Justice

A story by Bard Boy [bard_boy(at)protonmail(dot)com]

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanciful fiction set in the future. None of this is real, nor an endorsement, nor a meaningful prediction. This isn’t futurism. This isn’t a manifesto. If it’s illegal for you to read material that involves descriptions of sex between adult men, sex between young boys, sexual exploration amongst children, and sex between adult men and teenagers, this is not the place for you. Don’t read on if that is the case.

Explainer: This is the final day of the continuation of Solstice. There is an epilogue to follow, then the story is done. Thoughts and comments welcome at [bard_boy(at)protonmail(dot)com].

A note on language use for non-UK readers: This story is largely set in the northeast of England, and many characters use vocabulary, phrases, and pronunciation which reflect patterns of speech in that part of the world. The most obvious example is in characters’ use of ‘mam’ to mean mother. Think Billy Elliot. James grew up almost entirely around Jake and Manny, speakers of West Midland English, whose patterns of speech, pronunciation, word choice, and idioms are markedly different from North East English. This is why James and Manny go for ‘mom’ over ‘mum’, use words like ‘scrage’ to mean a graze or cut to the skin, and drop phrases like ‘fart in a colander’, all while expecting other characters to understand what they mean.

Setting: The locations used in this story are all – with the exception of James & Manny’s old houses – absolutely real. I’d encourage readers to explore Google’s Street View if they want a better impression of how to see the world through James & Manny’s eyes.

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Records of Events of the City of Durham

Saturday 10th July 2055

Weather: sunny, calm, 30°C (the woman is out of the weather house)

Today there will be a general meeting of citizens in the cathedral to hear the address of Emmanuel Kwame Addo (EKA) on the investigation into the facts of the death of Angelika Wojnowski, and James Martin on suggested best steps forward in the case of the accused, Archie Stephens, aged 10. A full council meeting will follow in order to decide the outcome. The final decision of the council will be announced to the waiting assembly.

Children too young to attend will be looked after elsewhere on the cathedral site until such time that the assembly is concluded and dismissed.

The decision will be effective immediately.

EKA reports that he was called to attend the recovery of a fox carcass on Whinney Hill. It appears the fox had attempted to catch some of the sheep but strayed too close to a pony and was kicked to death. This explains the injuries and deaths sustained by sheep grazing on the hill in recent weeks.

 

**

 

James woke to the sound of Theo singing. Tracey had evidently taken him for a morning wash with her, and his voice reverberated from the bathroom around the entire floor. James twisted in the little single bed, soft toys poking different parts of his back. He pulled a teddy out from between his bum cheeks. He’d certainly had more comfortable nights; it had been a mistake to agree to look after the teddies.

James found Manny in the room they used as their kitchen and dining room. He offered James a morning beetroot juice – which he gladly accepted – and some flatbread and oil. Theo’s singing subsided, and there was the sound of giggling and little legs running – probably naked Theo being chased into his bedroom to get his clothes put on.

“I forgot to tell you about my dream from Monday night,” said James.

“Oh; go on,” said Manny.

“It was the past; before we were born,” said James. “Jake was in some shop, in a busy city with old, stone buildings. He had a boyfriend with him, and two twin boys, just a bit bigger than Theo.”

“Funny dream,” smiled Manny.

“I know,” said James. “I can’t get over how real the boys seemed. But they can’t have been; Jake never had any kids.”

“Except us,” said Manny. “We were two little boys of pretty much the same age.”

“True,” said James. “I don’t really get it, though.”

“What’s there to get, James? It was a dream. You’re thinking too hard about straight answers again for things that don’t have them.”

“You’re probably right,” said James. “You know, I read that our brains are no good at just inventing faces. All the people you see in dreams are recycled from people you’ve seen before.”

“Now, that is weird,” chuckled Manny. “You must have seen some young twins once and thought, wow, they look like they could belong to Jake!”

“Shut it, you,” smiled James, taking another gulp of his beetroot juice.

“How are you feeling about today?” said Manny, cradling his own cup and looking James lovingly in the eye.

“Fine,” said James. “Just want it over with, really. Wish I’d had the chance to write something down, though.”

“Just speak from the heart,” said Manny. “You’re good at that.”

“Yeah,” said James. “I might have to be.”

“Daddy! Uncle James!” cried Theo, bounding into the room. He was wearing only a hastily pulled-up pair of red briefs, and full of smiles. He wrapped his arms around Manny.

“Theodore Arthur, get back here!” came Tracey’s stern voice.

“Mammy said you’re going to the castle for work soon,” said Theo. “I wanted to see you first and say bye-bye.”

“That’s my sweet boy,” said Manny, cuddling Theo into his lap and kissing his cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too, daddy,” smiled Theo, bouncing from his father’s lap. “You too, Uncle James!”

James gathered Theo up onto his lap and repeated the cuddling and cheek kissing. Just as Manny had, James received back a sloppy one on the nose from Theo.

“Come on, Theo,” sighed Tracey, kindly. “We can’t have you running around in just your pants, you nana!”

“I was saying bye-bye before they go,” Theo said simply, trotting back off to his bedroom to continue dressing.

“Y’alright James?” asked Tracey, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Fine,” he said. “Honestly. Thanks.”

“Good luck today. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Both of you.”

Tracey followed Theo back to the bedroom. The singing had started up again.

“Theo! Get your pants back on!”

“You said you didn’t want me playing in them!”

“Oh dear,” grimaced Manny. “One of those days.”

“Another mother might have her boy taken from her today. No more of those days.”

“Another family has already had their daughter taken from them forever,” shrugged Manny. “There aren’t any winners, James.”

“Exactly,” said James. “So what’s the point in creating more losers, knowing what we know?”

 

**

 

With neither James nor Manny having arrived in time, Archie was taken breakfast to eat by himself in his little room, next to a potty full of urine and a turd. James bristled with anger as he saw it, but pushed the fury down through his chest into his stomach. He didn’t feel much like eating anyway. The butterflies could survive on bread, oil, and beetroot juice until it was all over this afternoon.

“Let me get that for you, Arch,” James tutted, carrying the potty away. Archie nodded quietly, gnawing on some bread of his own. “Back in a sec, mate.”

Archie was done eating by the time James returned. He didn’t look at James while the man waited in the doorway, setting the empty potty down on the floor.

“I’ll bet you need a wash, Arch,” said James. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

Archie followed James silently to the bathroom. He looked a little surprised when James went to close the door without having stepped through it himself.

“Finish your business,” said James, softly. “You haven’t had the chance to wipe, have you? Come back and open the door when you’re done.”

Archie did as he was told. When the door reopened, James sent him to stand to one side while he prepared the water, soap, and cloth. Archie undressed without being instructed. James passed him the dampened, lathered cloth and water jug.

“Sort yourself out, then. I’ll sit over here and wait.”

James put down the lid of the toilet seat. It was made of the old-fashioned thick black plastic, which remained cold to the skin regardless of the weather, just to offend the toilet user. Archie turned his back to James and awkwardly got on with washing himself.

“You’re quiet this morning, Arch,” said James. Archie’s back shrugged. “Everything alright, Archie?”

“You never came to see me after I told you the truth,” Archie mumbled, glumly. “You don’t like us any more now you know what I did.”

“Oh, Archie, I’m sorry,” said James. “I went away to my old house for a night and a day. I wasn’t ignoring you. I just wasn’t in Durham, is all.”

“Nobody came to see us yesterday,” grumbled Archie. “Not Manny neither. Just people bringing me my food and water. They didn’t even let me out to do a shit.”

“I am sorry, Archie, really. That shouldn’t have happened, and it won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I even started writing – you know, about what happened – and they took that off me.”

“Why?” said James, annoyance registering in his voice.

“Said I shouldn’t’ve had it,” shrugged Archie.

“Whoever said that was wrong,” said James. “I won’t let them treat you that way again, Archie, promise.”

“Nobody cares about me cos you told them all that I hurt Angelika,” he pouted.

