Tansy's face was twisted with concentration, her teeth bared in a grotesque parody of a smile.

"Fifteen seconds," Dame Margaret said in a bored voice. "I suggest that you make your move soon, Portia Harding."

"Arrrrrrrgh!" I bellowed, trying to twist my way out of Tansy's vicious grip. Part of my mind, the part that annoys me the most, pointed out with abstracted amusement the irony of being beaten up by an overweight, elderly lady after having earlier survived attacks by an extremely fit man.

"Ten seconds."

"Are you all right, Portia?" Sarah called.

"No…I…am…not…" I answered in between head bangings. "Gaaaarr!"

"Can't you just push her off you?" she asked. "It's just one old lady."

"This isn't an old lady; it's a big-time wrestler in disguise," I snarled, trying to pry Tansy's hands from my head.

"Five seconds."

"Well then…you're just going to have to persuade her to stop," Sarah said, quite unreasonably in my opinion. "Without striking her, of course. I do not condone physical abuse of the elderly."

"Granng!"

"And…cease."

In a twinkling, Tansy released me and hopped up, immediately straightening her shapeless wool skirt and blouse, the former of which had been somewhat rumpled during her attack on me. "What happened?" she asked, peering down at me.

"That's what I'd like to know," I answered a bit woozily. With slow, careful movements, I sat up, feeling the back of my head. There was a horribly tender spot, from which tendrils of pain snaked out and wrapped themselves around my brain. "I'm going to have a hell of a goose egg back there. What have I ever done to you that you'd attack me like that?"

"Why didn't you defend yourself?" Tansy asked, looking confused.

Sarah rushed over and helped me to my feet, her face red with anger. "You people are insane—insane! How dare you assault us! You may be elderly, but that does not give you the right to beat up whom soever you feel like!"