Perfect by Cecelia Ahern
“What now?” I ask.
He looks at the palm of his hand as if he’s reading something. “Rescue Celestine North, the most beautiful woman in the world. Tick.”
I laugh in surprise, not expecting this from him.
“Next. Say sorry.” He looks at me, swallows his pride. “Sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Enya Sleepwell, but please know that my intentions were good. Everything that I’ve done has been for the good of the Flawed cause, for you and for me. I never wanted to hurt you. None of this has been a trick. I’m just doing all that I can.”
His heart is true. I know this and I don’t want to fight with him anymore. Still, no harm in letting him stew in it for a while. I wait for more from him.
“I thought that saving your life would show you how sorry I am, you know, so we wouldn’t have to do the talking thing,” he says, biting his lip to hide his cheeky smile.
“Um, you actually didn’t save my life. They were going to do a skin graft, not kill me. But I appreciate being rescued all the same.”
“Nothing’s good enough for you,” he says, amused.
I hold my hand out to his chest, palm against his brand. “You are. I wanted to blame somebody for all this. Someone other than my stupid self. I love my family, I never wanted to leave them. I’m not used to being by myself; it’s easier when it’s somebody else’s fault.”
I think of Juniper alone in the hospital and I shudder. Have they discovered that she’s not me yet? I hope the plan holds firm and that Tina can help to make it work. I know I won’t be able to relax until I know that both my mom and Juniper are safe.
“And I’m only ever used to being by myself,” he says. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, holding me tighter, “for what happened at the supermarket, for leaving you in the mountains. But if it’s any consolation, I followed you the whole way. And you were driving way too fast down the mountain in that Mini, by the way.”
“I was on a mission.”
“I saw you with Art,” he says, studying me.
I don’t say anything.
“I heard you with Crevan.”
I look down, embarrassed that my rogue plan didn’t work. “Crevan knows about you. I’m sure he’s guessed that you’re helping me. I’m sorry. I tried to bargain with him for our freedom, which he was willing to give us, but I couldn’t leave everybody else behind. I couldn’t do it.”
I wait for him to yell at me What a stupid thing to do, Celestine, but he doesn’t.
“Go on, tell me I’m an idiot.”
“You’re brave to have tried.”
“Stupid.”
“A little bit stupid.” Except I hear the smile in his voice. “But you were right not to take the deal. As much as I want to run away to another country and live completely freely, I couldn’t do it knowing that everybody else was left behind.”
I’m relieved that I made the right decision. “The other night, in your cabin, was one of the best nights of my life,” I say.
He reaches down to my face, lifts my chin, and kisses me tenderly.
I close my eyes and savor the moment—who knows when we’ll get to do this again?
“So why have you taken us here?” I ask as we pull away and gather ourselves.
“I want you to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“Enya Sleepwell.”
FORTY-SEVEN
IT USED TO be a cell phone shop. It’s closed down, there’s a FOR SALE sign in the window, and the glass has been painted over so no one can see in.
“She’s in here?” I ask, confused. I’d have thought the possible future leader of our country would be somewhere more refined.
“When you have as many Flawed supporters as she does, you can’t just meet them anywhere. She has to be careful.”
He rings the bell and the door opens immediately. Carrick still has to assist me in my walking, but my strength has grown, and I limp along with him.
As soon as we’re inside, I’m surprised by the setup. Desks and chairs everywhere, whiteboards showing stats and opinion poll results. Laptops hooked up to every socket around, and because it was an electronics shop, there are plenty. No one even bats an eye at me and Carrick, they’re so busy watching a large plasma on the wall.
On-screen is the interview with Judge Crevan and Erica Edelman. He’s wearing a sharp suit, a blue shirt and tie that make his blue eyes shine and glisten under the lights. Someone you can trust. Erica is in a neat skirt and blouse, toned legs, perfectly blow-dried hair. One of our most famous anchorwomen, she has her own show, and every politician fears her because she reduces them to schoolchildren.
I look around for Enya Sleepwell but I can’t find her. I don’t even know what I’ll say to her. Carrick and the others show such loyalty to her, but all I’ve ever felt from others like Alpha and Raphael is that she hasn’t quite earned her place yet to be trusted. Some accuse her of using the Flawed cause to climb her way up, which is fine if she sticks to her guns once she gets to the top.
