Whit

Yolanda and I sat in front of Allan's desk; he brought a chair over from beside the smaller desk.  Erin remained there, behind us. 'So, Isis,' Allan said, sitting back in his seat. 'How have you been?'

'I'm well,' I said, though in fact I still felt hung-over and was starting to wonder if I had a cold coming on. 'However, I have to report that my mission to find Sister Morag has not been successful.'

'Oh,' Allan said, looking sad.

I started to detail my journey, turning round once out of politeness to include Sister Erin in my audience, only to discover that she must have slipped out of the office.  I hesitated, then went on.  As I told Allan of my adventures - and he took notes, leaning forward over a pad on his desk - I realised that my kit-bag had vanished too; Allan had left it lying at the side of the other desk, but it wasn't there any more.

'A porn star?' Allan coughed, calm demeanour and voice cracking at once.

'Fusillada DeBauch,' I confirmed.

'Good grief.' He made a note. 'How do you spell that?'

I explained about my visits to Mr Leopold's office, La Mancha in Gittering, Clissold's Health Farm and Country Club, and my return to La Mancha.  Yolanda nodded now and again and grunted when I got to the bits that included her.  I left out falling through ceilings, attacks on racialists and visits to night clubs.

Unfortunately I couldn't easily evade being arrested or being seen on television.  I mentioned attempting to use the zhlonjiz to ask God what to do, and taking the cannabis cigarette for the same reason when the zhlonjiz didn't work.  Allan looked awkward, and stopped writing.

'Ah,' he said, looking pained. 'Yes, we heard from the Fossils about the zhlonjiz.  Why- ?' His voice cut off as his gaze flicked behind me, towards the door.

Yolanda glanced round, then swivelled in her seat.  She cleared her throat.

I turned round to see my Grandfather standing in the open doorway; Erin stood behind him.  Salvador was dressed in his usual white robes.  His face, surrounded with white hair, looked red.

'Grandfather…' I said, rising from my seat.  Yolanda turned round in hers but stayed sitting.  My Grandfather strode into the room straight up to me.  He did not return the Sign.  He held something small in his hand.  He leaned past me and slapped whatever it was on the desk in front of my seat.

'And what,' he hissed, 'is that?

I looked at the tiny piece of bakelite.  'The top of the zhlonjiz vial, Grandfather,' I said, perplexed. 'I'm sorry; it's all I got back from the police.  I used a little-'

My Grandfather slapped my cheek, banging my upper and lower teeth against each other.

I stared, shocked, into his furious, livid face.  My cheek burned, like some fleshly mirror of his rage.  I was aware of my grandmother standing quickly at my side, shouting something, but gradually the view narrowed down to my Grandfather's enraged face while everything else seemed to darken and evaporate away at the edges, until even the angry crimson of Salvador's face appeared to go grey, and the various voices I could hear dissolved into their own audible greyness, roaring incoherently like a waterfall.

I felt hands on my shoulders and then the firm wood of the seat beneath me.  I shook my head, feeling as if I was underwater and everything was happening very slowly.

'-the hell gives you the right- ?'

'-mine; my flesh and blood!'

'Salvador…'

'Yeah, she's mine too, so fuckin' what?'

'She doesn't belong to you!  She is ours! You don't understand what she's-'

'Ah, you always were a goddamn bully!'

'Grandmother, if you-'

'And you always were a bloody interferer, woman!  Look at the way you've got her dressed, like some city hoor!'

'Salvador…'

'What?  Hell, you got no right to talk about whores, you old fraud!'

'WHAT?'

'Grandmother, if you could please-'

'What did you- ?'

'Stop it!  Stop it stop it stop it!' I shouted, struggling to my feet and having to hold onto the front of the desk to stop myself falling.  I turned to Grandfather, involuntarily putting my hand to my cheek. 'Why did you do that?  What have I done?'

'By God!' Salvador bellowed.  'I'll-' He stepped forward, raising his hand, but Erin held it while Yolanda stepped in between us.

'What have I done?' I shouted, almost screaming.

Salvador roared and lunged forward, reaching and picking up the cap from the zhlonjiz jar. 'This is what you've done, ye stupid wee bitch!' He flourished the fragment of cap in my face, then threw it at my feet and pushed past me and Yolanda.  He stopped at the doors and pointed back at us. 'You've no right being here,' he told Yolanda.

'Well, fuck you,' Grandmother said in a reasonable voice.

'And you,' he said, pointing at me. 'You can dress properly and think about coming on your knees as a penitent, if you can find some excuse for your treachery!' He walked out.  I caught a glimpse of Sister Jess in the hall outside, then the door slammed shut, the noise echoing round the wood panelling of the room.

I turned to Yolanda, then Erin and then Allan, tears welling up in my eyes. 'What is all this?' I said, trying not to wail but failing.

Erin sighed, stooped and picked up the cap of the zhlonjiz vial.  She shook her head. 'Why did you do it, Isis?' she asked.

'What?' I said. 'Take the zhlonjiz?'

'Yes!' Erin said, tears in her eyes now.

'That's what it was there for!' I exclaimed. 'I thought that's what I was supposed to do with it!'

'Oh, Isis,' Allan said heavily, and sat down in his chair.

'Did you think you heard God tell you to?' Erin said, as though confused.

'No,' I said. 'It was my decision.'

'Then why?'  Erin implored.

'Because it seemed like the right thing to do.  What else was I supposed -?'

'But that wasn't up to you to decide!'

'Why not?  Who on earth could I ask?  Zeb?'

'Zeb?' Erin looked confused. 'No; your Grandfather, of course!'

'How was I supposed to ask him?' I yelled, simply not understanding what she was talking about.

'Hey,' Yolanda began.  'I think you two are-'

'What do you mean, how?' Erin shouted. 'To his face, of course!'

'I was in London; how could I- ?'

'London?' Erin said. 'What are you talking about?'

'I'm talking,' I said, slowing and trying to keep my temper, 'about taking the zhlonjiz in London.  How was I supposed to-?'

'Well I'm talking about taking it from here,' Erin said. 'How could you?  How could you just take it?  How could you steal it from us?'

'… ah,' I heard Allan say.

'Jeez,' Yolanda said, shaking her head and sitting on the edge of the desk.

'I-' I began, then stopped. 'What?' I asked. 'Steal?  What are you talking about?'

'Isis,' Erin said.  A wisp of greying brown hair had dissociated itself from her bun; she blew it away with the side of her mouth. 'What we all want to know,' she said, glancing at Allan, who nodded wearily, 'is why you took the zhlonjiz in the first place.'

I stared at her for a moment, and it was as though the floor beneath me tipped somehow; I thought the room itself, the mansion house and whole Community suddenly creaked and leaned to one side; my legs almost buckled and I had to hold onto the edge of the desk again.  I felt Grandma Yolanda's hand on my arm, steadying me.