The Ice-Cream Man...

The little bell jingled softly as the cart rounded a corner and swung into Park Lane. The tree leaves cast a shade on the road, the sun glimmering in through gaps in the branches. On one side of the road, lined houses, red brick, with little chimneys on top. Some had a small wooden fencing, some, with small lawns where little children ran about with toys in hand. On the other side of the lane, as the name suggested, was a park. Not too big, lined by trees and little bushes, neatly trimmed, the grass was lush green and soft and springy, little slides and swings lined one end of the park where children of many ages jumped and ran around. Under the shade of the trees, were wooden benches, where their parents and babysitters sat around, keeping a watchful eye on them, some knitting, some chatting, some reading in the glistening rays of the setting sun. All this stopped with the little jingle of the bell mounted on top of the cart, as it ambled up the road. It was a small cart, ran on three wheels, splashed on its sides were every colour imaginable, painting a bright merry picture of a clown holding every child’s fantasy, an ice cream. Hugo or “The Ice-Cream Man” as he was more popularly known as, by these children, sat behind the cart, pedaling it into his usual corner, on one end of the road, right next to the park gate. The kids ran behind it, waiting for it to stop, and their favorite ice-cream man to start handing out the slurpy delights.

“A green apple delight for me” screamed one.

“A chocolate cream please, Ice Cream Man” softly pleaded another.

“Two strawberry cones here” said one from the back, jumping to see over the crowd that had milled up before the ice-cream truck.

Slowly, patiently, and with a smile, Hugo heard all their requests and dug into the cart, handing each their little delights. He never said much, but smiled and there was warmth in his eyes. Sometimes he patted them on the head, and many a times, he gave away ice-creams for less than the written price. There was never a sad face around Hugo. The children loved him. “Thank you Ice Cream man” they chirped, licking gleefully at the icy scone in their hands, and jumped away, resuming their merry frolic in the park.

Hugo was a man of around fifty as his graying hair, protruding under his colourful cap, would suggest. He was thin, of average height, sported a greyish-white moustache and his ice cream man uniform, that was white with red stripes. He had a soft voice and a ready smile. Every evening, as the clock struck five, he would roll his cart into Park Lane where he’d cater to the kids wants, and he’d stay there till eight by which time all the kids would have gone and the park stood empty but for idle loiterers, and customers dwindled. He’d make one round around the neighborhood, and then wheel his little cart back to the company outlet, and walk back home with the days earnings in his pocket.

 _________________________________________________________________________________

The streets Hugo walked through on his way home were in stark contrast to the ones he drove his little cart around during the evenings. Dark buildings with broken windows, the paint scraping off, graffiti sprayed on the walls. Screams and brawls could be heard through many of them. The roads were filthy, garbage strewn over. On the sidewalk, people lay in drunken frenzy. Some fires were lit with the scraps of garbage, around which huddled many a folk, rubbing their hands, pulling their torn and tattered coats over their thin, frail bodies. Some tents had sprung up on a little patch of grass on one side, shelter for some of the city’s homeless, from them little spires of smoke could be seen rising into the dark cloudy sky, as a frugal meal, hardly enough to feed a child, was being prepared. When survival becomes a question, hunger and starvation are accepted as a way of life. And passing by those, Hugo reached the end of the street and stood before a three storey building, its grey walls had cement patches all over, and painted gang graffiti on one side. The colour had long faded into a blackish hue, but it was once a creamish tinge. The narrow windows, with light emanating from them and many a voice could be heard, of those that were crammed into those small rooms, thankful for the roof above their heads. Hugo walked up two flights of creaky stairs, and knocked on the door on the right. He could hear soft sobs of silent tears on the other side, as the locks came off noisily and the door was opened by a thin woman, short, with messy hair falling over her gaunt face. Her eyes were glistening with tears.

“Joe’s sick again?” he asked her, guessing the source of her distress.

“He had another fit. I gave him the medicines, but I was so scared. A horrible look came over him as he fell on the floor writhing, in agony…(sniffing) I didn’t know what to do.. I screamed for help..but….(starts crying on Hugo’s shoulder)”

“It’s alright. Don’t worry.” He stroked her head, trying to pacify her, “You remember what the doctor said. As long as you give him his medicines, he’ll be fine. This will happen, there’s nothing you can do about it, but be strong. Now, stop crying, I’m hungry, what’s to eat?”

“Sorry. Silly of me. Right, you wash up, I’ll set your food on the table.”

Hugo walked in, locked the door behind him, and let out a deep sigh. When you’re out selling ice-cream, smiling through the pain comes with the job description, but who ever thinks of an ice-cream man’s sufferings?

The house had three rooms, the room by the entrance was a dining room, with a small wooden table, that Hugo had made himself, and wooden chairs, crafted by his own hands. The walls were bare and painted white. Two windows, overlooking a dark alley below, on one side, and on the other side, was the bedroom, again, scantily furnished, with one bed with hardly enough space for two. On it usually slept Hugo’s wife, Lloreta, and their son Joe. A mattress lay on the other side of the room, moth eaten with holes, and the stuffing protruding out of it. That was Hugo’s bed. Apart from this, there was a small desk piled up with newspapers and magazines, and the stray pen and sheaf of paper. And there was a cupboard, for the clothes and whatever little items of value that they possessed. The day’s earnings usually went under the mattress.