“The only person I told was Manny,” said James. “Straight away, after you told me. Nobody else has heard the truth yet.”

Archie squatted down and rubbed the wet, soapy flannel between his legs and up inside his crack, evidently still smarting from having to sit unwiped for god-knows-how-long. He stood up and threw the flannel pointedly to the floor. “Where’s the towel?” he growled.

“Please cheer up, Archie,” said James. “You know there’s going to be a meeting all about you today?”

“Yeah,” said Archie, still casting around for a towel. James picked one up from a rack next to him and threw it to Archie. He didn’t see it coming and it pooled around his feet. He bent to pick it up, wincing ever so slightly as his bottom opened up. “They told me I’d be locked up like this forever, cos they all say I killed Angelika on purpose.”

“Who said that?” asked James.

“That Rob bloke, the wanker,” said Archie. “He was the one who said I couldn’t get out to do a shit, too.”

“He was told not to come near you!” growled James.

“Aye, well he did, cos he’s a wanker.”

“You have to stop swearing, Archie. You’re only ten.”

“It don’t matter anymore,” Archie whined. James could hear the wobble of his bottom lip in his voice.

“Come here, stinker,” said James. “Let me talk to you properly.”

Archie toddled over to James, the large bath towel wrapped around him like a strapless dress. James opened his arms. Archie melted into them, his towel-clad bum resting on James’ inner thigh. He sobbed into James’ chest. James cuddled the damp boy to him, rubbing his back through the towel, part drying him off, part soothing him.

“I promise you I’m going to that meeting today and I’m going to fight with everything I can to get the truth out and you home to your mom and sister, okay?”

Archie sucked back snot and nodded his head into James’ chest.

“You’re not going to be locked up forever, whatever anyone says,” said James, as calmly as he could for someone consumed by fire from head to toe. “You’re going home.”

“But if you tell them how I hurt Angelika, won’t they still want to punish me?” sobbed Archie. “Won’t they still put me away where nobody can see me?”

“No, Archie. I won’t let them. One way or another, I’m going to see justice done. You mark my words, matey. You mark my words.”

 

**

 

The cathedral seemed much cooler than it should’ve been, with a hundred people milling around in the area at the front of the pews, voices echoing off the stone walls and great ceilings. James was beckoned by Freya MacKenzie to a raised area in front of the quire, somewhere deep beneath the great, cuboidal central tower. He had dressed in his father’s suit in his office, and was already coating it liberally in sweat, trying to control the quaking in his arms and fidgeting in his legs and feet.

“Thanks again, James,” Kenzie said warmly, offering him a cushioned seat facing the assembling crowd. “This will all be over today, and we can move on and forget about it.”

James watched Angelika Wojnowski’s pale-looking, jittery parents being led into position on the far right of the front pew, as James looked at it. They didn’t seem in any mood to forget what had happened quickly. Kenzie took up a position behind an old wooden lectern and watched the citizens assemble noisily in the pews. Occasionally, inappropriately loud laughter would break out and echo off the stone all around, as friends and acquaintances greeted each other. Kenzie maintained an impenetrable, thin-lipped smile through it all. She may have been nice to him on Tuesday, he thought, but he was right to have her card marked the way he had before. Manny appeared, moving quickly though a side door from the cloisters. James didn’t realise until he had sat her down at the far left corner of the front pew, from James’ perspective, that he’d been shielding Harmonie Stephens all the way. She looked as if she’d been up half the night, puking her guts up. She was almost translucent; she seemed ready to keel over at any second. A second woman had appeared from the cloisters and taken up a seat next to Harmonie, gripping her hand tightly. It was Tracey. James felt his stomach groan and turn again, and his armpits and back dump another bucket of sweat into his dad’s shirt. Manny was somehow sat beside him on the stage. The rest of the council had taken up places in the middle of the front pew, either side of the aisle. Everything was set. The dusty air cloyed at James’ throat. At the lectern, Kenzie cleared hers. At the back of the room, someone banged something three times, calling the assembly to session. The talking dropped in an instant, and the last of the stragglers took up seats. Kenzie opened her mouth.

“Thank you, citizens of Durham, for assembling here today. This morning we are gathered to hear the case against one of our number, Archie Stephens, in relation to the killing of another of our number, Angelika Wojnowski. Sheriff Emmanuel Addo has accumulated the evidence and will state the council’s case. City Recorder James Martin will then outline his recommendations for judgement in the case, based on the evidence gathered, assessments of the individuals concerned, and the principles of justice, security, and fraternity on which this city was established. May justice be served, my brothers and sisters. Emmanuel Addo.”

Manny stood and took Kenzie’s place at the lectern. She, in turn, sat in Manny’s place beside James. Tracey caught Manny’s eye and gave him a little nod. She was practically holding Harmonie Stephens up. Manny cleared his throat and began.

“I am Emmanuel Kwame Addo, son of David Akwasi Addo and Evie-Marie Roberts, Sheriff of the City of Durham. I have been asked to investigate and determine the facts of the case against Archie Stephens in relation to the killing of Angelika Wojnowski. In the interests of timekeeping and out of respect to the families, I will keep the details brief and the case to the point. Here follow the details of the case.”

“Why do they keep saying killing?” James heard Angelika’s mother hiss to the uncle; her brother. “It were a murder!”

“On the afternoon of Monday 5th July, Angelika Wojnowski was found deceased on the banks of the river, not far below this very cathedral. She had suffered drowning, had wounds to the back of her head, a broken nose, and bruising to her face. She was eight years old.”

The room was silent. Angelika’s father, Adam, was cradling his partner to him while she sobbed quietly at hearing her daughter’s final condition so bluntly described. On searching the back of his mind, James thought she was called Tina. Tina Gould.

“Also on the afternoon of Monday 5th July, Archie Stephens, a ten-year-old boy, was found upriver from the site of Angelika’s body. He had suffered scratching and bruising, and his clothing was covered in mud and blood consistent with having been in close contact with Angelika’s body. He was taken to the castle for questioning as the only suspect in the case, and the clothes he was wearing on the day were taken as evidence.”

James cast a glance at Harmonie, but she barely seemed present. She seemed to be looking on in a catatonic state. As he let his gaze sweep back across the gathered crowd, he caught Aaron’s eye, somewhere towards the aisle in a middle pew, just on the right as he looked at it. The boy acknowledged him with an awkward flick of the mouth and an almost imperceptible nod. He was evidently considered old enough to take part. James wondered whether, under different circumstances, with a different matter at hand, Archie would have been considered old enough to be here. Angelika certainly wouldn’t have. Then he thought of Theo, blissfully unaware, playing with other little boys and girls somewhere in the cloisters. My daddy saw a dead fox yesterday. It tried to bite the horsies but the horsies kicked it away, and then it died. Want to build a big tower with me? James had to stop himself from smiling on stage. Another awful thought did the trick. Archie sat alone in a little room in the castle, waiting terrified of being locked up and humiliated for the rest of his life.

“Throughout days of investigation of the scene of the event, objects taken from the scene, the injuries to the children, and the testimony of concerned individuals, the following conclusion was reached. Archie Stephens confessed to having fought with Angelika Wojnowski, though he claims he was not the initiator but reacting to Angelika’s rough play with him.”

“Liar!” Adam grunted. Kenzie looked at him sternly and his gaze dropped to his lap, where he held Tina’s hand.

“There was childish arguing and name-calling. Archie alleges that Angelika stamped on his testes and kicked him in the chest. Since an intimate examination of the boy was considered unnecessarily invasive, we cannot corroborate the former claim, but Archie displays bruising to his shoulder and chest consistent with at least one kick. He also claims that Angelika stole and broke a wooden toy boat of huge sentimental value to his family. A boat matching the description and with damage consistent with Archie’s account was recovered from the scene.”

“Lies!” bellowed Adam, looking as if he was going to get to his feet had he not been prevented by Tina lying against him, sobbing. He cried tears of rage. “Lies! All of it! He’s a little liar, that boy, that… thing!”

