Ultimate Justice

by Ultimate Justice (epub)

  “Now,” continued the councillor, “I have asked Jack Smith who has been teaching at a specialist school for over twenty years if he would tell us about his school. I know this school is not in Britain, but Jack grew up here and he is in an excellent position to explain how a school for the blind could work in Persham. Ladies and gentlemen, Jack Smith…”

  There was a rattle of applause as Jack rose to his feet. He felt for the rostrum. “Councillor Banks, ladies and gentlemen, I don’t know how many there are here this evening but the room smells quite full… I sense one of you is about to open a window.” The whole room turned to stare at a man at the back just in the process of reaching for a window catch. As the window swung open Jack heard the creak in the silence and continued, “I am blind, but when one is blind you learn to use other senses you take for granted if you can see. This is the point of a specialised school for blind children in their early years. They need to be taught how to use and hone those faculties of hearing, touch and smell which mainstream teaching often puts into secondary place. Five-year-olds can pick up Braille very quickly, for example, but it is much more than that. Children can be taught how to touch faces and how to sense danger and a multiple of other necessary skills. But perhaps the most important thing of all is for them to relate to children like themselves from a young age – ”

  “Cheat!” yelled someone from the back of the room. “Jack Smith you’re a cheat… and a liar.”

  The audience again turned; this time to look at a small man dressed in scruffy jeans and a dirty white T-shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jack. “Should I know you?”

  “Too damned right you should. My life has been shit because of your cheating, you arrogant prig!”

  Councillor Banks stood up but Jack motioned for him to sit back down.

  “It’s OK, councillor… explain,” Jack asked the man. Bandi watched his father, horrified but amazed at the way he was keeping his cool.

  “Sure, I’ll explain. When you were ten you cheated at the end of term tests. The daft teacher marked all the tests and then got us all to call out our marks while he wrote them down. He hadn’t done it as he marked them. This was embarrassing for most of us, but Jack Smith just called out more marks than he had been given. You bloody cheated. You ended up in the top six and I was pushed into seventh place. The top six got special coaching, didn’t yah? You got it and I missed out. Remember now?”

  “Little Jim Carter.”

  “Less of the little. I’m big enough to give you what for.”

  “And I remember you tried that several times before I went on to sixth form and you…”

  “Dropped fucking out at sixteen! That was all down to your cheating. Go on… deny it. Why don’t you? You’re good at lying so why don’t you lie again?”

  “I admit it,” sighed Jack, “I cheated. And I did a whole lot of other things when I was young that I am ashamed of. I wasn’t a happy child and I certainly wasn’t a good one. I am sorry Jim that you still feel cheated. After this meeting we’ll meet up and see if there is anything I can do – ”

  “Excuse me,” broke in Councillor Banks, “this is all very interesting but can we get on with the business in hand. Mr Smith was explaining what his experience after he left Persham can offer us now. Please continue, Jack.”

  “I do apologise councillor,” said Jack, “there is always a danger in coming back to your roots where you can’t hide.” There was a ripple of laughter.

  “The school for blind children has been running in Joh where I live for the past forty years…”

  “Rat!” It was was Jim Carter again. Jack ignored him and kept going. “It was the inspiration of two sets of parents who both had…”

  “Prig!”

  “…who both had blind children whom they felt were struggling in…”

  “Shit-head!”

  “Mr. Carter, if you can’t be quiet, would you please leave!” roared Councillor Banks.

  “No,” said Jack, “I wronged the man. It might have been over thirty years ago. But he needs a proper apology. Jim, come up here!” The man did not hesitate. He got up and stormed onto the stage.

  Jack stood in front of him and said, “Jim Carter, I am truly sorry I cheated you, the teacher and the whole class. If I could turn the clock back I would. In those days I was indeed a liar and often a cheat. If it’s any consolation I was so horrified by what I had done on that occasion I never cheated precisely like that again. I am truly sorry you missed out because of me. You tried to get your revenge on a number of occasions but I was rather bigger than you were. But now you have me at a disadvantage. I cannot see you. So you can safely beat me if that’s what it will take. Go to it!”

  The room was stunned. Councillor Banks tried to intervene but Jim pushed him off the platform. “No Bandi,” yelled Jack, “stay where you are!” He sensed Bandi was in the act of leaping to his father’s defence. Jim Carter stared Jack in the eye but there was no emotion betrayed in Jack’s unseeing eyes. Carter fumed and cursed. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck…” Jack reached out and found the man’s shoulder and then enveloped him in a bear hug. “Jim Carter, you don’t know how much this means to me,” said Jack, his eyes streaming with tears. “The guilt of what I did as a child has never left me. And I knew just how much you wanted to be in the top six… Dawn White,” he whispered into Jim’s ear, “you wanted to be in the same group as her, didn’t you?”

  “You haven’t bloody forgotten then.”

  “No,” whispered Jack. “She was rather good-looking, wasn’t she? Whatever happened to her?”

  “Moved to London.”

