Page 9 of The Shadow of a Laird
“Needs must when the devil drives,” she replied. “An’ what about you?”
“I am the son of a guard,” he lied. “Fighting is in my blood. But my father made me learn to speak English as well as Scots, which is the only reason I ‘speak like a toff’ as you put it. I amvery observant, and I have a good memory, and I learn quickly, so you see I am not quite as useless as you think.”
“Aye, an’ ye are very modest,” Maura observed, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Right, then, ye can stay, but remember who is the boss here!” She thumbed herself in the chest to emphasise her point.
Gavin watched her walking away and grinned with admiration.What a woman!he thought.
4
Billy Dalziel had done a hard day’s work and had eaten his plain meal of vegetables and potatoes, then made his way to the Goose and Gander for a well-earned pint of his favourite beer. Winter was by far the least enjoyable season of the year, and he had spent the day slaughtering and butchering pigs in order to dry and salt their meat for the winter. He smelled dreadful, but he supposed that everyone else did too.
He sat down and ordered his drink, then gave the payment to Maura, who smiled at him sympathetically. “Hard day, Billy?” she asked, patting him on the shoulder.
“Aye, Maura.” He sighed, his voice infinitely weary. “Butcherin’ swine is no’ my idea o’ fun!”
Maura served him his usual pint, the one she had worked hard to procure. The tavern made most of its own beer, but because they could never keep up with demand, they sometimes had to use the services of an outside supplier, particularly during winter, when the tavern did most of its business. However, demand was so excessive during that winter, which was the coldest anyone could remember, that their normal brewer wassimply overwhelmed. To add to their troubles, the barley harvest had been a poor one, so they had less to work with.
Consequently, Maura had had to seek a new supplier, but all the established breweries were too busy, so she had to cast her net wider. That was when she came across a newcomer called Best Beer Breweries.
Maura was always very careful when it came to sourcing suppliers, but in this case, she had no choice in the matter. She went to see the owner, Ross MacCafferty, to look around his establishment and ensure that he was using the best ingredients and making beer that met her very high standards. MacCafferty was a genial man in his mid-forties, not exactly handsome, but pleasant to look at and with an engaging manner that put her at ease at once. She wanted to take her ale and excuse herself, but he insisted that she tasted it. After that, Maura was obliged to sit through a tedious monologue about how he had started the business and what he intended to do in the future; MacCafferty did not ask one question about her or the tavern her family had established. He was completely self-absorbed.
However, the ale did seem to be quite acceptable, and that was the important thing, so when she left, Maura was quite content, even though she had been bored witless. But she had saved her business, and so she breathed a sigh of relief, watching Billy take his drink at hand.
It was then that she heard a loud shout and a splutter from Billy’s table. She turned on her heel and looked back to see him shaking his head and spitting out his ale disgustedly.
“What is this stuff?” he demanded. “Pig swill?” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and advanced towards Maura threateningly, holding out his cup. “Taste it an’ tell me that is beer!”
Maura had been confident that the beer she had been sold by MacCafferty was perfectly fine because she had tasted it, but when she sipped the liquid, she had to admit that Billy was right.Not only was the ale almost as weak as water, but it had a flavour like the smell of wet wool, and was quite unpalatable.
A wave of anger washed over her as she realised that she had been deceived, and that the ale she had tasted at the brewery was not what she was drinking now.
“I am sorry, Billy,” she told him. “We ran out o’ our own ale because the barley harvest was so bad. We had tae buy fae somebody I had never used before, but dinnae worry. We will not be usin’ him again.”
To make up for his bad experience, Maura gave Billy a small glass of whisky, which was a rare treat. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the glass, then laughed. “Can ye give me some more o’ that, so I can spit it out again?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
Maura had to force herself to laugh, since it was the last thing she felt like doing. She wanted to find Ross MacCafferty and strangle him with her bare hands!
Some of the other customers were complaining by this time, and Maura had to pacify them by giving each a shot of her precious whisky. It would use up most of her stock, but she knew that if she did not make amends somehow the reputation of theGoose and Ganderwould be ruined, and the other taverns would benefit.
Gavin, who had been watching quietly from his post, thought quickly. He stepped into the middle of the floor and clapped his hands to ask for attention. When every head had turned to look at him, he spoke up.
“This mess is all my fault,” he told them contritely, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I accidentally switched two good barrels with two that had been stored for too long and were going rancid. By the time I realised my mistake it was too late, so I apologise, Maura. Blame this on me, and I promise I will work as hard as I can and repay you every penny.”
There was a chorus of agreement and many choice insults at this admission. Gavin wished the floor would open up and swallow him, but at the same time he had to clench his fists tightly and clamp his mouth shut to hold in the boiling rage inside him. He would have dearly liked to use his fists and decorate some of these men’s faces with a few colourful bruises.
“Make sure ye do!” she snapped.
Maura looked stern and angry, but Gavin had learned to read her by now and knew that it was all an act for the benefit of the patrons of the tavern. For a while, he was too busy to speak to her, but as they were clearing up for the evening, she came up to him in the kitchen and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you, Gavin,” she said warmly. “Naebody has ever stood up for me like that before. I didnae think anybody ever would, least o’ a’ you.”
“I have fought for you before,” he reminded her.
“Aye.” She nodded. “But when ye came here, ye were no’ exactly humble, were ye? Ye didnae treat anybody very well.”
“I’m ashamed to say that I did not,” he admitted, “but there are many reasons for that. Maybe I could be gentler and more considerate to everyone.”
Maura smiled at him. “I knew ye were a good man inside,” she said softly.