“Quiet while the sheriff presents the evidence,” Kenzie ordered curtly. Adam leant back into his partner as they cried together.

“What clearly followed from the evidence of the scene was a fight between the two children. Archie admits striking Angelika in the face, twice. The balance of evidence from the scene suggests that Archie is being truthful when he claims that Angelika was stunned by the blows and stumbled backwards down a raised, slippery section of bank, headfirst into the river where she struck the back of her head under the water.”

“So he killed her!” growled Tina. “He killed my baby!”

“The evidence suggests that there is little chance Archie could deliberately have pushed Angelika into the water at that distance. It also suggests there is no way a boy of Archie’s size and with Archie’s reach could have prevented Angelika from getting out of the river of her own accord from that position had she not been injured and unresponsive.”

“No!” rocked Tina. “No, no, no, no!” Adam shook with fury. His entire body had turned rosy.

“Finally, the positioning of Angelika’s body, further upriver at a shallower, stonier section of bank, can only have been accomplished by Archie Stephens. He made a concerted effort to retrieve Angelika from the river, though the evidence cannot conclusively corroborate his claim that he tried to save her.”

“Course he didn’t,” hissed Adam. “He killed her. He killed her.”

“Given the circumstances and the evidence before me, I find that even in the most severe case the worst charge that the Council of the City of Durham can level at Archie Stephens is manslaughter. Full written versions of the evidence held by the Office of Sheriff can be made available on request. That’s all.”

Manny made to sit down without a second look at the crowd in front of him, nearly sitting on top of Kenzie as she realised she needed to scuttle back to the lectern. The room seemed to take a collective intake of breath. Quiet murmuring became loud chatter. There was clattering on the front pew.

“Disgrace!” cried Adam Wojnowski, leaping to his feet so forcefully he almost sent Tina sprawling to the floor in front of him. “It was a murder! He’s a murderer! Archie Stephens is a murderer!”

Tears streamed down Harmonie’s face, utterly silently. She wept and shivered against Tracey’s shoulder. Manny squeezed James’ thigh as he steeled himself for action.

“Give it to ’em,” said Manny. “Give it all you’ve got.”

“Quiet!” shouted Kenzie, looking flustered at the podium. Three loud bangs thudded out again from the back of the room. “The evidence of the case has been presented. I now call City Recorder James Martin to offer his judgement.”

James stumbled a little unsteadily into place at the lectern, Kenzie taking his place next to Manny. Tracey took a deep breath and offered him a look of fortitude. James also caught the eye of Adam Wojnowski, as he ever so slowly lowered himself back into the pew. Adam’s was a look of prickly, unguarded hatred.

“Hello,” said James, by way of a throat-clearer. The room stared at him. He felt like he’d just heard the voice of a terse twelve-year-old escape his lips, annoyed at being disturbed while in the middle of something. It would have to do. “My name is James Martin. I am the Recorder of the City of Durham and I stand before you to offer my recommended judgement on how the city should respond to this tragic loss of life in an incident between two very young children.”

James swallowed. So far, so good. Nothing had been thrown at him. His stomach clenched and unclenched. He was lightheaded. He was so weightless and free that he almost felt he could say anything. The consequences had almost faded into obsolescence, like the tableaux of the stained-glass windows.

“You have heard the address of my brother, Emmanuel, whom I love dearly. I have nothing but respect for him. He is honest, thorough, and tirelessly conscientious in his work. Not only that, he is a highly emotionally intelligent, sweet, and loving man. He has been an unwavering rock in my life for over twenty years, since we were both little boys. So, it is with these caveats, and with this utmost respect, that I must put to my fellow citizens that the charge levelled by the sheriff is wrong.”

Adam and Tina watched James with teary-eyed interest. Freya MacKenzie stared at Manny with panicked horror.

“My brother Manny has put forward a charge in the worst case of manslaughter. This charge is wrong. He knows it is wrong. He brings it forth simply because he knows it is the politically correct thing to do; that it will appease the most extreme views within this congregation today and, if upheld, allow the City Council to continue with business this afternoon as if nothing happened, without regard to the needs of two traumatised families and the lessons that can be learned from this incident. How do we define manslaughter? I have here with me a copy of the definition provided by the Statutes of Criminal Offences of the City of Durham.”

James unfolded a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his dad’s jacket and placed it on the lectern. Harmonie continued to stream silent tears. Tina heaved against Adam; eyes dry. He looked confused, but angry. Kenzie hissed to Manny, wild-eyed: “What the hell is he playing at up there?” Manny pawed the air in front of Kenzie’s seat as if to tell her to shut up. He watched James from the edge of his seat.

Manslaughter refers to the unlawful killing of another following the intention to do substantial harm but not to kill outright, or through criminal levels of recklessness or negligence. I ask you, assembled citizens, my fellow council members, Sheriff Addo and Chief MacKenzie, can a fistfight between an eight- and ten-year-old be considered the intention to do substantial harm? Can a prepubescent child engaged in a fight with another child be considered criminally responsible for recklessness or negligence? Indeed, can we consider a vulnerable ten-year-old capable of being held to criminal responsibility at all? My argument is that we cannot, and should not, if we wish to reflect the ideals we claim to espouse.”

James self-consciously picked up a flicker of the accent he had absorbed from Jake, in his emphasis of the ow sound in espouse. It gave him cue to pause. Freya had gone grey. There was a rumble of chatter throughout the assembly. Adam looked ready to spring to his feet and storm the podium, but Tina’s brother – Marcus – was holding him down firmly by one shoulder from the pew behind, face like thunder.

“Archie Stephens has had a tough life in his ten years on this Earth. Until the age of six, he suffered sustained mental and physical abuse at the hands of a gang of men; witnessed the sustained mental and physical abuse of other, younger children at the hands of those men; witnessed, at close quarters, the sustained mental, physical, and sexual abuse of his mother and other women at the hands of those men.”

Harmonie shuddered in her pew. Tracey tried to cradle her, but Harmonie refused. She bundled up her legs to her chest and rocked back and forth in the wooden seat. James’ mind stumbled over images of his green office armchair.

“When little Archie tried to resist his treatment at the hands of those men, he was kicked so hard that he suffered broken ribs. Is it any wonder that a child subjected to such brutality would react explosively to being treated similarly by another child?”

Adam Wojnowski howled with rage, his fingernails digging into his palms. Tina slammed her hand against the back of the pew, the thud reverberating off every stone pillar. Still James went on. Perversely, he was beginning to enjoy himself.

“Archie and his family have been the victims of further sustained abuse since fleeing their captors for our fraternal city,” said James, confidence and passion growing with every syllable. “In this instance, vile bullying on account of their origins. Apparently, victims of abuse akin to slavery are seen by some in this room as less worthy than their other friends and neighbours in this city. How can we have allowed such a situation – such a cancer – to develop in our midst? And yet, despite all this, in my week of interviews with Archie, I have found him a remarkably well-adjusted child, adoring and protective of his baby sister, capable of great empathy with others, with a remarkable loving and kind streak towards animals in particular. He is a youngster who is full of remorse for the tragedy that occurred on Monday afternoon, and riddled with terror about what sort of future awaits a boy who has already spent the great majority of his life as an outcast. I put it to all of you that, whatever physical violence Archie may have been guilty of on Monday, Angelika Wojnowski was equally guilty of subjecting Archie to emotional and physical violence. It is a great tragedy that an accident occurred in which she ultimately lost her life, but that is what it was: an accident. Archie has in fact shown incredible character in bravery to be able to speak to me so candidly about his life and the events of Monday afternoon…”

“He’s in love with the boy!” bellowed Adam, leaping to his feet and kicking the pew explosively. “The little snake’s charmed him! He believes every word he’s been told! And it’s lies, all of it!”

“Calm down!” Mary Stanley had risen to her feet, her stocky, busty form emerging from the pew behind Tracey like a bushy fir tree. “Let the man speak; he’s just doing his job, putting his case forward. It don’t mean everyone else has to accept it.”

