by Ana Salote
‘Molly my dear, we are a long way from that,’ said Dr Sandy.
‘I know, I know. But it will happen.’
Molly invited the waifs to take up their tale again. She sat by the hearth with her knees spread. Her face changed with each new episode. When Oy described the fall from the Akwon Molly hid her face in Dr Sandy’s sleeve. Alas described the hunt. Molly put her apron over her head. Dr Sandy asked about the Nondul ways of healing and about Linnet. He knew of the fungus that Oy called Lellick airyfluss. In Affland it was called Jill’s platter and was used to make a yellow dye. Dr Sandy had not heard of any healing properties.
Then the waifs wanted to know more about the court case. ‘Molly is ever hopeful,’ said Dr Sandy, ‘but we have to be realistic. Jeopardine is ahead so far. He has more bribing power and the smears against Molly are serious. If any of them stick, Molly could end up going to jail. I would rather she gave up the case now than take that risk.’
‘I don’t want to hear such talk,’ said Molly. ‘We’re going to win. Now why don’t you go and get your friend, Lil? You can bring her across the fields so no one will stare. It’s a small house but we’ll make room somehow.’
The waifs said that Lil wasn’t fond of company and would far rather sleep wedged in the haystack. They would go back and spend the night with her. Molly didn’t want to let them go but they promised to meet her early in the morning and they left with many squashings and kisses.
23 Different Tunes
In the morning Molly came to them laden with pancakes. She ripped the bags open and put them down on the bales, looking around her all the time. ‘They’re not my own – if they were you’d think you were eating the plate and not the food – I fetched them from the bakery first thing. Where’s your friend, the tall lady?’
‘Lil,’ called Gritty. ‘Come and meet Molly.’
Lil emerged from the interior of the haystack.
Molly bustled towards her. ‘Well,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’ve heard some very good things about you.’
Lil took a step back. ‘Never pay any mind to what others say. I don’t.’ She kept her hands firmly by her side. Her voice was flat.
‘Very wise,’ said Molly. ‘Speak as you find.’
‘And never use other people’s sayings. If it didn’t come fresh out of your own head you’re no better than an echo.’ Lil turned sideways as if to say the conversation is finished.
‘Well,’ said Molly. She turned to the waifs. ‘What’s wrong with you lot? Lost your appetites?’ Molly’s eye drifted to Lil’s knife-thin profile. ‘I hope you’ll have some, too, Miss Lil.’
‘I have my own food, thank you,’ said Lil, pulling some mats of moss from her pocket.
‘Very good. Very...’ Molly paused and watched as Lil filled her mouth with moss. Green fronds poked out between her lips, ‘...nice.’
Lil went back to her hiding place.
Molly sat on a bale. The waifs surrounded her and ate their pancakes while Molly filled in more of the legal details. It hardly mattered that Molly had the strongest case. What mattered was who could keep up with the legal fees and bribes for longest. That person was likely to be Jeopardine. He had sold off chunks of the Duldred estate to fund the case. His money would last for some time yet. Mrs Rutheday had spent all her factory pilferings and was touting for backers. Molly and Dr Sandy had begged, sold and borrowed. They had nothing left but a small house and Dr Sandy’s horse. Molly thought they could manage in an even smaller house. She didn’t know what else to do.
Gritty and Oy went to sit with Molly. They held an arm each. Gritty stroked and Oy patted.
‘You can’t do that, Molly,’ said Gritty. ‘If there’s no hope – and that’s how it looks – you’d better cut your losses and pull out.’
‘And leave the waifs working and starving just like before?’
‘If the courts aren’t for justice why do they even have them?’ said Gritty.
Molly shook her head. ‘First time I walked through the courthouse doors I was impressed. All that glossy wood and fancy plaster and bone chandeliers the size of my house. It smells steady and powerful. I thought a place like this must uphold what’s right. Then I see the statue. It’s Mammus, like the one at Duldred but four times as big. In its fat hand is a cowering bird. That bird is called Justice. Money can squeeze the life out of Justice and it does.’
Alas looked to where their bags were piled. ‘Then we must make some money. We picked up a few pretty bones on our travels and we’ve got some Nondul pearls left. We should get a good price in the markets.’