We stand at the back of the crowd and watch the interview. I lean against the wall to prop me up.
Crevan and Erica Edelman walk around the place where he grew up, recorded footage from days earlier. He shows her the house he grew up in, his football trophies, photographs of his grandparents, things to make us think he’s a human with a bloodline. And then back to the studio. Only it’s not the studio. It’s his living room. The grand living room that is rarely used. The beautiful fireplace, bookshelves, the walls filled with photographs of Art as a baby, moved closer together to be caught on Crevan’s close-ups. I note that the photos of me have been removed.
“Mr. Crevan, starting off, let’s get to know a little about you. Even the name is unusual. Where did Bosco come from?”
I like that Erica calls him Mr. Crevan and not Judge; it immediately removes him of his weaponry, makes him human again, and I know each time she addresses him as such it will bother him, hammer him down an inch or two into the ground.
“From my grandmother. She was Italian, Maria Bosco, a good Italian name, and so my parents wanted to honor her, a great woman.”
“Maria Bosco, wife of Mitch Crevan, whose idea it was to begin the Guild.”
“Indeed. It was him and the great prime minister Dunbar who brought in the first Guild, the tribunal, which was initially a temporary measure to look into wrongdoing within the government.”
“And it was your father who brought it further.”
“It was my father who upgraded it to permanent status and, along with others who played important roles, brought it to what it is today, yes.”
Erica looks at him deeply, her brown eyes probing into his soul. “Tell me, Bosco, what was your childhood like?”
“We had a very happy childhood, two brothers and one sister, Candy.…” And he explains the story of a happy family who worked hard but reaped the rewards.
“You paint quite the glossy picture, Mr. Crevan,” Erica says. “Let’s go back to your younger years. Tell me about the punishments you endured at the hands of your father and grandfather.”
Crevan laughs. “You make it seem so … draconian. It was the same disciplinary action that my father received from his father, and indeed my grandfather at the hands of his father. It wasn’t…” He shrugs. “There were worse styles of disciplining around at that time, believe me.” He smiles, trying to get off the subject.
“Tell me about it,” she pushes.
He sits back, sits straighter, casting his mind back. “It was a method of discipline based on the seven main character flaws. Whatever our misbehavior or misdemeanor was, we had to wear a sign around our neck that displayed what our flaw was.”
“You wore this sign around the house?”
“No, no.” He smiles as if it’s a humorous memory. “We had to wear it everywhere. Soccer practice, school, you name it. I remember Candy going out on a first date with ‘Greed’ hanging around her neck.” He laughs. “And Damon wearing ‘Stubborn’ around his neck
during a soccer tournament. But we quickly learned. And what I mean by that is that we quickly learned how to identify our behavior, we learned what our ‘chief features’ were at an early age and how to control them.”
“At thirteen years of age, you learned this?”
“At thirteen it was introduced to us. I think it took some time for us to learn it.” He laughs again.
“Tell me about these character flaws, the chief features that you mentioned, and the purpose of the punishment.”
“In brief … everybody, every single one of us, has a ‘chief feature,’ which is a negative trait. It takes control at times, resulting in a grotesque character flaw. We must learn to identify it so that we can handle it and improve our personal growth.”
“Tell us the seven flaws; are they like the seven deadly sins?”
“My childhood discipline isn’t part of the Guild practice.” He smiles pleasantly, but his eyes are hard. “I thought we were here to talk about the Guild and dispel some of the myths the Vital Party and others are spreading, which is what I’d really like to do.”
“This disciplinary action is part of your childhood. It’s the roots of the Guild, if you like, so I’m interested,” Erica reasons.
He inhales slowly through his nose. I can tell he’s angry but he’s trying to hide it. “There are seven character flaws. Self-deprecation is belittling and undervaluing oneself. Someone who does this has an inferiority complex. Self-destruction is sabotaging, punishing, and harming. Someone who does this has constant inner turmoil that makes them want to get away from themselves.
“Martyrdom is someone who denies responsibility, blames others.
“Stubbornness, resisting change, even a positive one.
“Greed is selfishness, overindulgence, overconsumption.
“Arrogance, a superiority complex, a need to be seen as better than others because being ordinary is intolerable.
“Impatience, intolerance of obstruction and delay.”
“Do you use this disciplinary method with your son, Art?”
