Ultimate Justice (7 page)

They walked back to the centre and were soon caught up with the remaining children. They all sat on mats with them as the older ones came round with plates of biscuits that they had decorated with icing. They were works of art.

“Wonderful,” said Jalli. “Do we have to eat them? They look too good to eat.”

But the children insisted that they be eaten. For them the decorating was as much a way of piling on sugar as the artistic designs.

“This centre must have been very hard to set up,” said Jack to Mr Pero. “I mean with all the original opposition.”

“Yes, I suppose so. It took time. It's easier now. But at first it was very hard. They didn't even want the children in the warehouse. The council objected on the grounds that it constituted a change of use, but they didn't just want to turf us out either because some people liked the idea of getting the children off the streets. We installed a kitchen (first things first!) then I bought beds and bedding and got in carpenters to put up partitions. In the beginning I used members of the hotel staff to do the cooking. There was no problem in attracting the children when there was food around!”

“You paid the cooks?”

“Oh, yes. They were mainly in the hotel but came here on a rota basis. There weren't so many children in those days. But gradually I got people who came to volunteer. This was hard because not all of them were suitable. I used to get the police to check the names – that put off the wrong sort.”

“This must have taken a lot of your time,” said Jalli.

“It did. But in those days we didn't have anyone with the children overnight. After all, they had been living rough for years. But then one day some men attempted to get in. The children had bolted the doors, but they tried to get in through the windows. The children let up so much noise that eventually the men ran away. After that we had to have paid guards, and I knew we had to be much more coordinated. So, I met with the volunteers and we agreed to set up a proper organisation. We appointed governors and founded a company that employed people. We soon had house-mothers, kitchen staff, security people seven days and nights a week. We took in more children and they were properly enrolled. They had to commit to staying – they couldn't just come and go any more.”

“Didn't that put them off?” asked Jalli.

“We lost some of them, but most stayed.”

The house-mother told Jalli that the children were all there voluntarily. However, while they were there, there were house rules that required the children to wash and keep their clothes and rooms tidy and swept. The only other rule that was non-negotiable was that they had to be present at all meals, three times a day. If they wanted to skip school they could, so long as they were back at lunchtime and tea-time. If they missed a meal they ran the risk of exclusion from the centre.

“Do they often miss school?” asked Jalli.

“Hardly ever. The schools have their own rules – but most like learning anyway. They appreciate the opportunity.”

“You've done well,” said Jack.

“And now it is time for your trip,” said Pero. “We should go up to the headland and check in with Zookas. You can see the island from there.”

“We are taking all your time,” said Jalli. “You must have so much to do.”

“I'm retired!” replied Pero. “Today, I can do what I want!”

As soon as the boat was beyond the harbour entrance the children had started to explore every bit of it. The crewmen came to the volunteer leaders and urged them to make sure the kids moved about safely. There was too much to trip up on and they didn't want anyone overboard. But they needn't have worried. As soon as the boat began to rise and fall in the swell the children calmed down and found seats inside and outside. This was a new experience for all of them. None of them had ever been on the sea before. Some began to look queasy and Kakko, Shaun, Bandi and the other volunteers were hard at it, reassuring and cuddling where necessary. Kakko soon found that the romance of the trip was to be enhanced for her as she dealt with a child who was sick – fortunately on the lee side of the vessel. She took note of this. Had he been leaning over the other side they would all have got some! As it was, there was not much clearing up. To her surprise as soon as the boy had finished being sick, his colour changed back to normal and within a minute he was happy and chirpy again.

At first Adnak and his friends kept themselves aloof. But one by one they resigned themselves to the fact that this was not going to be the kind of outing they had envisaged when they set out, and then got involved with the children until it was difficult to distinguish them from the volunteer leaders. One or two held back, Adnak in particular, Kakko noticed. Some of the girls in his party normally turned on by his personal attractions – he was rich, good looking, tall, self-confident – were now succumbing to the lure of the children instead.

“Who needs men when you've got kids to amuse you!” said a tall girl about the same age as Kakko.

Kakko agreed. There was no competition. She struck up a conversation with Kloa, the volunteer leader in charge. Kloa was still getting over being on the boat herself.

“Funny to think that some of these people come from the part of society that wants to get rid of these kids for being on the street,” she remarked. “Even our government would rather deny there is a problem. They have nowhere secure to take them.”

“What, nothing else? Is the Paradise Centre the only place for them?” marvelled Kakko.

“There used to be an institution but it was so bad that many of the children got sick and died in it. It was such a scandal it became an election issue. When the new government came into power they closed it down, but they didn't put anything in its place. Some of us still say it was more of a cost-cutting exercise.”

“What about those children who don't come to the centre? There must be others.”

“Lots of them. We have two outreach workers who try to look after those on the streets,” she said. “They make sure they don't starve and get them medical care when they can. Most of what they do is just protecting them from the gangs who go round abusing or killing them.”

