PORT BROKEFERRY - a development

(The village of Port Brokeferry has begun to take shape and some of the characters are becoming better known... then, into the mix comes Berlie's. This could shake things up a little bit in Port Brokeferry.)

THE ARRIVAL OF BERLIE’S

The trucks have begun arriving in Port Brokeferry, as they do at this time every year. And every year it is a surprise. Atholl Stuart is not surprised, though. Nor is Helen. At the police station the date is marked in the book, highlighted in yellow. Everything has been cleared and permission given at a higher level, their arrival expected. Atholl Stuart stands with his hat on and makes his presence felt on the street. He smiles amiably enough at the drivers of the trucks. He recognises some of the faces and they recognise him. Some even wave or call out his name, as though he is a friend they have missed.

The noise of the trucks brings Guthrie to the door of the café. Eileen too. They can’t help smiling. This will boost business. Things will get busy from here on in.

The drinkers at The Ship empty onto the street for a closer look, raising their glasses to the girls. The truck windows are wound down and the girls blowing kisses at the men from their cabs. Some of the men spilled from The Ship, made brave or silly with drink, Lachlan Davie amongst them, call after the girls or whistle or make rude suggestions and laugh too loud afterwards.

Evelyn and Morag at the hairdresser’s press their faces to the glass of the window. Evelyn is looking to see if a boy called Kelso is there. She has her reasons.

It’s the summer fair that is coming to Port Brokeferry. Here for two weeks. Then as quickly gone again and the grass of the green all torn and scarred behind them. The fair will bring the visitors in greater numbers. That is understood. It marks the start of the season proper. The hotel has extra bookings and the holiday lets at the sea front will soon begin to fill up.

Mad Martin leaves Edwin and his silver mermaid comb and runs up to the road. He calls to the drivers. He asks them if they have seen Col. They recognise him and remember his looking and looking for Col. They laugh and wave to him too, and sound their horns. Athol Stuart frowns then, takes one step forward and shakes his finger at them. They mouth apologies through the glass and laugh.

Ten trucks drive the length of Port Brokeferry before the afternoon is out. They form a circle on the green. Almost as soon as they are there, posters appear in the windows of the shops and in some of the houses. Bright blues and reds and yellows. Pictures of horses with feathered plumes and clowns with grinning smiles and acrobats flying across the paper and the name Berlie’s blazoned across the top. Bunting too is strung up between one side of the street and the other, a criss-cross web of yellow and red beards of cloth that brighten the place and take the eye upwards away from the grey of the streets.

At the end of the afternoon even Athol Stuart is smiling as he makes a note of the arrival of the fair in the station diary.

Grace is different, too. Even quieter than usual, Athol thinks, as she delivers a cup of strong sweet tea to his desk.