My heart pounds at the sound of Art’s name. At first I feel defensive of him, a natural response to somebody I thought I loved, and then the anger sets in as I remember who he now is. But still I hold my breath while they talk about him.
He visibly tenses. “My son is eighteen years old.”
“But when he was growing up?”
“No,” he says simply. He shifts in his chair.
“Did that sit well with your father and grandfather? This appears to be the traditional way of doing things in the Crevan household.”
He frowns at the seemingly ridiculous question. “My son didn’t require this method of discipline, and it furthers my theory that people are changing. This is a new generation of cleansed people. Year after year the number of accused Flawed is falling.”
“Or it could be said you placed your parental disciplinary action on an entire nation instead.”
He laughs, pretending to be amused by this analysis. “I would say that is not true at all.”
“Enya Sleepwell says she believes people in this country are living in fear. Is what you consider a people changing actually a people frozen by fear, afraid to make any mistake, any decision, take any risk in case they are punished, cast out from society?”
“No, I disagree with Enya. Again. People are now thinking before they act.”
“And if it is through fear, is that okay? Have we overstepped the line of democracy?”
“Oh, please,” he says, getting annoyed. “We live in a democratic country, the people of this great nation will have the opportunity in two days’ time to take to the ballot boxes to have their voices heard.”
“And if the people vote for the Vital Party, whose main policy is to abolish the Guild?”
“I don’t believe that will happen,” he says confidently. “The Vital Party is inexperienced. We know little about where Enya Sleepwell and her party stand on any issues other than ‘not agreeing with the Guild.’ This makes me wonder what Enya Sleepwell has to hide. Why does the Guild scare her so much?”
“I think it’s because she finds the Guild inhumane,” Erica says.
That gets a cheer in the room.
Erica moves on, turns a page. “I received information that there is an inquiry beginning, into you.”
Crevan looks confused but manages to deal with what’s been revealed to him on live television.
“There have often been inquiries into the Guild’s cases. Cases have needed further clarification or detail. There are always watchdogs who keep things in line, and rightly so,” he explains.
“But this inquiry is specifically looking into you, Mr. Crevan. One would assume it will look into some of your most controversial cases, particularly the recent, infamous Celestine North case. There are people who feel she was unfairly branded, that the case itself is flawed.”
My heart pounds at hearing my name being mentioned.
“It’s a private government inquiry; we’ve seen the documents,” a voice says close to my ear, and I look around to see Enya Sleepwell standing right beside me.
I blink. Maybe things really are changing.
On-screen, Judge Crevan pauses. “I’ll be happy to provide the inquiry with any information regarding the Celestine North case, but I have no knowledge of this inquiry and I’m not going to discuss any of the details of that case with you. I can assure people I am a man intent on seeing justice being done.”
Crevan grinds his teeth as he waits for the next question, trying to hide his anger.
“Final question. If your grandfather and your father were alive today, which label do you think they would place around your neck now? What is, to quote you, your ‘grotesque character flaw’?”
He thinks about it, an amused smile on his face.
“Greed,” he says finally. “I want a lot, possibly too much for my country, for my fellow people. I want the best for us, and I suppose people may see me as I saw my father, when I was a teenager, which I do understand. If I have to be the big bad wolf in order to make our society better, so be it, but the people will thank me for it just as I thanked my father. The number of accused Flawed are falling. People are changing. People can recognize what is right and wrong immediately, they don’t have the same moral codes as in my grandfather’s time, when the country was in financial ruin and the place was, frankly, a disaster.”
“Or you might say,” Erica replies, “that our current leaders learned from their predecessors’ experiences, from their mistakes. And for that, they can thank them.”
This isn’t something that appears to have occurred to Crevan, or that pleases him, but he smiles anyway, a kind of a snarl.
“I spoke to Mark Houston before this interview, in my preparation.…” Erica leafs through some papers on her lap.
Crevan’s face lights up. “Mark. Yes, he was my friend at school. I haven’t seen Mark for years.” Then he frowns as he awaits what’s coming next, while Erica consults her notes.
“I asked Mark if he remembered the character flaw disciplinary action that your family used. If he remembered you showing up to school, to soccer, to the movies, nights out, wherever you went, with the label around your neck. And he said yes, he did. I was curious to know which flaw was your most common one. And do you know what he said?”