“I’m fucking sick of being told to be quiet and let this bleeding-hearted bastard get on with his job,” cried Adam, lashing out again at the pew. “He hasn’t spoken to us once! None of them have! It’s all him, him, him! Archie, Archie, Archie! Nobody has stood up for wor Angelika! Nobody has took our side of the story! It’s a fucking fix, man! It’s a disgrace! He wants stringing up with that sick little boyfriend of his!”

Harmonie was now sobbing into Tracey’s armpit. Tina had her head in her hands. Manny bobbed in his chair as if to speak, but it was the calm, reduced tones of Dan Turner’s voice from the pew behind Adam that cut through first.

“Adam, man, I think we could do with toning down the language a smidge, don’t you? I’ve already had a word or three with you about this respect business, y’knaa what I mean? Haway, sit yoursen down, man, before you get kicked oot. That’d not be doing your Angelika any good now, would it?”

Adam complied. He slapped the wood of the pew again as he sat down, forehead in one hand, shaking his head back and forth. His legs trembled.

“Since this is obviously a difficult time for everyone, I’ll get on to my recommendations,” said James, voice quaking. “I commend to the council to discharge Archie Stephens to the care of his mother, with no criminal responsibility for the tragic accident that transpired on Monday, on account of his tender age and the circumstances. We must ask ourselves what kind of city and community we want to be; whether we want to look to the future and build our resources, or seek retribution for the perceived misdeeds of the past, based on shallow thinking and the narrow-minded biases that each of us are prisoners to. Are we a community that wants to criminalise ten-year-old children for heated fisticuffs? Because that is exactly what a charge against Archie Stephens represents. Furthermore, I would propose that the Stephens family be moved into the castle for an indefinite period, for their own protection and so each of them can receive the support and therapy they so evidently need. There are plenty of manuals on talking therapy stored at the university library, and I for one would be willing to volunteer to develop my skills and assist in that field…”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” shouted Rob, with a drilling sneer. He’d stood and pulled into the aisle on the far right side of the pews. “What a fucking crock of shite, man. This what happens when you let a fucking faggot do a man’s job! It’s an outrage, man! The kid’s a murderer, plain and simple!”

“Oi!” shot Tracey’s voice across the room. She’d stood from her pew, almost dragging the boneless Harmonie with her. “You’d better watch yourself, you ugly, big-nosed bastard! You don’t stand in front of everyone and use language like that. Learn some respect, you silly little man!”

“He’s right!” bellowed a red-faced, heavyset, middle-aged man from the back. “Bliddy queers, man! Get the homo of the stage!”

The room rumbled with a wave of intense, sharp chatter; bickering back and forth. Voices were raised. James caught the words homo, faggot – even nonce – reverberating around the room. Rob leaned with his arms folded against the frontmost stone pillar on the right, grinning with self-satisfaction. Manny glared at him like he was trying to set the man on fire. Kenzie looked shell-shocked at the pandemonium. She was frozen to her chair.

“Hadaway!” bellowed Dan, over the noise. “Hush now! Let’s show each other some respect! We’re embarrassing ourselves!” He turned and scowled at Rob. “Sit down, man. You’re the biggest embarrassment of the lot. Not even got owt to do with you, you bliddy soft-headed wazzock.”

Rob drifted noiselessly back behind the pillars, apparently re-finding a seat. James, ashen faced, turned back to the crowd.

“Should the council choose to return a charge of manslaughter,” he said quickly, “my recommendations are as follows: Archie Stephens to be confined in the castle with regular contact from his mother and sister, for an initial period of three years until he turns thirteen. He should receive daily vocational training from castle staff in order to build his skillset and confidence for a successful reintegration into the community. On his thirteenth birthday, the council is to decide whether Archie should be released to his mother or held for longer within the castle, subject to the same regime and restrictions, up and until the maximum age of eighteen.” James looked out at a point far beyond the gathered city folk, somewhere in the Galilee Chapel, glassy-eyed. His voice quivered. “However, given the strength of feeling in the room, and the message such a decision would send out from the council, I see no alternative but to offer my immediate resignation should such a verdict come to pass. Thank you.”

James hopped from the lectern and jogged off towards the Shrine of St Cuthbert, feeling sick to the tips of his toes. His knees didn’t want to work, and his ankles argued with his feet. His dad’s suit felt utterly drenched with sweat. Manny started after him, leaving Freya MacKenzie alone and jittery on the raised stage before the citizenry. Voices were rising, echoing around the cathedral again.

“This concludes the address,” stumbled Kenzie, only semi-coherently. “The council will now adjourn to the Chapter House to make its final decision. The verdict will be announced immediately after. Goodbye.”

 

**

 

James was the last one into the Chapter House. Kenzie had rounded on him almost before the door was closed behind him.

“What the fuck was all that about?” she demanded. “Were you trying to start a riot out there?”

“You told me I was free to do things my way without interference,” James replied acidly. “You told me you supported me as the right man for the job. You told me I was clever and the person the council trusted to make a judgement. I don’t get what more you want from me.”

“When I told you I had your back, I didn’t mean you could use me as a fucking human shield!” roared Kenzie. “Fuck, James! You’ve really taken a torch to this one, haven’t you? Do you want to go and spit on the dead girl’s grave while you’re at it?”

“She has a name,” growled James.

“Back off him, Kenzie!” Manny interjected, pushing his way in front of James. “I was the one in charge of working out the facts of the case, and I was the one who decided on a worst case of manslaughter. That’s on me. All James did was make a case for best steps forward, based on talking to the kid involved and his experience of working with youngsters, just like you asked him to. You’re well out of order, dumping all the pressure on James!”

“Sit down, Manny,” grunted Kenzie. “You’re like a horny bulldog when you get going. You’ll give yourself a hernia.”

“Alright, alright!” shouted Amrit. “Let’s all remember why we’re here and calm things down a little, okay? James made his proposals – as he was asked to do – and they aren’t totally without merit, so let’s sit down and discuss them like adults, rather than bickering like children. I seem to remember James making the point that childish bickering is the whole reason we’ve ended up in this position.”

Kenzie and Manny took seats around the table opposite from each other and continued a glaring match across the wooden barrier between them. Georgia, Harvey, Ruairidh and Saffron had all already taken their seats. James remained aloof, stood to one side of the room, barely watching proceedings.

“So,” said Amrit. “Chief Freya MacKenzie.”

“Right,” Kenzie sighed pointedly. “Manny moves for a charge of manslaughter–”

“Manny moves for a worst-case scenario of manslaughter,” corrected Manny, gruffly.

“Okay then. My apologies.” Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Manny moves for a worst case of manslaughter; James moves that the boy be treated as a victim as he’s too young and vulnerable to be culpable for manslaughter. Who do we support?”

“Well, I thought James had a point, like,” suggested Harvey. “Who are we if we’re ganning around locking up kids like that?”

“Good point, well made,” nodded Manny.

“Vital input there, Emmanuel,” Kenzie grunted in response.

“Well, I don’t see why this kid should be our problem,” said Saffron. “He wasn’t born here. The whole thing is just a headache. Send the family back where they came from. Banishment. Simples.”

“Sending that family back where they came from – or anywhere out there on their own – is a probable death sentence for all of them, and you know it!” barked James.

“Since when did we start caring who was born here or not?” said Manny. “Hands up everyone here who was born in this city. Come on. I’m waiting.”

Nobody raised their hands. Saffron folded her arms. Kenzie rested her forehead on her fist and closed her eyes, looking increasingly like she’d rather be anywhere else on Earth than there in the Chapter House.

“Who was born within half a day’s walk of this city?” suggested Manny, sticking his bottom lip out and raising his arms in a shrug. Saffron raised her hand. James and Harvey also raised theirs.

“Well, I don’t see what difference that makes,” huffed Saffron.

“Exactly,” said Georgia. “It makes no difference, does it?”

