The Box of Redemption (standard:drama, 4301 words)
Author: Tim Callaway	Added: Aug 01 2002	Views/Reads: 3629/2285	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Justin Blake, a troubled teenager is saved by the help of an older blind man. A tender, touching, heart rending tale of hope for the future by consideration from a significant, compassionate adult.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Justin looked on the table and saw a œ50 note. He reached into his body
belt and removed œ4.50 in change. He handed it to Mr Down and carefully 
counted out the four-pound coins and a fifty pence piece. 

"Thank you, my lad. I appreciate your honesty. I bid you good day." With
that the man stood and closed the door in Justin's face. Justin quickly 
walked away full of pride as he had earned himself, by dishonest means, 
forty pounds. 

When Justin had placed at least three streets between himself and
Amesbury Close he stopped and sat on a small wall outside the 
dilapidated Youth Club. His small voice of conscience kept nagging at 
him. He kept hearing Mr Down saying 'I appreciate your honesty... I 
appreciate your honesty!' Justin realised that he had taken advantage 
of an elderly and vulnerable blind man. For once in his short, yet 
miserable life he decided to do what was right, true and proper and 
return the money, confessing his error in the process. With a lighter 
heart he strode back to 25, Amesbury Close rehearsing his speech as he 
went. 

On arrival he knocked on the familiar door. A few seconds later bolts
were drawn back, the door opened and Mr Down stood in the doorway 
staring vacantly into the street. His pale eyes stared to the horizon 
seeing nothing, neither light, shade, colour or texture, just eternal 
darkness. 

"Yes? Who's there?" 

"It's me, Justin Blake again. I'm sorry but I made a mistake with your
change. You gave me a œ50 note and I owe you this in change. My 
mistake!" 

"I know! You took your time coming back didn't you?" said Martin Down
with a slight edge to his voice; the sound of disapproval. 

"I'm really sorry for my mistake, Mr," pleaded Justin feeling rather
indignant and loathing the trouble from his honesty. 

"Well you had better come in then. I've just put the kettle on for
breakfast. Would you like a drink?" asked Justin's philanthropist. The 
boy had passed his test. 

"Yes, if you're having one." They walked quietly into the dark,
cluttered kitchen and Justin sat timidly at the table carefully moving 
newspapers and other household items to clear a space on the table. He 
watched with interest as Mr Down made the tea without the use of his 
eyes. Using his own skill and a variety of gadgets he completed the 
task and placed a mug of steaming tea in front of Justin. 

"Sugar?" 

"No, ta," responded Justin as he looked around the kitchen. It appeared
to him to be a preserved time capsule from the 1950's. An old twin-tub 
washing machine stood next to the ancient fridge and Justin noticed an 
old gas wall heater above the sink. He wondered when it had last been 
serviced. The house fascinated him, as did its owner. 

Justin and Mr Down spoke together in a relaxed manner for nearly an
hour. Martin Down told Justin about his life of imprisonment through 
disability and his fear of the outside world. He had not ventured out 
of his house for nearly ten years owing to his blindness. This 
surprised Justin and his candidness encouraged Justin to tell his new 
friend about some aspects of his own life. Mr Down listened with 
interest and passed very few comments to encourage Justin's oration. 

As their conversation came to a natural break Martin Down asked, "Have
you always found it hard to concentrate?" 

"Yes. My mind just flits about. I find it hard to listen to people for
any length of time." 

"How come you have listened to me then?" 

"Well, you're interesting, not like my bleedin' teachers. You seem truly
interested in what I've got to say. That makes one hell of a difference 
to someone like me," replied Justin as he finished his mug of tea and 
took it to the sink. 

"There's no need to wash it up, I'll do it later. Now run along now,
you'll be late for school. Perhaps we could do this another time?" 

"Yes, I'd like that," smiled Justin but this human action appeared to be
lost on his blind host. 

"I'm pleased that you're smiling at last," commented Mr Down. 

"How did you know, you're blind?" retorted Justin. 

"I can tell by your voice and rate of breathing, just something I have
learned in compensation. I'm not as stupid as people think! Now would 
you do something for me?" 

"Yes?" 

"You know I cannot see but I would like to know what you look like. May
I touch your face to build my own mental picture of you?" 

Justin was rather taken aback but he gave his permission, perhaps
against his better judgement. 

"You have a strong face, full of character. You have the forehead of an
intelligent man, the mouth of a great orator. Your face speaks of hope 
and expectation!" 

Justin pulled away slightly from this intrusive examination and Mr Down
took a step backwards in response. 

