to London? You two went hill-walking a lot then, didn't you? Old Ferg spill some beans up in them there hills?"

"We talked," Rory said awkwardly, using his fork to push bits of lettuce around his plate. "He told me things, but… I don't want to go into it, Ken, it would only complicate matters. It's nothing that directly touches you."

"What about Fiona?" Kenneth said, voice low, staring at his brother. "Did it touch her?"

Rory looked away, across the loch. He shrugged. "Look, Ken, it isn't something you'd benefit by knowing, all right? Just leave it at that." The fork continued to shift the lettuce leaves around the plate.

Kenneth watched his brother for a moment, then sat back. "Oh well, serves me right for being nosey. Let's change the subject. How's this new project thing coming along?"

"Oh, I'm still working on it."

"I wish you'd let me look at it."

"It isn't finished yet."

"When will it be?"

"When it is," Rory said, frowning. He put the fork down. "I don't know. Look; it's sort of a personal story…

"Ah," Kenneth said.

Rory leaned forward over the table, closer to his brother. "Look," he said, glancing round towards the french windows that led to the bar. "I've had a few more ideas… well, I've thought about… areas I didn't think I could use that I now think I can, and I want to develop that stuff, and —»

"What stuff?" Kenneth said, laughing in exasperation and throwing his arms wide. "Just tell me what sort of stuff!"

Rory sat back, shaking his head. "I can't say. Really." He glanced up at Kenneth. "But things… things might start to happen soon, anyway. I can't say any more for now." Kenneth shook his head sadly. "They might have happened by now if you'd just let me see this… opera, TV series, pop-up-book, whatever the hell it is; and if you'd let me talk to a few people. I mean, if it's just that you're too close to it and you don't want me to look at it, there are people I know who're good at that sort of thing; they can see the wood from the trees; they could —»

"Aw, come on, Ken," Rory said, a pained expression crossing his face. He ran a hand through his short, straight hair. "This is my show; this is the way I want to do it. Just let me, all right?"

"I don't know, Rore," Kenneth said, sitting back. "Sometimes you play your cards so damn close to your chest I don't think you can see them yourself. You should open up a bit more, share your problems. Share some secrets."

"I do," Rory said, biting his lip and looking down at his glass.

"Rory," Kenneth said, sitting forward and lowering his voice to conspiratorial levels, "the last secret I remember you telling me was that it was you who set fire to that barn on the Urvill's estate."

Rory grinned, stirring his finger through a little patch of moisture on the side of his glass. "Hey, I'm still waiting to see if you tell anyone."

Ken laughed. "Well, I haven't. Have you?"

Rory smiled, sucking air through his teeth at the same time, clinked one thumb-nail against his glass. He glanced at his brother. "Don't worry; my secret is safe with us." He shook his head, then shrugged. "Okay," Rory sighed, trying to suppress a smile, looking away. "There might be a job with Aunty in the offing, okay?"

"What?" Kenneth laughed. The Beeb? You going to be a TV star?"

"It's not definite yet," Rory shrugged. "And it's… " he frowned at his brother. "Shit, Ken; it's just more hack-work. It's better paid, is all."

"What is it though?"

"Oh, a fucking travel programme, what else?" Rory rolled his eyes. "But anyway; we'll see, okay? It's not definite, like I say, and I don't want to get anybody's hopes up, so keep it quiet; but things might start to happen."

"But that's great news, man," Kenneth said, sitting back.

"Talking about me, I hope, boys," Janice said, returning with their drinks on a tray.

"…said, 'My God, Rory, I've never seen one that blg! and I said " — oh; hello dear," Rory grinned, pretending only then to notice Janice.

She sat down, smiling. "Talking about the size of your overdraft, are we dear?"

"Gosh-darn," Rory said, snapping his fingers, looking at Kenneth. "Caught telling tales again."

"Runs in the family," Kenneth said, taking up his glass. "Cheers, Janice."

"Your health."

"Slange."

They left after that drink and went back to the house at Lochgair; Rory and Kenneth cleared a tangled choke of bushes and shrubs at the rear of the garden, where Mary wanted the lawn extended. They sweated through the insect-loud afternoon, while the sun shone. Janice sunbathed, and later helped Mary and Margot prepare the evening meal.