‘In the Ancient East there is a dragon … she is called China –

We are all descendants of the dragon.’

Ying Yue begins to sing; she has an oddly haunting, reedy, keening voice.

Ying Yue sings in Chinese. It is a traditional song which she only really knows because it has been reworked by the ridiculously handsome American-Chinese pop star/film star/environmental activist Wang Leehom. If Avigail or Charles could speak any Chinese they would hear:

In the Far East there is a river,

its name is the Yangtze River

In the Far East there is a river,

its name is the Yellow River

Although I’ve never seen the beauty of the Yangtze,

in my dreams I miraculously travel the Yangtze’s waters

Although I’ve never heard the strength of the Yellow River,

the rushing and surging waters are in my dreams …

‘YING YUUUUUUUUUUUE! ’Wang Shu suddenly bellows, slamming the fridge shut with a violent smack:

‘CAN’ YOU HEA’ I ON THE FUCKING PHONE?!’

5.

SORRY I’M LATE, BUT I DIDN’T WANT TO COME

As Ying Yue sings, Avigail (disarmed and horrified in equal measure) instantly forges a series of cultural connections. She remembers the Evil Eye and the lengths her bubbeh would go to in order to confound its wicked machinations …

The little red strings tied around their wrists.

Spitting three times (psi! psi! psi!) and hissing kinehore whenever she mentioned anything good happening (bragging was considered unwise – certainly unattractive – even dangerous).

Salt in the corners of the rooms in new houses or in the pockets of new clothes.

A safety pin pushed under a shirt collar before a long trip.

(Metal was always considered lucky because the Hebrew for iron – barzel – is an acronym of the names of the mothers of the Children of Israel:

Billhook

Rachel

Zilch

Leah …)

Windows always propped very slightly ajar so that evil spirits might make their escape.

Holy books always kept very firmly shut so that evil spirits mightn’t gain access.

The lucky number 18 – chai – the lowest emanation of Elohim.

Oh yes, sneezing; both as a grave omen and as a powerful indicator of a profound truth recently uttered.

It all comes flooding back.

Home.

Ouch.

How raw that word feels. How sharply this briefest of syllables cuts. Such a savage noun.

Avigail vaguely recalls being taught about how the world was created from the twenty-two Hebrew letters – in ten speeches by Elohim. Yes. Ten speeches which – altogether – combined to contain everything there is. All ramifications of things. Each possibility. Every iteration. So the world was born of words. These simple twenty-two letters; the humble building blocks of the universe.

Avigail also remembers the curious story of how the letters arrived in reverse order, Tav to Aleph with Bet – the second from first and therefore second from last – meaning Berachah (a blessing) demanding, perhaps vaingloriously, that he might be given the honour of creating the world (or starting the Torah – which was, in effect, the same thing). Elohim cordially agreed, but then the first/last letter, Aleph, stood aside, piqued, and refused to appear before Elohim because Bet has already won the greatest prize of all the letters. Elohim called Aleph forward, and, eventually (rather sullenly), he came. Elohim then told Aleph that he should not worry, because he, Aleph, would stand at the head of all the letters and that all unity would be found in him alone.