“Killing them!” Kakko almost shouted. “Killing children?”

“It doesn't happen where you come from?”

“No-way! How can you kill children and not be locked up?” exclaimed Kakko.

“Very easily,” said the girl. “As long as you don't get caught doing it, it is not regarded as anything serious here. Some people see it as culling vermin, but our outreach workers are there and can call in help if they see anyone with guns.”

“It sounds a dangerous job,” said Shaun, coming into the conversation.

“It can be. But they are properly equipped with phone links. They are told not to confront the gangs. Last year some of the gang members were caught and the police had no choice but to charge them because public opinion is changing… slowly.”

“Same thing with the centre,” added a second volunteer. “At first there were petitions against it, but now it is different. When the council tried to tell us we were to move, some local businesses around us wrote up and told them they wanted us to stay. The council backed down.”

***

The cruiser covered the distance to the island in less than half-an-hour. It wasn't a slouch. And anyway, the captain knew that the young children were not going to want the slow journey he had anticipated for the young people who sought to sun themselves in various states of undress while they supped on bottles of cold, alcoholic beverages. But now the fridges remained shut and the young people were nearly all involved with the Paradise children. On reaching the island, the captain pulled into a small narrow inlet with a long white beach on one side and trees right down to the water's edge on the other. They approached the end of the beach from which a jetty had been built.

“The island's uninhabited these days,” said the girl Kakko had been chatting to. “There was an old recluse but he got sick and had to leave. Since then people only come here for fun or to study the birds.”

The children were all anxious to get off the boat and explore.

“OK. Listen up,” said Kloa. She waited for the noise to subside. Eventually the children realised there was no going ashore until they had heard her out.

“You can go in any direction you like. There is no-one else here on this island so you can't get into trouble, but you need to be safe. There are three rules. Remember the house up there is derelict. So the first rule is this: if you go into the house, DO NOT GO UP THE STAIRS. Why? Because you might very well fall through. I mean this. Fran, Jeno,” she said looking at the more lively of the girls and boys whom she deemed the most venturesome and the more likely to disobey her, “I am putting you in charge of making sure that people DO NOT GO UP THE STAIRS. Got it?” Fran and Jeno nodded their agreement, chuffed that they had been given responsibility.

“OK. Second rule. This island is used by ground nesting birds. What does that mean Jess?” she asked one of the bright girls.

“That there might be nests with eggs in them, miss.”

“Correct, nests on the ground but hidden among the grass and undergrowth. So if you leave the paths what might you do?”

“Tread on the eggs, miss,” said Jess.

“So the second rule is, KEEP TO THE PATHS. OK?”

They all shouted their agreement.

“Besides,” said Kloa, “there are goof-adders and you don't want to disturb them, do you?”

The children stood silent and shook their heads.

“OK?”

“What's the third rule, miss?” asked Jess, feeling bold.

“Oh. I nearly forgot. Mr Captain, can you make the boat hoot?”

“Sure,” he said and gave a blast on the horn.

“When you hear that you are all to come back here, OK? It will mean there is food!” The children cheered loudly. The gangway was deployed and they filed over it… and then disappeared!

Kakko was alarmed. But the volunteers didn't seem to be fazed.

“Will they be OK?” asked Shaun.

“This peace is bliss!” said Kloa. “They'd do it wherever we take them. At least here they can't get lost or picked up.”

The crew began to deploy the picnic stuff at the top of the beach.

“When would you like to eat?” asked the captain.

“Give them an hour. That's all they'll need. Most of them will be back before then anyway.”

“Fine.”

“Do you want any help?”

“No. We've got it covered. You go off and check on the kids.”

Adnak made a suggestion to some of the others that now was the time to chill out on the beach as they had planned. But no-one else seemed interested. The distinction between his ‘guests' and the volunteers had virtually vanished. Before long, most had also disappeared to join the children. Adnak was left either to help the crew, which was way beneath him he thought, or join the rest. He slowly made his way up the path that led to the old house, which had become the subject of an invasion. The children were darting about it, in and out of the doors and some even climbing through the windows. When he got there, he discovered there was a board across the bottom of the stairs bearing the word ‘danger' on it. He recalled that the owners of the island had been warned to protect the public. There had been an article in the local newspaper about how some person had reported the floor was rotting. That's where Kloa had probably got her information from. He looked up the stairs. There were boot prints in the dust, but nothing recent. The kids were following the rules. They zoomed past him and even played hide and seek behind him. There didn't seem to be any other leaders about.

“Sir?” said one. “What're goof-adders?”

“Dunno. Never heard of them,” said Adnak.

“What do they do to you if they get you?” asked another.

“I suppose they might bite you.”

“Yu-urk! I ain't never going to go off the path. They don't come onto the paths do they?”

