The Island of Missing Trees(71)

Ada’s eyes narrowed. A part of her wanted to get up and run away. Another part was curious to see what would happen.

Meanwhile, the exorcist dipped the quill in the ink, scribbled a prayer seven times. He folded the paper and dropped it into the bowl before adding the salt and the rosemary. Pulling an amber rosary out of his pocket, he began to thumb the beads as he prayed, his voice rising and falling with each breath.

Ada stared into the water, now murky with swirling ink, and did her best to keep her gaze still, waiting for a sign, for a mystery to unravel. Nothing happened. The sound of the children playing upstairs, the click-clack of the rosary beads, the steady sibilant murmur in Arabic … It felt meaningless to be sitting here, hoping for a miracle. But more than that, it felt absurd. She closed her mouth, only too late. A loud, nervous chuckle escaped her throat.

The exorcist stopped. ‘No use. She can’t concentrate. The djinn won’t allow.’

Meryem inched closer to Ada. ‘Did you see anything?’

‘I saw a treasure chest,’ Ada whispered. ‘I know where the gold is buried. Let’s go!’

‘As I said, the djinn are clever,’ remarked the exorcist. ‘They are playing with her mind. They know they can rule over humans only if we fear them. That’s why they hide themselves.’

Ada thought about her father then, who always said that knowledge was the antidote to fear. Maybe the exorcist and the scientist could reach an agreement on this one issue.

‘We’ll have to try a different approach.’ The man beckoned to the girl in the corner. ‘Jamila, come here.’

He made the two girls sit on cushions opposite one another and dropped a shawl over both their heads, down to their shoulders. On each side, he set smouldering wood chips, soaked in perfumed oil, wafting a pungent smell of oud and musk.

Under the shawl, Ada studied the girl up close as though she were her own reflection in a distorted mirror. She recognized something of herself in Jamila, a trace of her own awkwardness. She could now see the physical resemblance between the exorcist and the girl. They were father and daughter. How had she missed it before? In another universe, they could have been born to each other’s families: the daughter of the scientist and the daughter of the exorcist. If she had, would she be a completely different person or would she still be the same?

Did Jamila also suffer from bouts of sadness and feelings of worthlessness, Ada wondered? Did subsequent generations ineluctably start where previous ones had given up, absorbing all of their disappointments and unfulfilled dreams? Was the present moment a mere continuation of the past, every word an afterword to what had already been said or left unsaid? Strangely, the thought was both comforting and unsettling, it took the burden off one’s shoulders. Maybe that was why people wanted to believe in destiny.

‘All right,’ said the exorcist, his voice more commanding now. ‘I’m speaking to you, creature of smokeless fire! Leave Ada alone! If you need a prey, take Jamila instead.’

‘What?’ said Ada. In one swift move, she pulled the shawl off her head, blinking. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Be quiet, child,’ said the exorcist. ‘Put the shawl back on. Just do as I say.’

‘But why did you say “take Jamila”?’

‘Because we want this djinni to come to Jamila. Because she knows how to deal with their kind.’

‘No way I’m agreeing to that. That’s not fair. Why should she have to deal with my problem?’

‘Don’t worry. Jamila has done this before. She’s well trained.’

Ada scrambled to her feet. ‘No, thank you. I’m keeping my djinni.’

‘It’s not your djinni,’ said the exorcist.

‘Well, whatever, I’m not letting you transfer my bad creature to your daughter just because we pay you money. I’m done here!’

As Ada stood up, waving the incense smoke away with a swish of her hand, she thought she caught in the other girl’s face the tiniest trace of a smile.

‘It is the djinni talking, don’t mind her,’ the exorcist said.

Meryem sighed. ‘I doubt it. It sounds like Ada to me.’



They still had to pay in full. Whether the djinni was exorcized or not, the fee was due.

Outside, a gentle rain fell, the kind that seemed harmless, too slight to wet anyone, though it always did. Puddles of water glistened on the pavements and the lights of passing cars reflected off the asphalt, momentarily making colours brighter, the world more liquid. The musty tang of fallen leaves hung in the air.

‘You cold?’ asked Meryem.

‘I’m fine,’ said Ada. ‘Sorry, I embarrassed you.’

‘Well, I should have known better. It didn’t go well that time I took your parents to a psychic either.’ Meryem pulled up her coat collar. Her face softened. ‘You know … for a moment, in that room, I thought I saw your mum in you. You were just like her.’

There was such tenderness in her aunt’s voice that Ada felt her heart constrict. No one had said this to her before. For the first time it occurred to her that her father might be seeing the same thing; every day, he might be witnessing in her gestures, in her speeches, in her anger and passion, reflections of her dead mother. If so, he must find it both heart-warming and heartbreaking.

‘Aunt Meryem, I don’t think I have a djinni hiding inside me.’