Ultimate Justice

by Ultimate Justice (epub)

  “Nah, I ain’t done nothing. And they’re not exactly dangerous. They probably wouldn’t actually hurt us. But they would want to take us in just because they could. I mean out there on the bridge, it would have been easy for them.”

  “For our safety?”

  “Nah, they might say we were loitering with intent or something. They just pull young people in to get their parents to give them money to release them.”

  “But that’s kidnapping and extortion!”

  “Not if you’re the police. It’s expenses. They’re always after what they call a ‘recognition’.”

  “Couldn’t you report that to a lawyer?”

  “Only if you had a friendly one. Otherwise you’d just have to pay them over the odds too. They don’t want to keep you, but everyone knows they won’t let you go until they feel ‘compensated for their trouble’.”

  “So there’s no justice on your planet then?”

  “Oh. There’s justice. It’s just different for the rich and the powerful – those with connections have one sort, and the rest of us – well it depends on how much we can pay.”

  “And country singers? What’s it like for you?”

  “We’re part of the underground mostly. There’s kids I know who write protest songs. They see us as being against the authorities.”

  “Do you write all your own stuff?”

  “You have to really. You can’t go round nicking other peoples’. You can only sing that if you pay.”

  “Do people cover your stuff?”

  “Sometimes. They don’t pay nothing though. They might do a swap, but, generally, their songs are not what I like. I don’t hardly ever sing anyone else’s stuff.”

  “Will you play something for us? We can’t pay you though. We haven’t got any money.”

  “Maybe… what do you live on if you’ve got no money? You don’t sound poor.”

  “My mum and dad both work,” answered Kakko.

  “Mine too,” said Tam. “It’s just we don’t have any of your type of money on us.”

  “Where you come from, what about them without parents?”

  “The State pays. But there really aren’t many poor people on Joh. Some people don’t have parents but the State steps in and helps them with the taxes the rest of us pay. It seems to work OK,” replied Tam.

  Kakko continued, “On the planet where my dad comes from, Earth One, there are some very poor people. He says that millions and millions of kids never get to school at all. And in some places on the planet a girl is more likely to die giving birth than to finish primary school. In that place there are few schools and no hospitals. And it’s not so much better for the boys, Dad says.”

  “That ain’t fair.”

  “That’s what I said. Dad says that on this side of death, life isn’t fair. What is important is that we try and do something about it. The more people that try, the more progress we will make. But the problem is so big. And then some people don’t help themselves. They get something and then they spoil it by starting wars, or cheating… they don’t think of others.”

  “Like on our planet. Most of the money is in the hands of a small minority. To get anywhere you’ve got to get recognition, get connections.”

  “And that’s why you entered the talent competition.”

  “Yep. But to come bottom of everyone means I’ve mucked up any chance I had.”

  “But you’re at college. You could get another sort of job.”

  “Yes. But you won’t get anywhere in it if you haven’t got friends, connections – that’s what I keep telling you.”

  “You could meet a rich boy,” suggested Tam.

  Kakko squeezed his hand and thumped it on the grass.

  “Get lost! I want the recognition for myself! Besides the rich work that all out among themselves. If any of their boys dared look at me he’d get it in the neck… no, unless I have some status that can’t happen. I ain’t going to marry anyone for their money. I don’t want a creep who’s rich but got nothing else.”

  “How’d you mean?” asked Tam.

  “Well, if I had a boyfriend he’d be someone who wasn’t just out for an easy life. Someone with a passion for something; someone who wants to make the world better. You know, someone with real character.”

  “I know exactly,” said Kakko.

  “So I won’t find anyone because there ain’t many like that to find, that ain’t already spoken for. But I ain’t wasting my time looking for one. If he comes along fine, otherwise… well, I don’t suppose anything will work now – not now I’ve come bottom of the list… Anyhow, what’re we doing here?”

  “Waiting,” said Kakko. “To tell you the truth I don’t want to do anything but lay here for the moment. Something will turn up in God’s time.”

