The World According to Bertie by Alexander McCall Smith Page A

the Scottish National Portrait Gallery. Then Domenica looked at her watch and excused herself.
    She rose to her feet and began to walk towards the door. As she did so, something lying at the foot of the kitchen dresser caught her eye. It was a slipper, a slipper embroidered in red, and it was remarkably similar to one that she had. She glanced at it quickly and then looked away. What were the odds that two people living on the same stair in Scotland Street would both have identical pairs of red Chinese slippers? Astronomically small, she thought.

18. Bruce Finds a Place to Stay–Just Perfect
    Since he had returned to Edinburgh, Bruce had been staying with friends in Comely Bank. These people were a couple whom he had known in his earlier days in Edinburgh; Neil had been at school with him at Morrison’s Academy in Crieff, and he had known Caroline slightly before she met Neil. Both Neil and Caroline were keen skiers who had met on a skiing trip to Austria. Not all romances which start in the chalet or on the ski slopes survive the descent to sea level, but this one did. Now they were married and living in Comely Bank in a Victorian tenement halfway up the hill towards the heights of the west New Town. “Not quite Eton Terrace,” Bruce had observed. “Nor St Bernard’s Crescent, for that matter. But nice enough. If you like that sort of thing.” Comely Bank was comfortable and was only a fifteen-minute walk from the West End and Neil’s office, but, in Bruce’s words again, it was “hardly the centre of the known universe.”
    In fact, even as he passed these somewhat dismissive comments, Bruce was trying to remember a poem he had heard about a man who died and who had “the Lord to thank / For sending him straight to Heaven from Comely Bank.” Or something along those lines. Bruce smirked at the thought. Comely Bank was fine for Neil and Caroline, but not for him. He still wanted some fun, and in his view all the fun was to be found in the New Town in places like…well, in places like Julia Donald’s flat, for instance.
    Julia had quickly agreed to his suggestion that he might move in with her for a while.
    â€œBut of course you’re welcome, Brucie,” she had said. “I was going to suggest it, anyway. In fact, I’ll probably stick around for a while. London can wait. You know what? I think Edinburgh’s where it’s at. I really do.”
    Bruce had smiled at her. It’s where I’m at, he thought, which perhaps amounted to the same thing. He looked at her. Nice girl, he thought. Not a feminist, thank God. More interested in…well, not to put too crude a point on it, interested in men. And why not? Why should girls not be interested in men? You could talk to girls who were interested in men; they liked to listen; they appreciated you. Those others, those feminists, were always trying to prove something, he thought, trying to make up for something that was missing in their lives. Well, he knew what was missing, and he could show them if they liked! What a thought! Thank heavens for girls like Julia and for her offer of a room in her flat.
    â€œThat’s really great, Julia,” he said. “Can you show me the room?” He winked.
    She led him to a room at the back of the flat. “This is the guest room, Brucie,” she said. “You can keep your stuff in that cupboard over there–it’s empty. And I’m right next door.” She gestured at a door behind them. “When you need me.”
    Bruce clicked his tongue appreciatively and gave her a playful pinch. “Good girl,” he said. “This is going to be fun.”
    Julia gave a little laugh. “You bet. When do you want to move in?”
    â€œTomorrow?”
    â€œSuits me fine.”
    â€œAnd in the meantime,” said Bruce. “Let’s go somewhere this evening. A wine bar? A meal afterwards?”
    This suited Julia very