Edward Kane and The Voice of the Spider. Chapter 18: What Does it All Mean?
Lord Minto had settled himself into his seat and nodded towards the young Advocate. Kane gave a little smile and bow in response. The judge continued: ‘It was a fool’s errand with which he was entrusted, but he stuck to his task admirably despite my, um, “assistance”.’
The judge lifted up the papers before him: ‘The pleadings in this case are, of course, for the most part…gibberish.’ (No smile from Kane for that bit). The judge continued: ‘The applicant here,’ he gave a slight nod towards Lady Carmunnock, ‘is a lady of means who wishes to acquire the rights over a child to whom she is not related. The father of the child is still alive.’ He sighed. ‘The whole application is ridiculous. In short, the person applying has no right to apply in the first place and she seeks to found on a principle that does not exist…’ He studied the legal papers: ‘“The welfare of the child…” Ha!’ And with that, Lord Minto took the legal parchment and ripped it in half. He threw the papers out before him (so that the Clerk of Court required to duck to avoid being hit by the floating wings of the discarded pleadings). ‘So – there it is!’
Kane’s heart sank. An absolute drubbing. And in front of the client, to boot. The judge sat back in his chair: ‘That said, the application itself has engaged the powers of the court. It has enabled me to make any order – any order – that I find appropriate in the circumstances. And what rum circumstances they are. The “family” in this case comprises a drunken reprobate of a father, who – entrusted as foreman of a glassworks – by all accounts spends his days in a drunken haze. And a question is this: who is it, in fact, performs his duties as foreman?’
The personnel in court – Kane, Blane, Lady Carmunnock, the nurse, the footman – assumed that this was a rhetorical question and said nothing. But the judge leaned forward in his chair and barked at the assembly before him: ‘Who performs the duties of foreman?’
The question was put so forcefully that every person in the courtroom jumped. They answered/murmured in unison: ‘The daughter”/“the girl”/“Wee Peggy”…’. It reminded Kane of the congregational responses in a church service.
The judge sat back and smiled: ‘For once, we appear to be in total agreement. It is often forgotten…’. (The judge liked to say this about facts that no-one knew in the first place) ‘…it is often forgotten that the very word “family” has the original meaning of “a group of slaves”. And that is what the young Margaret – or “Peggy” as she is known – has become here. A slave. Doing the bidding of a lazy and capricious master, her father.’ The judge stopped. He seemed moved at this point. ‘When, in fact, an eleven year-old girl – a dutiful daughter – a “Margaret”, if you will…’ (was he starting to choke up?) ‘…should be gossiping with friends, learning the proper use of the knife and fork, preparing for dances and such…’. It struck Kane that given Peggy’s duties – including the running of a glassworks – the chance of Peggy ‘preparing for dances’ was remote.
The judge continued: ‘Added to her professional duties, this child has undertaken the very duties of a mother in the home. She is the cook. The cleaner. She is a laundress of the clothes. This leads the court to an overwhelming question…’. Everyone in that courtroom agreed with the judge’s description of events, but no-one had formulated any ‘overwhelming question’. The judge leant forward: ‘To what extent is Peggy Boylan still a child?’ Edward Kane had the thought that he might raise his hand like a timid schoolboy and offer: ‘Well, she’s only eleven…’. but he resisted the temptation. The judge mused further. ‘Does this child, in fact, require a parent?’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Thus, it does occur to me that the court ought, indeed to intervene in this case. And so, I find that the eleven year-old Margaret Boylan – known as “Peggy” – is declared to be…’
All parties in court were leaning forward now. Declared to be…what?
The judge took a breath, then enunciated the word: ‘Foris-familiated.’
A quick rise from the judicial chair, a cursory bow, a hasty exit through the door.
‘Court rise!’
All parties in court (except for the perplexed lady in the bath-chair) rose and stood in silence for a moment in the wake of the judge’s speedy exit and (let’s admit it) the chaos of the judge’s unexpected pronouncement.
Edward Kane felt a tug at his gown. It was solicitor Blane: ‘What just happened?’
The Advocate turned around: ‘I. Have. No. Idea…’
****
‘But I don’t get it, Mr K – what does it all mean?’
Later in the cramped, but suitably inexpensive rooms in the Edinburgh Old Town, manservant, Mr Horse, preparing the dinner, was chopping carrots at the old dining table.
Kane sat in his wing chair by the fire, glass of rum and milk in his hand: ‘At first it wasn’t clear. But I discussed it with Blane and we think that the judge’s deeper plan emerged.’
