Darius Bell and the Crystal Bees (11 page)

‘You'll see.' Hector glanced at his watch. It was almost six o'clock. ‘I wonder if they'll still be there.'

‘Who?'

‘Come on,' said Hector. ‘We need to make another visit.'

Bungle, Whistler and Drape had been lawyers for the Bell family since the days of Cornelius Bell, and in the same measure that the Bell family had grown poorer, so the lawyers had grown wealthier. Mr Bungle – or the younger Bungle, as he was known, to distinguish him from the older Bungle, his father – was on his way down the stairs to go home when Hector and Darius arrived.

‘Mr Bell!' he said. ‘What a pleasure to see you.'

‘This is my son, Mr Bungle.'

‘Indeed,' said the lawyer, ‘I believe I've met the young gentleman before.'

Hector looked at Darius with interest.

‘It's a long story,' said Darius.

‘Well,' said Bungle, and he clapped his hands. ‘It's never too late for a Bell, and even less late for two. Come up, gentlemen, come up! I was on my way home – but home can wait.'

‘If you'd like us to come back in the morning . . .' said Hector.

‘Nonsense, Mr Bell. Wouldn't hear of it. Home can wait,' he said again, and he kept repeating it as he took them back up the stairs to the lawyers' offices.

‘Bell in the house!' he called out as he walked back in, just in case any of the other lawyers were thinking of leaving.

He took the two Bells into his office. The younger Bungle was a round, cheerful man. He showed them to a pair of chairs in front of his desk, sat down on the other side, put a pair of rimless spectacles on his nose, pulled out a yellow notepad, noted the time, and said, ‘Now, what is the matter?'

‘The matter,' said Hector Bell, ‘is this.' He explained the case, starting from the discovery of the dead bees and moving towards the conclusion of the meeting with the mayor. What might have taken ten minutes took thirty thanks to Hector's habit of never using one sentence when three might do. But Bungle seemed perfectly content to listen, and if he was in a rush to get home, he didn't show it. He nodded thoughtfully at each point, when it finally came, and waited patiently whenever Hector got himself in a particularly compli- cated tangle from which he extricated himself with a long diversion.

‘In short,' summarised Bungle when Darius's father had finally finished, ‘the mayor has extracted an opinion from a friendly scientist and on the basis of this false premise has duped the council into voting for a resolution for no purpose other than to harm, inconvenience and otherwise discomfort the Bells, their family, their friends and associates.' He peered at Hector. ‘Is that so, Mr Bell?'

‘Indeed. I couldn't have put it better myself.'

‘Nor would I expect you to, Mr Bell.' He turned to Darius. ‘What about you, young Bell? Do you agree with my characterisation of the case?'

‘I do,' said Darius.

‘An intelligent boy,' said Bungle, glancing at Hector. ‘I noted it last time as well.'

The lawyer sat back in his chair, locked the short, pudgy fingers of his hands behind his head, and sucked in his cheeks. He frowned in thought.

‘A most serious charge,' he murmured. He looked directly at Hector Bell. ‘A most serious charge, Mr Bell. You did right to come to us. A serious, serious charge if this is what the mayor has done.'

‘He most certainly has done it.'

‘I don't dispute it. Others will – the mayor, for example – but I do not. It's an abuse of power, Mr Bell! A most shocking abuse of power.'

‘Can we do anything about it?' asked Darius.

‘That, young Bell, is precisely the question.'

‘How do we answer it?'

‘That, young sir, is another question.' Bungle stood up. ‘Two heads are better than one. And as we say at Bungle, Whistler and Drape, four heads are better than two. Eight, incidentally, are better than four. You can see where I'm heading with this. Excuse me for a moment.'

The lawyer left. Darius looked at his father. It seemed a remarkably practical thing that his father had done, to come to the lawyers to see if they could challenge the mayor's action. So practical that Darius found it hard to believe his father had even thought of it. Hector Bell was hardly known for his practicality and had had no idea what to do about the disappearance of the bees when Darius first told him about it.