On the bed now lay a boy of around ten, loosely draped in a thin rag, and asleep. Tufts of jet black hair fell over his face, his little hand, curled up in a fist clutching at the bed sheet. The boy had suffered. From a very early age, Joe used to have spasms, where he’d go into a violent fit, writhing and twisting vigorously in great pain. His eyes would contract and often he’d pass out. They had taken him to many doctors. The problem they said, arose from his brain which would from time to time trigger an involuntary fit, due to some nerve disorder. It was pretty serious and unless operated upon, could even lead to death. But Hugo could not afford the cost of an operation. So they had recommended medicines that would lessen the effects but had warned him that in Joe’s case, the medicine were just given to buy more time, an operation would eventually become a necessity if he were to survive. Since then, Hugo had embarked on a mission to save enough money for the operation. But it wasn’t easy. The medicines themselves were very expensive, and the cost of running a household, having mouths to feed, was on the rise. Apart from the ice-cream selling job that he did in evenings, Hugo also had a day job, waiting tables at a local diner. The pay wasn’t much, but then, in the times of recession, having a job itself was something to be thankful for, so he never complained. He kneeled next to the sleeping form of the little boy and ran his hand gently through his hair. The boy didn’t stir, his breathing, slightly wheezy, his minds lost in sleep. He sat there for a while, lost in thought, overwhelmed by a deep sense of sadness. He wished to God to relieve the boy from his pain. A solitary tear rolled off his eyes, down his cheek. He picked up the thin rag sheet and covered up the child, gently patting his head before leaving.

“We’re nearly out of medicine. Will you get some before leaving tomorrow?”Lloreta informed Hugo.

“Yes. First thing in the morning.”

“I was so scared today, for a moment, I was at a loss for what to do. I can’t bear to see him suffer like this. Can’t you take a loan or something, so we can get the operation done?”

“You know I’m already neck deep in debt. The money for the medicines comes from what I borrowed from Mr.Samson. As it is, only last week, I was told to pay him back. Unless I repay him, there is nowhere to go for us. You must be strong Lloreta. We’ll get the money and he’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that every time it happens, I feel so scared and helpless. Anyway, so how was your day today?”

And the rest of the meal was spent recounting the events of the day gone by. She put on a brave face, but the fear never left Lloreta’s eyes. After the meal was done, Hugo decided to go out for a short walk. “And if I find the chemist’s open, I’ll get the medicines too” he told Lloreta and left.

_________________________________________________________________________________

The streets were empty and quiet. A stray cat slunk along the shadows, the fires stamped out. People spoke in hushed whispers as the world around him prepared to see off another miserable day in quiet slumber. There was a soft breeze blowing up the road as Hugo ambled along, his head bowed, deep in thought. The street lamps illuminated the lines on his faces, worry etched deep into it. He had aged beyond his years. He thought of all his times at the park, as the Ice-Cream Man. Children running after him, huddled around him, jumping in joy, eyes lit in ecstasy, as their hands cradled the little delights Hugo handed out to them. He loved his job, he loved to see the smile on the kids faces and the gratitude in their eyes, unconditional, uninhibited. Those fleeting moments he treasured, to take his mind off all his worry, his pain, his suffering. It gave him hope, the hope for good times, that willed him on.

He walked around the neighbourhood once, went over to the next block, passing by the chemist’s, which was closed. Deciding to get the medicines in the morning, he turned to head back home. The road was dark, the streetlamps vandalized on that stretch. The only little illumination came from the windows of the buildings around it. Hugo picked up his pace slightly. Up ahead was a right turn which lead up to the street leading to his home. As he walked around it, he saw a group of men standing in the dark shadows up ahead, leaning up against the wall of a laundry shop. Hugo dropped his head, and walked on, his hands clenched up in a fist in his pockets. As he reached the end of the road, someone grabbed him from behind and pushed him hard in the chest. He fell off balance and landed heavily on the road. “Wha..” he began to protest, but the wind got knocked out of him as they landed two heavy kicks into his stomach. He hunched up in pain, coughing painfully. He felt one of his assaulters lean in close, he could feel his breath, stinking of alcohol as he spoke,

“Mr. Samson sends his regards, Hugo. This is what happens to scum that take from him and don’t return. You were told last week to pay up, well take this as the final warning. If Mr. Samson does not get back his money with interest soon, you’ll wish you were never born. You get me? Make sure we don’t have to come for you again, or else…”

And in seconds, they were lost in the shadows leaving Hugo sprawled in pain. It took him a while to slowly sit up. As the pain subsided, he stood up shakily, lost his balance and nearly fell over again. He steadied himself, clutching on to the nearby dumpster for support, and slowly limped back homewards.

He let himself in quietly. Lloreta had fallen asleep while tending to Joe. Hugo washed up, switched off the lights, and lay down gingerly on his mattress. He gazed upon the dark shadows of his sleeping wife and his son. His body ached, but not as much as his soul. He turned over, his thoughts fixated on the incidents of the evening. A slight tremor vibrated through his body, and he never slept that night.

_________________________________________________________________________________

“You look really tired, and why are you walking with a limp?” Lloreta asked Hugo, as she made breakfast.

“Couldn’t sleep much. A little stiff. Nothing to worry. I got the medicines. They’re on the table.” He dared not tell her about the encounter last night. She had enough to worry about as it was. It was his problem, he’d solve it. “I say, I was wondering, how much money have we saved up so far? I was thinking about repaying some of the debts that I owe.”

“Not much. Round about a thousand maybe. Can’t you wait a little longer? Joe’s monthly check up is due next week. We’d need money for that.”

