Wednesday, 4 January 2023

Five Qualities in a Friend by Peter Glassborow, champagne cocktail

 

I’m Steve, and I made my move on a Friday evening. It was at our normal table of friends. There are usually eleven or twelve of us, sometimes more if someone has a new boy or girlfriend to introduce.  It’s just a couple of drinks after work, typical for a Friday evening for a lot of people. Work done for the week so plan the weekend, have a few laughs and generally relax. Most us are still single with two couples, one couple married and the other pair at the six month mark of living together.

The big table is at the back of the pub and is a decent walk to get another round in. But it also means it’s not too popular so we usually can get it just for us on a Friday evening.

I waited for the appropriate time, when any current serious subject had been talked about and the conversation was about to drift onto new minor subjects.

I rapped the table with my empty bottle and spoke loudly so they would all look my way. ‘My friends I have an idea I would like you all to hear about. Actually it’s an old idea so you may have heard it before, or something like it. And it is because of this idea that I now I intend to take a new direction in my life.’

‘You’re getting another job,’ Joe yelled out, ‘and about time too. Hitting nails into bits of wood is not a proper job.’

‘But selling people clothes that don’t suit them is better, Joe?’ called Abe.

‘They’re good clothes,’ Joe protested.

 Abe shook his head. ‘Not good enough for some of us.’

Before the conversation could degenerate into another friendly exchange of insults I spoke out loudly, ‘No, Joe, something more serious, something life changing.’  That had their attention so I added, ‘It’s about marriage.’ That definitely had their attention and there were exchanged glances, particularly amongst the girls.

‘The usual procedure for marriage is that you meet someone, and you go on dates and become lovers. And then you fall in actual love with them, which can happen after the first date, but usually later. Then you get married or move in together, which is basically the same thing because now you are committed to being together.’

‘Then you become friends. But sometimes that goes wrong because you don’t become friends, because a lover is not automatically a friend. There might be things you don’t like about them, or them not liking in you. Or you have different attitudes to life or long time goals.  And as time goes by it’s enough to make one or both of you fall out of love with the other. Then you split up, and get divorced or no longer live together.’

There were several there who that had happened to already so there were wry expressions to show that they were remembering their experiences. ‘So you fell in love with someone who was not the sort to be a friend, but you assumed they would be because you loved them.’

‘True,’ Suzie said nodding her head as she was one whose lifetime relationship flopped miserably after a year or so.

Jackie chimed in with, ‘Have to agree with that.’

Bill’s eyebrows shot up at what Jackie, his partner, had said. ‘Not for us I hope.’

Jackie patted his knee. ‘No, darling, we are forever.’

‘Oh here we go again,’ someone groaned, ‘just six months of kissy-kissy must mean it's forever.’

‘You two should get a room.’

‘What do you mean a room? They’ve got an entire house together.’

Lucy held up a hand. ‘Can we please all shut up because I would like to hear where Steve is going with all this.’ There was a general consensus to stop talking over me and I was able to continue.

‘So the idea is to do it more logically, or perhaps I should say more practically. The general idea is that you pick a friend, someone you have been around long enough to know them well. All their little ways are familiar to you, and there is nothing really horrible there because if there was they would not be a friend, just an acquaintance.’

I had all their attention now, and apart from a few more exchanged glances all the attention was on me. As I spoke I kept sweeping my eyes around my friends ensuring I did not meet the eyes of any of the girls, single or not because I did not want any of them to get ideas.

‘So it should be someone you have probably known for quite a while, maybe even back to schooldays together. Then you marry her. Being married you will be physical lovers, and hopefully living the rest of your lives together your friendship will develop into actual romantic love. And if it doesn’t, then at worse you will still be spending your life with your good friend.’

‘Now in my case there are five positive qualities I would like any friend who becomes my wife to have. And I’d like you to know what they are first before I go on to my reason for telling you all this.’

‘This’ll be good,’ Joe interrupted and for this he got a mass, ‘Shush!’