“I don’t, but if he remembers all the way back to a small detail like that, then Mark’s memory is far better than mine.” Big smile.
“He said it was easy to remember because it was always the same one. What I guess you would call your chief feature.” She looks down to read. “It was arrogance, which, by your earlier explanation, would mean a superiority complex. Inflating, overvaluing oneself, a need to be seen as better than others because being ordinary is intolerable.”
The anger on his face is penetrable.
“Mr. Crevan, thank you for joining me tonight, it has been very insightful.” Erica smiles at the camera.
Everybody in th
e room cheers when the interview ends. The lights remain low as people turn to one another and analyze it, as others take to the Internet to garner the reaction from the public. As surveys and opinion polls and tactics are devised.
“You don’t look very pleased,” Enya says to me.
I shake my head. “He’s going to be very angry.”
And I know what Crevan is like when he’s angry.
FORTY-EIGHT
“IT’S NICE TO finally meet you,” Enya says.
She holds out her hand and I take it. Her grip is firm, her skin warm.
“You too,” I say, hearing the uncertainty in my own voice. “Are you going to abolish the Guild if you get into power?”
She smiles. “You get right to it, don’t you? Well, around here we use the word when, not if.”
I note that she doesn’t answer the question.
“Come with me. Let’s talk in private,” she says, leading me away.
Carrick watches me go, a little nervously, probably afraid I’ll further insult the woman everybody here is hailing as their hero.
I’m able to stand unaided now, but my legs feel like jelly. I concentrate on trying to walk normally. Enya places a hand on my back and guides me into a small office away from the action. A group of people huddled around a computer see her and quickly shuffle outside.
Enya half sits on the table and gives me her complete attention. “You don’t trust me. Why?”
“I don’t trust anyone,” I say simply.
“That’s understandable.”
“I know that Carrick trusts you. He believes in you, and so do all the people in this room, and the thousands around the country who are supporting you. I just haven’t had any cause to yet.” I swallow. “I just hope that you won’t do a U-turn if you’re voted into power.”
“When I’m in power, I won’t do a U-turn. I will do my best to uphold my promises.”
“What are your promises?”
“Fair treatment for Flawed. An overhaul of the Guild,” she continues.
“An overhaul? Fair treatment?” I say. “It’s not enough. We need to get rid of it.”
“You want it to be abolished completely?” she asks, concerned. “We can’t do that straightaway, Celestine. Baby steps are required.”
He looks at the palm of his hand as if he’s reading something. “Rescue Celestine North, the most beautiful woman in the world. Tick.”
I laugh in surprise, not expecting this from him.
“Next. Say sorry.” He looks at me, swallows his pride. “Sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Enya Sleepwell, but please know that my intentions were good. Everything that I’ve done has been for the good of the Flawed cause, for you and for me. I never wanted to hurt you. None of this has been a trick. I’m just doing all that I can.”
His heart is true. I know this and I don’t want to fight with him anymore. Still, no harm in letting him stew in it for a while. I wait for more from him.
“I thought that saving your life would show you how sorry I am, you know, so we wouldn’t have to do the talking thing,” he says, biting his lip to hide his cheeky smile.
“Um, you actually didn’t save my life. They were going to do a skin graft, not kill me. But I appreciate being rescued all the same.”
“Nothing’s good enough for you,” he says, amused.
I hold my hand out to his chest, palm against his brand. “You are. I wanted to blame somebody for all this. Someone other than my stupid self. I love my family, I never wanted to leave them. I’m not used to being by myself; it’s easier when it’s somebody else’s fault.”
I think of Juniper alone in the hospital and I shudder. Have they discovered that she’s not me yet? I hope the plan holds firm and that Tina can help to make it work. I know I won’t be able to relax until I know that both my mom and Juniper are safe.
“And I’m only ever used to being by myself,” he says. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, holding me tighter, “for what happened at the supermarket, for leaving you in the mountains. But if it’s any consolation, I followed you the whole way. And you were driving way too fast down the mountain in that Mini, by the way.”
“I was on a mission.”
“I saw you with Art,” he says, studying me.
I don’t say anything.
“I heard you with Crevan.”
I look down, embarrassed that my rogue plan didn’t work. “Crevan knows about you. I’m sure he’s guessed that you’re helping me. I’m sorry. I tried to bargain with him for our freedom, which he was willing to give us, but I couldn’t leave everybody else behind. I couldn’t do it.”