“Yes, yes. We’ll manage.” He replied abstractly. A thousand! And he’d borrowed five thousand from Mr.Samson. With interest, he’d have to return close to six. He sunk his head into his hands, not knowing what to do. He cursed himself, having turned to a man like that. Mr.Samson was a shark. To the public, he was into the silk import business, but that was just a cover for the drug trade that he ran. He had high connections to keep him out of trouble and was as ruthless as he was rich. A friend had taken him to Mr.Samson, when Hugo was in dire need of money to save his son, and in his helplessness, he’d overlooked all possibilities of the impending danger. Now, he was in the man’s clutches and he knew well that he’d have no qualms about crushing him if Hugo failed to get him his money.

_________________________________________________________________________________

There was a great crash, as the cup smashed to pieces on the floor, little pieces of glass, flying around. A drop of blood trickled out of the little cut in Hugo’s finger, as he stooped down in panic, retrieving the little shards of glass strewn all over the tiled floor of the diner kitchen that Hugo worked at.

“What ARE you doing? What did you break now?” screamed out a little fat man, wearing a white apron as he bustled into the kitchen, panting.

“I’m sorry Mr.Allen. The glass… I was rinsing it.. it slipped.. I’m really sorry…I’ll..”

“Stop blabbering and clean it up, NOW! What is wrong with you today? You seem lost in another world. I won’t have such carelessness in my kitchen, man! Either you focus on the job, or I get someone else. You get me?” Mr.Allen stopped to catch a breath. A bead of sweat trickled down his balding head. His voice sobered down as he saw Hugo’s eyes glistening up, his hands, shaking as they picked up little pieces of glass from the floor, tiny droplets of blood staining the pristine white surface.

“You’ve cut yourself good man, stop crawling around on the floor. Put a band-aid or something on it, and use a mop. Good heavens, you’re a mess today. What IS up with you?”

“Its.. nothing… I’m sorry…!”

“Enough with the sniveling. Sit down for a moment, have some water. The glass can stay. Tell me, what’s wrong. You’re usually never like this. Maybe I can help. Is this about your son? Is he unwell again?”

Slowly Hugo drank down the glass of water, and amid deep breaths, told him about the money he owed and the events of the previous night. Mr. Allen heard him out quietly, occasionally shaking his head. Once the story was told, he sat there motionless, not making a noise, staring at the floor, as if at a loss for words. Then he looked up and looked straight into Hugo’s eyes. His face was serious. “Some pickle you’ve gotten yourself into, I must say. Look, I can’t help you with the money. I would’ve lent you some had I had it but I don’t. But there is someone I know, not know, but, you know, acquainted with, who might help you out in exchange for favours. Now, I’ll have to talk to him, and there is no guarantee that he’ll agree, so don’t get your hopes up. Also, be warned, he isn’t what you’d call a very honourable man, to put it nicely. He deals with all kinds of black market goods, so any favours that he may ask of you, there is a good chance they won’t be very lawful. So give that some thought, before you agree to this. But if you do it, then, there is money in it, and given your dire need for it, and all that you just told me, you might as well take it up. Or you can go to the police and report these goons, but we both know what’ll happen if you do that, so I’m not going to waste my breath talking you into that possibility. What do you say?”

For a while there was silence. Knives and forks clashed in the background, the occasional raised voice and the clink of glasses. The air seemed to be rather heavy around Hugo. A shadow fell across his features, his weary face aged up. His voice quavered when he finally spoke. “I..I..don’t want any more trouble..but, I..”, he stuttered.

“But you need the money, right?” Mr.Allen, finished off for him. “Look, I can’t promise anything here. But the way I see it, you’re pretty neck deep in trouble as it is. If this helps take that load off your shoulder, I don’t see any better way out for you. I’ve known you for some time now, and you’re a good man. Had it been anyone else, I wouldn’t have even mentioned this, but you need this. If nothing else, for your son. Tell you what, I’ll arrange a meet with the man after closing tonight. You come by and talk it over. If you feel upto it, there’s money in it, otherwise, you can back away and look for alternative means. Is that good for you?”

Hugo nodded slowly. “Thank you sir. I don’t know how… you… thank you…” his words choked, his eyes welled up again.

“Alright, alright, nothing to thank me for, yet. Once you’re out of this mess, then you can thank me! And maybe buy me another cup.” Laughing, he slapped Hugo on the back. “Now get yourself together and get back to work, the customers are waiting.”

Three hours later, as he was leaving, Mr.Allen came by. “I’ve spoken to the man. He’ll come talk to you tonight. Come by at nine, alright?”

Nodding slowly, head bowed and brows clouded over deep in thought, Hugo trudged out the door into the harsh afternoon sun. He called in sick at the ice-cream company, went back home and slept.

_________________________________________________________________________________

“Feeling better now? Where are you off to?” asked Lloreta, as Hugo prepared to leave.

It was dark outside, the street lights hadn’t been lit. The traffic on the road was high, cars and buses ferrying a bunch of exhausted souls homewards after a hard day’s toil. The little fires had erupted on the roadside, as the day’s last meal was prepared.

“I’ve got some work. I’ll be back in an hour or two. You and Joe finish dinner. Don’t have to wait for me. Okay?” He pulled the keys off the hook and shut the door tight behind him as he left.

It took him about twenty minutes to walk over to Mr.Allen’s diner. It was ten minutes past nine. The shutters were half pulled, and the lights were off barring one over the counter. There was no one in sight. Hugo crouched underneath the shutter and walked in. “Mr.Allen! You there?” He called out. There was a noise in the kitchen. Like a chair being pushed back, a shuffle of feet, and the stout round face of Mr.Allen peeked out of the door. “Oh, you’re here.” He seemed a little relieved, “We were just waiting for you. Come on in, come on in. Go inside, he’s here. I’ll just close the shutters and be with you.”