‘This is in no particular order, but I will start with intelligence. That’s got nothing to do with education. What I mean is someone who can see things for what they are and realise what is really important in life. Someone who will not collapse when faced with a problem in life, but will use their brain to come up with a solution.  It means she can set goals both for herself and combined with me for our marriage. Goals which are logical and practical. Above all I want someone who I can talk to about anything.’

‘Next is to be good-natured. That means not being a drama queen.’ Here there were a few laughs and lots of grins and friends nudged friends, both female and male, as if implying they were drama queens. ‘Instead she thinks well of people, unless they are proven to be not nice. She is someone who does not automatically take affront at what I might say, which men will often complain is what most women do.’ Heads nodded here in agreement, both male and female. ‘Being good-natured means she does not get angry easily, and when she is angry it’s for a good reason.’

‘And not because I left the toilet seat up,’ said Brian.

Pat jabbed him in the arm. ‘I don’t get angry over that.’

‘But you always complain.’

‘Because you always do it.’

‘For God’s sake you two,’ snapped Lucy. ‘Stop bickering or Steve will never finish.’

‘And so does your dad.’

 Once the table had settled again and I continued. ‘Next is a sense of humour.’

‘For you, Steve, that’s a definite requirement,’ Abe called out and there were cheers of agreement which was very nice.

 ‘Thank you. A sense of humour does not just mean getting the joke. I think it also means looking on the positive side of life and to laugh at problems to lessen the negative impact they have. It means ridiculing nasty people so they are weakened. It means she would rather laugh with me than cry. Laugh at her and my foibles rather than sulk over them. Laugh with people rather than at them.’

I paused a few seconds for affect. ‘But do people have a sense of humour because they are good natured, or vice versa? Are they actually two facets of the same thing? I don’t know, but I want my wife to have them.’

I took a sip of my drink. Keeping them waiting would only increase their interest in what I was getting to at the end of my speech.

‘The other two are physical. There is the expression ‘fair of face’, and I like that expression because it sums up something that is hard to describe. Truly beautiful people are like truly ugly people, they are rare. And more important to me than beauty is a girl who is fair of face. To me that means someone whose normal expression is pleasing, and so I want to look at her face because it is nice to see. Also she looks at me with pleasure, with affection and it shows in her expression.  It’s the face I want to see across the breakfast table, that I want to see on the pillow next to me. The face I look forward to see coming through the door after work.’ 

‘But is it that they are fair of face because they smile a lot? Because it’s smiles I prefer to see, and it’s the face of a good-natured person I am looking for. And again are these parts of the same thing?’

‘And finally a girl who is slim with curves, because that’s what girls are supposed to be like. Now this could mean a girl who is buxom or plump, but not obese. Some girls say they are flat chested. But they are actually small breasted, because no girl is actually flat chested in the way a man is, so a small breasted girl also has curves.’

‘A curvy girl is what a heterosexual man wants. When he is hugging his girl or being hugged by her he wants to feel soft curves pressed against him. And when she is asleep in his arms, her head on his chest, he wants his arms around those same soft curves.’

‘I have made no mention of wealth, neither the girl’s present or future potential earnings, as having money is no guarantee of happiness. Neither is her height important nor the colour of her hair, skin or eyes.’

‘So finally I believe I have a friend with all those qualities, which is the reason why,’ and now I am looking straight at my friend who I made sure was sitting directly across the table from me, ‘I am formally asking Christine to marry me.’

There were gasps, cheers, laughs and a few ‘Oh my God!’ and ‘Yes!’ shouts and everyone was talking at once, except poor Christine who was pink faced, open mouthed, wide eyed, stunned and not taking her eyes off me.

It took a minute or two to get some sort of silence so I could finish, and once again it was Lucy who got the noise reduced by first swearing some really rude words and repeating several times, ‘Do we want to find out what happens next, because I don’t think this is over yet?’