"I'll see you. Bye!" replied Justin cheerfully as the door was closed
behind him. He walked into the pouring rain; his heart was full. He was 
glad that he had done the right thing. After all trust cannot be 
purchased, it is won. 

For the next few months Justin was a regular visitor to Mr Down's house.
Although his mother frowned upon their new liaison she could not find a 
'just cause' to forbid it. In one sense she was glad that her son had 
found a new friend, but she would have preferred it to have been one of 
his own age. She was concerned that Justin might take advantage of 
their friendship and steal from Mr Down, or even hurt him. 

As part of each visit Martin used to help Justin to practise his reading
and writing. His reward for this effort of concentration was to be 
shown the large collection of musical boxes, the product of Mr Down's 
lifetime. Each musical box had a name and Mr Down could tell Justin the 
full 'life history' of each one. He knew the name of the makers, when 
each box was constructed and its owners from new. These lifeless 
possessions seemed, to Justin, to be his surrogate children. 

On one particular day Justin watched as Mr Down took one of them apart,
piece-by-piece, for routine, regular maintenance. The complex, internal 
mechanisms were initially a mystery to Justin but through patience and 
guidance Justin soon learned where each piece went and the means by 
which the tunes were played. His favourite musical box was called 
'Ivor' as it spoke of the Austrian Alps to the listener. Justin used to 
insist that he listened to 'Ivor' during each visit. This did not seem 
to concern Mr Down who readily obliged Justin's request. 

During August there was an unexpected heat wave. The grass in the park
and city gardens turned brown and became parched. A hosepipe ban was 
vigorously enforced and the cars of the city grew dusty, eager for a 
cool wash or hose down. Martin and Justin sat in the small, 
well-tendered garden trying to keep in the shade. They were happy in 
each other's company and their conversations became honest, mutually 
supportive and fruitful. 

During the hottest part of the afternoon Martin Down passed a comment.
"Justin, there is something I've been meaning to tell you." 

"What's that?" 

"I listened to a very interesting radio programme a few weeks ago about
disturbed teenagers." 

"What's that got to do with me?" asked Justin defensively. 

"The programme was all about children with ADHD." 

"What the hell's that when it's at home?" Justin asked with a hint of
sarcasm. 

"Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder. Those who suffer from
this condition find it hard to concentrate and often find learning 
difficult, like you. Some often get into trouble at school as they find 
it hard to express themselves to their peers and adults. Their 
behaviour can become violent and they are often excluded from school if 
this condition is not diagnosed." Justin listened reflectively in total 
silence. "There is a drug called Ritalin. Even though it is a stimulant 
it helps the sufferer to live a normal life free from distraction." 

"Go on! What are you thinking?" asked Justin in contemplation. 

"Well I think that you have ADHD. I'm no doctor but you should get it
checked out. I've got the telephone number of the ADHD help line. Do 
you want it?" 

"Ok, but I don't know what my mum will think of it." 

"Leave her to me. I will ring her tonight. Now finish your squash. It's
time for a refill. Your turn I think! I'll have a small shandy this 
time." 

At 7.30pm the telephone conversation between Mrs Blake and Mr Down
became difficult and lengthy. When terminated it was agreed that they 
would meet together without Justin. The meeting was set for the 
following day after Mrs Blake had finished her shift at the canning 
factory. 

Martin had spent the whole day tidying the house in preparation for his
guest. He had prepared a lovely spread of sandwiches and three 
varieties of cake. Through this act of kindness he hoped to woo 
Justin's mother into compliance. 

At 6.30pm Martin sat near the open door to wait for Mrs Blake. The warm,
stifling air passed through the house like the Mistral. Martin heard 
people returning home from work and the sound of children playing with 
water in the adjacent gardens. He felt nervous but the compassion he 
felt for Justin was going to be his shield and buckler. Martin knew 
that he would have to fight for the boy's best interests and indeed his 
future. He knew that this potential delinquent could be turned around 
by appropriate medical treatment. Justin deserved a fair chance in 
life. 

From the dusty street Mr Down detected a faint, yet stale smell of
women's perfume. The aroma became stronger and he felt a slight change 
in the air pressure, his guest had arrived. 

"Mr Down?" inquired a rather hot and bothered Marjory Blake. 

"Yes, do come in, Mrs Blake. Please follow me into the garden; it is
cooler there. 

Marjory followed Martin Down and studied him closely during their short
walk. She detected nothing out of the ordinary other than he was 
clearly blind, as Justin had told her. She was shown to a chair next to 
a table, heavily laden with food. 

"May I pour you a cup of tea, Mrs Blake?" 

