Snare of Serpents Read online

  The coming of spring was particularly welcome and it was during that delightful season when I was able to indulge in my explorations. How beautiful it was then, with the sun shining on the tall grey buildings lighting them to silver. Sometimes I would sit in the gardens looking up to the castle or along Princes Street; and at others I would wander into the old town and listen for the bell of the university which rang out every hour.

  It was a revelation to discover what a great divide there was in our city between the comfortably situated and the wretchedly poor. I suppose it is so in all big cities, but in ours it seemed more marked, I think, because the two were so close together. A few minutes’ walk could take one from the affluent to the needy. One could be in Princes Street where the carriages rolled by carrying the well-dressed and well-fed, and very soon be in the wynds, where dwellings huddled together, where many lived in one small room, where the lines of pitiful garments hung out to dry and bare-footed, ragged children played in the gutters.

  It was called the old town; and that was where I met Jamie.

  Of course, if I had been wise I should not have been there. A well-dressed young woman could only be visiting such a neighbourhood out of curiosity. But I had become fascinated by my discoveries, and, contemplating on what I saw, I forgot my own dilemma, for my discoveries broke into my brooding on what the future might bring.

  When I went out on my walks I carried a small purse with a chain handle which hung on my arm. In it I carried a little money. Since I had visited the poorer parts of the city I liked to have something with me to give to people. There were quite a number of beggars to be encountered and I was very moved to see children in such circumstances.

  I knew that I should not venture deep into these streets. For one thing, there was such a maze of them that it was easy to lose one’s way.

  I had come to a street which was full of people. There was a man with a barrow selling old clothes, children squatting on the pavement and several people standing at their doors gossiping.

  I turned away and started to go back as I thought the way I had come, but I soon realised how unwise I had been to enter these streets. I came to a small alley. At the end of it was a young man; he was just about to turn the corner. He looked respectable, out of place in these streets and I thought I might ask him the way back to Princes Street.

  I started after him and just at that moment two young boys darted out of a side alley and approached me. They barred my way. They were poorly clad and obviously undernourished and they said something in an accent so broad that I could not understand them, but I knew they were asking me for money. I took the purse from my arm and opened it. One of them immediately snatched it and ran towards the young man who was about to turn the corner.

  “Come back,” I called. The young man turned. He must have guessed what had happened. No doubt it was a common occurrence. He caught the boy with the purse. His companion darted away and disappeared.

  The young man came towards me, dragging the boy with him.

  He smiled at me. He was young … not much older than I, I guessed. He had light blue eyes and fair hair with a reddish tint; he looked clean and healthy, which struck me as it was such a contrast to the boy he was dragging with him. He smiled; he had very white teeth.

  “He has taken your purse, I believe,” he said.

  “Yes. I was going to give him some money.”

  The boy let out a stream of words, some of which I understood. He was terrified.

  “Give the lady her purse,” commanded the young man.

  Meekly the boy did so.

  “Why did you do it?” I said. “I would have given you something.”

  He did not answer.

  “Poor little devil,” said the young man.

  “Yes,” I said. And to the boy: “You shouldn’t steal, you know. You’ll get into trouble. My mother gave me this purse. It would have hurt me to lose it and it wouldn’t have been worth much to you.”

  The boy stared at me. He was beginning to realise that I was not going to be harsh. I saw hope flicker in his eyes. Poor child, I thought.

  I said: “You’re hungry, are you?”

  He nodded.

  I took all the money in the purse and gave it to him. “Don’t steal again,” I said. “You could get caught and someone might not let you go. You know what that would mean, don’t you?”

  He nodded again.

  “Let him go,” I said to the young man.

  He lifted his shoulders and smiled at me. Then he released the boy, who darted off.

  “So,” said the young man. “You’ve let a thief loose among the people of Edinburgh. It’s only just postponed his stay in jail, you know.”

  “At least I shall not be responsible for it.”

  “Does it matter who is? He’ll be there, sure enough.”

  “Perhaps he’s learned his lesson. He was hungry, poor child. I felt so desperately sorry for them.”

  “But … may I ask what a young lady like you is doing in this part of the city?”

  “Exploring. I’ve lived in Edinburgh all my life and I have never seen this part before.”

  “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I’m James North … known as Jamie.”

  “I’m Davina Glentyre.”

  “Should I escort you back to a more salubrious part of the town?”

  “I wish you would. I’m lost.”

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Please do.”

  “If I were you I would not venture into these parts alone again.”

  “I shall certainly be more careful in future.”

  “Then our young vagrant has done some good in his criminal life.”

  “Do you live in Edinburgh?”

  “I have rooms. I’m at the University.”

  “A student?”

  “Yes.”

  “How interesting. What do you study?”

  “Law. But at the moment I’m doing a thesis on this city. I find it the most fascinating project I have ever undertaken.”

  “Were you researching in the wynds when you rescued me?”