“If you wanna start slinging people out who worn’t born up here, I’ll be the first to go,” said Manny, exaggerating his accent to the extreme. “I’m from Birmingham, bab.”

“Argh, shut up, man!” whined Ruairidh. “I cannit deal with this one bit!”

James had been pacing around the side of the room. He slammed his palms down on his hips.

“Right, I’m recusing myself. There’s no point in me being here, is there? I’m too close to the case. And I agree with Ruairidh: I can’t deal with a second more of this either.”

James stormed quickly from the room.

“James!” Georgia called after him, notes of concern in her voice.

“Can we all just calm down?” said Amrit. “Take the heat out of things; it isn’t helping.”

“James!” called Manny, sticking his head out of the door into the cloisters. “Jamey! Where’d you go, man?”

“Shut the door, Manny,” Kenzie sighed heavily.

“You know what, Chief?” cried Manny. “I fucking will close this door, and I’ll be on the other side of it, going after my brother to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid thanks to the pressure you dumped on him; dumped on the both of us! I may as well recuse myself too, as I don’t even want to defend my supposed motion. I think James is right. In fact, looking around this room now, I know he’s right, but you’re too goddamn craven to make a decision for yourself, aren’t you Freya? Stand up and be counted! Show some fucking leadership! You had a room full of open homophobes and xenophobes out there, and what did you do? Sweet F.A. – that’s what you did!” Manny slammed the door. He opened it again and stuck his head back into the Chapter House. “How’s that for a hernia for you, Chief MacKenzie?”

 

**

 

Manny’s thudding footsteps echoed around the cloisters as he went in search of James. He spotted Tracey on the far side, heading down to the old tourist cafeteria where the young children were being minded. He shouted across the echo chamber of the stone square.

“Trace! Trace! Have you seen James?”

“He just rushed into the cathedral and went for the tower stairs,” she called back. “Is he alright? Manny?”

“I’m sure he’s fine!” Manny replied, rushing off for the door back into the midst of the Norman cathedral. “I just need to speak to him!”

Manny rushed for the nearest spiral staircase, winding its way up through the uncannily enormous stone structure to the great square tower soaring over the rooftops. He charged through the heavy, wooden doorway, nearly knocking the dense pack of logs off its hinges. He hardly realised he was careening into the back of Rob Clifford.

“Hey! Watch it!” the deputy growled. “Oh, it’s you, Manny.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Manny snapped. “Get back out into the cathedral with the others!”

“Or what?” smirked Rob. “Just checking the perimeter. Thought I saw we had an intruder rush off up here.”

“You know full well who’s up there,” spat Manny, pressing Rob into the thin core of the spiral staircase. “And you’re no deputy of mine. You’re off duty. Forever!”

“You can’t do that,” sneered Rob. “I was already off duty. I’ve done nowt wrong. I was speaking as a private citizen in there.”

“Really, Rob?” said Manny. “Were you also speaking as a private citizen when you were interfering with a case that didn’t concern you? When you were threatening council officers? When you were terrorising a little boy trapped in a tiny room with you?”

“You’ve got nowt on me,” said Rob. “And you know it. Everyone out there backs me. Everyone.”

“I am this close to doing you for misconduct in a position of responsibility,” hissed Manny, pressing his face into Rob’s and holding his thumb and forefinger together in front of Rob’s eyes. “This close. As a minimum. And that’s sixty days confinement in the castle. As a minimum. What do you think Mia and the kids would make of that, eh? Oh right, you never thought of them, did you? Eh? Eh?”

Rob swallowed hard and hissed back at Manny. “Piss off, Manny, man. You’re not gonna do owt. You wouldn’t do that to one of your own.”

You are not my own,” grunted Manny, his forehead pushed against Rob’s, pinning his head back against the stone staircase. “You are lucky I’m not battering you, right here, right now, and claiming it was self-defence! And who are they gonna believe, after your little display out there? But no, I won’t do that, because I’m better than that. I was taught better than that. Taught to be better than the likes of you!”

Manny threw Rob out of his way, watching him clatter into the side wall of the stairway.

“Haway, Manny. You don’t want to do owt either of us’ll regret.”

“Get out of my sight!” said Manny. “I don’t even ever want you to so much as acknowledge me again, you pathetic, ugly-souled little man!”

Rob bundled himself out of the staircase doorway. Manny watched him go, bowed his head, and sprinted off up the ever-circling staircase like his life depended upon it.

James heard and felt the thudding of Manny approaching. He heard the pinging of the echo all about the staircase. He ignored it, and looked out at the landscape, his view unbroken for miles and miles around. He traced the river with his finger as if it was a length of string. He saluted the hills and admired their colours. The height and the purity of the breeze were exhilarating. Life below was of little consequence up here.

“There… you… are!” said Manny, panting hard. “I… rec… used… myself… too! Gave… Kenzie… a… right… earful!”

James said nothing. He let Manny recover. He felt Manny’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn to meet them. “Look, there’s a red kite circling over there,” James said eventually.

“I just saw Rob,” Manny said sheepishly to James’ back. “He won’t be doing any work for the sheriff’s office again. I was this close to one-bombing him, I swear.”

I am the resurrection and I am the life,” quoted James, gazing aimlessly from the glassless tower windows. “I couldn’t even bring myself to hate him as I’d like.”

“Nobody would blame you,” said Manny. “I certainly wouldn’t.”

James looked out to the south across the sunny city, a satisfying breeze playing across his face at this height. He could see birds circling around, flitting amongst the treetops, all from above.

“I don’t know how I can live in this place anymore,” sighed James.

“You can’t let idiots like Rob drive you away,” said Manny, leaning up behind James and placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “There are plenty of people that love and respect you around here. Not least me, and Tracey, and Theo.”

“It’s not just Rob, though, is it?” said James. “It’s all of this – the petty politics. Jake was right. I’ve made myself a target.”

“You stood up for what you believe in, despite all the nastiness, and the threats,” said Manny. “Whatever else Jake might have thought of it, he’d be so, so proud of you. You know how I know that, hm?”

“How?” humoured James.

“Because I am!” said Manny. “If Tracey hadn’t been there, I would’ve been hard just watching you go at it like that!”

“Shut up!” laughed James, pushing back at Manny. “I’m glad you’ve been here for me. I don’t know what I’d ever have done if I didn’t have you; my whole life.”

“If I hadn’t found you, I probably wouldn’t have a life right now,” smiled Manny. “Come here, you big softy! We’ll always be there for each other, forever!”

James leaned back into Manny as he wrapped his arms around him. He looked out of the tower, to the south, feeling as if Manny was catching him as he soared and dived weightlessly through the air, falling fast but never quite reaching the ground. There was movement on the South Road. Two people approaching. James almost felt as if he was looking back in time; a man and a boy, dressed for a long journey. He realised it must be his imagination, and he leaned back into Manny’s embrace more, resting his head back on Manny’s shoulder and looking happily into his face. Manny grinned at him and spun them both around.

“Let’s get back downstairs,” he said. “You never know when they’ll be ready to announce their call.”

 

**

 

They set out on a dry, crisp day in early March. By the second day, they had reached a village on a river, deep in the shadow of huge cooling towers; grey elephants on the flat, marshy landscape. They set up camp in the old village church, and Jake allowed the boys to wander off down to the riverbank, calling after them to wash their hands, faces, and feet before they came back. They sat together on the riverbank, watching the still-hamstrung spring sun dip glacially below the horizon, the towers casting a longer, darker shadow with each passing minute.

“What is that,” said Manny, leaning his shoulder into James and pointing at the towers.

“Jake said it was a cloud factory,” said James.

“Cloud factory?” Manny replied.

“I think they used to make electricity in cloud factories,” said James. “Maybe Jake will tell us when we get back.”

“We’ll stay here a bit longer, though? Just you and me?”

“Yeah,” smiled James. “Anyway, we haven’t washed yet. I don’t want Jake to be upset with us.”

