Shadow of the Serpent

A quite different vision emerged from the side door as Hannah Semple peered out into the light.

‘Do we have any call for bananas?’ she cried.

‘What did you say, Hannah?’ Jean shouted back; she surely had not heard the woman correctly.

‘Bananas!’ Hannah bawled out impatiently, holding the fruit aloft. ‘I found a bunch under one o’ the beds.’

‘Are they ripe?’

‘It would appear so.’

Jean considered.

‘I think the best thing,’ she pronounced, ‘is to throw them into the scaffie cart. Skins or not, you wouldn’t want to trust their previous employment.’

‘Aye. Right enough,’ said Hannah. She scowled when she saw who was sitting with her mistress at the table. ‘You behave yourself, McLevy. Ye’re not in the station, now!’

The door slammed shut.

Another cup was poured, the aroma of the coffee mixing with the faint sweet scent of the early blooms. Amongst her other attributes, Jean Brash had green fingers.

She indicated a newly planted shrub which had yet to show its wares. ‘Maiden’s blush,’ she murmured. ‘It will flower in summer. Blue-grey.’

McLevy took a deep breath and marvelled at his experience of life.

Not long ago he had stared death in the face and now he was looking at a beautiful, if morally flawed, specimen of femininity.

But whatever Jean’s faults, at least she wouldn’t be trying to lure him into a situation where he got his guts chopped up by an axe. He winced.

The lacerations on his stomach sustained from the encounter, despite his disclamations to Lieutenant Roach, still pained him. It had been touch and go.

‘I have it on good account, you were the hero of the hour,’ remarked Jean, who heard everything, eventually.

‘That’s the tale,’ said McLevy. ‘But one thing I may tell you for true. Sadie Gorman’s death has been avenged. And the wee dollymop as well.’

‘So all has ended in a blaze of glory,’ Jean murmured.

His face clouded over.

‘No. There is still one mystery. And I am still bound to a promise.’

They sat quietly together while a few insects took precarious flight and Lily laid her circlet of white daisies on Francine’s black hair.

Innocence can be found everywhere but the opposite is also readily available.

Good and evil. Entwined together. In the dance.