She had her way of getting around
such little problems. “Perhaps,” she said to the prosecutor, “you
would like to withdraw your charges, and then we can simply close
this sorry saga and let the young man go home.”
Icarus felt another prickle of
pride. The prosecutor nodded vigorously and said: “Oh, yes, Your
Honour, I agree. I agree.” And with a glance at Helmet Two he
continued: “I am sure that my colleagues in the force won’t object
to me withdrawing all charges.” Helmet Two seemed to sag with
relief in the doorway as he realised that his treatment of Icarus
would not be questioned further.
The Beak turned to Icarus. “You
are free to go. Of course, if you wish to pursue any action against
the arresting officers, that is up to you.”
And with a bang of the gavel,
the first time it was used that morning, the court leapt to its
feet in unison and The Beak was gone.
6. RIGHT MAN FOR THE JOB
A few days later Icarus
informed Mrs Smith, “I think that tomorrow I’ll go to look for a
job.”
“What about school?” asked Mrs
Smith.
“I don’t want to go back. And I
don’t think that they want me back.”
“What will you do?” cried Mrs
Smith. “You have no qualifications, no skills, no …” she was about
to say “no talent”, but managed to stop herself. “You’re still so
young,” she went on. “You’re just … you’re just a boy.”
“The magistrate called me a
man.”
“That doesn’t make you a
man.”
Icarus said nothing. He had not
thought this through. What could I do? he wondered. His mother
watched him, sitting in his striped pyjamas at the breakfast table.
The summer holidays end next week, she thought. If he doesn’t go
back to school, I will have to stay at home to look after him, and
I can hardly afford to do that.
“I’m 16 now, well, almost,” said
Icarus almost in response to her thoughts. “I can look after
myself. I’m not a child anymore.”
“What will you do?” she asked
again. “What can you do? I don’t want you to just land up working
in a shop …” she was about to add “like I did” but refrained.
“You’re a bright boy. You’ve got wonderful prospects, high hopes,
great expectations, and if you study hard and finish school you
could do anything you want.”
“Anything like what?”
“Well, you could become a
lawyer, just like that nice Mr Bono, who got you out of this mess.”
It was the first time that Mrs Smith had made any mention of “this
mess”.
“Mr Bono isn’t nice, he’s
creepy.”
“Well, I think he’s nice, and
helpful, and even chivalrous, which is something you don’t see much
of these days. Anyhow, that’s not the point. You could be a lawyer,
or doctor, a magistrate, or even a policeman ….”
Icarus had a fleeting image of
Helmet Two sitting on the police station floor, spitting his front
teeth out after walking bang into the steel gate, and knew that
never, never, never would he be a policeman. Not even a policeman
who rode a bicycle.
“I’ll find something,” he told
his mother. “I’ll go down to the job centre tomorrow and find
something.”
“I’ll take the day off then, and
come with you.”
For a moment Icarus hesitated.
He almost said okay, but he knew that it wasn’t okay, and said
quite firmly: “No, I have to go alone and do this all by myself.
I’m not a boy anymore.”
Mrs Smith felt her eyes moisten,
she knew that she could do nothing right then. For sixteen years
she had been terrified of this moment. It was a moment that she
knew would come one day. She always believed that she would know
when it was about to arrive, and that she would be expecting it.
Suddenly that moment was here, totally unexpected, so much sooner
than she could have imagined. For the second time in her life she
was about to lose her greatest love, and there was absolutely
nothing that she could do about it.
“It’s just a job, Mother,” said
Icarus, “it’s not like I’m leaving the country
such little problems. “Perhaps,” she said to the prosecutor, “you
would like to withdraw your charges, and then we can simply close
this sorry saga and let the young man go home.”
Icarus felt another prickle of
pride. The prosecutor nodded vigorously and said: “Oh, yes, Your
Honour, I agree. I agree.” And with a glance at Helmet Two he
continued: “I am sure that my colleagues in the force won’t object
to me withdrawing all charges.” Helmet Two seemed to sag with
relief in the doorway as he realised that his treatment of Icarus
would not be questioned further.
The Beak turned to Icarus. “You
are free to go. Of course, if you wish to pursue any action against
the arresting officers, that is up to you.”
And with a bang of the gavel,
the first time it was used that morning, the court leapt to its
feet in unison and The Beak was gone.
6. RIGHT MAN FOR THE JOB
A few days later Icarus
informed Mrs Smith, “I think that tomorrow I’ll go to look for a
job.”
“What about school?” asked Mrs
Smith.
“I don’t want to go back. And I
don’t think that they want me back.”
“What will you do?” cried Mrs
Smith. “You have no qualifications, no skills, no …” she was about
to say “no talent”, but managed to stop herself. “You’re still so
young,” she went on. “You’re just … you’re just a boy.”
“The magistrate called me a
man.”
“That doesn’t make you a
man.”
Icarus said nothing. He had not
thought this through. What could I do? he wondered. His mother
watched him, sitting in his striped pyjamas at the breakfast table.
The summer holidays end next week, she thought. If he doesn’t go
back to school, I will have to stay at home to look after him, and
I can hardly afford to do that.
“I’m 16 now, well, almost,” said
Icarus almost in response to her thoughts. “I can look after
myself. I’m not a child anymore.”
“What will you do?” she asked
again. “What can you do? I don’t want you to just land up working
in a shop …” she was about to add “like I did” but refrained.
“You’re a bright boy. You’ve got wonderful prospects, high hopes,
great expectations, and if you study hard and finish school you
could do anything you want.”
“Anything like what?”
“Well, you could become a
lawyer, just like that nice Mr Bono, who got you out of this mess.”
It was the first time that Mrs Smith had made any mention of “this
mess”.
“Mr Bono isn’t nice, he’s
creepy.”
“Well, I think he’s nice, and
helpful, and even chivalrous, which is something you don’t see much
of these days. Anyhow, that’s not the point. You could be a lawyer,
or doctor, a magistrate, or even a policeman ….”
Icarus had a fleeting image of
Helmet Two sitting on the police station floor, spitting his front
teeth out after walking bang into the steel gate, and knew that
never, never, never would he be a policeman. Not even a policeman
who rode a bicycle.
“I’ll find something,” he told
his mother. “I’ll go down to the job centre tomorrow and find
something.”
“I’ll take the day off then, and
come with you.”
For a moment Icarus hesitated.
He almost said okay, but he knew that it wasn’t okay, and said
quite firmly: “No, I have to go alone and do this all by myself.
I’m not a boy anymore.”
Mrs Smith felt her eyes moisten,
she knew that she could do nothing right then. For sixteen years
she had been terrified of this moment. It was a moment that she
knew would come one day. She always believed that she would know
when it was about to arrive, and that she would be expecting it.
Suddenly that moment was here, totally unexpected, so much sooner
than she could have imagined. For the second time in her life she
was about to lose her greatest love, and there was absolutely
nothing that she could do about it.
“It’s just a job, Mother,” said
Icarus, “it’s not like I’m leaving the country
Similar Books
