We were at the gate. 'Well, Uncle,' I said, holding the gate open for him.  He stood to one side to motion that Bernadette should go first.  She nodded and walked through.  I let Uncle Mo follow, then with an expression of innocent surprise on my face said, 'Sister Bernadette?'

She looked at me.  I looked back out at the road then back to her. 'What about the delivery van?'

She frowned. 'The- ?' She went crimson. 'Oh… I'll…' She looked back down the drive. 'It can… ah…"

'I know,' I said. 'I'll accompany Uncle Mo to the house; then, if you want, I'll come back and help you with the delivery.'

'Ah…' She shook her head in frustration. 'Oh, never mind it!' she said, and turned away.  When she looked back she was smiling desperately again.  Uncle Mo and I looked at each other and exchanged that momentary lifting of the eyebrows that is the face's equivalent of a shrug.  Somebody not quite knowing all the details of what was going on might have thought we were acknowledging that of the three of us there were only two half-decent liars and one total incompetent, and perhaps in a way that's just what we were doing.

'Let's both go, then,' I said.

'There you are.  I shall have a beauty on both arms,' Uncle Mo said, with some satisfaction.

'This is a surprise, Uncle Mo,' I said emphatically as we walked.

'Yes,' he said. 'Yes; but there you are; the moment has always been my spur!'

'I bet that delivery comes later, anyway,' Bernadette blurted. 'I'll go back and get it later.'

'Good idea, Sister.'

'Quite so.  There you are.'

And so with our various lies, we walked down the drive to the farm.  I told Uncle Mo the quick version of my travels and explained about the zhlonjiz.  I made an exception for him, despite the fact he was a man, by including the coy line about Grandfather becoming a little over-affectionate the previous night.  He gave a small frown, then looked surprised, then finally seemed to dismiss it with a slightly puzzled smile, as though we obviously had misunderstood each other.  Bernadette looked startled; she tripped on the drive's pitted surface, saving herself with the umbrella, which bent.

'I think your umbrella will have seen better days,' Uncle Mo said.  She looked disconsolately at it and nodded.

Uncle Mo took a half-bottle-sized hip flask from a coat pocket and took a long drink as we approached the Community buildings. 'Medicine,' he explained to us.

He took his bag from my hand as we entered the farm courtyard; Bernadette seemed to want to head for the mansion house at first, but changed her mind.  I saw her and Uncle Mo to the door of the kitchen, then wished him well.

'You're not coming in?' he asked, on the threshold.  I could smell cooking and hear a babble of talk turning to a chorus of loud and friendly Hellos.

I lowered my head and smiled sadly. 'I've… been asked not to,' I admitted.

Uncle Mo put his hand on my elbow and squeezed. 'You poor child,' he said, looking and sounding most serious.

'Not to worry, Uncle,' I said.  I brightened. 'Anyway; I'm sure there'll be a place free for you.  Have a good meal; I'll see you later.'

'I'll see what I can do, Isis,' he said, projecting quietly.

'Thank you,' I whispered.  I stepped back then turned and walked away.  I kept my head down for a few smaller, slower than normal steps, then brought it proudly up as my stride lengthened and I pulled my shoulders back.  How much of this little performance Uncle Mo was able to appreciate I really don't know, but I was reasonably pleased with it myself

I heard a door close and then the sound of footsteps behind me as I got to the gateway.  I looked back and saw Allan appear from the mansion house and hurry across the courtyard to the farm.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

'So, Isis, it seemed to me that, all things being as they are, and with your best interests to heart, you might wish to come with me to stay in Spayedthwaite, just for a while.  What do you think?'

'Hmm.' I crossed my legs and clasped my hands.  We were in the office again, Allan, Erin, Uncle Mo and I.  It was late, and the lamps were burning.  I had been called here from my room by Sister Bernadette.

'Obviously you might want to think about this,' Allan said. 'But if you did want to take up Uncle Mo's offer, well, you could always return at any time.  I'm sure we can stretch to a return ticket,' he smiled.

'Yes, I see,' I said.

I was only making the pretence of thinking about this.  I'd guessed why Uncle Mo was here, conjectured upon what might be suggested, thought about what I ought to do and so already knew what I was going to say.

'There is a friend of mine in Spayedthwaite who has a theatre,' Uncle Mo said.

'Really?' I said. 'A theatre?'

'Indeed; a theatre,' Uncle Mo said. 'Well, it became a cinema, later.'

'Ah.'

'Mostly it is used for the playing of bingo, nowadays.  Well, entirely, actually,' Uncle Mo admitted, but then brightened. 'However, it has an organ.  A very splendid one, I might say, which rises from the beneath of the screen.  I have heard that you are interested in playing the organ, Isis.'

I forbore to make any smart remarks about Morag, and just smiled and said, 'Hmm,' again.

Apparently thinking that he hadn't thrown enough organs into the battle to convince me to accompany him home, Uncle Mo snapped his fingers and hoisted his eyebrows dramatically. 'I have another friend, a colleague, who also has an organ, in his home!' he said.

'Really?' I asked.

'Yes; it is free-standing, and has two keyboards.'

'Two?  Good heavens.'

'Indeed.'

'Perhaps Isis would rather stay here,' Erin suggested, patting her bunned hair, as though a single filament would have dared stray.

'Well,' said Allan reasonably, 'yes, she could.  Of course.  Of course.' He tented his fingers, brought his forefingers up to his mouth and tapped them against his lips, nodding. 'Certainly.'

I had learned to appreciate the finer side of Allan's phrasing and body language many years before, and had rarely if ever heard him say No quite so decisively.  It suddenly struck me that my brother could probably say Hello with a note of finality.

'That is true,' he said, holding out one hand to Erin. 'On the other hand,' he said, holding his other hand out flat in balance. 'Salvador does seem… rather upset with Is.  To the point of not wanting to see her, sad to say,' he said, looking at me sympathetically. 'Now, with him staying in his quarters so much of the time, this need not be such a terrible obstacle, but obviously when he does want to do something like lead a meeting or come along to break bread with us, there is a problem, and we have to ask Is to stay away, and he's aware that we have asked her to stay away, and that… distresses him by itself.  Similarly, he may even feel slightly trapped, one might say, in his quarters, as he doesn't want to leave on the off chance he might bump into Is, and so that too keeps what's happened at the front of his mind a lot of the time… Obviously,' - another look at me - 'not a good thing.  So…' Allan tented his fingers again and studied the ceiling. '… So there does certainly exist an argument that the best thing to do would be for Isis to depart briefly and let Salvador relax a little, maybe get this whole sorry thing sorted out, certainly let him think and, let us be frank,' - he looked from Erin to me and back - 'let us work on him, so that perhaps we can, well, finally get this… sorted out,' he said and coughed, as though using the sound as a way of covering up the repetition.

'I see,' I said.

'And it would be a holiday, as well!' Uncle Mo put in.

'Well, of course,' I said, agreeably.

'Still,' Erin said. 'Sister Isis has only just come back from her travels.  Perhaps she is tired.' She smiled at me.