I wait for him to yell at me What a stupid thing to do, Celestine, but he doesn’t.
“Go on, tell me I’m an idiot.”
“You’re brave to have tried.”
“Stupid.”
“A little bit stupid.” Except I hear the smile in his voice. “But you were right not to take the deal. As much as I want to run away to another country and live completely freely, I couldn’t do it knowing that everybody else was left behind.”
I’m relieved that I made the right decision. “The other night, in your cabin, was one of the best nights of my life,” I say.
He reaches down to my face, lifts my chin, and kisses me tenderly.
I close my eyes and savor the moment—who knows when we’ll get to do this again?
“So why have you taken us here?” I ask as we pull away and gather ourselves.
“I want you to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“Enya Sleepwell.”
FORTY-SEVEN
IT USED TO be a cell phone shop. It’s closed down, there’s a FOR SALE sign in the window, and the glass has been painted over so no one can see in.
“She’s in here?” I ask, confused. I’d have thought the possible future leader of our country would be somewhere more refined.
“When you have as many Flawed supporters as she does, you can’t just meet them anywhere. She has to be careful.”
He rings the bell and the door opens immediately. Carrick still has to assist me in my walking, but my strength has grown, and I limp along with him.
As soon as we’re inside, I’m surprised by the setup. Desks and chairs everywhere, whiteboards showing stats and opinion poll results. Laptops hooked up to every socket around, and because it was an electronics shop, there are plenty. No one even bats an eye at me and Carrick, they’re so busy watching a large plasma on the wall.
On-screen is the interview with Judge Crevan and Erica Edelman. He’s wearing a sharp suit, a blue shirt and tie that make his blue eyes shine and glisten under the lights. Someone you can trust. Erica is in a neat skirt and blouse, toned legs, perfectly blow-dried hair. One of our most famous anchorwomen, she has her own show, and every politician fears her because she reduces them to schoolchildren.
I look around for Enya Sleepwell but I can’t find her. I don’t even know what I’ll say to her. Carrick and the others show such loyalty to her, but all I’ve ever felt from others like Alpha and Raphael is that she hasn’t quite earned her place yet to be trusted. Some accuse her of using the Flawed cause to climb her way up, which is fine if she sticks to her guns once she gets to the top.
We stand at the back of the crowd and watch the interview. I lean against the wall to prop me up.
Crevan and Erica Edelman walk around the place where he grew up, recorded footage from days earlier. He shows her the house he grew up in, his football trophies, photographs of his grandparents, things to make us think he’s a human with a bloodline. And then back to the studio. Only it’s not the studio. It’s his living room. The grand living room that is rarely used. The beautiful fireplace, bookshelves, the walls filled with photographs of Art as a baby, moved closer together to be caught on Crevan’s close-ups. I note that the photos of me have been removed.
“Mr. Crevan, starting off, let’s get to know a little about you. Even the name is unusual. Where did Bosco come from?”
I like that Erica calls him Mr. Crevan and not Judge; it immediately removes him of his weaponry, makes him human again, and I know each time she addresses him as such it will bother him, hammer him down an inch or two into the ground.
“From my grandmother. She was Italian, Maria Bosco, a good Italian name, and so my parents wanted to honor her, a great woman.”
“Maria Bosco, wife of Mitch Crevan, whose idea it was to begin the Guild.”
“Indeed. It was him and the great prime minister Dunbar who brought in the first Guild, the tribunal, which was initially a temporary measure to look into wrongdoing within the government.”
“And it was your father who brought it further.”
“It was my father who upgraded it to permanent status and, along with others who played important roles, brought it to what it is today, yes.”
Erica looks at him deeply, her brown eyes probing into his soul. “Tell me, Bosco, what was your childhood like?”
“We had a very happy childhood, two brothers and one sister, Candy.…” And he explains the story of a happy family who worked hard but reaped the rewards.
“You paint quite the glossy picture, Mr. Crevan,” Erica says. “Let’s go back to your younger years. Tell me about the punishments you endured at the hands of your father and grandfather.”
Crevan laughs. “You make it seem so … draconian. It was the same disciplinary action that my father received from his father, and indeed my grandfather at the hands of his father. It wasn’t…” He shrugs. “There were worse styles of disciplining around at that time, believe me.” He smiles, trying to get off the subject.