  It was clear the emergency was over and people were returning to their seats.

  “I’m sorry… which is your local?” asked Jack.

  “Pig and Whistle.”

  “I promise I’ll meet you there after I have finished here.”

  Jim Carter nodded and slowly made for the door. People moved aside to let him through.

  Councillor Banks had a bruise on his lower arm, otherwise he was physically in one piece, but he was in shock and his dignity was dented. He looked flustered and confused. Jack reached forward, “Bandi, will you find the councillor some water?”

  Jack found the rostrum again and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, if I had been blind as a child I would not be standing here now – I certainly would not have had the opportunities in Persham that I had as a sighted person. Even though the system in those days often failed Jim, me and others more than once, both he and I had so much more going for us than children with disabilities did. I commend the people of Persham that things have changed so much for the better. I am delighted that in Persham today you are united in seeking to give blind kids the best possible chance. Their parents know what they need. My own blindness has helped me to help the blind children in Joh – but so has my past. At times I was all those things Jim rightly accused me of. I was a rat, a cheat, a liar, a prig and lots beside, but I’ve learned from that and I hope I am a little better these days…”

  Jack went on to explain the way they taught and encouraged the children in the school in which he taught on Joh.

  Finally, he concluded, “I think the best thing for me to do now is allow you to ask questions, if there are any?”

  “I have one,” spoke up a woman on the left of the hall. “If you were a ‘naughty’ child, was it being blind that helped you improve?”

  Councillor Banks had regained something of his decorum, “I don’t think this the place for…”

  “Let him answer,” shouted someone else.

  “I suppose, I suppose – and this might sound stupid to you – I suppose the change in me began when I stumbled into, well, a holy place. I was eighteen. It was before my accident in which I became blind. I was still kicking out at life, angry with what others had and feeling cheated most of the time. I realise now I shouldn’t have been, but I did. But then I was drawn into a beautiful garden. It wasn’t just beautiful to look at, it was dee
p down beautiful. It was holy. It was overflowing with the presence of its Creator. We have so many different misunderstandings around the word ‘God’ that I hesitate to use it even now. But I knew I was loved. I saw myself as if from the outside – selfish and self-centred. In this garden I saw hope, love, true goodness, and I met someone else there who helped me to discover that deep down I could be almost holy sometimes too. Basically, despite all the lies on the surface, the core of my being was still sound. I was loved by my mother, and despite my resentment, I discovered that I wasn’t flawed beyond repair. And with the help of the Creator and other people – even people like Jim – I have learned to give love away. And when you start to do that – love others – all sorts of inner rubbish and mess gets flushed out. And you get huge amounts of love coming at you in return. Does that answer your question?” The room was silent for a moment as people were taking in what Jack had described.

  Then, “How did you become blind?” asked another.

  “Someone kicked my head in! I can’t remember too much. I was unconscious for some time.”

  There was an audible gasp from the audience.

  “Why did he do that?”

  “Sometimes you meet some messed-up people.”

  “What happened to him? Did he get sentenced?”

  “No. He died.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No. I might have wanted to if I hadn’t been unconscious at the time. No, he had died of natural causes before I came to.” Jack wondered whether an insect attack was exactly ‘natural causes’ but he wasn’t going to prolong this conversation. “Anyway, to cut a long story short, I discovered,” he went on, “that, despite everything, my girlfriend still loved me. We married and I went to work at the school. Being blind was a real asset to hitting it off with some of the kids.”

  To Councillor Banks’ relief they were now back on task. Some good questions about the way the children benefited from the school followed.

  As the meeting came to an end, the councillor concluded, “All that remains is to obtain funding for the project from the town council. We want this in next year’s budget,” he declared, and he urged them all to write in.

  Councillor Banks thanked Jack for coming. Jack apologised for the kerfuffle. He left the platform to applause. After some interesting conversations with parents, case workers and community leaders of various sorts, he and Bandi eventually set off for the Pig and Whistle.

  ***

  Making their way along the pavement lit by street lights, Jack explained where the pub was and Bandi took his father’s arm. The street was familiar to Jack, the sounds, the smells and the feel of the autumn air were very much like he remembered. But this same place was utterly strange and foreign to his son who marvelled at his dad’s ability to remember.

  “I think it’s the pub on the corner of the High Street and Hope Street,” explained Jack. “It’s not far.”

  “It’s right what you said. Kids should have equal opportunities.”

  “I didn’t say ‘equal’,” said Jack. “A blind person can never have an equal opportunity in life. They can never drive a car, for example, or climb mountains. And some sighted people find it hard to read through no fault of their own. The universe is not a place of equal anything. It’s about giving kids a chance to make as much of the opportunities that come their way, developing what they’ve got.”

  “Growing their own gifts.”

  “Exactly. But that takes imagination when it comes to the ones on the margins of our attention. And it’s not just about kids who are blind or deaf but everyone who’s not mainstream. Society puts the emphasis on the majority, or to suit those in control. We can run away with the idea that giving people the same opportunities is fair. But if you have to be something you are not to take advantage of those opportunities, then that is not fair.”