I had to make myself clear to Christine so I leaned forward to look straight into her eyes. ‘This is not a joke, Christine, I am completely and utterly serious about everything I have just talked about. I have six reasons to want to marry you. The first is that you are my good friend, and the five qualities that you have make up the six reasons I want to marry you.

‘I am sure you are embarrassed now, and I don’t want to make it any worse for you by staying here. So I will leave. If your answer is no then I will accept it without comment or complaint. I will not sulk or hold a grudge, because that is not my way and you are being honest with me.

‘If you say no then it would be awkward both of us still being in this group, and you should not lose your friends over me. So it’s only right that as I was the one who set this all off that I should stay away if it’s a no.

‘Of course if you want to talk about this later, either in person or by text or email, to help you make a decision then let’s do so. I leave it all up to you.’

I stood up and walked towards the door. There were a few calls to me from our friends to stay but I was determined to do what I had planned. And I had spent a long time making sure that I knew what I wanted and how I would carry it out. I could only hope now that Christine and I would soon have some long, long talks.

Then one of my friends called louder than the others, ‘Steve please wait!’ And the voice that called me was Christine’s, and I had to stop for her.

I looked back to the table. Christine was standing now, still pink faced but apparently over her initial shook.  ‘Please come back and sit down.’

I was not sure what was going to happen now, but I went back and sat down. Our friends were all silent now, their expressions a mixture of hope and concern.

‘Go through the five again, Steve,’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘Go through the five qualities you are looking for, because my mind is a whirl and I want to get it right.’

‘Intelligent, good natured, sense of humour,’ I recited with other voices muttering as our friends joined in, ‘fair of face and slim with curves.’

‘Love those curves,’ Joe muttered then grunted as someone’s elbow went into his ribs.

Christine smiled, an over wide smile which made me suspect that she was going to say something sarcastic, a massive put down which I would endure without complaint as I had put her in this position without any warning. I now thought that maybe I should have made my speech only to Christine and not an audience of our friends.

‘So, Steve, can this list be applied to what a girl seeks?’

‘Yes,’ Jackie called out before I could reply.

‘Yes?’ Abe asked, ‘You mean a girl also wants soft curves, Jackie? Does Bill know this?’

‘No I don’t,’ Bill said.

Jackie stuck out her tongue at Abe.  ‘I mean with modifications for another gender.’

‘To her or the list?’

‘What do you think, dumbo?’

‘I don’t know; that’s why I am asking.’

‘Someone is going to get a severe smacking soon if they don’t shut up,’ snapped Lucy holding an empty bottle by the neck in a threatening way.

I shook my head. ‘I hadn’t thought of that, Christine but why not?’

Christine nodded. ‘Then I will go through it, but it’s what I want in a man if he is to be my husband.’

‘Let’s go, Christine,’ one of the girls called and was hushed.

‘Intelligent was first? Yes, Steve, you are. Good-natured? That’s definitely you.  And there’s sense of humour? Do we think Steve is funny?’

There was a roar of approval from our friends.

‘The majority are in agreement there. Fair of face? Now that can apply to female or male, and you always look pleasing to me, Steve. So that’s fair of face ticked off.  Now what’s last?’

‘He’s slim and curvy,’ was the shout accompanied by a wolf whistle that I’m sure made me blush.

Christine continued. ‘No, but lean and muscular is how I want my man. Not weight lifting muscles all bulging out of his clothes, but enough so when my head is on his chest there’ll be two strong arms going round me, holding me close and making me feel safe.’

She cocked her head on one side. ‘Would you keep a girl safe, Steve?’

‘Always.’

She smiled. ‘Yes, and I’m sure you mean that, and anyone as your wife will always feel safe with you around. So I listened to your idea of friend first and hopefully romantic love later, and I found myself agreeing with it all. It is obviously logical and will possibly lead to a happier marriage than one founded purely on romantic love. And as you said the worse that can happen is I will still be spending my life with a friend.’

There was just a few seconds pause before she finished with, ‘So my reply to your formal proposal is yes please.’

The cheering, shouting and laughter was so loud that every head in the bar turned to look.

