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Summary
Cooper pointed towards the south eastern corner of the ruined chapel. “Mary Magdalene, as I’d mentioned. Come and see.”
There were flowers before the small shrine, several bunches, all wilted; four burnt down candles, a faded image of a young woman, hair loose, an alabaster ointment jar tipped in her hands, kneeling before nothing. An absence.
“She came to anoint him,” Cooper said, slowly, “and he wasn’t there.” His eyes hadn’t moved from the image. “Ointment. Oil. Same gesture, really.”
And then, still looking at the shrine, still perfectly conversational:
“He never did get to fuck you, did he.“
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Italy, August 1943. Cooper loses his filter, Paddy confronts his grief.
Series
- Part 2 of Feral
