Edward Kane and The Voice of the Spider. Chapter 6: Too Much Iron in the Sand
The Advocate and the solicitor stood in the middle of the sweltering glass factory. Blane continued: ‘Lady Carmunnock’s intention today is to find the child we saw last week and to take her away from all of this.’
Kane frowned: ‘And my role?’
‘You will witness the transition. We are confident that the child will come willingly.’
Kane stood silent for a moment, then: ‘But the witnessing of such an event is an issue of Fact, not of Law. You are looking for a witness, not a lawyer. You do not need me here. I wager that a footman might perform the same function.’
The solicitor raised his hand to forestall any further objection: ‘You will forgive me, Mr Kane – I do not mean to be impolite.’ He motioned to the hot, sweaty factory around them: ‘Her ladyship wanted you here to witness for yourself the privation surrounding the child, so that you could better inform their lordships in the event of any particular questions about the child’s circumstances.’
A decent enough (if entirely irrelevant) answer. Kane kept his own counsel and asked no more questions about his attendance at this curious ‘consultation’. The only issues that remained were (1) where was the girl and (2) when could they leave?
The rambling party knew that the child was somewhere in the curtilage of the factory, because she had been spotted at different points in different places, flitting from area to area, rebuking a worker here (“What did I tell you – too much iron in the sand will give you green glass – and what gentleman wants a green decanter!”) and bossing a worker there (“Sorry – that cullet glass will have be ground again – it’s too chunky...”)
What a busy little creature! She reminded Kane of the character in the Tempest – Ariel, the captive fairy: ‘Where the bee sucks, there suck I/In a cowslip’s bed I lie…’. But what exactly was her job in that factory? Why was she allowed to range free? Surely that was a recipe for another assault by her father.
The Advocate’s reverie was broken by the croak of the old lady in the chair: She pointed a gnarled finger ‘Here she comes – the girl!’ She motioned with an ancient hand: ‘Blane – Kane – don’t just stand there like waxworks – bring her to me!’ Solicitor and Advocate scuttled over to the corner where the girl was standing, talking to one of the workers. A tall, unshaven chap with a raffish air and a cheeky grin on his face.
It was then that Kane realised that the workman was, in fact, Mr Horse.
Blane and Kane heard the tail end of their light-hearted banter:
THE GIRL: You’re a good worker – for an Englishman…
HORSE: And you’re a good boss – for a Leprechaun…
Laughter – then Blane introduced himself to the child and invited her over to speak to Lady Carmunnock. Kane lagged behind and whispered to his man: ‘Horse! What in blue blazes are you doing here? This is a glass factory and…and…’ (The Advocate was so surprised to see his manservant there that he ran out of words).
Horse turned towards the wall so that no-one could see him speak to his master: ‘I knows that they take on a bit of casual labour some days, so here I am earning a couple of bob. And I wanted to have a look for myself, sir. A look at the man what likes to punch little girls in the face. And it’s all wery interesting, Mr K.’ He tapped his nose with his index finger: ‘Wery interesting indeed, sir…’
Then – a loud voice above the glassworks. The old lady was impatient: ‘Kane – come over here. And stop consorting with the riff-raff!’
Kane nodded to his manservant: ‘To be continued…’
The lady in the chair motioned towards the girl and barked at the Advocate: ‘The girl! She doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know.’
(Kane thought to himself – Why should she?).
The conversation between the lady and the child continued:
LADY: ‘I am Lady Carmunnock.’
GIRL: Hullo there.
LADY: Do you know who I am?
GIRL: You just telt me – yer Lady Kimmunick.
LADY: Yes – but do you know who I am?
The child turned her head towards the solicitor: ‘Does the old wifie no’ ken who she is?’
Blane gave a kindly smile: ‘I think that the lady rather means: do you appreciate that she is the person who owns this factory?’
GIRL: (to the lady) You must be rich!
LADY: I am. And I have a question for you.
GIRL: Aye?
LADY: Do you want to come and live with me?
GIRL: As your…your maid or your lady’s companion, like?
LADY: No. As my daughter…
GIRL: Yer a bit old to be having weans, are ye no’?
LADY: You would be my first, my dear.
The child laid a kindly hand on the old lady’s arm: ‘Listen, dear – this is a glass house – not a mad house.’ She patted the lady’s hand. ‘I’m sorry – but there’s work to be done here today. There’s an orphans’ hospital up at the Dean Village if you’re looking for a baby. A pleasant day to you, ma’am.’
And with that, the child flew away to another part of the glass works. The lawyers in the group were silent, not knowing what to make of the bizarre encounter.
It was the lady in the chair who nodded and broke the uneasy silence: ‘That child. That child. She is…the spider. She is…my daughter. She is…magnificent!’
Tomorrow in The Scotsman: None So Blind
Edward Kane and Mr Horse: Volume II of the Collected Short Stories. Available from Amazon and Kindle