I just stood there for what seemed like ages so stunned was I that Christine would give me such a quick and positive answer. I don’t know if it was me went round the table to her, or she to me, what I did know was that my lovely Christine was in my arms and we were kissing like our lives depended on it. But what I was sure of was that I was crying as much as her.

The wedding was a massive success, and one reason was the video cameras which I had got the manager’s permission to set up and kept secret until the wedding. For my bridegroom’s speech I said, ‘Just watch this.’ I had paid an expert to put the two videos together so they played side by side on a screen at the end of the hall where the reception was held.

On the left I was making my speech, on the right was Christine listening. It caught the whole thing very well, and the expression on Christine’s face when I asked her to marry me was utterly marvellous. Also marvellous was my expression after Christine had gone back through the five qualities and told me, ‘Yes.’

Both Christine and I had more tears at us crying together. Our mothers cried, and our fathers were damp-eyed at least. Our friends and relatives joined in so everyone was at least wiping their eyes.

Now of course Christine and I disagree over who loved who first. What we do agree on is that we are spending our lives together as the very best of friends-who are in love.

About the author

Peter was born in London but his family emigrated to New Zealand when he was a teenager. In middle age he set out to be published. Now retired Peter enjoys not getting up early to go to work and dreaming up more stories. 

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Tuesday, 3 January 2023

Our Day at the Ocean by Maxine Flam, warm milk

 We pulled up in Daddy’s light blue four-door ’64 Chevy station wagon. That car had been through a lot. We came across the country in it from Pennsylvania. The poor car barely made it to my uncle’s house. Just as we got there, boom went the radiator and a white cloud of smoke came out of the engine. Daddy shouted, “Keep the kids away from the car,” as he and my uncle tried to make sure it wasn’t on fire. Daddy fixed the car and he said he was going to get another one, but I guess he wanted to take it on one more trip.

 

Ever since Mom left, Daddy spends every spare moment with me. He makes sure I eat good meals and am happy.  I am always happy when I am with Daddy.

 

I squirm in my seat; the lap belt holds me in. I can’t wait to get out of it and the car. I try to peer out the side window, but I can’t see anything because I am too little.

 

“We’re here,” Daddy says as he reaches over and unlatches the seatbelt.

 

Excitedly, I open the door. “Daddy?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“This place is so quiet and beautiful. The ocean goes on forever.”

 

“U-huh,” he says calmly as he takes an El Producto cigar out of the small cardboard box in his shirt pocket and lights it with his fancy silver lighter that has the initials SF on it.

 

Oh good. Daddy’s smoking a good cigar today, not those smelly stogies he usually buys.

 

 “Can we go down to the ocean now? I’d like to take off my shoes and socks and run barefoot in the wet sand.” 

 

“There’s an opening a few yards from here with a staircase that will take us to the beach.”

 

“Can I make a sand castle?”

 

“Why not? This is our day to do whatever we want.”

 

“Daddy, this is so much fun. We can spread the blanket, eat sandwiches, and wash them down with cold soda. Then, I will make a sand castle. Oh, Daddy, this is the best day ever, but any day spent with you is the best day ever.”

 

“I am so happy to hear you say that. Okay, we better head over and claim our spot.”

 

“I love you, Daddy.”

 

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

He takes me in his big strong arms and hugs me. At that moment, nothing mattered except being here with Daddy.

 

I carry my sand pail and shovel, and Daddy carries the blanket across his shoulders, the red ice chest full of food and sodas in his left hand. In his right hand, he takes my hand as we walk to the stairs. It is a day I will never forget -- just the two of us having fun.

About the author 

Since becoming disabled in 2015, Maxine took up her passion for writing. She took classes at a local college in creative writing. Maxine has been published several times in the Los Angeles Daily News op-ed section, The Epoch Times, Nail Polish Stories, and most recently in DarkWinterLit

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Monday, 2 January 2023

Agates by Jim Bates, black coffee

 

I found my first agate on a gravel road in northern Minnesota when I was just a kid. A dime-sized stone with reddish hues and fine lines of crystals wrapping around, it was like holding a piece of magic. You can't find them anymore. Their value is in their rarity.

