Flawed / Perfect. Cecelia Ahern

shouts at them from the ground. “Let her have some dignity, goddammit.”

      She’s taken inside the van. The door slides shut. The sound of the whistles stops.

      I’ve never heard a man cry like Bob. The Whistleblowers holding him down speak to him in low, calm voices. He stops yelling, but his crying continues. They finally let him go and disappear into the second van. They drive away.

      My heart is pounding, and I can barely breathe. I cannot believe what I’m seeing.

      I wait for the outpouring of love from my neighbours. We are a tight, close-knit community; we support one another. I look around and wait. People watch Bob sit up in the grass, pulling his children close and crying. Nobody moves. I want to ask why no one is doing anything, but it seems stupid, because I’m not, either. I can’t bring myself to. Though being Flawed isn’t a crime, aiding or assisting a Flawed carries the risk of imprisonment. Bob isn’t Flawed, his wife is accused, but still, everyone is afraid to get involved. Our neighbours Mr and Mrs Miller turn around and head back into their house, and most of the others follow suit. My mouth falls open, shocked.

      “Damn you!” Bob shouts across the road. It is quiet at first, and I think he’s saying it to himself, and then I figure as he says it louder he’s saying it to the vans that have disappeared, but as he gets even louder and the anger increases, I see he’s directing it at us. What did we do?

      “Stay here,” Dad says to us, then he gives Mum a long look. “Everybody, back inside. Keep it calm, yes?”

      Mum nods, and her face is serene as if nothing has happened; the mask is back on, the loose strands of hair already back in place, though I don’t recall her fixing it.

      As I turn around to look back into my house, I see Bosco standing inside at the window, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. And I realise it’s him that Bob is shouting at. Bosco, the head of the Guild, is the head of the organisation that took Angelina away.

      He can help; I know it. He’s the head of the Flawed court. He will be able to help. It will all be okay. Normality can resume. The world will be turned the right way round again. Things will make sense. Knowing this, my breathing starts to return to normal again.

      As Dad nears Bob, the shouting dies down, but the crying continues, a heartbreaking sound.

      When you see something, it can’t be unseen. When you hear a sound, it can never be unheard. I know, deep down, that this evening I have learned something that can never be unlearned. And the part of my world that is altered will never be the same.

      

      

      “Let’s address the elephant in the room,” Bosco says suddenly, reaching for the red wine and filling his glass generously. He insisted we all sit back down at the table, though there isn’t anyone who feels hungry after what we’ve just witnessed. Dad is still with Bob. Mum is in the kitchen preparing the main course.

      “I don’t understand,” I say to Bosco. “Angelina Tinder is accused of being Flawed?”

      “Mmm-hmm,” he says good-naturedly, his blue eyes dancing as he looks at me. It’s almost as if he is enjoying my reaction.

      “But, Angelina is—”

      Mum drops a plate in the kitchen, and it smashes and it stops me in my tracks. Was that a warning from her? To tell me to stop talking?

      “I’m okay!” she calls, too chirpily.

      “What were you going to say about Angelina, Celestine?” Bosco eyes me carefully.

      I swallow. I was going to say that she is nice, that she is kind, that she has young children and she’s a great mum and that they need her, that she has never said or done anything wrong in all of the time I’ve spent with her. That she’s the most talented piano player I’ve ever heard, that I hoped I could play just like her when I’m older. But I don’t because of the way Bosco is looking at me and because Mum never usually breaks anything. Instead I say, “But she teaches me piano.”

      Juniper tuts beside me in disgust. I can’t even look at Art I’m so disappointed in myself.

      Bosco laughs. “We can find you a new teacher, dear Celestine. Though you raise a good point. Perhaps we should think about stopping Angelina from playing. Instruments are a luxury the Flawed don’t deserve.” He tucks into his starter and takes a huge bite of carpaccio, the only person at the table even holding his cutlery. “Come to think of it, I hope that’s all she was teaching you,” Bosco says, his smiling eyes gone.

      “Yes, of course,” I say, frowning, confused that he would even question that. “What did she do wrong?”

      “Taught you the piano,” Art teases. “Her downfall, if anyone’s heard you.”

      Ewan giggles. I smile at Art, thankful for the break in nervous tension.

      “It’s not funny,” Juniper says beside me, quietly but firmly.

      Bosco’s eyes move to her immediately. “You’re correct, Juniper. It’s not funny.”

      Juniper averts her eyes.

      And the tension is back.

      “No, it’s not funny, comical, but it’s funny, peculiar,” I say, feeling slapped.

      “Thank you, Thesaurus,” Juniper says under her breath. It’s what she always calls me when I get bogged down by definitions.

      Bosco ignores me and continues to direct his gaze at my sister. “Did Angelina teach you, too, Juniper?”

      Juniper looks him square in the eye. “Yes, she did. Best teacher I ever had.”

      There’s a silence.

      Mum enters the room. Perfect timing. “I must say, I was very fond of Angelina. I considered her a friend. I’m … shocked by this … event.”

      “I did, too, Summer, and believe me no one feels more pain than I do in this moment, seeing as I am the one who will have to tell her the verdict.”

      “You won’t just tell her, though, will you?” Juniper says quietly. “It will be your verdict. Your decision.”

      I’m afraid of Juniper’s tone. This is not the correct moment for one of her soapbox airings. I don’t want her to annoy Bosco. He’s someone who should be treated with respect. Juniper’s language feels dangerous. I’ve never seen anyone speak to Bosco in this way.

      “You just never know what those among us, those we consider friends, are really like,” Bosco says, eyes on Juniper. “What lurks beneath those you consider your equals. I see it every day.”

      “What did Angelina do?” I ask again.

      “As you may well know, Angelina travelled outside this country with her mother a few months ago to perform euthanasia, which is illegal here.”

      “But she accompanied her mother on her mother’s wishes, to another country where it was legal,” Juniper says. “She didn’t do anything to break the law.”

      “Nor is the Guild a legal courtroom, merely an inquisition into her character, and we feel that in making the decision to travel to another country to carry out the act, she is deemed to have a Flawed character. Had the government known her plans, it would have had a case to stop her.”

      There’s silence at the table while we take this in. I knew that Angelina’s mother had been terribly sick for years; she had been suffering with a debilitating disease. I had not known how she had met the end of her days, but we had all been at the