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One day I was mindin’ ma business wan jus oot o the blue this English toff appears. The geezer's aw “Allow me to introduce myself,” extollin the virtues o poverty, like he wad know anythin aboot thon. He is only a wee thing, ye ken me, a hand tall an invisible tae everyone else. Juist sittin thare on my shoulder, whisperin his thouchts tae me, as if I should be thankin him for the pleasure. Conceited bugger.
Thon'd be bad enough, but then along comes his mate, another tiddler in a top hat, also wi the gift o the gab, he’s aw smooth charm, at least he thinks he is. A'm no ane tae fall for a man's seductions, if ye ken whit A'm sayin. He's aw lovey-dovey for the angel, bickerin an carryin on like ane o’ the lads in the classroom, pullin the gurls pigtails cos he likes tae see thaim get flusterit.
Sae I dinnae have time for this carry on, a boardin house doesnae come for free an some o us werenae born wi a silver spoon i our gobs. Poor Wee Morag's got the hackin cough an she relies on me. I graft aw day, but bi the time we've given aw our savings tae the doctor for milkweed we’re broke again.
Doc did mention somethin interesting, a surgeon on the look out for anatomy specimens and be willin tae hand ower a great big wadge o cash. The thought gets the angel aw in a flap, long speeches back an forth wi his beau aboot morality an free will, I try ma best tae ignore thaim, but they are gettin on ma wick.
“I just thought I should warn you that digging up bodies, well, it's wrong!” As gin that’s a persuasive argument whan ye havenae eaten aw day. He can shove his morals up his arse.
“I am good.” Angel says all haughty-taughty. “You,” he gestures to his pal, “I'm afraid, are evil, but people get a choice. And here’s the good bit, the lower you start the more opportunities you have, Elspeth here has all the opportunities, because she's so poor.” The daft bugger sounds giddy wi joy.
“That's lunacy!” the dark ane argues. Is this their version of flirtin?
“No, that's ineffable”
“Oh juist fuckin fuck already an give the rest o us a break!” the demon looks confusit bi this, embarrassment spreadin across his face, the poor thing, I'm beginnin tae think he isnae such a rake afterall, the angel looks guilty.
Whan the grave gun goes aff the next evenin it’s like ma world has endit. A try tae be pragmatic, it happens, people die. But Wee Morag wis ma awthing, an it feels like i’m hollowit oot, juist a shell. Whan the surgeon is tight wi his payment the rage that has fillit the gap where ma heart wis begins tae overflow. A decide tae tak matters intae ma own hands, use a bit o thon free will they keep twitterin on aboot, and pinch a bottle o laudanum tae make up the difference.
They find me back at the mausoleum wi a glass an a couple o bottles. "Gin's faster, but wines fancier. We’ll toast her, then i’m gang.”
“Going? Where are you going?” the angel’s got his compassionate voice on, an I swear tae someone if we don’t get on wi this A'm gaun'ae lose it.
“To join Wee Morag.”
But the demon’s downit the bloody laudanum an ma plans are oot the windae. “No na, whit did ye dae thon for? You’ll kill yourself!”
Despite his supposed constitution of an ox he begins skippin around the space, betwattled and bleatin like a goat singin Flower o Scotland.
“Angel, angel, say something that convinces her that poverty’s ineffably wonderful, and life's worth living.” His words micht no be convincing, but his ninety guineas sure will be. An I vow tae be gud.
The twa o thaim are swaying as they go, the angel tryin tae hold up the demon, whose legs are buckling, they fall against each other and surely now’s whan they kiss? The way they’ve been lookin at eachother an their obvious history, these two mollies arenae foolin anyone. Giggling, they’ve endit up tanglit i each other’s arms, the demon seems tae have lost his topper an his dark specs have fallen doun his nose. The angel moves tae help reposition thaim an ends up cuppin his enemy’s face. Maybe I thought I’d lost ma heart an soul whan I lost ma Morag, but this is makin me reassess thon. As their lips touch I feel a quickenin o ma pulse an a flush o heat, it feels like the stars an moon are glowin brighter, the birds are warblin an chirupin as if they’ve been waitin for this too.
It’s rude tae stare, probably doesn’t fit anyone's definition o bein proper guid, but where I’m from, privacy is a privilege an these two have chosen tae carry on oot in the open, it’s no ma fault if I happen tae be nearby. I’m willin thaim on, it’s always been a secret delight o mine, watchin other couples, and I feel some responsibility for these two, I've been carryin thaim around wi me for long enough. I stay silent an sit myself doun for the show, thaim on a patch o grass, o tae the side from the graveyard, me wi ma now half drunk bottle o wine - waste no, want no - leanin back against a headstone.
They’ve shook aff their jackets an laid thaim oot on the grass, rollin aboot like a twa headit monster as they kiss an grope. In the brichtness I can see the angel is leadin the charge, his hand slippin under the demon’s trouser fastenings, I can only imagine whit he finds i thare. In fact as I slip ma own hand intae ma trousers I imagine the demon wi ma anatomy, the fat fingers o the angel strokin at his cunt, as I gasp in pleasure sae daes the demon. More lauchter an then the angel ducks his head between the demon's legs an disappears from sicht.
I flick ma finger ower ma sensitive swelling, it feels guid tae feel somethin other than sadness an anger. A see they are doun tae their birthday suits, they must have workit quickly, I only lookit away for the blink o an eye. Ma other hand sides ower ma bubbies, teasin a nipple, oh god it feels sae guid, once more I’m glad o ma clothes, havin niver been happy in a dress, but e'en more sae for the easy access it allows.
They are groanin an moaning, buckin against each other now an the sound pure rings oot on the still nicht air. Thon Mr McFell is a hell o a shagger, poundin intae the beant ower demon, ridin him like a champion jockey. As they collapse on tae the makeshift blankets I tip ower, is this divine ecstasy? It feels holy, tapping the coins in ma pocket and fellin the aftershocks in ma body, I feel blessit.