On the inside of her knee the black and red ladybird paused immune to Demeter’s charm.Demeter watched George who had now given up hope of pleasing his aunt that day and was picking at his fingers and flicking at a thread hanging off his shirt. The boy felt small and sturdy like a pony carrying coal. He risked a look at his Aunt but she was deeply entranced by her open bag and her dark head remained down.
She had promised nothing he reminded himself. Nothing he repeated to himself and sighed. He would be an outcast all day. A stranger to himself.
Time neglected his mood. He could wait all day for all she cared. But there was nothing he could do. He lacked Demeter’s power, her beauty.
A mouth-moth murmurred ‘gift’ in his ear. A scented veil of sweet vanilla, caramel, lost chocolate. Vetiver. It was Amy with a small ladybird and she gently encouraged it onto his bare arm. He tingled with the tiny feet touching his skin and the hint of mandarin as Amy gently inclined her arm against his.
‘Count the spots’ she whispered. Each spot is an adventure for you.
‘Or a love’ laughed another voice and there was Demeter swathed in light, scratching at the neck of Amy who purred like a cat and wrinkled her nose….
Lolita Lempicka you wicked woman…where are you wings…
and as if by magic, the black and red ladybird took flight…