  “You really do believe in Him… Her, don’t you?”

  “Course. Tried once or twice doing things without Her. I am learning to wait for Her. When She’s in it, you know what you have to do. Otherwise best wait.”

  Tam smiled. Jack and Jalli would have been amazed, and delighted, to hear their daughter speaking like this about waiting.

  “She keeps you safe. She stops you getting hurt.”

  “No, not really. Sometimes perhaps, but mostly not. Mum and Dad got hurt bad. Things can still happen, but if they do, it won’t be your fault and God’s always picking you up. That’s what Mum says, and what Grandma always said even when she was dying.”

  “I ain’t dead then?”

  “No, Da’yelni, you’re not.”

  “I can’t be. I’m whacked. You can’t be whacked and dead… by the way, call me Dah. All my friends do.”

  Tam had already succumbed to sleep. Kakko lay still listening to the birds. Before long all three were fast asleep. It had been an exhausting few hours.

  ***

  Exactly how long they slept the three young people were not sure. They were woken, however, by the sound of voices. Kakko felt a sudden embarrassment. She thought of Goldilocks, but it seemed that no-one had seen them. A party of elderly people were making their way down a paved path towards a large building at the end of the garden. Some were on crutches, some used frames and a couple were in wheelchairs. There were younger ladies with them, all of whom seemed to be shouting.

  “Mrs Gillespie, are you sure you don’t need help?”

  “’Eh? What you say?”

  “Are you sure you don’t need help?” yelled a younger woman in her ear.

  “You don’t have to shout! I’ll tell you if I can’t manage.”

  “Good.”

  “What’s that? Speak up, can’t you? Don’t know why people have to mumble everything these days.”

  “Never mind… just keep going,” she shouted.

  “That’s what I am doing!” protested Mrs Gillespie.

  This group were followed by another. There was one man in a self-propelled wheelchair. It had three wheels and he seemed far too large for it. He proceeded down the path but the chair got out of control and one of the rear wheels ran off the edge of the path onto the grass. Then, slowly but surely, still clutching the handlebars, he went over sideways and fell onto the grass with the machine on its side.

  Tam was across the lawn in an instant with Kakko not far behind. They were too late to catch him but fortunately he didn’t seem to have hit the ground very hard. He lay there helpless, the machine tucked behind his large frame. Kakko gently took his hands that were still gripping the handlebars and Tam dragged the chair clear and upright. Then between them, Kakko and Tam lifted the gentleman into a sitting position.

  “Oh, Bert!” exclaimed one of the helpers rushing up, “I told you to wait! You hurt?”

  The man grunted a negative.

  “He should be able to take his weight on his feet,” declared the helper to Tam and Kakko. “Do you think you can get him up?” she said, looking at them hopefully. They each took a side.

  “One, two, three,” said Tam, and Bert was upright. “The chair,
” said Tam urgently.

  Dah was already dragging the chair to line up with Bert. The helper swung the seat out sideways and Bert took hold of the handlebars with his right hand and lowered himself. Dah put all her weight onto the other side of the chair to counterbalance it.

  “That’s it, steady the chair,” said the helper as she manhandled Bert’s right leg forwards onto the platform. Bert then dragged his left leg after it and sat squarely once more on the machine.

  “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would have done without you. You came just at the right time. A Godsend,” said the carer.

  “Yeah,” whispered Dah to Kakko, “so God doesn’t stop accidents. He just sends people to pick you up when you need it.”

  “That’s generally the way of it,” said Kakko.

  “It was Him… Her… who sent you to me,” affirmed Dah.

  One of the ladies came from the building and fussed over Bert as he navigated himself up the path. He seemed to have already forgotten the incident.