Hugo slowly pushed open the kitchen door and walked in. The lights were dimmed and the tables cleared and cleaned. The tiled floor, freshly washed, was sparkling white and slippery. Three chairs had been set up by the chopping board. On one, leaning back, sat a tall thin man. He had a little stubble and his oiled hair, brushed back. There was a mole on his cheek, dark complexioned, with thin arms and legs. He wore a dark shirt and a briefcase sat by his side. He was staring at Hugo with his dark eyes, while twirling a glass of wine in his hand. “Sit!” he said, motioning towards one of the empty chairs. Hugo obliged. They sat quietly for a while. Outside, he could hear the sound of the shutter being pulled down, locks clicking in place. The man spoke. His voice just above a whisper, yet, his words came out crisp and clear. “I’ve been speaking to Henry there, and he told me that you are looking for some quick money. Is that correct?”

“Yes”, carefully, Hugo replied, unsure of how much and what to say.

“My name is Smith. I run a business and it has a lot of opportunities for some fast earning, to those who are willing to run a few risks in the process. I believe Henry told you something about me, and my job.”

“Yes. But what exactly…”Hugo fumbled for the right words. The man called Smith, cut in.

“That comes later. First, I’ve to determine whether you’re up for the job or not. You see, in our business, we must be careful. Even the smallest mistakes can cost us. So we like being thorough at our end. So, to begin with, tell me what you do and something about yourself and why you need the money.”

For the next thirty minutes or so, Hugo spoke, giving the man Smith every detail of his life, his work, his troubles, his past. Twice he stopped, his throat parched. Mr.Allen had joined them in the meanwhile and provided another glass of wine for both Hugo and himself, while re-filling Smilth’s. Smith hardly moved or made a sound throughout the narrative. His eyes fixed on Hugo. Finally, when he’d finished, Smith nodded his head, sipped his drink and spoke, “Alright! I sympathize with your plight. I have heard of Mr.Samson, and a lot of what I’ve heard, I dare not speak of. It is truly unfortunate, that you find yourself in the clutches of a man like that. However, what I’ve got to offer, also has in itself an element of danger. Be warned of that. On the plus side though, it pays well, and you should soon, if all goes well, be able to pay off your debts and more. You are rather well placed and suited for the job that I have to offer. However, once more, before I tell you, I must warn you of its dangers and if caught, I cannot be held responsible. If you’re uncomfortable with that, you’re free to leave now. If you stay however, I’d take it that you agree with these terms and any attempt forthwith to back out or make excuses shall not be tolerated.  Are we agreed to that extent?”

Many thoughts raced through Hugo’s mind. For a second, he wanted to leave. To run away, as far as possible. He wanted to find the deepest darkest corner of the planet and be left alone. But then, he thought of his son, fighting away every day for his dear life, his wife, suffering every moment and the plight he’d led them into. A wave of anger and disgust spread over him.  He looked up, determined and stern, “Yes. I’ll do whatever it takes to get out of this mess. I agree to everything that you say. Just tell me what I have to do.”

Smith smiled. “Good! You shall not regret this, my friend. Alright, so, as for your job, well, I run a drug trafficking business. I have many clients who pay well, and I see to their needs. Now as you know, the government and police have very stringent laws when it comes to drugs, hence the danger. Fortunately, we’re connected with some high up people and have a fair few cops on our payroll. So, that ensures smooth operation. Now, I handle shipment and clients. But I need people to deliver the goods for me. That is where you come in. You are well suited for it because of your ice-cream vending business. You can easily carry the goods around town in that little cart of yours along with the other goodies and no one will ever suspect you. I’ll give you the names and meeting points of the clients, and there you will deliver the goods, collect the money and for each delivery, you’ll get a handsome share. We’re going to start you off small, so that you can get the hang of the operation before moving onto bigger and better stuff. And there may be days when there won’t be any deliveries, so it’s not your usual office job fare. But as I said it pays well and it’s not much of a hassle either. Follow me so far?”

Hugo nodded.”Yes.”

“Excellent. Now that we’ve established the basics, let’s iron out the finer details. Here..” he picked up his briefcase, and clicked it open. Inside were some files, a box of cigars and matches, and a pen. From one of the side flaps, he pulled out a mobile phone. “You keep this with you at all times. This is how we’ll communicate. Whenever, there is a delivery to be done, I’ll call you on this and arrange a rendezvous point for you to pick up the goods. But get this, under no circumstances are you to call me back, or use this phone for any other purposes. You are to keep this with you at all times and wait for your next instructions. You clear?”

Once more, Hugo nodded. “What’s the pay like?”

Smith smiled again. “Yes, that’s the part that interests you now. Well, it’s way more than what you make here or with your ice-cream in a month. You shall receive ten percent of the package value. And mind you, this is not mints we are talking about, these are high quality imported drugs. A small package is worth thousands, so you don’t you worry about that. You shall be paid well.”

“Thank you, sir! I’m really grateful.. I don’t know to thank you..”

“Please, no need for that. I’m not doing you a favour. It’s just that I’m hiring you to do my work, and you get paid for it. No need to bring all sentiments into it.” He laughed.

“Yes sir. So from when do I start?”

“But you’ve already started. All you have to do now, is go home and do your job and wait for my call. Whenever I get my next order, I’ll let you know.”

“Alright! Thank you nevertheless. And you too Mr.Allen for taking all this trouble. I’ll buy you that mug, I promise.”

Mr.Allen laughed. “Alright, alright, off you go now. I’ll be seeing you at work tomorrow morning.”