"Yes, that would be kind." 

There was a short period of silence during which neither host nor guest
knew what to say. It didn't seem appropriate to discuss small talk as 
their impending, uncomfortable subject was going to be Justin. 

"There you are. A piece of cake?" 

"No thank you, I have just eaten." Martin was rather annoyed, as he had
gone to a lot of trouble. "Now to business. You seem to think that 
there is something wrong with my son." 

"Yes. Have you not noticed that he finds it hard to concentrate on
anything for a sustained period of time?" offered Mr Down. 

"All teenagers are like that. I admit that Justin is a bit of a hand
full most of the times. He was just born like that. He has always been 
a difficult child." 

"Yes, I admire your honesty and the way that you have struggled to bring
Justin up," said Mr Down in support of his guest. 

"Justin really frustrates me. I just can seem to get through to him. We
always end up rowing and he usually storms out in temper. He has 
destroyed several of my possessions in temper. I always forgive him but 
these confrontations seem to push us further apart," replied Marjory as 
she fought to hold back her tears. Martin detected the change in her 
voice but continued sensitively. 

"Justin is a very frustrated boy who feels isolated. He loves you very
much but cannot relate to you." 

"Now, look here. He's my son and I will do what I think is best for him.
To be honest I think that his relationship with you is rather 
unorthodox to say the least. But he likes you and I trust his 
judgement." 

"I am pleased to hear that. Now have you ever heard of a medical
condition called ADHD?" 

"No." 

"Well I suspect that Justin is suffering from ADHD." 

"How do you know?" 

"From information I have read and various radio programmes. His
behavioural and learning patterns match closely to the symptoms. Did 
you know he cannot read and write?" asked Mr Down. 

"He's always had trouble with it. I have tried my to help him but we
just end up arguing, " replied Marjory who felt jealous of her host. 
She envied the growing relationship between her son and this blind, old 
man. It almost seemed to be a substitute for a mother's love. 

Several hours later as the sun began to set and the cooler night air
began to settle on the garden like a blanket the two adults concluded 
their conversation. Martin Down provided Mrs Blake with the financial 
means to book a private appointment with an ADHD specialist and he 
promised to keep her informed as to the welfare of her son. They parted 
friends but still a veil of suspicion hung over them. 

A month later Justin knocked at Mr Down's front door wearing his new
school uniform and carrying a large briefcase. 

"Hello, Justin, come in!" Justin followed Mr Down into the front room
where he was servicing a musical box on the table. "How's your new 
school?" 

"It's brilliant. I really like my English teacher and she's really
patient. I'm beginning to catch up with my classmates. My form tutor 
says that I can be moved up a stream after Christmas if I keep trying 
hard with my work," replied Justin sparkling with his new found 
confidence and self-esteem. 

"Are you still taking your Ritalin tablets?" 

"Yes, one in the morning and one after school. They're like a magic
potion but their effect does wear off quickly. Now enough about me. 
I've got something that I want to do for you." 

"Oh, I don't like the sound of that," said Martin cautiously. 

"I have got something for you outside. Come with me," instructed Justin
as he walked towards the closed front door. He opened it and stood to 
one side. Martin felt something brush against his leg. He reached down 
and felt fur and the breathe of a dog and its wet nose on his right 
hand. 

"What a lovely dog. Now wait a minute see if I can tell you what breed
it is." Martin started to feel the dog all over starting with its face. 
"Floppy ears, a full snout. Very large paws and a long tail that starts 
flat and becomes rounder towards the end. This dog's tail is like an 
otters. It can be only one breed, a Labrador. Oh yes, it is a boy," 
said Mr Down as he stroked the dog's stomach. Justin laughed at Mr Down 
and they both saw the funny side of the blind man's tactile 
examination. 

"How long have you had him?" inquired Mr Down. 

"Only a few weeks. I saw an advert in the local paper for guide dogs
that don't make the grade. Apparently not all guide dogs can be 
sufficiently trained to work for the Institute of the Blind. Brundle 
here is one of those dogs." "Well he is a magnificent creature and so 
placid. He will make a good companion for you," suggested Mr Down as he 
stroked the dog. "There's only one thing I cannot tell from feeling 
him. What colour is he?" 

"Black." 

"A lovely colour. My parents had such a dog before I was born,"
commented Mr Down. 

"Well he's not my dog, he's yours. He is my gift to you for your
kindness and help with my own welfare." 

"I couldn't accept him, you're too generous. How on earth can I take him
for a walk?" 

