Shadowplay

Mrs Hamilton waited until the room had emptied.

‘So,’ she frowned. ‘Settling in?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’

Anna titled her hip slightly, settling her posture. This had to be a precursor to something big. A well done for her efforts last night, maybe a performance review note in her file. Then perhaps an apology, or an explanation at least, of why Hamilton had not given her a fair reception. A girly chat about the hair-width tightrope linking femininity and power, a hidden warmth of mentorship creeping unsaid from behind those steely specs. But it would not be, she realised – ever- expressed in front of the boys.

Fair enough.

‘Good, good. Right, I’ve a wee job for you.’ Mrs Hamilton seemed to be rummaging for something under her desk. ‘I’ve to go to the swearing in ceremony next week up at Jackton. Another load of tender new sprogs for us to let loose on the public.’

And… what? Did she want Anna to accompany her, get a feel for the ceremony, the sort of duties she’d be expected to carry out when she became a divisional commander? Maybe Mrs Hamilton was one of these woman who was tougher on other females that she was on men, but only because she didn’t like to show favouritism. Yet, underneath those forbidding bosoms beat a heart of-
‘Aye,’ Her right shoulder was tilted low, her right hand hidden. Was she sorting her tights or something? ‘…so…’ rising back to upright, holding something bulky in her hand, ‘I’ll need my shoes bulled.’

Like they were a prize, Mrs Hamilton handed Anna a pair of black court shoes. Still warm inside from where her feet had been, their moist heat rising through Anna’s hand to her face, her head.

‘And you’re asking me, because…?’
‘You worked in Training for a while, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but -’

‘Well, you’ll know how to get a good shine on them. Just the toe caps mind – and use water. I don’t want you gobbing on them. And I’ll need them back as soon as. I’ve only got the one other pair, and they pinch like buggery.’

There was a smear on the window behind where Mrs Hamilton sat. Almost a handprint, enough mottled puckering of pressured cells to dot-dot-dash a thumb at least, and the pad of rounded palm-flesh. Did Mrs Hamilton stand there, watch the comings and goings in the yards below? Was she spying on her domain, or contemplating that big, final hurl?

Thank you very much go fuck yourself was jumbling all in the one breath, one person, one thought, and still this desperate desire to be approved of by the person whose hand had just proffered this stinking pair of shoes, which could have been dogshit or two fingers in a V. Was this a battle or the war or just mundane, to laugh at later? Anna didn’t know, just knew she could close her eyes and take the medicine for an illness she did not have. Or state her case with insolent eloquence, walk out proud and punctured, or…or…

Or be not Anna, but someone new.

‘Certainly ma’am.’ She secured the shoes under her arm. ‘We’ll have them so shiny you’ll be able to see your face in them.’

Hamilton blinked, a lazy frog meets fly blink, and nothing more was said.

---

Excerpt of The Twilight Time

Excerpt of After The Fire