“I like Jake,” said Manny, swinging a hand idly through the long grass and craning his neck to squint up at the towers. “He’s nice.”

“He’s my favourite person in the world,” said James, pursing his lips and blinking, hoping Manny was too distracted to notice that saying so had made him well up. “But you’re one of my favourites too, now.”

“Thanks!” said Manny, turning to look at James and smiling. “James, do you think we’ll be friends forever?”

Not knowing exactly why, but feeling butterflies explode through his chest as he did, James took Manny’s hand in his, and grinned right back into his face.

“I hope so,” he said. “I hope so.”

Manny giggled and swung James’ hand back and forth. Light had almost totally given way to shadow, but in a few hours the sun would rise again.

“Hey,” said Manny, smirking and talking in a low voice. “Dare you to have a full bath in the river!”

“I dare you!” replied James, wobbly grin rippling across his face.

“Will if you will!”

“Okay, we both do it then! Get undressed!”

The boys stood naked by the waterside, shivering out of their skins. James took Manny’s hand again.

“Three!” chanted James.

“Two!” replied Manny.

“One!” they shouted together. “Go!”

Jake arrived at the crest of the bank just in time to hear the big splash, and the squealing and laughing of both boys. He shook his head, smiled to himself, and turned back to the church unseen.

 

**

 

Dear Freya,

It is with regret that, following the outcome of today’s meeting, I feel I must resign my council position as City Recorder.

It has been a great pleasure over the past few years to work as part of the council and help steer the city towards a healthier, happier future. However, today’s ruling makes the distance between my vision of the ethos of this city and its future trajectory, and that of the rest of the committee, abundantly clear. My position on the council is therefore untenable from this moment forward.

I am happy to continue to exercise my duties as City Recorder, in relation to keeping a log of events and performing secretarial and clerical duties for the council, until such time that a replacement is nominated and elected. However, I suggest it would be inappropriate for me to continue to exercise any decision-making role in the interim. I am also happy to continue my separate but related duties as an advanced tutor to the inspirational young people of our city. Those younger generations are of course our future.

It is a great shame that such a tragedy has been allowed to divide our city, but an even greater shame that hidden division and hostility happening under the nose of this council allowed the space for this tragedy to have occurred. I wish you all the very best of luck in the future with the healing process from the shocking events of the past week.

With greatest respect,

James M.

 

**

 

The room had reconvened. It had the tense, static atmosphere of a hilltop before a storm. Energy spiralled around the room, palpable and visible as sitting in a snow globe. James had retaken his seat, barely able to watch or listen as Kenzie marched to the lectern, her every movement a gesture of frustrated fury. He felt he might vomit at every moment. He placed his head in his hand, pushing his dampened, cow-licked hair up out of the way. His eyes remained wide open, studying the dimmed palms of his hands. He didn’t dare close them, lest he be haunted by visions of Archie locked up in his room, caught between the terror of the expected and the unknown. Manny put his arm around James’ shoulders. Kenzie cleared her throat. Three bangs.

“The council has reached a decision,” she announced, sounding hoarse. James could hear his pulse in his eardrums. His penis felt like it had withdrawn into his body. His toes curled.

“The council upholds the central argument of James Martin’s address, that a ten-year-old child cannot be culpable of manslaughter.”

There was a collective gasp. Manny rubbed James’ shoulders and gripped his neck. James stared into his fingers. This couldn’t be real. It was too good to be true.

“No!” came the cry from Adam Wojnowski. “No! No! No!”

“Thieves!” cried Tina. “You’ve stolen justice from our girl! Where’s our justice?”

“It’s a travesty!” her brother bellowed. “A disgrace! Shame on the lot of yous! Shame!”

“This is why the council moves the lesser charge of assault against Archie Stephens and sentences him to a year of confinement in the castle, under the terms of confinement outlined by James Martin.”

“Not good enough!” shouted Adam. “Nowhere near good enough! The boy’s a murderer! He murdered our girl! He murdered her!”

James’ heart sank beneath his navel. Every part of his body shrunk and curled again. Manny’s hand was still on the base of the back of James’ neck, and gave it another loving squeeze. James wanted to cry. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to face Archie and break him the news. That’s assuming he was the one who got there first.

“The boy will participate in training during weekdays. He will be allowed supervised visits from his family at weekends, once per weekend. He will also be subject to a strict disciplinary regime, with punishments including regular spanking for insubordination, laziness, and poor hygiene.”

“You can’t spank him,” whimpered James. “That’s part of how he was abused before.”

“The council’s decision is final,” said Kenzie, flatly. “If the boy’s family disagree with the decision, they are free to remove him from the city when he is released from our custody following his punishment.” Kenzie broke from the platform to look directly at James with narrowed eyes. She hissed at him. “Why have you left a child’s poem on the lectern?”

James broke down in tears on the stage, head still buried in his hands. Manny held him close, but he could do nothing to stem the flow. The Wojnowskis howled and hollered, but their words were lost to James. He sat, on the stage, at the base of a very, deep pit. The whole world was muffled.

“James,” Manny was saying, “James, come on mate. Up you get. We’ve got to go. We’ve got to break the news to Archie before anyone else does.”

James was barely aware of being hauled up under Manny’s strong right arm and led stumbling from the cathedral out into the sunlight of Palace Green. Tina Wojnowski – Tina Gould – was waiting for them.

“Look at you!” she spat. “Pathetic! You get that little animal off the hook and you still cry that he has to do his time out for smacking our daughter about! You’re a disgrace!”

“Leave him alone,” said Manny. “I’m very sorry for your loss, but you can see how upset he is. And it doesn’t excuse Adam’s bigotry.”

“Oh, don’t think you’ve heard the last of it from him!” Tina’s brother chipped in. “You’re lucky he’s shot off down The Shakespeare, to angry to bliddy speak! He’s not gonna rest until you all pay for what you’ve done, the lot of yous! Defending that monster… making wor Angelika out to be some sort of little witch… despicable! Look at the crocodile tears from this big girl’s blouse!”

“No, Marc,” quivered Tina. “This one – this one I pity. He’ll never have a child. He’ll never know the pain of losing your baby like that. Having her taken away in cold blood by some perverted little freak. You, though…” she looked Manny up and down with abject disgust, mouth contorted. “You’ve got a missus. You’ve got a little lad of your own. You understand exactly what it’s like. And yet you still won’t call that little demon a murderer? Nah. You’re the worst of the lot. And I hope and pray to God nothing happens to that happy little lad of yours. I really do.”

“Is that a threat?” blistered Manny.

“Don’t be so daft,” Tina grunted. “There’s only one child killer around here, and he’s safely locked up in that castle, at least for the next few months of his sorry, pitiful existence.”

James’ mind wanted to shout and swear and scream at Tina, despite knowing she was a bereaved mother, despite knowing it would only make him look worse, but his body simply didn’t have the power. He just swooned under Manny’s arm.

“Besides,” added Marcus, acidly. “We can’t control accidents now, can we? You just said yourself that the little shit in that castle couldn’t.”

“I can’t listen to any more of this,” said Manny, shaking his head. “You’re both going to feel awful about this in the morning, if not before. C’mon James, let’s get you inside.”

“I doubt it, pet,” said Tina.

“You know, you’re right,” said Manny, turning back to face Tina as he dragged James past her. “I don’t know how it feels to lose a child, and I hope against hope I never, ever will. But I do know how it feels to lose people close to me. And I know how it feels to have had people taken in cold blood, by intent. Not a child; I was only a toddler myself. But what my Nana always taught me as a boy was that you’re not free to live your own life until you can forgive. If you keep hating and raging, all you’re doing is wasting energy standing still.”

Tina looked at Manny dumbstruck for a few beats. Then she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “How dare you lecture me about loss. How dare you.”

Manny shuddered and walked on, feeling the eyes of Tina and Marcus burrowing into his back as he went. James seemed to have regained control of his body, but Manny refused to let him go. He led him along in an embrace locked around his shoulders.