After his mother’s funeral today, I gave it to my grandson. He’ll be living with my wife and me for the foreseeable future.

"It’s beautiful," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "I love it. Can we go searching for more?"

"Absolutely," I said, already planning the trip in my mind. “How about tomorrow?" 

About the author 

Jim lives in a small town in Minnesota. His stories and poems have appeared in over four hundred online and print publications. His collection of short stories “Resilience” was published in early 2021 by Bridge House Publishing. Additional stories can be found on his blog: www.theviewfromlonglake.wordpress.com 

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Sunday, 1 January 2023

Sunday Serial: The House of Clementine by Gill James, Chapters 5 & 6, orange juice

CHAPTER FIVE

 

Kaleem felt sick as he watched the continuing news. Had he woken up in a different world? This was a major event. Yet it was a droid presenter speaking quite calmly as if nothing in particular had happened. Surely something like this merited a news override and a human presenter. Could this be just a bad dream? 

Why had this happened? How had it all changed in just a matter of hours?  This position was really unheard of. How could it all work now with 48% of the people wanting to leave the One World Community and only 52% wanting to stay? Nearly half of the people would be extremely, unhappy wouldn't they?  Why were they unhappy?

Or could this be a trick? Was it some sort of extended cyber-attack?  

He'd better get in touch with Rozia. She would be worried as well. He called her up on the dataserve but nothing happened. The machine searched for a long time until at last it uttered "Addressee not found." What the heck? What was it talking about?  This must just be a malfunction, surely?

He had to find out.

Immediately he called up the Executive Palace. He was normally allowed an open link with a secure connection but this time he was waiting and waiting just as he had been with Rozia.  At last, though, a robotic voice answered "All of our portals are occupied. Please try later." So, there was some worry then?  The executives were probably having some heated discussions right now. Using the droid presenters was just a ploy to keep everyone calm? Suddenly he longed for Terrestra where in a situation like this he would be summoned to the Citadel of Elders even before he'd realised there was a problem. 

The dataserve buzzed. His father's face appeared on the screen. "Do you know what's going on?" asked Nazaret.

Kaleem shook his head. "I can't get through to anyone. I'm worried about Rozia."

"Why especially?"

“Petri’s been very sick again. And Rozia was terrified about the way the referendum went. She’s not responding to my calls. Something’s happened.”  

"Shall we go over to her place? I'll meet you there if you like."

That would be good.  His mother and father lived a little nearer to Rozia. They could be there in minutes.

"What about Mum?"

"We might get her to wait in. In case Rozia and Petri had been on their way over to us.”

Kaleem nodded. Yes, it would be a good idea.

He finished the conversation and got ready to go out. 

The streets were crowded. It was difficult to move. People had gathered on the corners and were talking excitedly. The cafés and bars were full. It was clear that personal communicators weren't working properly. The few people still trying to use them were giving up in frustration after a few seconds. Kaleem had not seen anything like this for a long time. This was usually a sign of major news breaking and the networks being overloaded. Something really big was going on. And it had never been quite this bad before.

He wanted to get to Rozia's apartment as quickly as possible but he couldn't resist going into a crowded news café. There were so many people there he couldn't see the screen properly.

"Anything new?" he asked the tall man standing next to him.

"Currency's dipping. The inter-planetary exchanges have gone mad. Our imports will cost."

Kaleem pushed forward so he could see the screen. The charts showed the full horror story. Of course after major news like this it was bound to happen. "Nothing about why the vote came out as it did?"

The man shook his head. "I can't work it out either. There must be some very unhappy people around. Nobody saw that one coming. Well, I didn't."

