"I suppose so," said Martin uncertainly.
"So, just as the present is always better than the imagined future, why don't we stay with the safer reality of now?" suggested Emily. "It works for me ... when I remember to do it!"
"But I'm still scared," said Katie quietly.
"Of course you are, dear," said Joan, patting Katie's arm. "We're all scared at times when we think of the scary past or the scary future. Only the present is safe."
"So you think I should stop planning for what's inevitable?" asked Martin, shaking his head. "We just skip through the daisies thinking happy thoughts and ignore the bull that's charging us? Is that it? Sure doesn't work for me!"
"No Martin, that works for no one," said Arthur as he felt the peaceful presence again. "As the Arabs say, 'believe in God but tie your camel up'. We get our bodies to do what's necessary - tying up camels, getting away from bulls - but we keep our minds in peace, on the present moment, knowing we can never know what's to happen. Unexpected things happen. And Katie, are you still afraid, dear?"
"Yes Granddad," said Katie moving up towards him with Chloe closely following. "It's nice with you and Grandma but when you talk of bad things I get scared again."
"So, my dear, let's do a little exercise to shoo that scary feeling away, shall we?" suggested Arthur. Katie nodded. "Now, tell me, Katie, what colour is this scary thing?"
"Umm, it's sort of black and grey," said Katie, obviously concentrating hard.
"And what shape is it?" asked Arthur.
"I don't know ... ooh, it's round and prickly," said Katie.
"Does it make a noise or have a smell?" asked Arthur.
"It sounds sort of, like, squelchy," said Katie, smiling. "Smells a bit yucky too."
"And have you had this scary feeling before?" asked Arthur.
"Um, yes, when Daddy said Mummy wasn't living with us any more. I felt really scared," said Katie, looking at Martin with tears in her eyes. Martin's eyes responded in kind as he patted her head.
"Did it feel like you were alone in a scary world, no one to protect you?" asked Arthur.
"Yes Granddad ... I didn't know who would look after me," said Katie, with a shudder.
"And now you know you'll be looked after, don't you?" asked Arthur.
"Yes, I feel a bit safer now," said Katie.
"So, perhaps we can call this scary feeling the unsafe one," suggested Arthur.
"Yes, that's what it is, exactly!" said Katie, brightening visibly.
"So shall we give it away to someone who can take care of it ... have it gone forever?" asked Arthur.
"Who's that, Granddad," asked Katie, frowning.
"Aah, God, of course," said Arthur. "He takes all that nasty stuff and deals with it for us. Do you want to do that?"
"I've just done it!" said Katie cheerfully. "You gave me the idea and I did it and it's gone. God took it."
"And do you feel scared?" asked Arthur, feeling that sense of peace washing through him again.
"No, I'm good, Granddad," said Katie. "Do you want to try it Chloe?"
"I just did it coz I was scared when Daddy went away and my scary thing was like yours," said Chloe, smiling at her mother. "Now I feel better."
"And that, Martin, is what you can do when you want to let the fear go," said Joan cheerfully.
"Of course I want to let the fear go, if I have any," said Martin. "But the reality is that mine is adrenalin which keeps me alert and wired for trouble. It's what I need to keep us all safe."
"Just don't confuse bodily adrenalin with mental fear," said Arthur, softly. "Fear, like love, is a magnet to its own kind. If you feel it, you'll attract more fear - not just feelings but fearful events. Do you want those sort of events for your children?"
"Aah, shit Dad ... ooh, sorry, but this is all a bit much, don't you think - giving thoughts to God, not thinking of the future, stuff like that ..." said Martin. "I don't know, it's just not practical, is it?"
"Okay Martin, on a practical level, look at who are the most fearful people in the world, the most judgemental, and see how their lives are," said Arthur. "The evidence doesn't lie."
"Maybe they're fearful because events happen to them," said Martin, smiling triumphantly.
"And maybe it's the other way round," said Joan. "Besides, what's it cost to experiment a little - identify your fear, see where it comes from and give it to a higher power. Can't hurt to try it, can it?"
"Well, that's fine Mum, but what if you don't believe in it?" asked Martin. "It won't work anyway."