“Tell me about it,” she pushes.
He sits back, sits straighter, casting his mind back. “It was a method of discipline based on the seven main character flaws. Whatever our misbehavior or misdemeanor was, we had to wear a sign around our neck that displayed what our flaw was.”
“You wore this sign around the house?”
“No, no.” He smiles as if it’s a humorous memory. “We had to wear it everywhere. Soccer practice, school, you name it. I remember Candy going out on a first date with ‘Greed’ hanging around her neck.” He laughs. “And Damon wearing ‘Stubborn’ around his neck
“At thirteen years of age, you learned this?”
“At thirteen it was introduced to us. I think it took some time for us to learn it.” He laughs again.
“Tell me about these character flaws, the chief features that you mentioned, and the purpose of the punishment.”
“In brief … everybody, every single one of us, has a ‘chief feature,’ which is a negative trait. It takes control at times, resulting in a grotesque character flaw. We must learn to identify it so that we can handle it and improve our personal growth.”
“Tell us the seven flaws; are they like the seven deadly sins?”
“My childhood discipline isn’t part of the Guild practice.” He smiles pleasantly, but his eyes are hard. “I thought we were here to talk about the Guild and dispel some of the myths the Vital Party and others are spreading, which is what I’d really like to do.”
“This disciplinary action is part of your childhood. It’s the roots of the Guild, if you like, so I’m interested,” Erica reasons.
He inhales slowly through his nose. I can tell he’s angry but he’s trying to hide it. “There are seven character flaws. Self-deprecation is belittling and undervaluing oneself. Someone who does this has an inferiority complex. Self-destruction is sabotaging, punishing, and harming. Someone who does this has constant inner turmoil that makes them want to get away from themselves.
“Martyrdom is someone who denies responsibility, blames others.
“Stubbornness, resisting change, even a positive one.
“Greed is selfishness, overindulgence, overconsumption.
“Arrogance, a superiority complex, a need to be seen as better than others because being ordinary is intolerable.
“Impatience, intolerance of obstruction and delay.”
“Do you use this disciplinary method with your son, Art?”
My heart pounds at the sound of Art’s name. At first I feel defensive of him, a natural response to somebody I thought I loved, and then the anger sets in as I remember who he now is. But still I hold my breath while they talk about him.
He visibly tenses. “My son is eighteen years old.”
“But when he was growing up?”
“No,” he says simply. He shifts in his chair.
“Did that sit well with your father and grandfather? This appears to be the traditional way of doing things in the Crevan household.”
He frowns at the seemingly ridiculous question. “My son didn’t require this method of discipline, and it furthers my theory that people are changing. This is a new generation of cleansed people. Year after year the number of accused Flawed is falling.”
“Or it could be said you placed your parental disciplinary action on an entire nation instead.”
He laughs, pretending to be amused by this analysis. “I would say that is not true at all.”
“Enya Sleepwell says she believes people in this country are living in fear. Is what you consider a people changing actually a people frozen by fear, afraid to make any mistake, any decision, take any risk in case they are punished, cast out from society?”
“No, I disagree with Enya. Again. People are now thinking before they act.”
“And if it is through fear, is that okay? Have we overstepped the line of democracy?”
“Oh, please,” he says, getting annoyed. “We live in a democratic country, the people of this great nation will have the opportunity in two days’ time to take to the ballot boxes to have their voices heard.”
“And if the people vote for the Vital Party, whose main policy is to abolish the Guild?”
“I don’t believe that will happen,” he says confidently. “The Vital Party is inexperienced. We know little about where Enya Sleepwell and her party stand on any issues other than ‘not agreeing with the Guild.’ This makes me wonder what Enya Sleepwell has to hide. Why does the Guild scare her so much?”
“I think it’s because she finds the Guild inhumane,” Erica says.
That gets a cheer in the room.
Erica moves on, turns a page. “I received information that there is an inquiry beginning, into you.”
Crevan looks confused but manages to deal with what’s been revealed to him on live television.
“There have often been inquiries into the Guild’s cases. Cases have needed further clarification or detail. There are always watchdogs who keep things in line, and rightly so,” he explains.
“But this inquiry is specifically looking into you, Mr. Crevan. One would assume it will look into some of your most controversial cases, particularly the recent, infamous Celestine North case. There are people who feel she was unfairly branded, that the case itself is flawed.”