‘I've had my share of legal battles,' said Hector, as if he could tell what Darius was thinking. ‘Injustice, Darius, is something never to be allowed. Besides, to a man of literary sensibilities, a legal battle is hardly something to forgo. It's something to relish. Think of the drama! Think of the plot! They make excellent short stories. In fact, sometimes quite long ones. There's one I have that I think will never be finished.'

Bungle came back with a tall man who had curly black hair and a tic affecting one eye.

‘Drape!' he announced. ‘Very sound chap. Fine brain.'

‘Too kind, Bungle,' said Drape.

‘Nonsense.' Bungle looked apologetically at Hector. ‘I would have enlisted the assistance of my father, Mr Bungle, but it seems he has already departed for home. One of the finest lawyers of his day, and still a deft hand in court. Rarely stays after four. Too difficult for the old gentleman.'

‘I understand,' said Hector.

Bungle sighed. ‘Still, we have Drape, and that's a fine start!' He sat down behind his desk, glanced at the clock and noted the time on his yellow pad. ‘I'll explain the matter.'

He did. A minute after he had finished, the door opened and a Whistler walked in. Then a second Drape. Then a Bungle who was a cousin of the younger Bungle, and another Drape. As each of them came in, Bungle looked at the clock, noted the time and explained the matter afresh. Finally there were six lawyers, two clerks and the office handyman who wandered in to repair a window lock that was stuck, and there would have been more but for the lateness of the hour. They stood around Mr Bungle's desk, debating the matter. Their voices rose. Their faces went red. They jabbed the air with their fingers. Then suddenly there was silence.

Bungle turned back to Hector and Darius. ‘We're agreed.'

‘Not so fast,' said Whistler, a small woman with a sharp chin. ‘We're agreed there is a case for the mayor to answer, Mr Bell, but as for what the case is, or how to make him answer it – there, I think, opinion is divided.'

‘Fraud in public office!' cried the first Drape, his tic-affected eye blinking furiously. ‘That's the charge! Go back to your books, Whistler. Look up
Helfenbaum vs Gougenfleitz
. It's the very same. Replace Helfenbaum with Bell and Gougenfleitz with Podcock and you have the case!'

‘Don't tell
me
to go back to my books!' retorted Whistler. ‘Do you remember
Morrissey vs Pfiffelheim
? Eh? Does that ring a bell? Yes, now you remember. Don't tell me that's not closer than
Helfenbaum vs Gougenfleitz
! Abuse of public trust. That's the charge, Drape. That's the way to get him.'

Bungle coughed. ‘Details,' he said. ‘We'll work it out.'

Drape and Whistler glared at one another, Drape's eye blinking madly, Whistler's pointy chin jutting forward.

‘So are you saying we can bring a charge against the mayor?' asked Darius, who wasn't sure quite what to make of what the lawyers were jabbering about, and wasn't certain that they were either.

‘Indeed,' said Bungle. ‘That's precisely what we're saying.'

‘And if we win, what would happen?'

‘The resolution would be overturned. The court would strike it down. That would be the first thing. After that, the mayor himself might face punishment, depending on the findings of the case.'

‘But the resolution would be reversed?' said Darius, to be absolutely sure. ‘Which means bees would be allowed?'

Bungle paused for a moment to survey the assembled lawyers, who responded with brief nods of their heads. ‘Indeed, Master Bell. If we win, bees would be allowed.'

Darius looked at his father in delight. Here was a way to defeat the mayor! Finally, here was a way to save the Fishers.

‘But would we win?' asked Darius suddenly.

‘Ah, there's another question,' said Bungle, ‘and a good one, too. This young man's full of them, isn't he?'

The lawyers nodded. ‘Might have a future in the law,' murmured one of the Drapes.

‘But
would
we win?' asked Darius.

‘No one can tell you that for sure,' replied Bungle.

‘Bungle, there's every chance!' said Drape. ‘The case is at least as strong as
Helfenbaum vs Gougenfleitz.'

‘And
Morrissey vs Pfiffelheim
,' added Whistler. ‘Stronger, in my opinion.'

‘So we could win!' said Darius.

Bungle nodded. ‘I believe we could.'

Darius looked at his father again. Hector Bell smiled back at him.

