by Iain Banks
I watched her drive for a while. Eventually I said, 'So, are you apostate too, Grandmother?'
'Hell,' Yolanda said, looking annoyed. 'I was never really part of your Order in the first place, Is. I just went along with it. Jerome was interested in trying to save his soul. I found Salvador… charismatic at first, then later I just got to know all the people at the farm, and then Alice married Christopher; that tied me in tight.' She glanced over at me again. 'Then you came along.' She shrugged, looked back at the road. 'I'd have taken you from them if I could, Is.' She looked at me again, and for the first time ever, I thought, she looked uncertain. 'If you hadn't been born the day you were… well, I might have been allowed to take you; they might have let me, after the fire. However.' She shrugged once more and concentrated on the road again.
I turned to watch the road unwind towards us, the traffic like little purposeful packets of metal, glass and rubber, containing their fragile cargoes of humanity.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
High Easter Offerance was beautiful that day; the breeze was warm, the air was clear and filled with the sound of fresh young leaves rustling; sunlight made each leaf a green mirror. We parked the car at the semicircle of pitted, weed-strewn tarmac in front of the rusted gates. Sophi's Morris was not there so I guessed she was at work. Yolanda and I walked down the curving drive, its crumbling, mossy surface a long carpet of shadow and restless, flickering light beneath the over-arching trees. My leather trousers squeaked. The long black jacket Yolanda had bought me felt light and elegant, especially over the silk shirt. The closer to the farm I got the more overdressed I felt, and the more contaminated by the Sybaritic antics of the previous night. I fingered the little black bead that was the head of the hat-pin Yolanda had given me years before and which I had remembered to remove from my old jacket and insert into the lapel of my new one (I had taken great delight in the fact that the police had not discovered it). I rubbed its smooth black head between my fingers like something talismanic. I briefly considered dirtying my jacket, but that would have been ridiculous. I was glad I'd kept my old boots, though I was starting to regret I'd cleaned both them and my old hat.
'Jeez; you make all your roads so narrow,' Yolanda said, stepping round a bramble bush that pushed itself out into the middle of the road.
'It's just overgrown,' I told her, shifting my kit-bag over my other shoulder. I felt a mix of emotions: elation at returning home and trepidation at the prospect of what Yolanda had hinted might be a frosty welcome.
'Yeah, but you do, anyway,' Yolanda insisted. 'Some of those roads up north… I mean, don't you like tarmacadam? I thought the Scots invented the damn stuff.'
The Woodbeans' house stood sentinel at the steep river bank, in front of the old iron bridge. I looked up at the quiet house, Yolanda stood shaking her head at the holes in the bridge's deck and the narrow pathway of odd assorted planks that led across it. Thirty feet below, the river swirled slowly.
'Hold my hand,' she said, putting her hand out behind her. I stepped forward and took her hand as she set one tentative foot on the first of the planks. 'Gettin' so you have to be Indiana fuckin' Jones just to git to your place…'
* * *
The drive left the trees and rose a little, heading between the wall of the apple orchard to the left and the lawn in front of the greenhouses to the right. A couple of the goats looked up from their tethered munching on the lawn to watch us approach. We saw the primary children, filing out of the greenhouse in an orderly fashion; one of them noticed Grandma Yolanda and me, and shouted. In a moment they had broken ranks and started running towards us. Brother Calum appeared at the end of the line of running children, looking at first concerned, then pleased, then concerned again.
Yolanda and I were surrounded by a small field of crop-headed children, all jabbering and smiling and raising up their arms to be lifted and held, while others pinched and stroked my leather trousers, and made ooing and ahing noises over my jacket and shirt. Calum stood by the open door of the greenhouse, waved once and nodded cautiously, then disappeared through the gateway into the farm courtyard. Yolanda and I followed, each holding hands with half a dozen children and trying to answer a whirlwind of questions.
We met Brother Pablo as we entered the courtyard, standing holding the bridle of Otie, the donkey, while sister Cassie brushed her. Several of the children left our sides to go and pat and stroke the donkey, which blinked placidly.
'Sister Isis,' Pablo said, lowering his eyes as he returned my Sign. Pablo is a couple of years younger than me, a tall, stooped, quietly spoken Spaniard who has been with us for a year. He usually had a smile for me, but not today, it seemed.
'Hi, Isis,' Sister Cassie said, nodding. She left the brush hanging in Otie's coat and let her hands rest on the heads of a couple of the children. 'Hey; you look… really elegant.'
'Thanks, Cassie,' I said, then introduced Yolanda and Pablo.
'We met, honey; last week,' Yolanda told me.
'Oh, yes; sorry,' I said, as more people appeared in the courtyard from the buildings; I waved and returned various greetings. Allan appeared from the mansion house and hurried through the crowd; Brother Calum exited shortly afterwards and followed him.
'Sister Yolanda, Sister Isis,' Allan said, smiling, and took our hands. 'Welcome back. Pablo; please take Sister Isis's bag and follow us.'