"He will take you. Don't you see, Brundle is your passport to freedom.
We will train him together to make sure he knows where to go and what 
to do at busy junctions. Here, I have his harness. He like wearing it, 
see." Justin placed the harness on Brundle and moved towards the door. 
"Now hold the dog's lead and take my arm," directed Justin. 

"I couldn't. I can't," pleaded Mr Down. 

"I didn't think that I would ever read and write but you showed me the
way. Now do as you are told and hold this!" commanded Justin. Mr Down 
feebly took the lead in his right hand and Justin's arm in the other. 
They walked down the steps and Mr Down's heart thumped in terror. 

For the next few months the outdoor training continued. Some days were
better than others. Occasionally Mr Down and Justin would fall out if 
Justin tried to make him do something that frightened him. Mr Down 
would demand to be taken home and would dismiss Justin like a naughty 
schoolboy at the doorstep. No matter how hard Justin tried Mr Down 
would not venture outside with Brundle alone. He would only go if 
Justin was with him. Justin had the patience of a saint but he was 
determined to pay back the kindness shown to him by his friend and 
benefactor. 

One cold, February morning Justin knocked at the door. Usually Mr Down
would open the door in a few seconds but Justin had been waiting for a 
few minutes. He heard the sound of feint whimpering beyond the door. He 
opened the letterbox and saw Brundle lying on the floor motionless. 
Without hesitation he ran around the back of the house, climbed the 
fence and gained entry into the kitchen using the hidden key, used for 
such emergencies. 

Justin went up to Brundle who wagged his tail slightly. Still he didn't
get up. Justin was concerned for the dog but where was Mr Down. As 
Justin climbed the stairs his head started to feel heavy and his 
stomach uncomfortable, like butterflies in his stomach. He couldn't 
decide whether this was fear or the result of an external agency. He 
entered the bedroom and saw Mr Down peacefully asleep in his bed. He 
looked restful, yet pale and Justin felt uncomfortable that he would 
have to wake him from his slumber. Nevertheless he shook the shoulder 
of his friend. 

"Mr Down, wake up. It's me, Justin!" He continued with the waking
overtures. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't wake his friend. 
Justin feared the worse and went downstairs to ring for an ambulance. 
As he replaced the receiver he passed out from carbon monoxide 
poisoning. 

Justin woke up in hospital with his anxious mother by his side. 

"Mum, what happened to me? How are Mr Down and Brundle?" 

"Oh, Justin. You must be brave and strong. What I have to tell you will
upset you," replied his mother as she wiped a tear from her eye. 

Mrs Blake explained that Mr Down had been killed by carbon monoxide
poisoning from his old water heater. Apparently the external vent had 
become blocked and as it was winter he had sealed all his windows and 
the silent killer took his life. Brundle had survived and was 
recuperating in the vets. She also explained that Mr Down had gone out 
for the first time without Justin's help that same day. Justin was 
pleased but also very upset as his best friend had been taken from him. 
He cried openly and held his mother firmly in his arms. She was touched 
by his rare physical contact and cried as she now had her son back, the 
boy she had always wanted. 

A few weeks later Justin lay in his new, large bedroom stroking Brundle,
his new companion. Along each wall were numerous musical boxes; each 
had a name. He got up from his bed and picked up 'Ivor.' He opened the 
lid and the familiar, reassuring musical tone emerged from the box. He 
tenderly felt the lid and stared out into Amesbury Close. The haunting 
tune spoke of freedom and redemption. He now had a new home, a gift 
from his benefactor. 

On Saturday afternoon Justin left the house early on his bike carrying a
rucksack. He went to the grave of Mr Down with some fresh flowers, 
followed closely by his shadow, Brundle. 

When he arrived he neatly trimmed the week's growth of grass and placed
the flowers into the all weather vase. Justin pulled a musical box out 
of his rucksack and carefully wound the delicate mechanism. He opened 
the lid and the beautiful music started to play. He rested the box on 
Mr Down's headstone. 

"Mr Down? I know you can hear me. All I want to say is thank you for
everything. You have given me a chance for a new start. I will not 
waste a minute of each day." Justin wiped a tear from his cheek. " I 
have a strong face, full of character. I've the forehead of an 
intelligent man, the mouth of a great orator. My face speaks of hope 
and expectation, you taught me that! I miss you, Mr Down. I'll never 
forget you." 

Justin sat in silence for a few moments thinking about his old friend.
He put the musical back into his rucksack with the garden tools. He got 
on his bike and pedalled back to his new life without a care in the 
world. A true friend had redeemed him and given him the gift of a 
future, full of expectation. 

( 2002 Tim Callaway - All rights reserved. 

9 


Tweet