Kaleem nodded his agreement. He couldn't think of a single person he knew who would have voted to leave the One World Community. Looking around this room now you had to assume that just under half of the people here wanted out. Was it that old man over there with the crooked back? Or that young woman holding a baby in a kangaroo carrier? Or even the teenager there who looked as if he may have voted for the first time this week? It was impossible to tell.

Well, he hadn't really found out anything new except that it was bad. He needed to get on now. He made his way out of the cafĂ© and started jogging towards where Rozia lived. He really had to find her. If this was scaring him, just how might it be scaring her?   

He ought not to arrive empty-handed, though. Was Nazaret already there and had he thought up an excuse for popping by? They ought to make it look like a visit to someone who had been ill and was now on the mend. That was precisely Petri, wasn't it? It shouldn't look as if they were checking up on Rozia. She liked to be so independent. What should he take? Flowers for Rozia, maybe, a toy for Petri and something nice to eat for all of them? Would that be right?

There was a merchandise hall just one block from where Rozia lived. That would do the trick. Even if they hadn't got the items in stock they would normally be able to get them to the apartment within the hour though that might be difficult if the systems were struggling.

He was pleased to see when he got there that they did in fact have some Terrestran flowers – presumably produced here - a fluffy toy that looked a bit like a Terrestran dog and some fresh fruit juice. That would do. They could dial up the rest of their breakfast through Rozia's kitchen.

He took the items to the shop droid and offered his iris to the scanner.

"Insufficient funds," said the droid. 

"What?" He usually had so much credit on his account that he didn't know what to do with it. He'd always thought that was sign of being content. This now didn't make any sense. The systems must be really playing up. Perhaps it would clear the second time. "That can't be right. Can you try again?"

The droid obliged. "I regret sir. Prices have been raised in anticipation." 

What a cheek.

"You could take either the flowers, or the toy or the fruit juice," the machine offered unhelpfully.

"Best not," mumbled Kaleem. They would have to sort this out and presumably the executives would soon. He might even be summoned to help.

He now thought it best to get to Rozia as quickly as possible. 

 

When he arrived at Rozia's a few minutes later his father actually came down to entrance of the apartment block.  "The systems are being so slow, this was quicker. Anyway I wanted a word first."

"They're all right aren't they?"

Nazaret shrugged. "Petri's okay now. But Rozia's in a bad way."

"Oh?" What had happened to her?

"Don't look so scared. There's nothing wrong, physically." He sighed and shook his head. He took a deep breath. "All of her credits have been wiped. Nothing works in the apartment now."

"So how did....?"

"I've put everything on to our account. It's working again but it's all so sluggish at the moment."

Kaleem didn't stop to ask for more detail.  He didn't even bother summoning the lift. He just started to run up the stairs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

"You'll listen carefully won't you? You'll do what your teacher says?" Penni stroked her son's hair.

"Of course I will, Mummy. I want to grow up to be clever like Daddy. How much do you think I'll learn today?"

Obek laughed. "Lots and lots I should think. Especially if you do listen well like you promised."

Obek was proud of his little son. He looked so smart in his orange and brown uniform. Clementine money had set up the new primary school for all the orchard workers' children. They employed the very best teachers they could find and Obek knew that Tomik would be in good hands with Miss Silverton. She was patient, kind, energetic and set high standards. Yes, she would certainly do for his son.

They were almost there now. More and more children in the orange and brown were converging on the pleasant single-storey white-washed building that housed the school. Obek spotted half a dozen or so other children carrying the big cones of sweets that all were given on their first day. These youngsters would no doubt become Tomik's friends.

The children gathered with their parents in the pleasant garden in front of the school.

"Miss Silverton or one of the other teachers will come outside and ring a bell," Penni explained. "Then you'll have to line up with your class and Miss Silverton will take you to your classroom."

Tomik slipped his hand out of his mother's. Penni exchanged a glance with Obek. He could see there were tears in her eyes. "He'll be fine," he whispered.

She nodded.

It was Miss Silverton who came out with the bell. As she rang it, the children carrying the cones of sweets, Tomik included, scurried over towards her. She smiled at them. Tomik looked happy.

