Luckenbooth
Chapters (37)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Part I
- Jessie MacRae (21) the arrival
- Flora (33) the drag ball
- Levi (31) the bone library
- Jessie MacRae (21) the second day
- Flora (33) After – everyone arrives
- Levi (32) the four horsemen of the apocalypse
- Jessie MacRae (24) the conclusion
- Flora (33) It’s not my cage
- Levi (32) fear fir the mermaid
- Part II
- Ivy Proudfoot (17) the night witches
- Agnes Campbell (63) the fraudulent mediums act
- William Burroughs (49) the basement
- Ivy Proudfoot (17) cupid’s corner
- Agnes Campbell (63) the sisters
- William Burroughs (49) take me to your word maker so I can plead for my pitiful life
- Ivy Proudfoot (17) the palais
- Agnes Campbell (63) the devil’s daughter, her lover and the child
- William Burroughs (49) this building is a psychic vampire
- Part III
- Queen Bee (21) the red room
- Ivor (37) deathwatch beetles
- Dot (27) the death of all the secrets
- Queen Bee (21) triads vs rebels
- Ivor (37) after all these years
- Dot (27) the long walk home
- Queen Bee (21) Santa baby, please put a sable under the tree, for me
- Ivor (37) ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
- Dot (27) i’m going to leave this city one last time
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- Also by Jenni Fagan
Cover
One of the most stunning literary experiences I’ve had in years.”
—Irvine Welsh
Luckenbooth
“A gloriously trangressive novel”
—Ian Rankin
“Dazzlingly ambitious.”
—Douglas Stuart author of Shuggie Bain
Jenni Fagan
Title Page
Dedication
For Boo, & Dave Balfour
Epigraph
Edinburgh is a mad god’s dream.
Hugh MacDiarmid
Part I
1910
Flat 1F1
Jessie MacRae (21) the arrival
MY FATHER’S corpse stares out across the North Atlantic swells. Grey eyes. Eyelashes adorned with beads of rain. Tiny orbs to reflect our entire world. Primrose and squill dance at his feet. His body is rammed into a crevice. The shore is scattered with storm debris. Cargo boxes. Little green bottles with faded labels. Swollen pods of seaweed slip underfoot. It takes me an hour to get from our clifftop to the water’s edge. I have a blue glass bottle. It is tincture of iodine. Skull and crossbones on the front. I wash it out. Tell it my secrets. Stopper them. Lay it on the water. When I look back our beach has a long straight line – right down the middle – like the spine of a book.
It is where I dragged my coffin.
I use his oars.
Push the vessel he built for me – into waves. It is not the journey he foresaw me taking in it. My father built one for each of us from old church pews. Knocked them together outside the kitchen window, so my mother would see. She saw the world through those four square panes. Each season. Each sorrow. That night he made her sleep in hers. Then my brother took to his. I varnished mine ten times without any premonition. How buoyant such a thing can be! A light spray fans peaks of waves. I will not look back at him in his crevice. It had to be done like this! Hoick my skirt up. Wade into the sea. Pale bare thighs bloom red in the cold water. I kiss my mother’s cross. Set it onto the floor so there’s one holy thing between me and oblivion. The sea won’t take me. I am the devil’s daughter. Nobody wants responsibility for my immortal soul. My address cannot be – The Devil’s Daughter, North Sea. I’ll never knock at heaven’s door. Hell knows I could do far worse than take over. I dip the oars in. Pull away from the island. I watch the dark blue line of the horizon. A seal pops up. Black eyes. Long whiskers. He’d have me sire a seal child if I’d do him the favour of drowning.
On the first night I lay down in my coffin when the winds drop.
Easiest sleep of my life.