  “I am so glad you were around,” gushed the lady, who seemed to be in charge, “but I’m sorry you have had such an introduction.” Then she noticed Dah’s guitar case. “I see you have an instrument. I was wondering how we were going to manage for music – our keyboardist was taken sick yesterday. I hope you found us OK. Mrs Merton explained that you hadn’t been here before, but that you were keen to help us with our little party. My name’s Mrs Higgins.” She took each of their hands in turn. Kakko tried to explain that they weren’t from Mrs Merton.

  “I don’t think –” she began, but the lady kept going, seemingly without a breath.

  “You will find we are a happy bunch here. Our clients, we are supposed to call them – but I prefer to say, ‘our ladies and gentlemen’ – are all elderly; some of them live alone; I can’t imagine how they manage, they get ready mostly by themselves, they must start very early, although we have a few who have to be helped of course, like Bert here, can’t dress himself at all, always on the floor too; has had to have a side put on his bed; he has a man go to get him into bed and another gets him up every morning, this is about the only time he gets out – to our gatherings – and they say he’s exhausted at the end of it. Well, so am I and I can’t say how happy I am to see you. We need the help of young people and so glad you have music too… come on, what are we standing here for? Come inside. Is there anything you would like to ask?”

  “Yes,” replied Dah, “have you got a toilet?”

  “Oh, of course. How silly of me. You should have said right away. How have you got here? Oh, on foot. Of course you must be wanting to use our rest rooms. They’re new you know. Put in last year with a grant. Very proud of them. Never thought we would get it – all the paper work. Come in, come in. What are you waiting for?”

  Mrs Higgins led them into the entrance hall and pointed to doors at the end of a corridor. “On the right, belles first door, beaux the second. Should be everything in there you need, just –”

  Dah didn’t wait for Mrs Higgins to stop. Perhaps she might not have. She just headed for the door with the symbol of a person with long hair and a ball-gown. The other symbol had short hair, trousers and a bow tie.

  Kakko had been wondering how she was going to ask where they were in the universe without alarming anyone. And people were expected from Mrs Merton and she was anxious to tell Mrs Higgins or someone that they were not these people. However, right at this moment getting to the loo was the most immediate thing.

  As she dried her hands she thought she recognised the script on the hand-dryer attached to the wall. She recalled some of the stuff her nan read. It was English, she was sure of it. Perhaps they were on Earth One.

  While they were still in the ‘rest-rooms’ some people from Mrs Merton arrived. But they were welcomed with even more delight by Mrs Higgins. She was so pleased so many had come. These other young people had no idea how many were to be expected and just took the presence of Kakko, Tam and Dah in their stride. They were no more able to get many words in edgeways than anyone else. After a while Kakko and Tam decided that they were not going to get a chance to explain anything and they decided to just ‘go with the flow’ as usual. Mrs Higgins was fussing over everybody. She was clearly enjoying herself with so many people to talk to.

  “I bet she’s exhausted at the end of the day,” said Dah.

  “Probably has no one to talk to all week,” suggested Kakko.

  Dah went back into the garden and collected her guitar, but she decided to leave the skateboard outside. She propped it on its side against the hedge.

  Inside Mrs Higgins was calling everyone to order.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she struck a block with a gavel. She was enjoying herself. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our weekly gathering. Today is party time!” The helpers cheered. “And a special welcome to our newcomer, Mr Larry Williams, who has recently moved to New London to be near his daughter and their family. I believe you lived in Georgia, Mr Williams?”

  “Lived in Atlanta all my life,” shouted the old man. “An African-American like me can be free in these northern parts, can’t he?” he inquired with mock confidence.

  “No matter you’re black, Mr Williams. We’re all friends here. We’ll soon make you feel like a true Nutmegger like the rest of us … and welcome to our young people who have come to help us. They’ve already earned their supper looking after Bert even before he got through the door.”

  Some people looked at Bert but he didn’t seem to notice. Mrs Gillespie was fiddling with her hearing-aid. “Damn thing!” she said in a voice loud enough for anyone not deaf to hear. But again people just ignored her.

