Lucy and Johan
If you are wondering how Lucy and Johan met, I can tell you, said one old woman to the Vicar at the funeral. She will not get to the end of this story I can just tell, thought the long suffering vicar. He was a good egg, most said. Always there. If someone fell, he'd go and check on them. Someone else has been on drugs and in trouble, they are taking the kids off them, he'll be there. At these funerals though it pissed him off that people spoke ill of the dead so very easily. He hadn't known a great deal about MIss Mathews, but this woman seemed to want to twist everything, best off just listening they are from another age.
Gossip magazines had been outlawed when England became a right wing theocracy in around 2060. Gossipy magazines with half naked women, pure porn and freedom of speech were gradually eroded. Women from that era were different, you had ot understand them. The little old lady's tattooed hand seemed so usual, his granny had one just like that. He lets her go on. People mostly just made excuses and left, but he was stuck there, this was just mad drivvle at times. Spewing endless ramblings, dodery and talking too loud, thats what he thought sometimes.
When she was an old lady, like me she was ok. For a time before she could be termed an old lady, Lucy wanders around again, she will tell anyone on the street this mad story about when she was young.
I can remember at one of the coffee mornings at the church, she was wearing mainly black with a spider broach, she looked like she'd had a drink.
‘Please LISTEN. ………I called out to him J,J J? ‘. She is transported back to the scene of her crime seemingly.
Johan doesn’t move. She looks at him, she thinks she can hear him breathing but he really is not in fact.
His Jeans are light blue and ripped deliberately on the left knee.
His Lennon glasses are slumped hanging off his nose.
His cardigan is black and chunky. Same as it ever was.
As his fit body stiffens, Alice screams and cries. Screaming for Jesus. But no one ever comes.
The masked figure takes a knife to Johan and unhoods him.
The figure spits several times on his dying corpse. The person unties Alice and after cleaning her up, puts her on a plane for Mumbai, suitably disgraced she is ‘welcomed’ home.
The figure takes the knife and lunges forward blood splays out onto the killer’s shoes. In that moment, the killer holds its head up high a rare thing because the killer’s eyes usually belong on the floor in home. But this is sweet revenge. A dish best served cold.
She told me that. Eyebrows raise, Reverend is called away.
A few knew that Lucy then started to wander with her bible and forgets to take the respiredone, singing any song she can remember.
You’re going down to London, got your converse and old raybans on. But I know that you’re somewhere thinking of me. Or sometimes if upset she will scream at the top of voice that only love will break your heart, try to be strong right from the start. But now she is laughing, it really is ok now. Sometimes she can remember what happened all those years before, but it is a new world now. She always gets a birthday card and Christmas card from her friend Flick .
One brother had tried to help her, he'd tried to arrange her marriage and after a while it seemed pointless as she wasn't always able to stay stable and they rented a house for her. She was grateful for that and when they were living locally Lucy used to visit their children and take them presents, things she'd baked or knitted.
For many years after her release from prison, she enjoyed herself; she bought a cat and called it Sweets. She was spurred on to go to college by an inspirational friend of hers called Shanaz. When Shanaz moved to Iraq to carry on her charitable work, Lucy felt a little lonely, even though they hadn’t seen one another that often really. She felt strong for the first time in years. The local church she went too was full sometimes of children and their parents. A christening here, choir practice and at Christmas and Easter the vicar always needed a hand.
She had not married. She did not have any children. She did have some artwork left and certain sculptures that she had saved during her working years to buy. They were not Johan Ahmadi’s work; his work was taken back home along with all of his things.
She also told people that one day Johan had picked the wrong person to hack. It was a business colleague of his fathers. The Trojan had been detected; he found this out in a phone call from his father, a prominent senior counsel in Mumbai.
‘Just be careful son, is all I have to say’. His Dad said to him.
The bastard, he was doing this mainly for him, to keep an eye on the lives they had struggled to keep hold of over there. J was astute, he was aware of their enemies. But this could not hurt could it, he was in England anyway and the family at home was very well protected. Armed men protected. His father had many connections.