Date: Sun, 13 Aug 2023 13:35:25 +0000
From: Jonah
Subject: The Happiest Days   Chapter 14

The Happiest Days
by Jonah

This is a story about love - real love - at work in the lives of good
people.  It follows on from "Halls of Academia," but the story really began
many, many moons ago with "A Letter from America".  There are no real
people herein so, if you think one of the characters is based on you, or on
somebody you know, have another think and come up with a different answer.
Having said that, I didn't invent every character.  A couple of them were
originally crafted by another author.  I have to (well, actually, it is my
pleasure to) thank Jacob Lion, in the USA for his permission to use his
characters in my stories.

I hope you will enjoy this story, and I'm grateful to Nifty for enabling me
to bring it to you.  Nifty does not charge either me or you for doing so,
but it does cost money to do it.  Please consider donating to Nifty at
https://donate.nifty.org/ to help keep this site going.

Chapter 14   The Old Darling on the Bench

Norwich Crown Court was not filled to overflowing.  I sat with about half a
dozen other people in the public gallery while the Judge faced us from the
bench at the other end.  In the gallery below a handful of bewigged
barristers and suited solicitors had gathered.  The witness stand stood
empty but Benjamin East stood between two uniformed officers in the dock.

The judge cleared his throat.

"In the case of the Crown versus Benjamin East," he began, "I have heard
the evidence and the jury have delivered their verdict with a very
surprising recommendation which I don't feel that it would be proper for me
to ignore.  Before sentencing, I will hear depositions from the defence,
then from the prosecution.  Mr, Selwyn?"

A bewigged barrister rose to his feet.

"Milord," he began, "the defendant understands the seriousness of the
charges of which he has been found guilty.  He realises that he cannot
plead for leniency on his own behalf, but asks that you consider that you
would be depriving a child of his only remaining parent.  He feels that the
jury might have given a recommendation for leniency on those grounds."

"Indeed, Mr. Selwyn, they might have done so," observed the judge, " but
they did not."

"No, milord, and my client is conscious that he might have blotted his
copy-book on the parenting front.  All he is asking for is the chance to
put that right."

"I think, "might have" is understating the case," observed the judge.
"Thank you Mr. Selwyn"

He looked over his wire rimmed spectacles at the other barrister.

"Mr. Barrett?"

The barrister rose.

"Milord, social services have advised that the defendant has been ruled as
an unfit parent by the juvenile protection service and in view of that, the
defence's submission is a bit like asking for leniency for Lizzie Borden
because she was an orphan.  The defendant describes himself as the child's
only surviving relative.  That is a result of his own crime, and the police
have just finished investigating a claim by the defendant that he was NOT
the only surviving relative.  He has told this court one thing and social
services the opposite.  That, milord, was an attempt to place the child
with a member of the drugs cartel, of which he also stands convicted of
being a member, so that the child could later be used as a hostage."

"Thank you Mr. Barrett. Now as to sentencing,"

Mr Selwyn was on his feet.

"Milord, it is not proven that my client wished to use his son as a
hostage.  His actions were entirely because he had learned that Social
Services were trying to place his son with two known homosexuals - a
situation of which he wholly disapproves."

 The judge didn't even raise his voice.

"Mr. Sewyn, I invite you to sit down.  You have made your deposition.  Now,
as to sentencing - "

Selwyn was still on his feet.

"Mr. Selwyn, I feel that I should warn you that, if you interrupt me again,
I will not hesitate to have you arraigned for contempt."

The learned counsel sat down.

"Thank you.  Now, although the case of Miss Borden took place in another
country, I am familiar with it.  I should remind Mr. Barrett that cases in
the State of Massachusetts do not make good precedent in English Law.  I
suspect, though it cannot be proven, and it would be wrong to try, that, in
making their strange recommendation, the jury were doing what they could to
try to protect the child.  Whether or not that is so, and whether or not
the prosecution's fears are justified, it is NOT a consideration in the
case at hand.  The defendant is charged and found guilty of crimes that
have been committed by him.  We cannot convict for crimes that he might
commit in the future.

That effectively disposes of the prosecution's deposition, but it disposes
of the defense one as well since there is no prospect that the defendant
will ever be more than the biological father of his child.

That being said, I can only convict on the evidence before the court, the
verdict of the jury, and the unusual, but perfectly legal recommendation of
the jury.  I sentence you be detained at His Majesty's pleasure for the
maximum term for these crimes which, in this case, is life.  I further
stipulate that it is to be taken to mean life, but in any case, not less
than twenty-five years.  Take him down."

There was some shouting from the dock but I didn't stay to listen to it.  I
think that I was out of the court before Ben East was out of the dock.

I sat in the car for some time before driving away.  I didn't want to drive
until I was sure I'd be able to concentrate. I simply didn't know how I
felt about what I had just witnessed.  The verdict was the correct one, and
the sentence was just, but that didn't cut it.  I could take no pleasure in
seeing justice done in that way.  Was it a case of "there but for the grace
of God?"  No, certainly not.  I didn't believe myself capable of any of the
things that East had done.  Probably it was more a case of "for whom the
bell tolls".  That seemed more likely.  Or was it anger on Philip's behalf.
He had been born with an entitlement to love and care and, instead, he had
this.  Well, that was true but, if that were the case, then he didn't need
my anger: he needed my love and my commitment to see that he got what East
had denied him.  I started the engine and drove away.