“Goodnight gentlemen” Hugo tipped his head and walked out the back door into the chilly night. His breath came out as smoke, as he walked back home, head bowed, deep in thought. He ate alone, that night. Lloreta and Joe were asleep by the time he got back. He crept in quietly, careful not to wake them up and lay down on his mattress. The street lights had come on. A sliver of light fell into the room through a gap in the curtains, flowing in the breeze, and it fell on the red and white striped uniform that hung over his bed. Hugo stared as the light danced on the stripes, glowing off the little buttons. The shirt swayed ever so slightly in the breeze. That night, like the last, Hugo could not sleep.

_________________________________________________________________________________

“A green apple delight for me” screamed one.

“A chocolate cream please, Ice Cream Man” softly pleaded another.

Hugo jumped as he turned around, the colour drained from his face. He stared wildly, his heart racing. Then he realized they were only kids. He let out a deep breath, relieved. Smiling, he dug into his cart to get the orders. As he looked around, his eyes fell on the little brown package, poking out from behind a tray of scones. His smile vanished. For a second, he stood still, and then shaking himself out of his stupor, he got the ice-creams and handed them out. His eyes scanning over the children’s shoulders for any sign of trouble, but there was none. “Relax” he consoled himself, “it’s going to be alright.” It was his first delivery. He had waited about three days since the meet at the diner before the phone rung one night.  He picked the goods up from a crossroad, while on his way to Park Lane with his ice-cream cart. Smith was there in a car, and had handed him the brown package and the time and address of the pick-up. He’d do it on the way back with his cart. The package was of five thousand bucks. He’d make five hundred off it as per the deal. Five hundred! His heart skipped a beat at the very thought of it. But the pressure was immense. Any second, he expected to see a bunch of cops round the corner and come straight at him.  He was sure of the guilt written on his face. He was trying to be inconspicuous but failed miserably, instead being all jumpy and sweaty. Even the kids noticed something was amiss. One even asked him, “What’s wrong Ice-Cream Man?” Hugo could only nod and smile.

He left the spot earlier than usual. The uneasiness growing. He felt people watching him, following his every move. His imagination was running wild. He thought he saw people hiding behind trees and corners, in every shadow, ready to pounce. His eyes darted wildly around as he pedaled slowly, beads of sweat running freely off his head, his hands shaking against the handle bar of the cart. Every corner he turned he expected the worst. Someone was after him, someone knew, he was sure about it, but the thought of the five hundred at the end of the ordeal spurred him on. He was to meet the buyer at an alley on the Fifth Street at eight p.m. He’d been pedaling around the neighbourhood since half past seven, hoping to get it over and done with, quickly. As he circled, he checked for signs of the police or any other source of trouble, but there was none. He chided himself a little for being so scared. When the clock struck eight he rounded the cart into Fifth Street and pedaled to a stop by the alley mentioned in the piece of paper, ‘by the lamppost, next to the green wall’, it said. There was no one in sight. He waited for ten minutes and still no one came. The uneasiness grew once more. He took out the phone that Smith gave him and flicked the backlight on and off, wondering if he should call him. But Smith had been adamant that he was not to call him back under any circumstances. And just when he was beginning to lose hope, he saw a shadow approaching up the lane. A stooping chap, walking with a shuffle. His face and features hidden in the shadows. He came over and stopped by the lamp post, a baggy cap over his head, obscuring his face. He looked closely at Hugo and came over. He spoke in a grizzled voice, “You have the goods?”

“Yes. You’re the contact?” he asked nervously.

“Who else do you think I am Einstein? A customer after a green apple lollipop? Don’t ask stupid questions and get this over quickly”, he snarled.

Hugo dug into his cart and pulled out the brown paper bag from its depths. He handed it over, quietly. The man took it and sniffed at it. Apparently satisfied, he grinned, showing a set of rotting yellow teeth. From his pocket, he took out a wad of notes and chucked them at Hugo. Without another word, he turned around and walked away. His heart racing, eyes wide, Hugo counted the bundle. There was five thousand in it. Five thousand! He held five thousand in his hands. Enough to relieve him of all his worries. He could take it and run. But he immediately chucked that thought out of his head. He was in enough trouble as it were to add to them. He carefully rolled up the notes and placed them deep into his pocket. A weight seemed to have been lifted off his chest. “This is easy” he thought. He could imagine his life finally starting to change for the better. And with those thoughts in his head, he pedaled towards the next meeting point, to return the money to Smith.

Smith was waiting by the same crossroad as the morning, leaning by his car. He stood up and walked a few paces as he saw Hugo appear. “Everything alright? No trouble I hope?”

“No, none. Here’s your money sir. I half expected some trouble, I was really…”

“Yeah, yeah”, he cut him midway, gleefully counting the money. “Good work. And here is your share of it.” He handed a five hundred to Hugo. Hugo’s hands shook while he took it. He let his fingers savour the feel of the crisp paper. He stared at it wonder. Smith laughed when he saw Hugo’s reaction. “Keep up the good work and you’ll have many of those. Until next time then.” And he got into his car and accelerated away.

Hugo stood there on the crossroad for a while longer, his eyes still lingering on the note. After a while, tucking it in, he took off once more, headed for the ice cream outlet. That night, Hugo smiled and laughed after a long time as he spoke to Joe and Lloreta. He didn’t tell them ofcourse, but he was a changed man. A man, whose troubles were finally ending. That night, Hugo slept long and soundly. He was finally at peace.

_________________________________________________________________________________

“We’ve run out of medicine again for Joe. Buy some on the way back today will you?” Lloreta informed Hugo over breakfast one morning.

