One of the more masculine nuns bobbed politely and took up station beside me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Don’t mention it,” replied Sister Henrietta in a deep voice.

“I’m impressed that the Sisterhood has embraced inclusivity regarding its adherents,” I said as we walked toward the main doors.

“What do you mean?” asked Mother Daisy.

“That you now count men among the Sisterhood.”

She stopped and looked around suspiciously. “You think there might be men present in our sanctuary?”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly realizing that it might be a secret, “just idle talk from Swindon, I suspect.”

“Hmm. Worth looking into. Sister Henrietta, would you conduct a gender check tomorrow? Nothing intrusive. Just find out if there is anyone who doesn’t know the name of Jennifer Grey’s character in Dirty Dancing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Sister Henrietta, staring daggers in my direction as soon as Mother Daisy looked away.

“And what news of Swindon?” asked Mother Daisy. “We have no radio, no TV, and only The Toad on Sunday once a month.”

“There’s a new roundabout in the Old Town, Acme Carpets is having another sale, SpecOps is to be reformed—oh, and part of the city is to be wiped from the earth by a cleansing fire on Friday.”

“An Acme Carpets sale?”

“Forty percent off everything, I heard—with free installation, but you have to pay for the underlay.”

“Worth a look. And a smiting, you say? What level?”

We were now at the reception desk in the lobby. She indicated the visitors’ book for me to sign. I noted that the last visitor had been admitted in 1974.

“A Level III,” I said, “to punish Joffy for his impertinence, we think. That is,” I added, “unless my daughter Tuesday can perfect her anti-smite device.”

Mother Daisy reached behind the counter and picked up a length of lead pipe that happened to be there. She made a swipe in my direction.

“A daughter that should have been mine, you scarlet Jezebel!!”

I was quicker this time and took a step back. Sister Henrietta was on the ball, too, and had Daisy around the waist and grappled to the floor in less than a second.

“The Sisterhood likes to scrap, don’t they?” said Finisterre as the pair of them wrestled on the ground, with Mother Daisy howling and scratching and biting while Sister Henrietta attempted to calm her down. She did calm, eventually, and once more apologized for her conduct and asked for my forgiveness.