In Elise’s three-way mirror – I see them both watching me at the door. My own horns grow long as my child wakes to suckle again. Sharp and curved they bend up toward the light. I feel them heavy and strong on my head. I dip to kiss my daughter and they glint. It will be some time before Mr Udnam tries to take her from me.

1928

Flat 2F2

Flora (33) After – everyone arrives

SHE SHOULD not be sitting at a party thinking of a dead polar bear. It could make her appear pensive. It will be bad for her cheekbones. Each knock at the door makes her jump. It’s not the police! It’s not a raid! They are not being dragged to the cells in their finery. If they were they’d be the most glamorous prison population in the country! It’s a risk. They all know it. They all come anyway. Such a beautiful thing! The courage to turn up. Everyone in here has it. Flora grabs a handful of peanuts. She has to eat. Alcohol meets truth. Not something to peddle before midnight. Her ex-lover is chatting to another woman. Why did he even want her here? Love is a cage. If there ever was a key, he swallowed it. Love as a trap. Love as a fox fur. Love as a riddle. Love as a contract killer. Love as a shadow. Love as benzocaine. Love as novocaine. Love as cocaine. Love as a light bulb flashing on and then off. Love as a hummingbird. Love as a leather glove. Love as a recurrent dream. There is nothing that can be done about it. Feelings are fucking hideous. Flora hates them. Just one more cocktail before she lays on the floor and weeps for eternity. She eats three pickles. That has to constitute a meal somewhere. She feels a tiny bit more able to keep drinking now without ripping off her clothes and screaming until the building falls down. No. 10 Luckenbooth Close has a melancholy that fits her psyche usually. None of it is apparent tonight. It shimmers with dancers and lovers and thinkers and friends. She can’t move for bumping into a writer, or actress, or comedian. Flora far prefers her local with her pal Jock. His most consistent earnings are from putting a six-inch nail up his nose for a pint. Jock hasnae paid for a drink since 1903. Her ex glances at her across the room. Despite the injuries accrued it appears she still has a heart and it is beating.

– Hi, mind if I join you?

– No, hello, I’m Flora, you don’t need to introduce yourself – you were just acting at the Theatre Royal, in Glasgow?

– Aye!

– I’ve seen you so many times, you’re amazing!

– Thank you, is that Nan?

The actor’s eyes flit around the room, he fluffs up his purple wig.

– I think so. I’ve never met her.