“It was big of you to tell them about your parents,” said James. “Big and brave. I’ve never heard you mention that to anyone who isn’t family.”

“I understand their pain, I really do,” sighed Manny. “And it feels wrong to criticise them. They lost their daughter barely five days ago. It’s all so rushed and raw. It’s been a real shitshow. But they have to understand, sooner or later, that they’re not the only people ever to have felt pain. They can’t use it as an excuse to keep on lashing out.”

“I know what you mean,” said James. “They’re disgusting.”

“I think that’s a bit harsh, James. That’s your own anger and pain talking.”

“I’m not saying they brought it on themselves; I’d never say that. I just mean I don’t like them much. I don’t think I’d like them much under any circumstances.”

“Fuck, James,” said Manny. “They just threatened Theo. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“We’ll work it out,” said James. “WWJD?”

“You’re not suddenly finding religion, are you, James?”

“Not Jesus,” said James. “Jake.”

“There’s another possibility, you know,” chuckled Manny. “What will James do?”

“I wish I knew, Manny,” said James. “I really wish I knew.”

 

**

 

James let himself into Archie’s room. Harmonie was nowhere to be seen. The boy had filled the potty again. The anxiety must’ve got the better of him.

“I’ve got some news, Arch,” said James.

“It’s bad news, isn’t it,” Archie sighed.

“You’re going to have to stay here for another year,” said James, tearing up. “I’m sorry, Archie. They charged you with assaulting Angelika, because you hit her.”

“Well,” squeaked Archie, his bottom lip wobbling and a tear dripping down his cheek from his eyelashes. “At least I did actually do that. At least they don’t think I’m a killer.”

“That’s my boy,” said James. “Very grown-up. And you’ll have to be, for the next year, okay? They’re going to make you work hard, learning new things, and you’ll have to be a very good boy, right? We don’t want to give them any reason to punish you more, do we?”

“Will I get so see me mam, and Bella?” Archie wailed, breaking into full-blown sobs.

“Once a week, Archie; on weekends.”

“What about you, and Manny?” sobbed Archie. “You’ve been, like, my besties this week. You’re the only people I like in this castle. Will I still get to see you?”

“I don’t know Archie,” said James, cuddling him close. “I really don’t know.”

Manny had been listening at the door. He was teary-eyed when James emerged with a dripping, reddened face. Manny reached out to gently hold James’ hand and rub his knuckles.

“He really got to you, didn’t he?”

“It’s so unfair, Manny,” said James. “It’s all so unfair.”

“I think the Wojnowskis are probably saying the same thing right now,” said Manny. “Just louder.”

“I suppose,” said James, wiping his eyes with the crooks of his index fingers.

“Let’s go back to mine,” said Manny. “Tracey will have gone back there with Theo, assuming there hasn’t been some crisis with Harmonie. That little whirlwind is bound to cheer you up.”

“You want to go back and check on him, don’t you?” said James.

“Well, that too,” admitted Manny.

“That’s okay,” said James. “I want to as well.”

They followed the staircase from the keep in silence, trotting through the Norman Chapel and emerging into the midday sunshine through doors recessed into the ground. As they mounted the few steps, they heard a familiar and unexpected name.

“Who here knows a Jacob Baker?”

They rushed into the centre of the courtyard. The teens manning the gate shrugged and pointed a short, scraggly-looking dark-haired man, mane and beard matted with patches of grey, towards James and Manny as the responsible adults in the courtyard. Behind the man, gripped around the wrist by a strong hand, came a dirty little boy. His clothes were full of tears and holes, as well as caked in grime. One of his flimsy sandals was held on by frayed, coarse, brown string. His golden-brown hair, the colour of a classic teddy bear’s fur, was wild and stuck in clumps with filth.

“What the hell is this?” said Manny. “You look like you’ve been travelling for weeks!”

“Jacob Baker?” the man said, looking at Manny strangely and tugging the boy along behind him.

“No,” said Manny. “No; not me.”

“’Im then?” said the man, nodding his head at James. “Looks a more likely candidate, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Rude,” tutted Manny.

“No!” said James. “Who are you? What’s all this about?”

“Flamin’ ’eck!” complained the man. “What’s the matter with all the geezers around ’ere? Everyone’s got the ’ump. Someone died or summink?”

James and Manny stared at the man.

“Oh… Sorry, lads. Forget I mentioned it. So, where’s this Jacob Baker when he’s at ’ome?”

“Who’s asking?” said Manny. “And why?”

“Forgive me, gentlemen; I’ve failed to introduce myself,” he held out his hand first to Manny, then James. “Luke Sbraglia. Putney. London. And I bring with me from there the property of a certain Jacob Baker.”

“Too late,” said Manny. “He died five years ago.”

“Ah,” grunted Luke. The boy looked wide-eyed at his side. James looked at him closely. His eyes were brown and round. He caught James looking. Something about the eye contact caused a flicker of discomfort in the pit of James’ stomach. “No next of kin?”

“He was our dad, sort of,” said Manny. “I suppose that makes us next of kin.”

“T’riffic!” smiled Luke. “Which of you’s the elder?”

“Me,” shrugged James.

“Then I present to you the property of Jacob Baker,” said Luke, pushing the little boy forward. “Sorry about the delay. This little one starts moaning if we try going anywhere too far, too fast. Plus, we ended up going to two different bloody places before we could track you down.”

“I don’t understand,” said James. “What’s the property I’ve inherited?”

“Well it’s ’im, innit?” said Luke, with a gap-toothed grin. “’Ow much’ll you gi’ me for ’im?”

James looked again at the little boy. He realised why he’d been spooked by the eyes. The shape and colour were wrong, but the eyebrows and lashes were jarringly familiar. As was the button nose, a little dusting of freckles over the bridge hidden by a black, sticky stain. The high cheekbones and the rounded cheeks were right. The mouth was slightly familiar, though the boy looked as if his teeth were more bucked than they ought to be. The round face was almost there, too, though this boy’s chin was rather too pointed. Not to mention his skin was a couple of shades too olive.

“What’s your name?” James asked the boy.

“Elias,” the boy replied quietly, looking at his sandaled feet.

“I need to know your full name,” pressed James, rather more quickly and sternly than he’d intended. “I’m the recorder here. I need to record your arrival.”

“Elias Giovanni Baker,” the boy half-whispered, turning his ankles and wiggling his toes in his sandals.

“Your name is Elias Baker?” said James.

“That’s what he said, Jay,” said Manny, looking equally stunned.

“His poor mother and father both popped their clogs,” sighed Luke, with a shake of the head. “Very sad, it is. I’d’ve flogged ’im straight on, like, but the boy says to me he knows ’ow to find his dad’s uncle, so he says. Says this uncle Jacob’s got deep pockets and’ll pay to take ’im. So, ’ere we are. As the mythical uncle Jacob’s son, the boy’s yours if you want ’im. Provided you pay up, of course.”

“How old are you, Elias?” asked James.

“Nine,” Elias said.

“You’re trying to sell me a nine-year-old boy?”

“Wha’s a matter?” said Luke. “You don’t think I’d spend the best part of a month trekking all the way up ’ere for nothin’, do ya?”

“I’m not paying for him!” said James. “I’m not buying a child. Plus, I don’t have anything to give you. He’s family. We belong to him; not the other way around.”

“You told me your family was rich!” snapped Luke, clouting Elias around the back of his head. “Brought me up north on this wild goose chase for nothing, you little swine!”

“Hey!” said James and Manny together. Manny grabbed for Elias’ free arm. “Don’t you hit him like that.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen!” replied Luke. “The boy’s my property. Unless you’re willing to do a deal with me, we’ll be on our way. Sure someone in this godforsaken corner of the planet will want to buy ’im.”

“Wait,” said James. “Just a second. You’ve got to let us… let us see him, first!”

“Yeah,” said Manny. “Can’t expect us to buy livestock without inspecting it first. What do you think we are? Simpletons?”