"I told you so." Obek took Penni's hand as they made their way out of the school grounds.

She sighed. "Yes. It's a great thing that you're doing." 

He nodded. "And now I must hurry. The meeting starts in twenty minutes." 

 

The other members of the committee were already there when Obek arrived at the board room of the grand lodge.

"How did it go?" asked his father. "Was he all right?"

"Yes. He seemed to love it. It was Penni who found it difficult."

His father nodded. "Your mother was exactly the same when you went to school for the first time. She'll be fine. She'll soon have the new baby to worry about."

Just like his mother had? Hopefully not. Neither his mother nor his baby brother had survived the birth. At least things were different now. Very few women died in childbirth these days and there were very few still born babies. Hopefully, too, precisely what they were going to discuss today would ensure even better standards in the future.  

Suddenly the room went quiet. It was like a signal for him to start the meeting. "All right everyone. Let's begin. As you know we are here today to establish the rules and regulations for our new order, the House of Clementine. The school is hopefully a good example. Let's now extend those standards to other schools, hospitals and means of transport."

"And sports?" suggested one committee member.

"What about banks?" said another.

"Retail outlets?" suggested a third.

"Are we talking inclusivity or exclusivity?"

Obek recognised the speaker as a friend of Penni's, an intelligent young woman to whom he was keen to give a role within the Order. Penni had shown no interest at all. She was much too focussed on providing a good home for him, Tomik and the new baby. Thank goodness for that, though. With all the responsibility he carried he needed it.

"Inclusivity, I should think," he replied slowly. What would they do, though, if someone failed to conform? Would there be an outside? Should they keep everyone, no matter the cost? Or should being a member of the Order be a privilege that you had to earn? "All would initially be welcome." This was something they would have to think about later.

They debated for a couple of hours and by the end they had a set of 100 rules.

"The bottom line is that the good of the Order is put before the good of its members," said Obek. "That good, of course, is the pursuit and attainment of perfection."

There was a general consensus, then one man raised his hand. Obek nodded that he should speak.

"Is this to be our constitution, then?"  

Well he supposed they should have a constitution. But was this enough? He looked at his father.

"It's a step towards it," said the older man. "But we probably need to fine-tune it. These are really more like guidelines. We need some fundamental principles. Maybe five. Perhaps we should all think about that for the next meeting."

There were murmurs of agreement. The meeting ended.

 

Five weeks later they stood in the garden of the grand lodge.

"We bury this for posterity," said Obek's father. "But before I put the box containing our constitution and our guidelines into the ground, I will ask my son, the founder of the House of Clementine, to read out our five fundamental principles." He handed the document to Obek.

Obek took deep breath and started reading. "The needs of the Order are greater than the needs of the individuals in it.

"The Order has a duty of care to its members.

"Members of the Order will always pursue excellence and perfection, each according to his / her abilities.

"No one member will judge any other member but will trust that he / she is doing all that they can.

"The Order is bigger than the sum of its parts."

The crowd cheered.

"All workers on our clementine orchards are already considered as members of the Order. You will all receive copies of this. Welcome to the House of Clementine."

They cheered again.

Obek handed the documents to his father who placed them in the small chest and lowered it into the ground. The two other men shoveled earth on top of it. The House of Clementine was established.   

 

"So what will happen the minute somebody starts acting up?" Silvana was dangling baby Harissa over her shoulder, trying to get her to burp. She was just three days old and Penni was asleep. The birth had been much more difficult this time and no one had been sure why. Penni had been as healthy as before and Harissa was quite small. It ought to have been easy. Silvana tapped the baby's back. "See, this wasn't exactly perfect was it? Yet it was nobody's fault."

"Well, that's one of the principles anyway. No judgement"

"You mean, if someone doesn't go for perfection or doesn't put the needs of the Order above their own you'll just ignore it?"

"No, we'd re-educate."

"I see. Easier said than done I'd imagine."

Harissa let out an enormous burp.

