Edward Kane and The Voice of the Spider. Chapter 16: No King Solomon, I Assure You
Dim in that courtroom. Edward Kane couldn’t really say why, but he had found himself looking out of the window during the exchange between the child and the judge. Changeable weather today. Rain earlier. Then sunny. And now more rain. Clouds as black as ash crawled across the bleak Edinburgh sky. The court was now in semi-darkness as if evening had crept into the room. But there was a beam of golden light coming through the window and shining on the child’s face. It reminded Kane of a portrait of a Catholic saint. And with the child’s last question, something in the judge was changing. Hard to identify. As if the air was coming out of the balloon.
Lord Minto stuttered: ‘Does she work? My daughter? She…my Margaret…she has…she certainly has…homework…but it can be very difficult to get her to do it…’
Peggy was chatting away now, as if it to a friend: ‘Oh, I ken that. I have to work at home an’ all after my work finishes – my proper work, I mean. I have to get on with the dinner before my da gets back from the pub. And make sure that the washing is all done and the house is clean and tidy, you know? My da says that if I’m good, he’ll buy me a mangle, but I think he spends all his money at the pub…’
The child Peggy, perched on the bench before Edward Kane, sat there, cheerful, swinging her legs to and fro. The more relaxed she got, the more uncomfortable Lord Minto appeared. He coughed: ‘And what is it that you do, little miss – at your “proper” work, I mean?’
Peggy leaned forward and put her finger to her lips: ‘Can you keep a secret, judge?’
Joining in, the judge leant forward: ‘Yes, I can.’
The child cupped her hands in front of her mouth and gave a loud whisper: ‘Don’t tell anybody, but I run the factory.’
Lord Minto cupped his own hands: ‘I thought that was your father’s job.’
Peggy shook her head: ‘He’s called the foreman – but he only got the job because he has, like, this magic tin of matches….’
The judge’s face creased: ‘A magic tin of matches?’
The child nodded: ‘Aye, like for winning bets and such and that’s how he got the job.’
‘’I’m not sure I follow…’
Peggy leaned forward: ‘But when he won the job at foreman, it turned out that he couldn’t do it – because he couldn’t read or write, you ken?’ And there was lots of papers and stuff…’
‘And so?’
‘And so I had to read all the stuff for him. I still do.’
Minto sat back in his chair: ‘Of course. I had been told that your father could neither read nor write.’
The girl shook her head: ‘No – that’s not right, sir. He cannae read – but he can write. Well…he can write his name, anyway. I know that, because I learned him how to do that.’
The judge gave a mocking smile: ‘And that makes you the secret foreman of the factory, does it?’
The child – oblivious and immune to the mockery in the judge’s voice – nodded: ‘Aye, sir. That’s me. I’m the one that orders the machinery. And I read all the invoices and the like. And I manage the workers an’ all. You know – the shifts and that.’
‘And what does your father do?’
‘Well, he has to sign off the chitties and stuff – and he can do that because I learned him how to sign his name.’
‘And apart from that?’
The girl frowned and paused for a moment: ‘Um – not much. He needs a sleep during the day because he’s in the pub at night.’
Lord Minto nodded: ‘You sound as if you are doing the work of two people.’
‘Aye sir – but not for much longer.’
‘How so?’
Peggy Boylan sighed: ‘Because we got the sack.’ She turned and looked towards Lady Carmunnock. ‘That wifie in the chair there took the hump because my da wouldn’t let me go and live with her – so she gave my da his jotters.’
The judge frowned: ‘She relieved him of his duties?’
‘Believe me – he wisnae relieved at all. The lady told us we had fourteen days to get out of the house as well. The house that goes with the job’
Lord Minto sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers: ‘I see. So you’re telling me that the lady who has come to court – claiming to advance your welfare – has decided to make you homeless?’
Much loud harrumphing from the lady in the chair, who muttered to the footman, who walked over and began whispering to the solicitor, who proceeded to tug on the Advocate’s gown. Edward Kane, his view of the judge, entirely obscured by the child sitting on the raised bench directly in front of him, peeped around the little figure to address the judge: ‘My lord – if I might?’
The judge sniggered: ‘Oh – I’m looking forward to this…’
Kane stuttered: ‘Her ladyship wishes it to be known that she has dismissed the child’s father, but not the child. The child is still employed.’ Solicitor Blane tugged at his gown again. Whispers. The Advocate addressed the court: ‘And the child is, of course…um… welcome to come and live with her ladyship.’
Lord Minto sat back in his chair. He closed his eyes in contemplation.
No-one spoke. No-one seemed to know what to say.
The silence was broken by the voice of the child: ‘No.’
Minto opened one eye: ‘No?’
The wee girl was insistent: ‘I’m not doing that. I’m not going to live with the woman in the chair.’
The judge leaned forward. Stern: ‘I am the judge. I can order you to do it.’
Peggy Boylan considered this for a moment, then: ‘I know that I’m not supposed to fight with judges and that, but I’m not doing it. I’m not going to live with some old biddy and having servants and butlers and roast beef and the like, if my da is lying shivering on the street. I’m not doing it. He needs me. I’m his kin. He needs me to look after him.’
The Lord Ordinary nodded. He craned his neck to see the advocate behind the figure of the child: ‘Well, Mr Kane – it would appear that we have reached an impasse. Despite your client’s obvious plan to divide and conquer here…’
The Advocate rose to his feet: ‘My lord…’
Anger: ‘Don’t interrupt me, sir. Do not interrupt me.’
Kane shrank back down. The judge continued: ‘Well. This is a rum set of circumstances, isn’t it? A lady older than Abraham’s wife seeking to have her first child?’ He nodded over to Lady Carmunnock: ‘I fear that the age of miracles has passed, madam.’ He sighed. ‘And then an eleven year-old who presents more as a mother than a daughter. A child who works in a factory and launders and cooks and cleans and worries about her errant father. Soon to be without even a roof over her head.’ He sat back in his chair: ‘And here I am. No King Solomon, I assure you.’ The judge tapped his fingers against his lips for a time, then. ‘No use. I need to think about this one. I will make avizandum today – but you will have my decision tomorrow.’ He got up from his chair and bowed.
Court rise!’
Tomorrow in The Scotsman: They Ran from the Scene
Edward Kane and Mr Horse: Volume II of the Collected Short Stories. Available from Amazon and Kindle