  “Like, you could say that all kids have the right to be taught how to read and write but for blind kids that means teaching touch script which we don’t in mainstream schools.”

  “Yes. But it goes beyond provision for disabled kids. It goes across the whole of society. For example, expecting women to turn away from their own feminine insights and become like men to succeed in life.”

  “That sounds feminist, Dad.”

  “I suppose it is. Haven’t you noticed I am a feminist. Why should women have to stop being themselves to get on in society? I would much prefer Aphra Behn to Margaret Thatcher.”

  “Er, Dad?”

  “Yes, Bandi”

  “You’re talking in riddles.”

  “Oh, sorry. It’s British history. Planet Earth. Aphra Behn lived just over three hundred years ago and was a playwright, novelist and poet. She said it how it was. She did not flinch to write from the woman’s point of view, saying how it feels like to be a woman. She has often been dismissed as outspoken and even bawdy – but she was not. She was feminine and strong. She stood up to men who expected women to be weak, meek, quiet and frivolous, but succeeded in doing it in a feminine way. Margaret Thatcher was a British prime minister in the 1980s who certainly was not weak or quiet, but she downplayed the feminine side of things. She stood up to men like a man. Some believe she sold out to male domination.”

  “Like Kakko is not girly-fantastic but yet is still feminine.”

  “Something like that, Bandi.”

  “Dad. Do you miss Britain? I mean, you grew up here.”

  “I can’t deny the smell of this place feels like home. But as you have heard this evening, I was not a happy child. For most of my time here I wanted to get out. And I still do. If the gate is not there tomorrow, I shall scream. I can’t be doing with being trapped here again!”

  “Right. You really were not happy. That’s sad. I don’t think I want to live anywhere else than on Joh… but I liked meeting Abby.”

  They walked a few more steps in silence then Jack said, “So now, Bandi, you know what a sad dad you have. A cheat, a liar, a rat, a prig and… what else did he say?”

  “A shit-head.”

  “Yeah. I really was all those things.”

  “I knew you weren’t always an ‘easy child’, as Nan puts it. But I hadn’t realised you lied and cheated so much.”

  “Well, Jim did rather overstate his case, and he wasn’t actually wanting the special teaching either. What he was really sour about was that I got to be with Dawn White instead of him. Little Jimmy Carter (we used to call him ‘little’ to distinguish him from the American president of that name) was not noted for his application at school. He had only tried on that occasion to get to sit with Dawn. And, don’t tell him I told you this,” laughed Jack, “he cheated too! He copied my work and other people’s. If he had got into sixth place instead of me it would not have been because he was an honest, able scholar.”

  “So he was lying in that meeting?”

  “I doubt if he remembers what he did that day because he did it all the time. What he remembers is being cheated at the final hurdle when he thought he had won. I regret cheating – that was wrong, but I don’t think Jim Carter’s problems stem from my dishonesty. All we have to do tonight is listen to his story. He will tell us how the whole of life has cheated him at every turn. It will make him feel better. Then we can discover some of the good things he has done despite all that and congratulate him.”

  “Can’t he get on a catch up education course for adults?”

  “Of course. That’s one good thing about Britain, it’s never too late to take up your opportunities. But, you watch, he’ll have every excuse why that wouldn’t work for him – unless he has changed a lot from when we were teenagers, which I doubt.”

  ***

  Leaving the Pig and Whistle an hour later, father and son took a taxi back to the hotel.

  “Dad, you’re clever.”

  “How come?”

  “You knew exactly how that would go. It was as if Jim was reading your script.”

  “It’s not rocket science, Bandi. It comes with ye
ars of listening. All he really wanted was a bit of attention. We all do.”

  ***

  The following morning it was grey and damp. The pavement slabs glistened, the moss glowed green in the cracks and the yellow lichen on the roofs and walls took on a dull greyish tinge. The chirping birds didn’t seem put off in the park to their right, however, as the little group walked up to the school on the hill. Jack, Matilda and Bandi had been joined by Abby and her father who were coming to see them off. Secretly, Abby and Bandi were both hoping Abby would see the gate too, but neither said anything.

  “I lived here for forty years,” sighed Matilda. “It was good to see it again. But I’m glad I’m going home.”

  “Home is where the heart is,” observed Jack.

  “Indeed. And my heart is where you belong. The only sadness is that Momori is no longer there.”

  “You’ve got us,” said Bandi.

  “I have. And my very good friends on Joh. Ada and I and the others are going on a bus trip the day after tomorrow into the mountains.”

  “Sounds lovely,” said Jack.

  Matilda and Bandi saw the white gate glowing in the dullness of the day from some distance away. Jack sensed it too. “Home!” he sighed. Bandi looked at Abby as they walked up to the gate, but it was not there for her. She turned and looked at Bandi and, despite her resolve, a tiny tear formed in the corner of one eye.