‘And quite quickly too,' said Bungle. ‘I would say we have a very good chance of getting the whole matter dealt with in . . . no more than eighteen months.'

‘Quicker,' said Drape. ‘Fifteen, I would say.'

‘Months?' said Darius in disbelief. ‘Are you talking about months?'

‘That's right,' said Bungle cheerfully. ‘You probably thought we were going to say years.'

‘But fifteen months . . . that's . . .'

‘Eighteen, to be safe,' said Bungle. ‘There's the writ . . . the trial . . . appeal . . . second appeal . . .' The lawyer jotted down a figure on his yellow notepad with each utterance, then drew a line under them and added them up. ‘I really would say eighteen to be safe, Drape. Let's be realistic.'

Drape shrugged.

‘And that's supposed to be fast?' asked Darius incredulously.

‘
Lightning
fast,' replied Bungle. ‘This is a legal matter, after all.'

Darius looked at the assembled lawyers in the room. They gazed gravely back at him. Not one of them gave any sign that Bungle was joking.

Darius shook his head in dismay. The flowers in Mr Fisher's fields were already blooming. If they were going to be pollinated, it would have to happen in the next couple of weeks.

‘Eighteen months is no good,' said Darius. ‘We need to get this done now.'

‘That's what I said,' said Bungle. ‘Eighteen months.'

‘No.
Now.
We need to get this done by the weekend.'

‘Which weekend?'

‘This weekend!'

Now the lawyers did think they had heard a joke. They giggled and grinned.

‘Eighteen months is no good, Mr Bungle!'

‘It's very good, Master Bell. It could be longer, I hasten to add. But I am fairly confident it may possibly take no longer than that. And Drape, as you heard, suggests that even fifteen months is a possibility, and his opinion is never to be ignored.'

Darius stared at the lawyers. Then he looked at his father. ‘Papa, what are we going to do?'

Hector Bell was silent. In the last few hours he had taken more action than he sometimes took in a whole year. He had confronted the mayor. He had gone to see his lawyers.

Now, for one of the few times in his life, he found that he had nothing to say.

Darius didn't know what to do next. Every time it seemed that he had found an answer, something turned up to make it impossible. Night was falling by the time they left the lawyers' office. They sat in silence as Hector drove. Darius watched the lights of the cars coming towards them.

Eventually his father spoke. ‘You're a Bell, Darius. Remember that. Whatever happens, no one can take that away from you.'

Darius didn't reply. He couldn't really blame his father if that was the only thing he had left to say now. His father had done his best. For the space of a brief few minutes in the lawyers' office it seemed that he might actually have succeeded. But now the only idea he seemed to be able to offer was to make the matter the subject for one of his short stories.

‘It would be quite a good one, don't you think?' said Hector. ‘A mayor who abuses his position to persecute a perfectly peaceful, law-abiding family.'

‘I don't think it would be a good story,' muttered Darius. ‘I think it would be a tragedy.'

‘Nothing wrong with tragedies,' remarked his father. ‘Tragedies, comedies, and everything in between – a man of literary sensibilities must embrace them all.'

Darius didn't say anything to that. He made no claim to having literary sensibilities, and just at this moment didn't think he ever wanted any.

‘Well,' murmured his father, ‘there's always Cousin Julius. You never know . . .'

‘Papa, please . . .'

Hector glanced at him as he drove. ‘All right. Well, whatever happens, Darius, remember that you're a Bell, and a Bell always has his dignity. Never let go of that.'

Darius shrugged glumly. Sometimes he couldn't help thinking that Cyrus was right, the Bell name was more of a hindrance than a help.

Cyrus himself had no other ideas. Darius went straight to the new library before they had dinner and told him what had happened. Cyrus stared at him in amazement.

‘Papa did that?' he asked. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Of course I'm sure,' said Darius. ‘I was with him.'

‘Well,' said Cyrus, shaking his head. ‘You've got to give him credit for trying.' He looked doubtfully at Darius again. ‘Are you
sure
he did all that?'

‘Cyrus!'

Cyrus shrugged. ‘It's a shock, that's all, thinking of him actually getting up and doing something.'

