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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
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all 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
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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
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all 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& '
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