“Never seen one.”

“That's OK then.”

And they were off. “Bet you can't catch Jeno?”

Adnak had nothing better to do and soon he was traipsing all over the island the same as the others.

At last there was a blast of the boat's horn, and suddenly from all ends of the island people emerged at top speed – none of them leaving the paths though.

What a spread! Zookas had not just provided a picnic but a banquet! There was exotic stuff the kids had never even seen, let alone eaten. The seafood didn't go down so well as the pastries. Even after everyone had eaten as much as they could there appeared to be just as much left over. The beer and the wine, however, remained in the fridges. It just wasn't appropriate, and, to his own amazement, not even Adnak missed it much – these kids were really entertaining, even if they never stopped talking or yelling!

As Mr Pero drove Jack and Jalli up the headland to Zookas' place he explained, “Our numbers grew. We were getting new kids all the time – and they weren't leaving. Eventually we got more support from the town – people like Zookas. Some of them gave generously and we were able to build a new purpose-built house for the teenagers round the corner from the warehouse. We call it ‘Paradise House'. It has up-to-date facilities with two to a room and tiled bathrooms. That helps the children gain self-respect. We promise to keep them there until they find somewhere to go to as older teens.”

Jalli saw the blue sea on her left and the red roofs of the villa in front of them.

“We asked the children what it should be called and they all wanted to keep the name ‘Paradise', so we call it ‘Paradise House' to distinguish it from the centre. Would you like to visit it?”

“Certainly,” said Jack.

“We'll go there when we get back.”

They topped the rise and saw Zookas' villa in front of them. Pero drove the van into the courtyard and they got out and Jalli took in the view. The town and harbour were down below them.

“That's Lona Island,” said Mr Pero, pointing out a large island some distance towards the horizon.

“Pero!” exclaimed a man behind them, coming out of the house. “Welcome!” Zookas was a big man and not a shy one. He engulfed his friend in his bear-like arms and patted him on the back. Jalli was half wondering if that was going to be her fate too. But not this time. After they had been introduced, Zookas just took their hands in an enthusiastic handshake. The hugs were to be kept for the next meeting.

“Come! Come!” Zookas conducted them through the front door into a courtyard with a view of the sea. He motioned them to sit on an upholstered bench behind a metal table from which sprouted a large, brightly-coloured sunshade.

Jalli led Jack to the bench as he took stock of his new surroundings. She knew he was conjuring up a site plan in his mind, so turning in the direction of the view in a way that he could feel, said, “What a marvellous view you have. Right across to the island.”

“Indeed, I have.”

A servant appeared with a tray.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Oh. Something simple, and cold,” said Pero.

“Local beer?”

“Good,” said Pero.

“Same for me,” said Jack.

“And for the lady? How about the local red wine?”

Jalli nodded and forced a smile. She wasn't sure, but Mr Pero didn't seem to think it was out of order, so she relaxed.

“Bring us a bottle of the eighth year vintage,” said Zookas to the servant.

“Eighth year!” exclaimed Pero. “You still have some of that? The best vintage ever.”

“I have a few bottles.”

“I am honoured,” said Jalli, thinking that it would probably be wasted on her.

The conversation began with the latest news of the Paradise Centre and Paradise House, which Jack and Jalli couldn't really follow. But they ascertained that Zookas was interested in the details.

Then Pero brought up the whole intriguing business of the white gates. There were the usual questions of how it worked. Interestingly, Zookas accepted without question the fact that it didn't happen for everyone. Often people asked the question why only some and not others, but this fact didn't seem to bother Zookas. Later Jack reflected that that might be because he was used to privilege. In his world, the fact that only some are permitted was not a strange concept. He followed with the question of Jack's blindness, complimenting him on how he managed and asking him how it came about. Jack gave him his stock answers, including the explanation of a mishap with a baton. Again, Zookas accepted it at face value. Perhaps baton swinging was a regular hazard in this place.

What Zookas seemed more interested in than anything else, was their children. He wanted to know all about them. After taking in a brief resume of each from Jalli, he said, “I expect you are very proud of them.”

“Of course. They are good young people. I'm not saying they're perfect…”

“But their imperfections are small… I am afraid I cannot say that about my four.”

“But, Zookas,” said Pero kindly, “you do everything you can for them.”

“Too much. They're spoilt. My eldest, all she can think about is spending money on clothes and luxuries and going about with her friends. She left me all on my own when I was ill. And the others are going the same way I'm afraid. I shouldn't have let them take the boat today. They'll most probably get drunk and cavort half naked, if not more, and it'll get all over the papers…”

Jack and Jalli were alarmed. “But they have all the children!” said Jalli with some force. “They will have to look after
them
.”

“Oh. I expect they'll leave the kids to your three and the volunteer leaders and go off on the back beach or something… and then they'll be exposed to the paparazzi with their telephoto lenses!”