  “Yes. I want to see all aspects of the city—its glories and its horrors. This place reeks of history. You can feel it everywhere you go.”

  “Is that why it is called Old Reekie?”

  He laughed.

  “Why did they?” I asked.

  “I am not sure. Perhaps it is because it is set on a hill. It may have started when someone saw the city from a distance with the smoke from chimneys rising over the buildings. That’s the sort of thing I probe for. I want to recreate not only the city as it is today but as it was throughout its history.”

  “That must be exciting work. I’m only just starting to know it.”

  “Yet you say you have lived here all your life.”

  We had come to the end of the narrow streets.

  “You know where you are now,” he said.

  I was disappointed because I thought he was implying that now he had safely delivered me, he was going to say goodbye.

  “It was very kind of you to come to my rescue,” I said.

  “Oh aye,” he replied with a laugh. “I did not exactly have to face a fire-breathing dragon, you know. You could hardly call it a rescue.”

  “I should have hated to lose my purse.”

  “Because your mother gave it to you. And she is dead now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  We had come to the gardens. “If you are not in a hurry …” he began.

  “I’m not in a hurry,” I replied eagerly.

  “Shall we sit down for a while?”

  “I’d like that.”

  So we sat and talked and an hour slipped by. It was the most stimulating hour I had spent for a long time.

  I learned that his father was a minister and he had lived all his life in the manse north of Edinburgh—a small place which I had never heard of before—Everloch. Great sacrifices had been made to send
him to the University and he was determined to make a success and repay his parents for all they had done for him.

  I liked him more every moment. It was so pleasant to talk to someone near one’s own age. I told him about my mother’s death and what a shock it had been. “I had had a governess who was a great friend of mine, but she … left. And now my father has married again.”

  “And you are not happy about that?”

  “I don’t know. It all happened so quickly.”

  “And your stepmother …”

  “She is rather … different. As a matter of fact she came as my governess.”

  “I see. And your father fell in love with her. I expect he was lonely after your mother died.”

  “I don’t know. There are some people one doesn’t understand very well. Whereas this morning I hadn’t met you and now I feel I know quite a lot about you … much more than I do about Zillah Grey.”

  “Zillah Grey?”

  “She is the governess … my stepmother now.”

  He said: “I suppose it all happened so quickly that you are not used to it yet. I think it can be quite a shock when a parent remarries … particularly if you have been close to the one who has departed.”

  “Yes, that is so. You see, if my old governess were there …”

  “The one who left. Why did she go?”

  I stammered: “She … er … she just had to.”

  “I see … her family or something, I suppose …”

  I was silent and he went on: “Well, it is not as though you are a child. You’ll make your own life.”

  “They are going to be away for three weeks,” I said. “One of them has already gone.”

  “I expect it will work out all right. These things usually do.”

  “Do they?”

  “Yes, if you let them.”

  “That’s a comforting philosophy. I’m glad we talked.”

  “Yes, so am I.”

  “Do you have a lot of spare time?”

  “For a week or so, yes. It’s a break now. I could go home, but it’s cheaper to stay here. I’m just exploring … making notes, you see … and writing it all up in the evenings.”

  “What an interesting life you must have.”

  “It has its moments.” He smiled and added, “Like today.” He turned to me suddenly. “You’ve got an interest in the city … exploring the wynds, seeing parts you have never seen before. I’m doing the same. Is it possible … ?”

  I looked at him eagerly, questioningly.

  “Well,” he went on, “if you have no objection … and when it fits in with your arrangements … I don’t see why we shouldn’t do a little exploring together.”

  “Oh,” I cried, “I should love that.”

  “Well then. It’s settled. When is your best time?”

  “This, I think.”

  “Of course, there are some places to which I should hesitate to take you.”

  “It would be better for two to go to those places than one.”

  “Well, for all those that are not safe there are dozens that are.”

  “Let’s go to those places together.”

  “It’s a promise.”

  “Where shall we meet?”

  “Here on this seat.”

  “Tomorrow morning?”

  “Ten o’clock. Is that too early?”

  “That would suit me very well.”

  “Well, that’s settled.”

  I thought it better if he did not escort me right to the house. It would be difficult to explain who he was if I were seen by the Kirkwells or any of the servants and, of course, they would start to speculate.

  It had been a pleasant morning, the most enjoyable for a long time. I wondered what my father would think if he knew I had talked with a stranger and, moreover, arranged to meet him the following day.

  I simply do not care, I told myself.

  GETTING TO KNOW JAMIE—we had become Jamie and Davina to each other very quickly—was a wonderful and stimulating experience. The morning after our first meeting we met again and it became a custom.

  There was so much to talk about. He had made me see the manse and his younger brother Alex, who was going into the ministry, his father and mother, the aunts and cousins all living close by, the family reunions. It seemed a very jolly life, quite different from mine.

  And then there was Edinburgh which came to mean something special to me, probably because of Jamie.

