UNDERCOVER on the TITANIC (book 1)

Part 6 - Ask your father

Grandma dumped my underwear into the washing machine, turned it on and dragged me back to the apartment. 'Now,' she hissed, 'what were you doing in there with that . . . creature?'

'Nothing,' I replied indignantly. 'I just showed him how to use the machines.'

'Have you talked to him before?'

'No . . . Except, I saw him yesterday.  Just after the . . .'

Grandma stuck her face close to mine. 'After what?'

'The talking goose,' I finished weakly. Grandma emitted a grunt of distaste. 'That . . . creature came to our door this afternoon.' She did a credible impression of Kozak's weird accent. 'I am friend of Ziff. I demand to speak wiz 'im about ze Easter Bunny.' . . . WHAT'S GOING ON?'

'I don't know . . . honestly.'

She chewed her lip nervously before reaching a decision. 'Pack your things. We are leaving tomorrow.' 

I protested feebly. 'But Mom paid the rent to the end of October.' 

'We can't stay here with perverts running around,' she groused. 'And I have a job in Ottawa. If your mother had not married a penniless seismic-astrologer, I would not have this problem.'

'Grandma! Dad is a seismologist. He uses explosive charges to bounce signals off rock strata looking for oil and gas pools.'

She wasn't listening. 'So, eight months ago, your foolish father is in China looking for rock stars and then he disappears. Good riddance I'd say except that my dauntless daughter insists on trying to find him. Which means you are going to Ottawa! You can start at Silverwood School anytime. It's just down the street from the apartment.'

'You mean I have to live in that gloomy old house?' I asked. 'And that creepy old school, I'm sure it has dungeons . . . and fungus! I'm allergic to fungus.'

'Allergic? Your mother told me you suffered from social anxiety, not social allergy! Well, I don't care about your allergy. We didn't have such things when I was your age. I am going to rent a van first thing in the morning and we are leaving for Ottawa.'

I couldn't imagine Grandma being my age. I thought troglodytes were formed out of ancient rocks but maybe that was stalagmites. 

'Grandma . . .' I intended to ask if Mom had called from China but she cut me off angrily. 'I'm not your grandmother.'

I gaped at her, too astonished to speak. She was staring at me as if I were some kind of poisonous insect. 'My soft-hearted daughter didn't tell you? You're adopted. She married your father when you were a baby . . . and she's hardly seen him since. All she is, is a glorified babysitter. And, now she's dumped you on me.'

I was stunned. My mouth opened and shut but my throat was dry and it seemed like a long time before I could even think of anything to say. I was adopted!? 

My first reaction was denial. 'I don't believe you,' I croaked. She shrugged. 'I don't care what you believe. Your father is on the run. I don't want to know what he did but someone is looking for him and when they catch up with him the result will not be pleasant.'

I ground my teeth as I growled, 'Who . . . are my parents?'

'How should I know,' Grandma grunted contemptuously in a tone intended to discourage further enquiry. 'Ask your father.'

I was still shaking when I returned to the laundry room later, to collect my underwear. The only evidence of Kozak was one of his socks. It looked like it was made from leather but there were no seams and it was soft and stretchy. It clung to my hand like a second skin. I had never seen anything like it. I thought over what he had said. He had known who I was. Why had he come to the apartment? As a check on my sanity I pulled the five-dollar note from my pocket. The plastic seemed brand-new as if it was straight off the printing press. Grandma (I couldn't bring myself to call her Mrs Keele) insisted I finished packing before going to bed so it was nearly three o'clock in the morning before I was able to clean my teeth and curl up in my sleeping bag. 

Then I had a horrible thought. Mom had left two pots of my favourite chicken-aniseed stew in the freezer just in case I got tired of Grandma vegetarian cooking. Grandma was convinced meat was bad for my health. Had she thrown them in the compost bin? I waited until Grandma was brushing her teeth in the bathroom before I tiptoed to the kitchen. The two plastic pots were still in the freezer. I put them into our cooler, covered them with ice cubes and hid the cooler among the cardboard boxes stacked in the living room. I had a hard time sleeping. I kept dreaming about a goose telling Grandma, Kozak and Triple Oh that I was insane while I tried to convince them I was normal and then I woke up. 

Maybe I was insane or I was a foreign prince stolen at birth by the troglodytes. But why was Grandma so anxious to leave? Why wouldn't she let me talk to Triple Oh on the phone and why had she over-reacted about Kozak? Why hadn't Mom called from China yet?

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