Mr Pero made noises of disagreement. But, secretly, he agreed. Allowing the Zookas youngsters and their friends the boat may have been a mistake. It was as if Zookas didn't seem to have the choice any more. Giving in to his children had become a habit. Jack and Jalli were relieved that at least Zookas felt their three would stay with the children. She didn't doubt that Bandi would, but to be perfectly honest, she wondered if her extrovert and impetuous daughter would find herself in deeper water than she cared to think. As for Shaun, who knows? He wouldn't look for it, but if Kakko was going he might go along for the ride.
Mind you
, she thought,
that might not be a bad thing because him being there might provide some protection for Kakko
. The thought of it all being photographed was really scary – even if it was on a planet on the other side of the universe. Once pictures had been taken you never knew…

Jalli was lost in thought and realised the conversation had moved on. They were going to get a guided tour of the villa.

Her immediate impression of the place was to wonder how anyone could live in such a large place. Jack thought likewise. He had given up trying to map it in his mind.

“I'd never find you if we lived here,” he said to Jalli.

“Oh. And I was just thinking I might like a place just like it on Joh.”

Jack squeezed her hand.

“I can recommend it,” Zookas was saying, taking Jalli's tease at face value. “If you would like a copy of the architect's drawings you are welcome.”

“Thanks, but we don't have the resources,” smiled Jack politely, “and in any case, with not seeing I have to keep things simple.” Zookas took his arm.

“I understand. I completely understand. The worse thing about having wealth is that children grow up with it. If ever things change for them I worry they won't cope. There are downsides to being rich. I wanted my children to go to the local secondary school but I was warned they could be bullied because they were different – they just wouldn't fit in. So they went to the boarding school and now think those who go to the local school are beneath them.”

***

On their way back to town, Pero said that he thought the way Zookas' children were turning out was probably one of the reasons their father was so keen on the Paradise Centre.

“When he comes to us,” he said, “the children are pleased to see him. He gets more appreciation from the street children than he does from his own. He sometimes sits on the floor with them.”

***

Paradise House was great. Every effort had gone into allowing the children to own it. You could see the young people were very proud of it. The children had decided on their own rules in addition to cleanliness and being at meals. They had an elected house council. The chief member of staff called herself ‘Service Manager'. She saw herself in charge of the running of the house and the other staff members, rather than directing the children whom she called residents.

“But don't they have problems?” asked Kakko.

“All the time,” she said, “but for that we have several care-workers to whom they can turn. We encourage them to talk to them, but if they don't want to they don't have to. They are here voluntarily after all.”

“And do any of them choose to leave?”

“Occasionally. But in every case so far, except one, they have come back within twenty-four hours. The other children see it as their job to persuade them to come back. They know, however, they can't just come and go as they please. If they want to be here they still have to be at every meal. The thing is that all of these children have spent time at the Paradise Centre. Many of them lived there for years. We don't accept teenagers from the street here. We can't because we are overfull with our own children from the centre.”

“What happens to homeless teenagers, then?”

“There are some over-night shelters. We are a small organisation and we can't do everything, and we have to accept that. That is one of the rules we set ourselves, as care-workers we must not beat ourselves up about the things that remain undone. Nobody can do everything; there will always be children out there whose needs are not being met. What we have to do, is do as much as we can without compromising on the standard of care we give. My motto is: ‘Do what you can well, and leave the rest to God'.”

It was quiet in Paradise House. Most of the children were at school. They were given a short tour and then invited to stop for lunch. There they met two girls who had no school that day – their school had a day off for some staff training, they explained. It was amazing. They treated them with so much respect. Visitors were accorded the highest honour. It was hard to imagine that they were once living on the streets. Neither of them had any family apart from Paradise.

Jack thanked them for allowing them into their home.

“You are welcome,” they said. “Tell us about
your
home.” So they told them all about Joh, White Gates Cottage and Matilda and Momori.

“That's three generations!” said one of the girls. “Your children are so lucky.”

“They are,” agreed Jalli. “Actually, it's four generations because I was brought up by my grandmother. My parents both died when I was three.”

“But your grandmother wanted you?”

“Absolutely. She lost everyone on the same day – her husband, her brothers and sisters and her children. Her house, her whole village disappeared. I was all she had.”

“That is bad. She must hurt. But she had you. She loves you.”

“She does. Sometimes it only takes one person to love and look after you. She loves me very, very well. She always wants the best for me – even if it would mean letting me go. ”

“But she didn't have to. Now she has a whole house full! And you.”

“Yes. And I am ever appreciative of it… even if I worry about my children sometimes.”

“You worry? Why?”

“I worry that, maybe, they might find… bad friends.”

“No! Your children will never make friends with bad people. You love them. They will know when people don't love well – it tastes different.”