60 Tuesday 3 March

As Jodie lay back on the bed in their cabin, sipping the glass of champagne the butler had brought her, she reflected on how it was all going with Rowley. So far so good. She knew enough about marriage laws to fend off a challenge from any of Rowley’s family, but she did not know the full size of his estate nor his inheritance planning. She’d walk away from this with a decent sum, a few million at the very least, she hoped. But not enough to buy a £50-million villa on Lake Como.

More than anything in the world, she longed to fly her parents to Italy, take them out on a boat on Lake Como, past all the fuck-off villas, past George Clooney’s, Richard Branson’s and all the others. Then they would see the most stunning villa of all, and she would tell the driver of the boat to go to the dock and tie up.

And she’d look at the strange expression on her parents’ faces.

And she’d say, ‘Welcome to my little holiday home!’

And Cassie, finally, would have said, ‘Wow!’

All thanks to a snake.

Well, some of it, for sure. Beautiful, beautiful snakes.

On her laptop she typed into her password-protected diary:

So just how different are we humans from snakes? Like, here’s an intriguing mathematical puzzle: Cows share twenty-five per cent of their genes with snakes. Humans share eighty per cent of their genes with cows. So we share about twenty per cent of ours with snakes.

I reckon that percentage is a lot higher in some people. There are some seriously reptilian people out there.

Snake charmers use a musical instrument called a Pungi. It’s a wind instrument made from a gourd with reed pipes. But snake charmers have removed either the fangs or the venom glands, and some sew the mouth shut. The charmer sits out of biting range because the snakes actually consider the charmer and the Pungi a threat.

It’s all a con.

You just have to turn to the Bible. Psalm 58, verses 3–5: ‘The wicked turn aside from birth; liars go astray as soon as they are born. Their venom is like that of a snake, like a deaf serpent that does not hear, that does not respond to the magicians, or to a skilled snake charmer.’

I can tell you another thing that snakes don’t like — I learned it from my late husband, Christopher Bentley, keeper of snakes and expert on poisonous creatures in general. And that is having their venom extracted.

It’s an incredible sensation! You hold the snake — in my case a saw-scaled viper — with your fingers, right behind its head, and press it down on a hard surface. I can tell you, it really does not like this. But if you keep the pressure up, in the right place, at the top of its neck, on the edge of a glass beaker, it spits its venom out. This is not a great way to make friends with a snake — but the reality is, none of us, ever, will become buddies with a creature that will only ever view you as one thing — lunch!

Kill or be killed. It’s the story of the animal kingdom. And of the human race. If you want to be a survivor you must, like me, follow in the path of Ka, who said, ‘Life is not a matter of chance... it’s a matter of choice.’

I made my choice. It’s all working out pretty well.

One important thing Jodie knew about snake venom was that it begins to break down soon after being extracted and loses its potency. The only way to preserve that potency is to freeze-dry it immediately.

Freeze-dried venom when rehydrated is almost as potent as a freshly delivered bite.

And she already had some in the minibar fridge.

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