"The strange thing is that it works whether you believe it or not," said Martin. "God exists and believes in you whether you return the favour or not. Just like that chair that exists whether you believe it or not. Just do it. Just try it."
"Yeah, yeah, okay, maybe I'll give it a try some time," said Martin, straightening himself up. "But, in the meantime, what are we going to do about this situation ... dare I say it, Dad, but about your safety?"
"We've already done it, Dad," said Timothy, seriously.
There was a strong knock on the door and a security guard - a very large security guard - entered.
"Oh, excuse me for interrupting but my team has been engaged to protect this unit," said the guard, looking around and seeming to take in every detail of the room.
"This unit?" asked Martin as he sprang up as if set on fire.
"Yes sir, a Mr Bayly, Mr Arthur Bayly," said the guard, looking out the window and then stepping over to the bed. "I presume you are Mr Arthur Bayly?"
"Aah, yes, I am," said Arthur, smiling and shaking his head. "And who engaged you to look after this unit?"
"I was instructed to give you this to confirm my authenticity and authority," said the guard. He pulled a brown envelope from one of his many pockets and handed it to Arthur. Arthur held it uncertainly. "You may open it, sir, if you wish."
"Oh, oh, yes, of course," said Arthur, gently opening the brown envelope. Inside was another envelope - a white one with a wax seal on the back. The seal was of an eagle with wings outspread, looking down on a deer - strength and gentleness - that Arthur recognised from Lord Atkinson's mansion. Arthur looked at the impassive guard who nodded minimally. Arthur took this as a sign to break the seal and look inside, which he did. Lord Atkinson's letterhead, on heavy bond paper, looked noble ... regal, even. Arthur hesitated, afraid of damaging the expensive paper in any way. He looked up and seven pairs of eyes were looking back at him, expectantly. He unfolded the paper and read:
My Dear Mr Bayly,
I am dreadfully sorry to have got us both into this pickle and, while I do have considerable resources, few of them are of any use in saving our skins. My greatest resources are prayer and a belief that good will prevail. The next among them is enough funds to pay for your physical protection and I beseech you to take advantage of that. Please consider it my privilege and honour to help protect you as best I can. I pray you will avail yourself of this protection. I also pray you will not need it.
In order to authenticate this letter, I confirm that my wife and I told you about:
1. Bruce Cathie,
2. Robert Adams,
3. The above's free-energy machine, and
4. That I was the person who drove the van to your property in Croydon.
No one knows all of these facts but you, my wife and I.
I now ask that you destroy this letter and you may, with absolute surety, trust Timon (the messenger) with any message you wish to convey to me.
Timon is an experienced professional in the protection field and I urge you to heed his advice on any matters pertaining to your security - any matters, great and small.
As ever
Lord Atkinson
"For disposal, sir?" asked Timon, as Arthur handed the letter and envelopes back to him.
"Yes, Timon, yes please," said Arthur, feeling quite faint. Timon pulled out a lighter and burned the papers to a cinder. He then crushed the charred remains into powder and washed them down
the sink till no trace remained.
"Thank you, Timon, now meet my family - Martin ..." said Arthur.
"Yes, Martin," said Timon, interrupting. His eyes roamed round the room, looking at each person in turn. "And Joan, Katie, Timothy, Chloe and Emily, I understand. We have done our research and be assured only those on our approved list will be allowed near you, sir."
"Ah, well, that's good," said Arthur, feeling that loss-of-words syndrome creeping up on him again.
"So Dad, do you know who arranged this ... this guard ... Timon, is it?" asked Martin. Timon nodded and smiled faintly. Arthur nodded faintly. "So you'll be happy for us to leave you in his ... ah, care, will you, Dad?"
"Yes Martin, yes," said Arthur, suddenly looking forward to the grace of sleep.
"Arthur, dear, you're looking quite drained," said Joan, standing up and placing her palm gently on his forehead. "Would you like to rest? We can come back later if you like." Another weak smile was all he could manage, though he would have loved to show his family more appreciation for their love and support. They all said their subdued goodbyes and soon the room was empty but for two men - one with no energy and one with seeming limitless energy. Arthur slipped thankfully into sleep as he dreamily observed Timon checking all the room's apparatus. When he eventually found himself satisfied, he took one of the chairs to a far corner and waited, alert and calm. Arthur nodded off.