Yolanda, Allan, Pablo and I walked over to the mansion house; everybody else stayed outside. 'How are you, Sister Yolanda?' Allan asked as we climbed the steps. I looked at the poster advertising my cousin Morag's fictitious concert at the Royal Festival Hall.
'Felt better, felt worse,' Yolanda told him.
When we got to the landing between the Order office and Salvador's quarters, Allan hesitated, a finger tapping at his lips. 'Grandmother,' he said, smiling, 'Salvador said he was sorry he missed you the other day and he would love to see you now; would you like a chat?' He motioned towards Grandfather's quarters.
Yolanda put her head back a little and looked at my brother through narrowed eyes. 'You don't say.'
'Yes,' Allan said. He put one hand to the small of Yolanda's back. 'We'll just have a word with Isis; sort of a debriefing.' He nodded at the office doors. 'We'll just be in here.'
'Does-' I began, and had been about to say Doesn't Grandfather want to hear what I have to say? but Yolanda was there before me.
'Fine; I'll sit in,' she said.
'Oh?' Allan said, looking awkward. 'Well, I think Salvador's expecting you…'
'He's waited two years; he can wait another few minutes, I think.' Yolanda smiled narrowly.
'Well…' Allan began.
'Come on; faster we are, less time we keep him waiting,' my grandmother said, stepping towards the office doors. I saw Allan's jaw set in a tense line as we followed.
Sister Erin stood up from her desk as we entered the office. 'Sister Isis. Sister Yolanda.'
'Hello, Erin.'
'How ya doin'?'
'Thank you, Pablo,' Allan said, taking my bag from him and putting it down by the secretary's desk. Pablo nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
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, cal
m 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.
'I didn't take it,' I said. The note. I had lost the note. 'I didn't take it,' I repeated, shaking my head, feeling the blood leave my face as I looked from Erin to Allan and then to Yolanda. 'I was given it. It was in my bag. My kit-bag. I found it. In there. I found it. Really…'
I sat down again, my legs wobbly.
'Oh dear,' Allan said, running fingers through his hair.
Erin put her hand over her eyes, shaking her head. 'Isis, Isis,' she said, looking away.
'What is this stuff?' Yolanda said. 'This one of Salvador's holy ointments?'
'It's the holy ointment,' Allan said, sounding tired. He looked at Yolanda for a moment then gave a shrug. 'What it actually does…' he said awkwardly. '… I mean, it's very old… it's probably… The point is,' he said, leaning forward over the desk, 'Grandfather believes… he regards… he knows, in his own heart, that it is… effective.' Allan glanced at me. He hit his chest with his fist. 'In here, Salvador knows that it works. We respect that.' He glanced at me. 'We all respect that.'
'I didn't take it,' I said. 'It was in my bag. I found it. There was a note.'
'What?' Erin said. Allan just closed his eyes.
'A note,' I said. 'A note from Salvador.'
'A note?' Erin said. I could see the disbelief in her eyes, hear it in her voice.
'Yes,' I said. 'Well… it was signed with an "S".'
Allan and Erin exchanged looks. 'What did this note say?' Erin sighed.
'It just said, "In case you need it",'
I told them. 'Then an "S".'
They exchanged looks again. 'It did!' I said. 'I think. Something like that. I think those were the words… or it was, "Just in case, S." Something… something similar…'
'Do you have this note?' Erin asked.
I shook my head. 'No,' I admitted. 'No. It disappeared. I think the police-'
'Don't, Isis,' Erin said, shaking her head and walking away with her hand over her eyes again. 'Don't. Please don't do this. Don't make it worse…'
Allan muttered something and shook his head.
'But it's true!' I said, looking from Erin to Yolanda, who patted my hand.
'I know, I know, honey; I believe you.'
'Isis,' Erin said, coming back over to me and taking one of my hands in hers. 'I really think you'd be better off just admitting you took the-'
'Look,' Yolanda said, 'if she says she didn't take the goddamn ointment, she didn't, okay?'
'Sister Yolanda,-'
'And I ain't your goddamn sister.'
'Isis,' Erin said earnestly, turning from my grandmother to me and taking both my hands in hers. 'Don't do this. Your Grandfather's terribly upset. If you just confess-'
'What, are you fucking Catholics now?'
'Isis!' Erin said, ignoring my grandmother. I had looked at Yolanda and now Erin jerked my hands, turning me back to her. 'Isis; make a clean breast of it; just say you took it on impulse; say you thought it was something else; say you-'
'But none of that's true!' I protested. 'I found the vial in my bag, with a note tied to it. Well, not tied to it; it was a rubber band-'
'Isis!' Erin said, shaking me again. 'Stop! You're only digging yourself in deeper!'
'No I'm not! I'm telling the truth! I'm not going to lie!'
Erin threw my hands down and walked off to the smaller desk. She stood there, one of her hands up at her face, her shoulders shaking.
Yolanda patted my arm again. 'You just tell it like it is, kid. You just tell the truth and the hell with them all.'