"Good girl." Silvana looked sternly at Obek again. "So, are you going to let just anybody into the Order? What about those people who can't be perfect or even excellent? Even your little one, see."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at her face." She handed him the baby. "Look at her eyes and her nose. There's something not quite right."

She was beautiful, his daughter. But yes, her eyes were a little odd. More like slits than almonds. And her nose was a bit squashed. Oh, why worry? It didn't matter all that much and she would probably change as she grew.

Her eyes closed. Silvana took her back. "There, my little lovely. Time for a nap." She got up and went to take the child back to her mother. She turned to Obek again when she reached the doorway. "So, you'll have anybody will you? Even if they've got two heads, and three legs or are so dumb they'll just use up resources without giving anything back? Hmm. It's all right to have fine ideas."

"We're going to be inclusive, no matter what." Oh, this woman was a tyrant. Maybe he should consider excluding her. He immediately felt bad about having that thought.

 

Later that evening Obek sat on the veranda with his father. It was mild but raining softly. It was good to be able to sit and look out on to the garden and to trees, waving gently in the breeze, in the orchards beyond. The damp air didn't bother him. They were sipping one of the orchard master's favourite malt whiskies.

"You should take no notice of Silvana," said the orchard master. "Yes, she's wise and she's old enough to have seen a lot of life but she's very opinionated. Set in her ways too. She's clinging on to the old way of life. We must look forward to the new."

Obek nodded. He took a sip of his drink. It was rich and invigorating.                                           

He felt a rush of sharp warmth through his sinuses and his mind relaxed. "Let's hope it all works."

"It will," said his father. "It will. But you'll have to old tight to the dream. There'll be obstacles much trickier than your old nanny." He raised his glass. "To the House of Clementine."

Obek grinned. He held up his glass. "To the House of Clementine."

As the two glasses clinked Obek promised himself he would succeed.       

 

About the Peace Child Series:

Book 1 The Prophecy
Kaleem Malkendy is different – and on Terrestra, different is no way to be.
Everything about Kaleem marks him out form the rest: the blond hair and dark skin, the uncomfortable cave where he lives and the fact that he doesn’t know his father. He’s used to unwelcome attention, but even so he’d feel better if some strange old man didn’t keep following him around.
That man introduces himself and begins to explain the Babel Prophecy – and everything in Kaleem’s life changes forever.    
 
Book 2 Babel
Babel is the second part of the Peace Child trilogy. Kaleem has found his father and soon finds the love of his life, Rozia Laurence, but he is still not comfortable with his role as Peace Child. He also has to face some of the less palatable truths about his home planet: it is blighted by the existence of the Z Zone, a place where poorer people live outside of society, and by switch-off, compulsory euthanasia for a healthy but aging population, including his mentor, Razjosh. The Babel Tower still haunts him, but it begins to make sense as he uncovers more of the truth about his past and how it is connected with the problems in the Z Zone. Kaleem knows he can and must make a difference, but at what personal cost?
 
Book 3 The Tower 

Kaleem has given up the love of his life in order to protect her. He now lives and works on Zandra. A sudden landquake, not known on the planet for many years, destroys many of the forests his father has planted to bring life back to the planet. The new relationship Kaleem has helped to establish between the Terrestrans and the Zandrians is also under threat. A third party gets involved and Kaleem has to use all of his diplomatic skills to keep everything on track. Mistakes cost him dearly and he looks set to lose Rozia for a second time. The Babel Tower mystery, others mysteries and sadness plague him. Can he find a way through to fulfil his role as the Peace Child?
 
Find out more here.  
 

Gill James is published by The Red Telephone, Butterfly and Chapeltown.  

She edits CafeLit.

She writes for the online community news magazine: Talking About My Generation

She is a Lecturer in Creative Writing and has an MA in Writing for Children and PhD in Creative and Critical Writing    

http://www.gilljameswriter.com  

https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B001KMQRKE

https://twitter.com/GillJames

See other episodes: https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/search/label/The%20House%20of%20Clementine