‘Bless you, it’s a start,’ said Molly. ‘I don’t sell enough cakes to keep Mr Maundry in cigars. Now we’ve hopes of funds perhaps he’ll try harder. In fact I’ll go and see him now.’ Molly gave them all a parting squash. ‘Say goodbye to Lil. I’m sorry she didn’t take to me.’
‘It’s not you,’ said Gritty. ‘She has moods.’
Molly left. Lil came out and watched her go, wide skirts trailing through the damp grass.
‘Why were you so cold to Molly?’ Gritty said.
‘It’s the spread of her,’ said Lil. ‘She holds nothing in. No kind of craic would fit her.’
‘That’s no crime.’
‘She spills over and throws heat. It makes me go the other way.’
‘Throws heat? She’s warm enough to make toast on but that’s a nice thing. Molly and Dr Sandy are the only friends we’ve got in Affland. Can’t you like her a little bit?’
‘I don’t say I can’t. I’ll have to get used to a song like that.’
‘What is Molly’s song like?’
‘There is a flanner word for it. It’s a word I haven’t heard in a long while; they’ve no use for it in Fellund. Her song is jolly. Jolly with mess.’
‘What sort of mess?’
‘Goo: jam and cream.’
‘Do you mean jolly or jelly?’
‘Both would suit.’
‘A song like a jolly jelly with jam and cream; yes, that’s Molly. She’s your opposite but if you give her a chance you’ll love her like we do.’
‘Love. What does that mean except pretending not to be selfish? I know you flanners; your outsides don’t match your insides.’
‘Have you ever even liked anyone, Lil?’
Lil picked something out of her teeth. ‘The moss here is disgusting.’
Gritty left her and went to sit on the bale with Oy. ‘I wish she’d soften up sometimes,’ said Gritty.
‘Then she wouldn’t be Lil,’ said Oy.
24 The Four Day Rule
The lawyers in the waif rights case grew steadily richer while their clients grew poorer. Baracula was doing especially well. Jula had added to the family wealth by marrying a jeweller. (Mrs Midden found this offensive yet fascinating. Jula ‘n’ jeweller wasn’t right as a rhyme, neither was it wrong.) Yet Baracula did not feel rich. How could he when Odol was vastly richer?
Odol’s bone hunters (Mrs Midden was pleased to call them his ossy posse) had uncovered a rabidus egg in the process of hatching and a bald mammoth with sink mouth. The mammoth was the talk of Crust and beyond. Its ribs left no room for a stomach. Digestion had taken place in the well of its jaw. Where the waste went was anyone’s guess.
The vaults of Odol’s bank extended so far underground there was concern that the building itself might collapse. Baracula hoped that it would. Envy drove him to work harder and longer and more crookedly than ever. He had milked Jeopardine dry. The other lawyers had done the same with their clients. It was time to move on.
Molly went to her appointment with Mr Maundry. As usual he set the timer on his desk, sat back in his chair and studied the ceiling.
Molly snapped. ‘You said you had news. Can you look for flies later and tell me what it is?’
‘Since money is getting low all round the other lawyers and I have agreed we should go to the four day rule.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘If someone is judged t
o have the best case on four consecutive days they win the case outright.’
Molly pondered. ‘What are the odds of doing that?’
‘How much money have you got?’
‘You’re blunt, Mr Maundry.’
‘Realistic. My advice is to scrape together every mariat and thumber you can, then we throw it all at bribing the jury.’
Molly shook her head. ‘Where’s the justice?’
‘In the shop window, dear lady. Justice can be bought like anything else in this land.’
Molly went home. She talked to her husband and the waifs. At last it was agreed that if the four day rule was their best chance the four day rule it must be.
The bribes were placed. The jury sat with bulging pockets. Mr Maundry won the first day. There were celebrations in Mint Street. Mr Baracula won the next to restart the count. He then went on to win day two and three. Some said he was using his own money for bribes to preserve his winning reputation.
Outside the court the ushers unhooked the ropes. They were dark blue signalling the fourth day. The lawyers were guaranteed to put on a show. The waifs joined the long queues for the public gallery. Molly and Dr Sandy were waved through by officials. Molly leant heavily on her husband. The strain on her face was clear.