My heart pounds at hearing my name being mentioned.
“It’s a private government inquiry; we’ve seen the documents,” a voice says close to my ear, and I look around to see Enya Sleepwell standing right beside me.
I blink. Maybe things really are changing.
On-screen, Judge Crevan pauses. “I’ll be happy to provide the inquiry with any information regarding the Celestine North case, but I have no knowledge of this inquiry and I’m not going to discuss any of the details of that case with you. I can assure people I am a man intent on seeing justice being done.”
Crevan grinds his teeth as he waits for the next question, trying to hide his anger.
“Final question. If your grandfather and your father were alive today, which label do you think they would place around your neck now? What is, to quote you, your ‘grotesque character flaw’?”
He thinks about it, an amused smile on his face.
“Greed,” he says finally. “I want a lot, possibly too much for my country, for my fellow people. I want the best for us, and I suppose people may see me as I saw my father, when I was a teenager, which I do understand. If I have to be the big bad wolf in order to make our society better, so be it, but the people will thank me for it just as I thanked my father. The number of accused Flawed are falling. People are changing. People can recognize what is right and wrong immediately, they don’t have the same moral codes as in my grandfather’s time, when the country was in financial ruin and the place was, frankly, a disaster.”
“Or you might say,” Erica replies, “that our current leaders learned from their predecessors’ experiences, from their mistakes. And for that, they can thank them.”
This isn’t something that appears to have occurred to Crevan, or that pleases him, but he smiles anyway, a kind of a snarl.
“I spoke to Mark Houston before this interview, in my preparation.…” Erica leafs through some papers on her lap.
Crevan’s face lights up. “Mark. Yes, he was my friend at school. I haven’t seen Mark for years.” Then he frowns as he awaits what’s coming next, while Erica consults her notes.
“I asked Mark if he remembered the character flaw disciplinary action that your family used. If he remembered you showing up to school, to soccer, to the movies, nights out, wherever you went, with the label around your neck. And he said yes, he did. I was curious to know which flaw was your most common one. And do you know what he said?”
“I don’t, but if he remembers all the way back to a small detail like that, then Mark’s memory is far better than mine.” Big smile.
“He said it was easy to remember because it was always the same one. What I guess you would call your chief feature.” She looks down to read. “It was arrogance, which, by your earlier explanation, would mean a superiority complex. Inflating, overvaluing oneself, a need to be seen as better than others because being ordinary is intolerable.”
The anger on his face is penetrable.
“Mr. Crevan, thank you for joining me tonight, it has been very insightful.” Erica smiles at the camera.
Everybody in th
“You don’t look very pleased,” Enya says to me.
I shake my head. “He’s going to be very angry.”
And I know what Crevan is like when he’s angry.
FORTY-EIGHT
“IT’S NICE TO finally meet you,” Enya says.
She holds out her hand and I take it. Her grip is firm, her skin warm.
“You too,” I say, hearing the uncertainty in my own voice. “Are you going to abolish the Guild if you get into power?”
She smiles. “You get right to it, don’t you? Well, around here we use the word when, not if.”
I note that she doesn’t answer the question.
“Come with me. Let’s talk in private,” she says, leading me away.
Carrick watches me go, a little nervously, probably afraid I’ll further insult the woman everybody here is hailing as their hero.
I’m able to stand unaided now, but my legs feel like jelly. I concentrate on trying to walk normally. Enya places a hand on my back and guides me into a small office away from the action. A group of people huddled around a computer see her and quickly shuffle outside.
Enya half sits on the table and gives me her complete attention. “You don’t trust me. Why?”
“I don’t trust anyone,” I say simply.
“That’s understandable.”
“I know that Carrick trusts you. He believes in you, and so do all the people in this room, and the thousands around the country who are supporting you. I just haven’t had any cause to yet.” I swallow. “I just hope that you won’t do a U-turn if you’re voted into power.”
“When I’m in power, I won’t do a U-turn. I will do my best to uphold my promises.”
“What are your promises?”
“Fair treatment for Flawed. An overhaul of the Guild,” she continues.
“An overhaul? Fair treatment?” I say. “It’s not enough. We need to get rid of it.”
“You want it to be abolished completely?” she asks, concerned. “We can’t do that straightaway, Celestine. Baby steps are required.”