“Right,” said Luke, rubbing his hands together. “Now we’re talkin’! ’Ere, ’ave a good look, then.”

He pushed Elias forward. James pulled the boy into a protective embrace, trying not to pay too much attention to his smell.

“Alright then,” said Manny. “On your way. Fuck off.”

“You what?” said Luke.

“Do one,” said Manny.

“You ain’t paid me yet for the boy!”

“Slavery is illegal in the City of Durham,” said James. “As soon as you walked up the South Road, Elias Baker stopped being your possession.”

“Who says?”

“The City Sheriff,” said Manny.

“I don’t see no sheriff,” replied Luke. “Give me the boy back!”

“I’m the sheriff, you prat!” said Manny, drawing a surprised, strangled giggle from Elias. “Now get the hell out of here before I have to arrest you!”

“Come on,” laughed Luke, tunelessly and mirthlessly. “Surely there’s some arrangement I can come to with you two fine gentlemen, the last of the great Baker clan?”

“No,” said James.

“Don’t mess with the Baker boys,” said Manny. “Lads! Close the gates!”

“Oh, fuck!” groaned Luke. He followed Manny’s advice and did one, breaking into a sprint for the slowly closing gates. Elias leaned his head back to look up at James’ face with wide-eyed surprise. James smiled back at him.

Manny didn’t trust the teenagers to have the castle gates shut in time. He rushed off after Luke, easily catching him under the archway, and grabbing him by the waist.

“Fuck off, you onion!” bleated Luke, producing a blade from somewhere in the hangy folds of his overshirt. Manny hopped back as Luke twirled the blade around. “Yeah, that’s right. I’ll be making my way right out of this castle now, and I’ll be taking that boy with me. You got that?”

Manny sighed, grabbed Luke by the forearm, and began twisting his blade arm away. “Drop the knife!” he said. “Drop it now!”

“No!” shouted Luke. “Aargh! Ohh! You’re killing me! You’re killing me!”

“Drop the knife, then!”

“No!”

“For Christ’s sake!” said Manny, and smashed his fist into Luke’s face. The man and the blade hit the stone slabs of the castle courtyard in tandem. Manny shook off his hand, screwed up his eyes, and opened his mouth in an extended, pouted oval, like he’d just burnt his tongue on hot soup. He turned back to James and Elias. “Why do I keep having to deal with fucking twats today? You can’t say that weren’t coming.”

James snorted and shrugged in a silent guffaw. Elias gazed up at him, his face broken in a wobbly smile, more giggling racking his body.

“Don’t you ever say or do things like that,” Manny chided Elias. “That’s just for when Uncle Manny gets angry, got it?”

Elias nodded. James squeezed the lad by the shoulders. “Would you like to live here, with us?”

“Leave me to deal with this,” said Manny, looking down, hands on hips, at the prone Cockney on the floor. “You go and get him sorted out.”

“Come on, Elias,” said James to the boy. “We’ll get you cleaned up first, then we can get you settled in. Follow me.”

He held out his hand for Elias to take and walked his new charge through the little door in the middle of the castle gate, off down the slope behind the castle to the riverside. The sun played dominoes through the eaves, lightly rustling in the slight breeze. Bees buzzed back and forth busily amongst the overhead blossoms.

“Clothes off,” said James, pulling a bar of soap from a cabinet on the riverside. “I’ll come in for a dip with you.”

Moorhens bobbed by. The breeze caught again. The river water rippled like the ghosts of waves breaking on a blank shore.

 

**

 

James’ bedroom was cosy in the dim light of the oil lamp. He had enjoyed living in the castle, but that would have to change now. He had Elias to think of and the boy needed his own space.

Elias hadn’t said much all day. James presumed he must still be taking in his new surroundings, as well as trying to get a feel for how – and what – to communicate with him. Nevertheless, there was no denying that, once cleaned up, he was a cute boy. Perfectly well-behaved, too, despite his quietness. He didn’t seem withdrawn; simply unsure where to begin. And who could blame him? He was nine. James was a grown man, yet he was still playing everything by ear.

He unpacked Elias’ few belongings from his little rucksack. The boy had been instructed to use the toilet and brush his teeth ready for bed, and had complied without argument, bouncing a little as he walked into the bathroom, like the way his great uncle used to walk. There wasn’t much to sort through. A few balls of dirty socks and some dirty briefs; a change of shorts and tee-shirt; a pair of pyjamas made up of short bottoms and a short-sleeved top, decorated with the image of a yellow, spiky-haired boy, razzing all comers.

James reached deeper into the bag and pulled out something soft but firm, small and roundish. He held in his hand a little blue teddy bear, its fabric slightly worn, with a boy’s name in a black oval attached to its tummy by Velcro. Jonathan.

“That’s granddad,” said Elias. “I’ve been keeping him safe.”

James looked up at the boy and they smiled at each other. Elias was stood in only a pair of boxer shorts, having dumped the rest of his clothing in the bathroom. James, knelt beside the bag and observing Elias from midriff height, was aware again of how dirty and smelly all of Elias’ clothes were from his long journey, picking up a strong whiff of sweat and stale urine from his underpants. He’d have to find replacements in the morning while the rest were washed or thrown out.

“Look,” said Elias, kneeling beside James and reaching back into the rucksack. “I’ve got Uncle Jake in here too! That’s how I found you.”

Elias pulled a matching blue bear out of the bottom of his bag. Jacob. He turned it over and revealed a label protruding from the bear’s bottom. There, in smudged and faded blue ink, was the address of their farm; the house he’d grown up in. He looked down at the bear in his hands and turned it over. He grinned to himself as he read the label. It was the address of the winter house, complete with its long-obsolete postcode.

“Shall we take them to bed with us tonight?” suggested James. “I bet they could use a cuddle.”

“Yeah,” smiled Elias. “Luke wouldn’t let me get them out while I was with him.”

“Well,” said James, “none of us have to worry about him anymore, do we?”

“No,” grinned Elias. “Your brother is cool!”

“I’ll tell him you said that,” chuckled James. “He’s your uncle now. Anyway; pyjamas on, pants off. We don’t want you in my bed in the noddy, do we?”

“No!” giggled Elias. “That would be rude!”

“Yeah,” said James, standing up and causing his knees to click from being set in place on the floor too long. He ruffled the back of Elias’ golden-brown hair as the boy drew his pyjamas to himself – apparently unworn throughout his entire journey from how clean they looked – and sat on the end of the bed as Elias dressed himself with his back turned. “We don’t want any of that, do we?”

“Do you live in the castle all the time?” asked Elias, yanking up his pyjama shorts and hopping a hundred and eighty degrees to face James, hands still on the elastic of his bottoms forcing a small bundle to stretch their front.

“I do,” said James, “but I was thinking we could move somewhere else, so you could have your own bed in your own room. Would you like that, Elias?”

Elias flashed all of his teeth at once. “I’d love it!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide.

“I think the floor above where Uncle Manny lives is free,” said James. “We can have a look at it tomorrow. You’d get to play with his little boy, Theo, all the time.”

“Please can we do that?” begged Elias, smile parting his tired face. “I want to know all my family.”

“I think you and Theo will be best of friends,” said James. “You can be his big brother and look after him.”

“I think I can do that,” nodded Elias. “Uncle James?”

“What’s up?”

“Will you give me a cuddle before I go to sleep?”

“Of course I will. Come on. Let’s hop in.”

James pulled off his tee-shirt and shorts, slipping under the covers with his underpants on, and uncovered the other side of the bed for the pyjama-clad Elias. He reached to put out the lamp and felt Elias gently sidle up to him.

“Do you know any stories about my granddad and Uncle Jake?” he whispered. “Could you tell me before bed?”

“I’ll tell you a story about Uncle Jake,” replied James. “It’s a story about a little boy who was nine, who had lost both his parents and needed his uncle to look after him.”

“Just like me?” said Elias.

“Just like you,” said James.