The waifs squeezed in at the back of the court. When the room had settled the lawyers entered like celebrities. They stood before the judge for the daily swearing.
Mr Barracula was like a set of bowling balls in a suit. His head was one ball and his belly another. His black hair was combed from ear to ear and gummed in place. Mr Maundry wore brown pinstripes and braces. His eyebrows curled up to the middle of his forehead and down making a prison of his eyes. Mrs Rutheday had engaged Mr Langverbers. He was all voice box. It dominated his goosy neck and it never tired. His skill was to jam the legal process with words.
Mr Barracula was first to speak. His case rested on two points. One: Molly Midden was a bad lot, and two: the letter of confession by Jeopardine’s grandfather was a forgery.
He called his first witness. She came nose first. To the waifs she looked meaner and spikier than ever. Inch was sworn in.
‘Molly Midden is a trickster,’ she said.
‘Oobb...jection,’ said Mr Maundry. His obs were very long and his jections snatched like a sneeze. ‘Personal opinion.’
‘Sustained,’ said the judge.
‘Here we are then,’ said Inch. ‘Here’s the facts: Molly tricked the master with all kinds of fancy foods claiming she was the cook. She weren’t at all. It was a waif that did it. It was disgusting how she was with those waifs. She fed ’em, hugged ’em, treated ’em like real children, and all done on the quiet. Mrs Midden had no idea what she was up to. She plotted with Dr Sandy at the kitchen table. No hearsay, it came straight to these,’ she tugged her own long earlobes. ‘Then, what do you know? She’d always been cold to Sly; all of a sudden she switches. She uses her hips.’ – whispered disapproval around the court – ‘Next thing he’s asking her to marry him. She, who’s always treated him like plate scrapings, says yes. There’s worse: she gets one of the waifs, the one called Oy, to poison Mrs Midden.’ – intake of breath around the court – ‘He threw grave flowers in her food.’ Everyone turned to look at Mrs Midden. Mrs Midden looked tragic. ‘Molly Sandy is a bad lot and...’
Mr Maundry oobb...jected.
Barracula’s next witness was Jeopardine himself. Jeopardine had aged. His clothes were not quite fresh, not quite perfect. He stooped. His wife released his arm and gave him a push towards the stand.
Jeopardine complained that Dr Sandy had abused patient trust by sending him away for a treatment while he and Molly swapped the original letter for a forged one. When asked what was in the original letter Jeopardine grew confused and began to mumble. Mistress Jeopardine signalled to Barracula.
‘That will be all,’ said the lawyer.
The handwriting expert was called. She said there was clear evidence of a forgery. The ‘i’ in the real signature was dotted two hairs to the left. In the fake it was three hairs to the left. Molly Sandy dotted her ‘i’s three hairs to the left. Those who were paid to gasp, gasped. Those who were paid to snigger, sniggered.
Mr Langverbers recalled Inch. ‘You said you heard Dr Sandy and Molly Sandy plotting. Do you recall any specific plots? Did you for instance overhear a plot to kill Sly?’
‘Objection,’ said Barracula, ‘leading the witness.’
‘Sustained,’ said the judge.
Inch went on regardless. ‘Now I come to think of it that’s exactly what I did hear.’
‘Inadmissable,’ said the judge.
Mr Maundry called Larkin who said it was rumoured among the upservants that Inch was really Ynch with a Y. She was a Porian. Porians could not give evidence in Afflish courts.
‘Hearsay. Inadmissable.’
Mr Maundry then issued a challenge to the judge and jury. Could any of them reproduce their own signature three times so that it did not differ by one hair? They could not.
The judge called a recess. The jury conferred. The lawyers sneaked off to the rest rooms where their bought jury members passed them notes to tell them what was happening. Mr Maundry came back dismayed. He warned the Sandys and the waifs that Baracula was about to take the case. The jury were fixed at seven three in favour of Jeopardine. Mr Maundry needed a gimmick and quick. ‘What about Lil?’ said Oy.
