Nice News and More from Port Brokeferry

(Nice news - Someone called Donald from Derby read my children's book, 'The Chess Piece Magician', to his two boys. The boys both thought it was brilliant. And Donald thought it was brilliant, too... took the time to post his thoughts on a review page somewhere... in fact Donald thought it was 'brilliant, brilliant, brilliant'. I can remember reading it to my own boys as I was writing it... oh years and years back...  and it feels good that another father has done the same... I can picture them... the boys tucked up in their beds and the father seated on the floor with the book before him... and they enjoyed doing it.)

MAGNUS WRITES EVERYTHING COPPERPLATE

Magnus has been here for four years almost. Works in the bank. The only bank in Port Brokeferry. A sandstone building with tall windows and a brass plate on the wall with his name on it: Magnus Wood. ‘Branch Manager’, it says underneath his name. Makes him feel important every time he sees it. Says the same thing on his business card, though he has little reason for the five hundred cards that were printed by the bank. Slips them unnecessarily into the letters he has to write. Includes them with Christmas cards to his friends.

Magnus runs the place by himself. Opens four and a half days a week. The books balance with a precision that has twice in his four years earned him the title of ‘Branch Manger of the Month’. His name printed then on yellow paper embossed with the Bank’s logo and mounted in wooden frames. He has these certificates hanging where everyone can see. Keeps the glass in the frames clean.

He is not from here. Not from Port Brokeferry or anywhere near. He did not intend to stay beyond the first year. That’s normal. One year here and then Magnus was meant to return to the city with his prospects for promotion improved by the work he had done. He had his bags already packed at the end of his twelvemonths. Then something changed. So he stayed.

It’s quieter in the winter of course. Takings from the small businesses are not substantial then. Some of the shops still turn over a fair amount and ‘The Ship’ does a good trade all through the year. But in the summer there is more life. Still, Magnus fills his time keeping the books for Mhairi and her giftshop, for Edwin and ‘The Silver Herring’, and Callum and his Bakery. Everything written in a neat copperplate hand. Old fashioned is how his books look. Like they belong to another time altogether. The figures stacked in regular columns and every little thing recorded and accounted for. He even offers small advice on the improving of turnover.

In the evenings Magnus plays chess with Guthrie. They have a table in The Ship. Sometimes they have an audience. Filling in the time between moves, they talk over the events of their separate days, Guthrie never suspecting that hearing what he has to say about Eileen and her being late and sneaking off to the toilet to put her make up on when the café is quiet, is what keeps Magnus there in Port Brokeferry.

Magnus spoke to her once, Eileen from The Bobbing Boat Cafe. Quite recently. He had a drink in him. She did too. They laughed a lot, at nothing really, and he walked her home at the end of the evening. They held hands and kissed under the streetlights. He isn’t sure she remembers. They smile at each other when they pass in the street. Magnus says her hello and uses her name. She uses his back.

In his wallet he has ‘Eileen’ written in the neatest copperplate script on a piece of paper, the paper tucked in beside his own business card.