It had been almost three weeks since his first drugs delivery, and in those three weeks, he’d been called in five times. He’d raked in a lot of money. He knew he was close to repaying off his debts, and he’d grown in confidence with each delivery. No longer did he feel the jitters with the package in his cart. The smile was back on his face and he went about his life with renewed vigour. He’d even taken Joe and Lloreta shopping on a weekend, much to their surprise. He’d told them that he’d gotten a raise at work. Life could not have been more beautiful.

Sometimes he wondered, ‘was it too good to be true? How much longer could he afford to push his luck?’ God knew he deserved some, but still, when to stop? Should he stop once his debts are cleared off and head back to a straight, honest life? But what was the harm in a little more, he’d always argue. After all, there was Joe’s operation to think about. The doctor’s had told them that it was inevitable. One day or another, if they had to keep him alive, he’d need to be operated upon. The medicines could only delay the inevitable, not cure it. Maybe he’d stop once he had enough for that. It’s the least he could do as a responsible father. ’Yes, that’s it’, he’d decided, ‘when I have enough for Joe to be well and cured, I’ll stop all this and head back to my old life’, but there was always the lingering seed of doubt in his head. What if his run did not last that long, what then? But he always pushed that thought out of his head, kept his faith in God and pushed on with his life.

That evening like ever, he’d been sitting with his cart by the park, handing out ice-cream to the little kids that came up to him. They shared a smile and an occasional word with him. He watched in joy as they played their little games, running around laughing and screaming. He wondered if one day, he’d be handing out those little brown packages to these very kids. The thought saddened him. He had with him one such package in his cart right then. The delivery was on the same alley by the lamp post and green wall that he’d made on his first day. It was a chilly day. The sky was cloudy and a sharp breeze blew across the road. The ground was wet with a few drops of rain earlier in the day. Hugo pulled up his collar against the wind. He’d been feeling a little nippy for a few days, he couldn’t afford to fall sick. There was work to be done, things to do.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “And what would you like to hav…” he stopped mid sentence. Those were no kids. Two men in overcoats stood behind him. They stared intently at him. The colour drained from Hugo’s face, he shivered, his voice choked as he attempted to speak, “Uhm… yes?”

“Police” said one, simply, raising a badge. “We’d like to search your cart. Step aside please.”

Hugo panicked, his eyes darted from one to another. “Bu..but.. why? I ain’t done nothing.”

“Then you have nothing to be scared off now, do you? Now step aside please. Don’t make us have to force you.”

“Please.. I ain’t done nothing. Why? I..I…” One of the policeman, pushed him aside while the other grabbed him by the shoulder in an iron grip. His legs gave away, from fear and the strength of his oppressor’s grip. And he fell kneeling to the ground. There was silence in the playground, the kids stopped their games and came by the guardrail to look. Their parents and babysitter’s too, came over, wondering what was wrong. They all looked in horror and curiosity, as the policeman ripped open the lid of the ice-cream cart and dug inside. He didn’t have to look for long as he emerged with a brown paper bag in his hand. He sniffed at it once, nodded to his fellow officer. “Please come with us to the police station. You have a right to remain silent.”

“No. No. Please. There’s some mistake. I don’t know how that got here. Please, let me go. I’m innocent.. please…I have a wife and kid..plea..s…se…” tears rolled down his eyes as he pleaded desperately with them, but to no avail. A police car pulled by and he was shoved into it. Handcuffs clicked on, and the door closed. As he pulled away, he saw the shock and the dark looks that the people in the park cast him. He felt drained, he felt helpless and alone, all of a sudden, he felt cold… very cold.

_________________________________________________________________________________

“Tell us who you work for? How long have you been doing this? When is the next shipment? Tell us, or else.”

“Please, let me go, I don’t know anything, sir, please, I beg of you…”

*Slap* Hugo’s head nearly turned backwards at the ferocity of the slap. *Slap* Slap*

“There is no one here who can help you or will sympathize with you, you get me? Your only way out is to tell us everything. You hear me? Scum like you deserved to be hung by chains and whipped.” *Slap* His head slumped, his neck unable to take the strain anymore.

“plea…” he mumbled. A wave of cold water slapped against his face, stinging on the wounds. “Aah…no…”

“You want this to stop, this can stop. Just tell us everything, and you can go. Speak, NOW!”

“Plea.. please..” he panted, gasping for air, “Let me call Smith.. huh.. uh…. he.. knows…plea..s..e…!”

“Smith? Who’s Smith?”

“I’m a poor man…. I needed the money, for my boy’s operation. To settle some debts. He.. he told me, that there was money in this…. He..told… I… was helpless…I had to.. Let me call him… He knows…please, sir…”

“What’s his number then? The one on your mobile phone? That’s this Smith’s number?”

“Yes…yes..that’s it. Please.. call him…”

“Alright, here it is. Your mobile phone. Put it on speaker and call him.”

Hugo dialed the number of the log. It rang for some time, and then there was a husky irritated voice at the other end. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me on this? What’s wrong with you?”

“Please, Mr.Smith, I’m in prison… they took me here. Please, talk to them. Help me.. Please…I..”

“Why you little scum…” and the line went dead. Hugo tried again, but this time, it was unreachable. He looked around in pained disbelief.

“Haha! See? These are the kind of people that you work for. They’ll use you and when you’re no longer needed, they’ll chuck you away like you are trash.”

“Believe me sir, he’s the one you want, not me. Please, let me go.. I have a wife and kid…”

“You should have thought of them before you got your hands dirty in any of this now shouldn’t you? We’ll track down this Smith you speak of, but you are going nowhere. It’s jail time for you. Take him away.”

