Read The Inn at the Edge of the World for Free Online Page B

added distinction, for it must be evident to everybody that if people were prepared to put up with these conditions the experience must be richly, if subtly, rewarding. It was far more
tasteful
, thought Anita with uncharacteristic defiance. So there.
     
    ‘They’ll drown,’ said Mabel happily. ‘They’ll all be sick as dogs and perishing cold and then that rotten old boat will sink and they’ll all drown. Still, you’ll have their deposits.’
    Eric took no notice of her, not mentioning that he had not demanded deposits since that would draw upon him her awful scorn. He had decided one evening that it would make an interesting start to the holidays for his guests to sail over, not on the MacBrayne ferry, but in Finlay’s boat. Finlay, not surprisingly, since Eric paid him well for these services, had agreed with him.
    ‘It’s a rusty old tub and they’ll get their clothes filthy,’ Mabel went on, ‘and it doesn’t half rock – even when the sea’s as flat as a mill pond.’
    ‘You’ve been across in it when you couldn’t get on the ferry,’ said Eric.
    ‘That’s how I know what it’s like,’ said Mabel, ‘only I’m not fussy.’
    Eric didn’t say anything to this because he couldn’t think of anything.
    ‘It’s not seaworthy,’ said Mabel. ‘Not really.’
    ‘Yes, it is,’ said Eric.
    ‘’Tisn’t,’ said Mabel.
    Finlay seemed unconcerned by this clash of opinion: he was dressed in sou’wester and sea-boots, and Eric was almost certain he had dressed the part deliberately. He was glad someone was entering into the spirit of the thing. ‘Radio working now?’ he asked. There had been some flaw in this useful piece of equipment.
    ‘Aye,’ said Finlay.
    ‘That’s lucky,’ said Mabel.
    ‘Have you got the flares?’ asked Eric.
    ‘Aye,’ said Finlay.
    ‘And you’d better take a couple of duffel coats from here in case anyone’s cold,’ said Eric, who was beginning to wonder whether there might not be something in what his wife was saying. It was a grey day with a hint of mist.
    ‘Aye,’ said Finlay.
    ‘And you’d better get going,’ said Eric, adding hastily in order to prevent Finlay from saying ‘Aye’ again, for it was getting on his nerves, ‘You don’t want to keep them waiting on the quay.’
    When Finlay had gone Eric went to take a final look at the rooms which he and Finlay’s sister-in-law had prepared. The previous owner had had a regrettable passion for stripes. The wallpaper, curtains and counterpanes had all been resolutely striped and several chairs had had tartan-covered cushions on them. Eric had removed all these in his first enthusiasm and replaced them with a pale and restrained chintz he had got cheap when a shop in Glasgow, which had been too pale and restrained for its own good, went out of business. On the floors were Indian rag rugs which he had bought from a market-stall, and, as a little joke, he had hung some pictures of
Highland Kim
and the
Stag at Bay
on the walls. He’d got them from another market-stall late in the afternoon when the stallholder was thinking only of getting home, out of the puddles. They had been a bargain even though no one else had wanted them. Mabel hadn’t seen the joke. She’d said
‘Honestly
’ and laughed for the wrong reason. Now she was walking behind him, getting in the way whenever he turned and irritating him by humming a song about a small hotel and a wishing-well.
    ‘Can’t you find something to do?’
    ‘What?’ inquired Mabel. ‘What is there to do here?’ She was developing one of her worst moods, and Eric wondered fretfully how she was going to behave when the guests arrived. She could be indescribably offensive when she put her mind to it.
    ‘If you’re going to be like that,’ he said, ‘I don’t know why you don’t go and stay with your mates in Glasgow.’
    She had met her mates from Glasgow when they were taking their summer break on the island and driven Eric nearly out of his mind