The Crimson Blind |

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The Crimson Blind

It was a crisp blue morning of spring when I arrived on the doorstep of Mrs Annabel Jenkins, my first day in her employment. Naturally, I had committed to memory the number of her house, though I need hardly have bothered. In the row of terraced townhouses arcing around the crescent, her cascading window boxes were quite distinctive; a riot of red and purple blooms, burst wide and spilling their honeyed scent.

The chime of the doorbell melded with a peal of bright laughter from the pavement behind me. I turned as three young ladies strolled past, arm in gloved arm, the skirts of their dresses shushing on the dusty pavement. The one nearest glanced up at me from beneath the brim of her feathered hat; and as a carriage rolled by in the road behind, I fancied that I heard not the click of a horse’s hooves, but the beating of her heart, quick and steady. She smiled as I tipped my bowler. This was my world now, these my people, and I had learned how to live as one of them.

The door opened. The old housekeeper seemed to read my most recent thoughts, and was certainly resolved to correct them. I had encountered her before, at my interview.

‘Good morning, Mrs Conway,’ I said, removing my hat. ‘So nice to see you once again.’

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About iScot Magazine

iScot Magazine August 2018 issue is a colourful 124 page glossy magazine, choc full of the best crack from Scotland. Voted July 2018 as the best of the best World Cup of Magazines by Pocketmags readers. #MonTheIScot