“Please.. NO.. Please, don’t do this, they’ll kill me…please… you don’t understand…NOoooo…!” they dragged him away, and shoved him into a tiny cell. The iron door slammed shut, and locked. It was dark inside the cell. It was around six feet by six in size. There was a toilet at one end and a bed clamped onto the dark wall on the other. A tiny window, at one end, barred. It was dark outside and not much could be heard. The moon was obscured by the clouds. The orange glow of a street lamp fell through the window and provided some illumination. Hugo remained slumped on the floor, writhing with agony, consumed by the guilt and despair of his own actions.

_________________________________________________________________________________

It had been almost two weeks since Hugo had been imprisoned in that tiny little cell. He’d been interrogated twice in that span, in which he gave the cops the whole story, leaving out certain details to protect Mr.Allen and others. They’d heard of his troubles, but refused to show any sympathy. Only that he wasn’t beaten up in his last interrogation. He’d dared not contact his wife. He was too scared to tell her, to pile more agony in her life. He just hoped and prayed that she and Joe were doing alright. He’d been told that he’d be assigned a lawyer, but none had shown up yet. He was given two meals a day, and the rest of it, he spent stuck in that little cell. Sometimes he looked out the window. It overlooked a pond, surrounded by trees and bushes. No one ever went there, so it had grown wild, but in the evening, as the sun shimmered off the water, bathing it in a golden hue, birds of many a kind flocked around it. Flying around in circles, hopping on twigs, some caught fish before flying away for the night, the others just came and went. It was a picture so pristine, so beautiful that it helped lift his mood. They were free, free of boundaries, free of worries, free of the shackles. They were everything he was not. When dusk turned to night, they all flew away and once more, he was engulfed in the dark. Trapped in the darkness of his own mind.

Then, one afternoon, as he sat there in his cell, the door opened. “You have a visitor. Come out.”

Confused, he slowly stepped out. He had told no one, barring that one phone call to Smith, and Smith would never show up in prison. Who could it be? He followed the orderly down the passageway. They turned left and there was a room, lined with desks and table. On one of the table sat a little fat balding man, fidgeting around with his fingers. It was Mr.Allen. He looked up when Hugo walked in and stood. Hugo walked over and shook his hand. They sat down, and the orderly left them.

“Dear, dear. What a mess! I couldn’t begin to tell you how extremely guilty I’ve been feeling ever since I heard the news. I couldn’t face up to come to you. I’m truly sorry.”

“Please sir, you were only trying to help. It’s really my fault. No need to apologize. How did you get to know?”

“Smith. It was Smith. He came by about a week ago, all huff and puff angry like anything, and started screaming at me. He was livid that you’d called him in front of the cops. That’s how I heard. I asked him to do something, but he refused, outright.”

“They tell me they’ll give me a lawyer. If you can help me there….Oh, and if you can please get word out to my wife. Send someone over maybe and check on them, and let them know that I’m okay and will be back. Don’t tell the….” He stopped when he saw the expression on Mr.Allen’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“You see, it’s precisely why I’m here. Today, as I was preparing to open the diner for the morning business, a young man, of say twenty or so came running over. He said he was looking for you, and if I knew where you were. I asked him what the matter was, and he said the police were at your building. Apparently, a few days ago, a group of thugs had gone in to your flat. Someone saw them go, and didn’t like what they saw. The details are very vague. But what I gathered was that they’ve taken your wife and kids. And I think both you and I know who it is.”

“No…” shock spread over Hugo’s face, he felt numb. “I have to get out of here.” He got up looking around, his mind in a state of terror and panic.

“Sit down. I’ve already arranged for that. I had to pull a few strings and bribe a few people, but they’re doing up the paperwork for your bail. They’ll let you out. The question is, what will you do?”

“I’ll go over with the money. I’ve saved up around four thousand, it’s still short of the amount he asked for, but I’ll plead with him, I’ll beg, I’ll pledge my life to him to let them go.. If only they’re alright. This happened five days ago? And they only told you today?”

“You know what that neighbourhood is like, don’t you? All a bunch of thugs and hooligans, who’d want to get their hands dirty with this! Anyway, I’m sure they’re alright. How much are you short?”

“Two thousand..Oh God..why?” Hugo, dug his face into his hands, the despair making him weak.

“Don’t panic man. It’ll be alright. Tell you what, I’ll give you the two thousand. It’s the least I can do. Get all this trouble out of the way, you can repay me later. Okay?”

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know how to ever repay you for all you’ve done, sir”

“No need. First things first, let’s get you out of here. You wait here. I’ll look and see how much is left.”

_________________________________________________________________________________

Three hours later, in the light of the setting sun, his long shadow fell over a big three storied house. It was yellow in colour with a well kept but small lawn leading to the door. A small iron gate guarded the lawn entrance, behind which in a small wooden hut, sat a man. Hugo stood there a while, clutching at the little bag at his side that had the money in it. He looked around, hoping to catch a hint of his wife and child, but there was no one in sight barring the man by the gate. All else was still. He approached the gate and called out the man. “I’m here to see Mr.Samson. Could you please tell him that Hugo has come. I have the money I owe him”, he said this without stopping to catch a breath.

The guard looked him over curiously. Then he picked up a phone, and dialed. “He’s come. Says he has the money, wants to see the master.” He listened on the receiver for a while and put it down. “Come with me.”

“Do you know where he’s kept my wife and boy? Are they alright?”