Mr Maundry and Oy had a hasty conference with Lil. Lil was reluctant but she agreed to Oy’s strange request.
It was carnival time in Crust. Lil was able to walk around the streets in a cloak and everyone believed that she was a carnival character, two people concealed in one tall costume.
The judge was summing up prior to the verdict when Mr Maundry interrupted. With the judge’s permission he had one more point to make. He called Lil to the stand.
The judge raised his hand and stopped her. ‘Mr Maundry, why have you brought a carnival character into court? This is becoming ridiculous.’
‘Your honour there is a point, if you’ll allow me,’ said Mr Maundry.
‘Well bring it here, and unscrew the top. I want to see who’s talking.’
Mr Maundry beckoned. Lil walked forwards, holding her cloak about her. She stood before the jury. ‘Your honour, there is no top to unscrew,’ said Maundry. ‘This is not a carnival character; this is a real person.’ Lil removed her cloak. The spectators sniggered and made rude remarks. Mr Maundry waited for the noise to abate. ‘I’d like to invite the chairman of the jury to inspect for himself whether or not this person’s top unscrews.’
The chairman approached Lil. He put his hands on her ribs and attempted to twist. Lil was more wooden than wood. She chopped at his arm and glared. The chairman backed away.
‘Let’s see the legs,’ said another juror.
Lil looked supremely angry. She glanced into the crowd. Oy pressed his hands together in a silent plea; Gritty mouthed ‘please’. Lil sighed and raised her skirt.
‘The legs go all the way up,’ the chairman confirmed. ‘The top and bottom half are all of a piece.’
‘Fascinating,’ said the judge, ‘but this is not a circus. Your point Mr Maundry?’
‘My point is how far can we judge by appearances? If we clear our minds of expectations what do we really know to be true? Very little is the answer. I believe Mr Barracula’s case rests on appearances and not truth. I am calling for a review of all the evidence before the jury deliberates.’
‘Surely your honour is not persuaded by this gimmick,’ Barracula protested.
The judge cleared his throat. ‘No, I am not.’
‘You prefer to be persuaded by lies,’ said Lil, and no word had ever sounded more repulsive. ‘Lies come a’ slithering and a’ writhing, twisting your ear tubes, sitting sore and ugly in your head. How are your ears feeling today?’
The jury tilted their heads. One wiggled his finger in his ear as though he had a flea in it.
‘Truth!’ sa
id Lil, and the word rang through the courtroom. ‘Truth needs no gimmicks. Truth is a plain thing, easy to hear, keen and bright.’
The jury heard her and their faces were lit with visions of blinding sunlight on snowy wings, as it dawned on them that truth was a thing of beauty and right under their noses if they’d ever cared to look.
The judge depended on lies for his living. If truth took a hold in Affland, not just the courts but the whole rule of Mammus would collapse. He must act to stop this foolishness. ‘On reflection,’ he said, ‘I’m inclined to agree with Mr Maundry. We will break for seventeen days while the evidence is reviewed. And Sergeant, remove that alien from my court.’
The Sergeant took Lil’s arm but she shook him off and gave the judge a look that peeled him like a burrapple. ‘Out!’ The judge pointed at the door. Lil smirked and left.
25 Winners and Losers
Molly had seventeen days grace in which to find the funds to carry on the fight. She conferred with her husband and the waifs in her tiny parlour.
The waifs laid out all they had of value. The Nondul pearls were beautiful but small. The Afflish preferred large showy gems.
Dr Sandy went through their haul of bones. The skull would be graded as rare. It resembled the extinct Lacklish four-horn, though having four holes and just one horn would bring the price down.
‘There’s some pretty bits among the small stuff,’ said Molly. ‘Tell you what, I’ll get Hoby to have a look. He’s the son of Cousin Mair’s muckman. He’s just started at the auction house and he’s very ambitious. He wants to impress Mr Garratt so he’ll research your bones and make sure you get the best price for them.’
Alas emptied all the bones into one sack and Dr Sandy took them to the auction house.
Oy offered to make luxury cakes which should sell better than Molly’s dog biscuits.
Alas went to the docks and got hired. No one guessed he was a Porian. He was too tall and healthy.