  He loved every stone of the place, and memories of those days when we explored the place together will always be with me. I lived through them with an intensity, for I knew they could not last. When my father returned with Zillah there would be enquiries. They could hardly be shocked because I had strayed a little from conventional behaviour. I felt that if this were suggested I should not be able to restrain my anger and I might let him know that I was aware that he had not always kept rigorously to the paths of virtue. But then, of course, I was not facing him.

  I shall never forget the banner floating over the castle … the wonderful view we had of the Pentland Hills when the air was clear. I shall always remember strolling along the Royal Mile from the castle to Holyrood House. The cathedral, the house where John Knox had lived. How I hated that man! I could grow angry to think of his thundering abuse at the Queen. Was he such a good man? I wondered. What secret vice had he? I was suspicious of all men who boasted of their virtues. Jamie was amused by the way in which I fulminated against John Knox.

  Jamie was entranced by the past. He knew so much more about it than I did. It was wonderful to have my eyes opened by such an exciting companion.

  He made me see Bonnie Dundee with his dragoons riding behind him; Queen Mary fresh from the splendour of the French court coming to dour Scotland; those Covenanters who had died there in the Grass Market for what they believed; he told me stories of the fabulous thief Deacon Brodie and Burke and Hare, the body snatchers.

  Then my father, with Zillah, returned from Italy. They looked sleek and satisfied. They were affable to everyone. Zillah was excited in a rather childlike way, but I felt in my heart that there was really nothing childlike about her. My father was indulgent, as besotted by her as ever.

  She had brought presents for everyone: a blouse from Paris for Mrs. Kirkwell, for they had stopped there on the way home, a statuette for Mr. Kirkwell and embroidered handkerchiefs for the others. They were all delighted and I thought, she certainly knows how to please people.

  For me there were clothes. “My dear, dear Davina, I know your size and exactly what suits you. I spent hours choosing, didn’t I, dear?”

  My father nodded with an expression of mock exasperation which made her laugh.

  “We’re going to try them on at once,” she announced. “I can’t wait.”

  And there we were in my room while she fitted the dress on me, the coat, the skirt, the blouses—one frilly, the other plainish but stylish. She stood back admiring.

  “They do something for you, Davina. They really do. You’re quite good-looking, you know.”

  I said: “It was good of you to remember everyone. The servants are delighted.”

  She grimaced. “A little bit of bribery. I sensed disapproval before.” She laughed and the pretence dropped from her. “Governess marries the master of the house! I mean to say … a little bit of a disturbance in the servants’ quarters, eh?”

  I found myself laughing with her.

  Perhaps, I thought, it is going to be all right after all.

  I was right when I thought the gifts from Paris would have a good effect. The servants were almost reconciled now.

  I heard Mrs. Kirkwell remark: “Like a pair of turtledoves, they are. Well, there’s no harm in that and she’s not the interfering sort.”

  My thoughts were, of course, with Jamie. It was difficult now to slip out of the house without saying where I was going. We had to get messages to each other which was not easy.

  I was always afraid that a note from him might co
me to me at an awkward moment, when my father was present. Fate was perverse and it could happen. I could imagine Kirkwell coming in with it on one of the silver salvers. “A young man left this for you, Miss Davina.” A young man! Suspicions would be aroused. It was easier for me to drop a note into Jamie’s lodgings.

  However, we did manage to meet, though it was not the same as it had been in those idyllic weeks.

  It was always a joy to see his face light up when I arrived. He would get up and run towards me, taking my hands and looking into my face. And I felt a great exhilaration.

  We talked endlessly during those mornings, but I always had to watch the time, which I was sure passed more quickly than it had before.

  I believe Zillah was aware that I harboured some secret. I called her Zillah now. She had been Miss Grey in my thoughts, but I could not call her that now. In any case, she was no longer Miss Grey.

  “You must call me Zillah,” she said. “I refuse to be called Stepmama.” She appealed to my father. “That would be quite ridiculous, wouldn’t it, darling?”

  “Quite ridiculous,” he agreed.

  And so she had become Zillah.

  She was given to those coy moods, especially when my father was present; but I was always aware of the sharpness beneath them. She was as shrewd and watchful as she had been on the day of her arrival.

  I knew there was something not quite natural about her; she had been an actress—well, a kind of actress, if one could call the Jolly Red Heads that. In any case, she would know how to play a part. It seemed to me that she was playing a part now.

  She fussed over my father, giving the impression that she was worried about his health.

  “Now you must not overtire yourself, dearest. That journey was quite exhausting.”

  He shrugged off her cosseting, but he liked it. She continued to play the ingenue when I was certain that a very mature woman lurked beneath.

  One day Jamie and I arranged to meet on our seat in the gardens. When he saw me he came hurrying towards me as usual, his face alight with pleasure.

  He took my hands. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come … that something might prevent it.”