The Committee for Inaction
Wednesday, 14th March 2012, 8.30 a.m.
As the men came out, they stopped and observed the street waking up - faint sun powdering the trees and street corners, robins and sparrows chattering in the oaks and elms while shop and café owners opened their doors, swept their piece of street and put out their hoardings. A street sweeper with his cart mumbled to them as they wished him a cheery good morning while suited men and women strode past, pretending not to notice Hone's happy greeting to them all.
"They all bloody deaf and blind round here?" asked Hone, shaking his head.
"It's the English way, old chap," said Ahmed, exaggerating his English accent. "We don't talk to anyone we have not been formally introduced to. It worked when they took over my country 200 years ago and they think it still works now."
"Yeah, well, just bloody ignorant," said Hone, smiling at Ahmed. "So, you giving me a smoke, Angus, or do I have to wait to be introduced to it or something?"
"Och aye, sorry Hone," said Angus, getting his cigarettes and lighter out. "Just kinda' ... I dunno, trying to soak it all in, wondering if it's real."
"Yep, three days ago, there you were, living your usual Scottish life when a M?ori and a Pom lose their car and change it all," said John, patting Angus on the shoulder.
"Yeah, life turns on a dime, as the Yanks say," said Angus, wistfully as he lit his and Hone's cigarettes.
"So, you're Ahmed, aye?" asked Hone, holding out his hand. "Since no one else's gonna introduce us - just damned inconsiderate, don't you think old chap!"
"Yes, Ahmed Khan at your service, sir!" said Ahmed, shaking Hone's hand and laughing heartily. "My gosh, a good laugh does one good, doesn't it?"
"And where do you come from, Ahmed?" asked Hone.
"I live in Kensington," said Ahmed awkwardly.
"Yeah bro', but you weren't born here, I know that," said Hone. "You're a mountain man."
"Actually, you are right, I was born in Skardu in West Pakistan," said Ahmed with a look of relief, somehow. "I'm not used to being asked personal questions. Please excuse me."
"Personal? Hell bro', the first thing we want to know about someone is their mountain, their river and their tribe." said Hone. "That's the M?ori way. Aye, John?"
"You're right, Hone. My mountain is Wakapuni, my river is Awhea and my iwi, my tribe, is Ngati Kahungunu," said John with obvious pride.
"So you're from the Wairarapa, huh," said Hone. "My mountain is Ngongotaha, my river is Puarenga and part of me is from the tribe of Maxwell."
"Maxwell! That's Scottish!" exclaimed Angus, choking on his cigarette.
"Yeah, my tangata, my grandfather, came from some place in Scotland," said Hone. "Dumerline or something."
"Not Dunfermline?" asked Angus, recovering from his coughing fit.
"What, Dunfermline? Yeah, sounds like it," said Hone.
"Och aye man, that's where I come from!" said a wide-eyed Angus. "I just brought John and Belinda from there yesterday!"
"No shit bro'! Cor, so's we all mountain men!" said Hone, his cigarette suspended in mid-air while he absorbed the thought.
"Mountain men?" asked Ahmed with a smile. "By jove, I'd never thought of it like that."
"So chaps," said Hone, attempting his English accent again, as passers by continued to pretend the four didn't exist as they walked around them in an increasing stream. "How do four mountain men, from the four corners, end up meeting in this flat, little country, hey?"
"Maybe it's coincidence, maybe it's not," said John, seriously.
"Allah makes no mistakes, my friends," said Ahmed. "We are always where we're supposed to be."
"And what the hell have you two been smoking?" asked Angus, flicking ash off his cigarette.
"Well, Angus, why did our car get stolen in your town and not one of the many others we passed through?" asked John. "And how did you happen to be walking past the Fordyce's when I was asking them for help? Tell me that."
"It's just coincidence," said Angus, uncertainly.
"Well, if you think it's coincidence meeting me and then meeting another M?ori from your home town, then it's coincidence, I suppose," said John, smiling at Angus.