Horse was listening while picking his teeth with the sharp end of the knife. Having removed an irritating object from his gums, he resumed cutting the carrots. With the same knife. ‘And what was that plan, Mr K?’
‘Well, in making that order, Lord Minto declared that the child was no longer under the legal control of her father.’
Horse frowned: ‘So the Lady Carmunnock won, then?’
Kane shook his head: ‘No. Not exactly – she has no control either.’
‘I don’t get it…’
‘The judge compared young Peggy to being a slave of her father. With his judgment, I suppose you could say that he set her free.’
Horse frowned: ‘Then who is her parent, sir?’
‘No parent, Mr Horse. She is now, as it were, a free agent.’
‘She’s only eleven!’
‘But she works for a living. She is educated far beyond her father’s meagre ability to write – and only write – his name. She earns a wage. She can cook. She can launder. She can keep house. Against that background, what is the point of having a parent? She is free, Mr Horse. As free as any adult.’
The manservant considered this for a moment: ‘So what happens if the dad punches her on the nose again?’
‘He no longer has that right. Common assault. He would be jailed.’
‘But where is she gonna live?’
Kane gave a little chuckle: ‘That’s the beauty of it, Horse. Remember – the child is still employed at the factory. After discussion with Blane, Lady Carmunnock has agreed to appoint Peggy as foreman, so Peggy – and presumably, the father – still have a place to live. And if there are any more shenanigans, then it is the child who can throw the father out of the house.’
‘Bloomin’ eck! The little girl has become like Boylan’s mum…’
Kane nodded: ‘Lady Carmunnock said: “The child is the father of the man”…’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I have no idea, Horse. But it sounded sensible when she said it.’
‘The world has gone mad, sir…’
‘Or resumed its sanity – hard to tell which sometimes.’
Horse gave (what looked to Kane) a sad smile. The manservant’s eyes began to moisten. He nodded: ‘So, it all worked out, then, for our little Peggy.’
Kane looked up: ‘Are those tears I see, Mr Horse?’
Horse wiped his nose and pointed down to the chopping board: ‘No, sir – it’s the onions.’
The young master laughed: ‘And on that happy note – what are you preparing for supper?’
Horse scooped up the onions, potatoes and carrots with both hands and walked over to the fire. He dumped the vegetables into the bubbling pot of boiling water. The manservant brushed his hands together and nodded, admiring his handiwork. ‘In honour of our little Peggy Boylan and her dad, Mr K, I thought…’. he opened his hands in a kind of ‘ta-da!’ – ‘Irish stew!’
Kane laughed and held up his glass. He nodded towards the cupboard: ‘Get yourself a glass, my friend, and we’ll toast young Peggy’s success together.”
Horse knelt down and opened the cupboard door. He took out a glass tumbler. But kept on kneeling, looking into the darkness of the cupboard. Kane looked over: ‘Is all well, my man?’
The manservant reached into the cupboard, scratched about for a moment and then emerged and stood up. He looked like a schoolboy holding a conker at the end of a piece of string. But this was no piece of string. This was a straight line of web. And at the bottom of that line of web – a wriggly spider. ‘Well, look what I found.’ He gave a cheeky grin: ‘Have you got a brick on you, sir?’ Kane wagged his finger, his face a fake grimace: ‘Mr Horse!’ The manservant laughed. He walked over to the window and pulled up the window with his free hand. Horse put his head out and lowered the webbing gently onto the windowsill outside. The spider scurried away. Horse gave the departing spider a cheery wave: ‘And if you see any schoolboys out there drawing circles, my son – then run like blazes! And thank you for the good advice.’ He put his head back inside the room and shut the window. Edward Kane smiled: ‘“Good advice” Mr Horse?’
Horse looked shy: ‘It were about me and the spider and Robert the Bruce, sir.’
Edward Kane sat back in his chair and smiled: ‘Do you know, Mr Horse, I have known you all these years and I still have no idea what on earth goes on in that head of yours.’
Horse winked: ‘Well, some things are for the best, ain’t they, Mr K. Now – let’s fill up our glasses and drink a toast to little Peggy Boylan – easily the best gaffer I ever had. No offence, sir…’
Edward Kane and Mr Horse – Collected Short Stories, Volumes I and II are on sale now, available on Amazon and Kindle. Look out for more Edward Kane and Mr Horse stories in The Scotsman in 2026.