‘The council resolution stands unless a court strikes it down. And it will take eighteen months to strike it down, or even more. That's much too late. It's useless.'

‘Well, maybe it's not a bad thing. Papa needs to learn that we can't keep living like this.'

‘Why can't
we keep living like this?' demanded Darius. He knew that Cyrus wanted to work as an engineer – which would be a good thing, if that was what Cyrus really wanted – but he didn't understand why that meant their parents couldn't continue to live as they wanted as well. ‘You want to do what you want, don't you, Cyrus? You hate it when Mama and Papa try to tell you what to do. What gives
you
the right to tell
them
what to do?'

‘You wouldn't understand,' said Cyrus. ‘You're too young.'

‘And you're too arrogant, that's what you are!' Darius looked angrily around the new library. He felt like smashing up every one of Cyrus's engineering models.

Cyrus laughed.

‘What?'

‘I like to see a bit of fire in a youngster,' said Cyrus, as if he was some kind of grizzled old-timer.

‘I'll show you fire if you're not careful, Cyrus! You think you know everything! You think you've got a right to tell everyone else what they should do! Well, if you know everything, tell me what we do about the bees! Well? What do we do about that?'

Cyrus was silent for a moment. ‘I don't know everything,' he said quietly.

Darius looked at him suspiciously, wondering whether this was going to turn out to be another way of making fun of him.

‘You're right. It's very arrogant to sound as if you do.'

Darius waited to see what was coming next.

‘I don't want to be an arrogant person, Darius. I don't want to sound like one, either.'

‘Well, sometimes you do,' said Darius.

Cyrus nodded. He was silent for a moment. ‘Do you really think the Fishers are going to leave?'

‘That's what Mr Fisher says. I suppose you want them to leave. I suppose that would show Papa, wouldn't it? It would show him that he has to live exactly as
you
want him to!'

‘You've made your point, Darius.'

‘Have I?'

‘I don't want the Fishers to leave,' said Cyrus. ‘I've known them ever since I was little. Why would I want them to leave?'

‘Then why don't you
show
it?' replied Darius.

‘I know. I should.'

‘Cyrus, what can we do to stop this?'

‘Papa really did all that, did he?'

Darius nodded.

Cyrus shrugged with a look of genuine surprise on his face. ‘I never thought I'd say this, Darius, but I think Papa's done everything possible.'

That was his mother's opinion as well. After dinner, she came and found Darius in his room.

‘I'm very proud of you, you know,' she said, sitting beside him on his bed. ‘I'm proud of your father as well.'

‘It's a bit unbelievable that Papa did all that, don't you think?' said Darius. ‘When I first told him about the bees, he didn't do anything.'

Micheline smiled. ‘He doesn't understand science, Darius. But he understands emotion. And he hates injustice. You'd be surprised what your father can do when you appeal to his sensibilities.'

Darius frowned. ‘I'd never thought of that.'

‘I'm proud of you both. You did everything you could. You tried. That's something to be proud of.'

‘It's not going to help. Being proud of trying doesn't help the Fishers.'

Micheline nodded. She gazed at him for a moment. ‘Things change, Darius. Sometimes we want it to happen, and sometimes we don't but we can't stop it. But it will be all right. It's never as bad as we think. The Fishers will go somewhere, and they'll settle down, and they'll be all right. And next year, who knows? When the Deavers have got their bees again, they might come back. Let's hope they do. Or another family will come and we'll get to know them as well.'

‘I don't want another family to come! I don't want the Fishers to go.'

‘I know,' said Micheline. ‘Neither do I.'

She put her arms around Darius and drew him close. ‘I'm proud of you, Darius Bell. I'm very, very proud of what you did. There aren't many people who'd stand up to George Podcock.'

‘You should have seen him laughing at us, Mama. You should have seen it.'

‘Your father always says there's one thing a Bell always has.'

‘I know. His dignity. But that man . . .' Darius clenched his fists. ‘He's only doing this to spite us.'

‘I know.'

‘I'd love to pay him back!'

‘Remember what your father says. Dignity is a stronger weapon than anger.'

‘I'd still like to pay him back.'

Micheline paused for a moment. Then she nodded. ‘So would I.'