I was home by two o'clock, having called in at Tesco's to get dinner in for
us.  By the time Garret and the boy's were home I'd got steak pie with
mash, cabbage and carrots ready for us all and a semolina pudding ready to
follow it down.  Garret was eager to know what had happened in court, but I
made him wait until the boys had gone upstairs to play.  When I finally
updated him he showed very little emotion.  I got the impression that Ben
East was not very high on his Christmas card list.

The other topic, in which I was more interested, was how Philip had got on
at school.  Garret said that Jean had made several visits to his classroom
to ensure that all was well and, so far as she could tell, it was.  I asked
whether Garret thought that he would be attending for the rest of the week.

"Why?" he asked," do you think he'll want to attend the funeral?"

"Don't you," I returned.

"Well I'm sure he knows when it is, but he hasn't mentioned it, and I
haven't reminded him about it."

I mulled this over for a few seconds.  In the end I said,

"Look mate, it's his mother's funeral.  He's almost nine years old and,
given the home life he's had, his mother's funeral probably doesn't mean a
lot to him, but it's the only funeral she'll have and, when he's old enough
for it to mean a lot, he can't attend retrospectively."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I think we should take him.  Take him to school tomorrow and, if you're
happier not mentioning it, so be it, but have a word with Jean.  We'll need
to keep him off to do clothes shopping on Thursday so we'll have to talk to
him about it then.  There'll be hardly anybody there that he knows so I
doubt there'll be much of a wake afterwards.  In any case, we'll just bring
him straight back here."

Garret was happy with that so, on Thursday, Garret having gone to school, I
landed the job of talking to Philip.  We had deliberately left him in bed
so I took his breakfast up.  Obviously he had sussed that something was
going on, but I didn't know if he knew what.

"The funeral's not till tomorrow," he commented.

"Does that mean you're going?" I enquired.

"Looks like you've decided I am," he said sulkily.

"Don't you want to?"

"What good will it do?"

"It'll make you feel better when you're my age.  Don't you want your
breakfast?"

"I'm not used to eating in bed."

"Fair enough, I'll take it down.  Get yourself showered and dressed and
come down when you're ready."

When he finally appeared he was smartly dressed, although only in shorts
and a T shirt.  He sat on the settee next to me and silently surveyed his
bare feet.  There was no attempt to touch his breakfast.

"What is it?" I asked quietly.

"I'm afraid," he replied, equally quietly.

I smiled what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Afraid?"

I'm afraid it will bring back bad memories."  There was only one way to
deal with that.

"Memories of walking into your house, seeing your mother on the floor, and
your dad..."

"Stop it! Stop it!"

I waited for his breathing to return to something like normal.

"Those memories?"

"Yes," reluctantly as if the syllable were being dragged from him.

I nodded but waited for him to gather his thoughts before I spoke again.

"Philip, the funeral can't bring back those memories because you've already
got them.  You've been pretending you haven't, but I just stopped you doing
that.  They'll never go away while you pretend."

"You're saying I've got to go?"

I shook my head.

"No, you haven't got to go.  Nobody is going to make you.  You should go
and, if you do, Garret and I will both be there to support you.  I know you
should go and, now, so do you.  It's up to you, but you know the right
thing to do."

"I suppose I'll have to go."

"I suppose you'll have to eat some breakfast.  Off you go."

I swiped my arm above his head in a blow that he dodged easily, as I'd
intended.  I caught the ghost of a grin before he rolled to the floor and
then rose running for the kitchen.  Even at his most moody which, I hoped,
was what I had just witnesed, you couldn't help but love this boy.

I allowed him to spend most of the morning lazing around the house.  He did
some sketching and helped me make lunch for the two of us.  After lunch I
took him into Norwich to procure a smart Jacket, a white shirt and a black
tie.  We shopped for dinner (I was making a curry, so a great quantity of
rice was obtained) and were home easily in time to cook it.

 Dinner was served almost as soon as Garret and Lloyd arrived, then the
boys retired to the garden to mess about with the train.  Garret and I
relaxed on the settee.

"What's the drill for tomorow?" I asked.

"Well, for a start, nobody is going to school," he began.  "All four of us
need to be at the crem for 1145.  Jean has my lessons covered all day, but
she's coming too.  Linda says she will as well, but only in case anything
happens that social services can help with.  She's expecting to just keep a
low profile."

"And I bet she isn't getting paid for it," I remarked.  "At least Philip
will see a few friendly faces."

"Well, the funeral directors say that the family are inviting anybody that
wants to for tea and sandwiches afterwards at the Black Swan.  You know and
I know that "the family" means Philip, and he's done nothing of the sort.
I can only assume that some of the neighbours have taken it on themselves
to do that on Philip's behalf."

I had to admit that I was touched by such kindness.  Years ago, my friend
Kori had told me that there were a whole lot of good people in the world.
Well he was right, and had been proven right time and time again.

Well tomorrow would be the first day of July and it promised to be a busy
day.  Nobody was late going to bed.