  “And one of them has brought along her guitar to get us all singing.” A little lady down the front clapped. “You like singing, Mrs Smith?”

  “Ye-es, I do.”

  Smith, thought Kakko. It is Earth then. New London? Hadn’t her nan talked about London? Even though she had never ever been to Earth One before, hearing her own name made her feel that she, somehow, belonged although all this was foreign to her. She wondered if she and this bright old lady who liked singing were somehow related. She would talk to her later if she got a chance.

  They did ‘birthdays’ and Mrs Higgins got all the young people to confess to their ages. Dah turned out to be nineteen. Kakko was relieved to find that she, herself, wasn’t quite the youngest – there was a young girl who admitted to being a ‘high-school sophomore’ whatever that meant, it did mean that she was a lot younger than Kakko – but otherwise they were all as old or older than her. She felt annoyed about this, but then, she told herself, it wasn’t age that counted, but experience. And as far as that went the experience represented in that room must have been huge. She was sat next to a lady who had just had her eighty-first birthday. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to be her. She didn’t want to. But the lady seemed content enough.

  After a few more preliminaries Dah was invited to the front.

  “I didn’t know I was going to sing for you today,” she began. “I’m afraid I don’t know any of the songs you know. I generally write my own.”

  “That’s wonderful,” declared Mrs Higgins, “teach us some of yours.”

  Dah tuned her guitar nervously, then struck a chord. She cleared her throat and said, “OK. This is about a boatman who has sailed a river boat up and down his river doing trade all his life.” She began to sing. The effect was wonderful. In this context, her rich, sweet tones were gripping. As she sang she saw every eye on her and she warmed even more into the song. As she got to the third repeat of the chorus, Mrs Smith began to join in. It didn’t seem to matter that no-one else did, she was enjoying herself. Kakko smiled. One day she would be an old lady by the name of Smith. She glanced at Tam. He was enthralled by Dah and her music. Kakko felt a twinge of something. Was it jealousy? It couldn’t be, could it? For all her natural confidence she hadn’t any of Dah’s gifts. Dah was talented and under-estimated herself. Kakko thoug
ht about herself, and wondered whether, in comparison, she was just an empty extrovert.

  At the conclusion of the song, there was loud applause. Tam applauded too. He turned to Kakko and whispered, “I wish I could sing like that! We really were meant to bring her here.” And then he put his arm around Kakko’s waist and she wondered how she could have doubted his devotion. Whatever he saw in her it was far more than any talent she might or might not have – his love did not depend on her being anything else than who she was. And the pang of jealousy brought home to her how much that devotion had become mutual.

  “That was beautiful, Dah,” said Mrs Higgins. “Have you any more?”

  Dah sang another song and, as she did so, she saw tears in some of the old folks’ eyes. As it finished there wasn’t immediate applause; rather there was a silent pause. And then Mrs Higgins started to clap loudly and soon the whole room was joining in.

  Mr Williams called out, “I see you come from the South, young lady. You may not be as black as me, but you’ve got a black soul. I haven’t heard anything quite like that for years. So commercial these days. You keep singing like that my girl! Don’t you ever let anyone tell you to stop!”

  Dah sniffed, “Thanks.”

  “It’s almost time to eat now, ladies and gentlemen, but Dah, we would all like another song before we go. Have you made a record?”

  “Nah,” said Dah, flattered and embarrassed.

  “You should… now folks, the food is coming to you.”

  The helpers collected food from the kitchen and distributed it among the tables. Kakko and Dah were given the task of taking round cups of tea, coffee and cans of cold soda. Larry Williams took Dah’s hand as she served their table and smiled at her. “What’s your name… I mean your last name?”

  “Lugos,” she said shyly.

  “That’s an unusual name.”

  “It isn’t where I come from.”

  “You don’t come from the South then?”

  “Nah. I ain’t from your country.”

  “You could a fooled me. You got black soul, girl. Mark my words. It’s in there somewhere.”