"There is no coincidence," said Ahmed seriously, looking at John meaningfully as John nodded back at him, smiling.
"But, ye ken, I do wonder about things," said Angus. "Ye see, I've tried all my life to get out of Dunfermline - ye know, see the world, do different things, but every time I tried to leave, something stopped me - met a woman, lost a woman, me da got sick, broke an arm, got a promotion, stuff like that. Then I give up, thinkin' I'm stuck there for life and whoosh! Here I am, talking to a bunch of foreigners in London town! So how's that work, aye?"
"As I said ..." said Ahmed.
"Yeah, yeah, no coincidence, right?" said Angus, interrupting as ground his cigarette butt into the pavement. "How DOES that happen, hey? Oh, you want another fag, Hone?"
"Thought you'd never ask, mate! N'I thought I was here to get our pounamu back and look what's happened!" said Hone, shaking his head and smiling. "Not what I had planned - bit like my whole life, really."
"So you think if we figure out what we're here for - really here for, nattering on this London town street - then we can figure it all out?" asked Angus to no one in particular as he handed Hone another cigarette. "I mean, how do ye know what yer Allah's got planned or what any of it's for? It's got me beat."
"No one knows, Angus, is my guess," said John. "A lot of people tell me they have the answer to life and they all end up wrong and then dead." All fell silent for a moment.
"Me Aunty Whina told me, time and again, to stop trying to work it out as it will just crack my brain," said Hone reminiscing, perhaps sadly. "She said forget all those big brain people with their big words and just do the best you can, each day. Just one day at a time."
"Och aye, that's what me sister told me when she visited last time," said Angus.
"That your sister, the one in the suit, upstairs?" asked Hone.
"Yeah, that's her, Mary," said Angus.
"Hmm, Mary, she's a wise one when she stops worrying about herself," said Hone. "Like the rest of us."
"So, we don't know the answers but we know the questions for today," said John as he stepped back to avoid a teenager on a skate board. "How do we find your pounamu, Hone, and how do we get our free-energy machines to the public and stop those against them giving us grief?"
"Yes, that sums it up, John," said Ahmed. "But what do we do now?"
"Nothing," said John.
"Nothing?" asked Ah
med.
"Nothing?" asked Angus.
"Nothing?" asked Hone.
"Nothing," said John. "Look at it logically. Angus only got what he wanted when he stopped trying. I've put everything into this free-energy technology and all I've got so far is trouble. Hone's put a lot into getting his pounamu back and all he's got is trouble and no smokes!"
"So we do nothing?" asked Angus. "That's your answer?"
"You tell me what else has worked, Angus," said John.
"Well, I dinna ken. It just isna' ..." said Angus, flicking at his cigarette.
"Just isn't what we usually do?" asked Ahmed, smiling indulgently at Angus, finishing his sentence for him.
"Well, no, you don't just go round doing nothing ..." said Angus frowning and scratching at his red hair.
"So it's best to go round doing something and round and round and round, despite nothing actually happening?" asked Ahmed. John and Hone chuckled.
"Yer, well, hell, I don't bloody know!" said Angus, sucking harder and harder on his cigarette.
"Look, sorry old chap," said Ahmed, his hand on Angus' shoulder. "We're not getting at you and we have no more answers than you have."
"He's right, Angus, we're all trying to get somewhere and the more we try, the further we are away from it, whatever it is," said John. "The only thing that's worked for any of us is what worked for you - giving up."
"Well, maybe we just take a day off - stop trying for a day and do nothing," mused Angus.
"Yeah bro', maybe that's the way," said Hone, shaking huis head. "I'm not giving up on our taonga, no way, can't give up, but maybe I just leave it for a day. Just hanging loose, full of juice."
"Look Hone, Mary's flat is a bit small for a korero, a talk, for us all and you smokers must need refuelling," said John. "Why don't you two get some more smokes, find a café with an outside smoking area and meet us back here? Ahmed can go get changed, I'll write a note for the superintendent and we'll get the others down and meet you here and we'll go for coffee, korero, cucumber sandwiches and cancer sticks."
The Last Stand Down Page 29