The guard didn’t answer but lead him on. He knocked on the door, and waited. Hugo stood behind him, his anxiousness growing with every passing second. The door was opened by a woman. She was wearing a maid’s uniform. Her wrinkled face and knobbly hands told of her passing years. She stared intently at Hugo, he got the feeling that she wanted to tell him something, but she merely bowed her head as he passed and shut the door behind them. They passed silently through a long dark corridor, the lights hadn’t yet been lit, the windows were shut. The quiet around him gave Hugo shivers. Something felt wrong. Finally, they stopped, and the guard motioned Hugo to wait outside as he pushed through a set of curtains and entered a room. He could hear urgent whispers inside. They were talking fast and quietly, he couldn’t catch what was being said. Suddenly he heard a shuffle of feet behind him. Quickly he spun around, and he saw the maid, walking towards him. She saw his fright and stopped. She stared at him. She looked miserable. Her eyes spoke of an untold pain, as she stared straight at Hugo. Again, he felt she wanted to say something but she just stood there, in silence. “Come”, said a voice from inside the room. Slowly, Hugo took his eyes off the woman, pulled at the curtains and entered.

Inside, was a large room, decorated in fine fashion. A carpet ran under his feet. A chandelier lit the room bright. The walls were lined with tapestries and paintings. The windows were large and opened up into a tree lined backyard that had a small vegetable patch. There was a small bar at one corner and a large television set mounted on another wall. Plush sofas and chairs set up in a circle around a mahogany table in the middle of the room. On one of these sofas sat a tall well built man. Dark haired, fair complexioned, with this hair brushed back. He was clean shaven and wore a suit. In his hands was a lighted cigar. He flicked off the ash, and it fell on the carpet. His eyes bore into Hugo’s, his mouth curled into a twisted smile. Behind him were two more men. Hugo recognized them as his assailants on that night in the alley where he’d gone for a walk. They too looked straight at him, their faces set like a rock. The guard stood behind him, by the door. Hugo felt his knees tremor slightly. He took a deep breath, gathered his courage and spoke. “Sir, I am deeply sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you. I tried my best, but you know of my situation. I couldn’t manage enough to make ends meet. Not enough to feed my family, three square meals. Please sir, I have here the money I borrowed, with interest. Please take it, and let my family go. I beg of you. I am very sorry for the inconvenience that I’ve caused you. Please sir, if you say, I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for it. But please, don’t involve my family in this. Let them go. My son, he’s very sick. Please…” his voice choked again as the tears came into his eyes. He fell to his knees, and begged, “Please, sir…let them go. Your quarrel is with me. Don’t let them suffer for it. I beg of you.”

“Silence!” he snarled, “Don’t ruin my carpet with your tears and sniveling. I’d warned you. I gave you time. I helped you when no one was willing to help you. And THIS is how you repay me? Now you come to me with your prayers of mercy and seek forgiveness. I don’t forgive those who wrong me, those who defy me. NEVER!” he glared at Hugo, breathing heavily. Slowly, his voice softened, “You have the money there? The whole amount? With interest?”

“Yes, yes! The whole thing. Please take it, and let them go sir. Please!”

Mr.Samson, motioned to one of the men behind him. He came and took the bag from Hugo. Carried it to a table at the back, and opened it. He took out the notes and started counting. Mr.Samson sat in silence, his eyes never leaving Hugo’s face. Hugo sat there on the carpet, head bowed. The man finished counting and came up to Mr.Samson and whispered something into his ear. “Good”, he said, and smiled. “Our business is done. I’m in a forgiving mood today, you’re lucky. I think I shall spare you. It’s not everyday that I show such mercy. Now get out of my sight and never show your face to me ever again.”

“But.. But.. my wife, my boy…” Hugo panicked, “Where are they? Please, let them go…I gave you the money…”

“Who told you I had your wife and boy? I’ve never seen them in my life.”

“NOoo! Please, don’t do this to me.. sir, please, let them go.. you..”

“Me, what? Are you calling me a kidnapper? The nerve of you. THROW HIM OUT, NOW!”

“Please, NO! Don’t do this, they’re all I have.. Please, I’ll do anything.. No, please…..” He struggled wildly as the two men dragged him out, pulling him by his arms. He screamed and kicked all the way. They kicked him in the stomach, the wind got knocked out of him, and before he knew it, he was flying out the door. He landed with a heavy thud on the concrete footpath. He writhed in pain. His voice came out in a whimper. “No…” he managed to whisper. Painfully and slowly, he crawled along the wall, and propped himself up. He sat there for sometime, gathering his thoughts. His mind was racing. His heart, on the verge of exploding. A feeling of helplessness spread over him. He felt lost.

Sometime later, he heard the door open and close in the house behind him. Out the iron gate came the old maid. She stopped a while, looked at him and walked away. She walked a fair distance and stopped. She turned, looked at him and motioned to him, before disappearing behind a corner. He got up slowly, not being able to stand straight and limped painfully after her. He reached the corner and rounded it. She was there, waiting. “What’s going on here? You know something, tell me!” Hugo demanded.

She looked up and down the street nervously, she spoke, so softly that her voice was barely audible, “I’ve been in this house for long. I’ve seen many things, bad things, horrible things. But I’m too old and too weak to speak out. But, you must know.” She paused, there was such pain in her voice. It scared him to listen. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know. But still, he asked, “What? Tell me, what do you know?”

She gave him a look of deep pity, her voice shook when she spoke again, “Your wife and kid. They were here. Five days ago. One night, they were brought in a car, and locked in the basement. I know, I saw. I took them food, once in the morning, once at night. I could not speak, for the guards would then beat me. Then one day, it was nighttime, the guard came up. He said she was screaming, said the boy was sick. Was having a fit. Said he needed medicines. Mr.Samson was there. He did nothing. Told the guard to ignore it. She screamed and pleaded through the night, but no one listened. The next morning I took food and slid it through the flap. There was no more noise inside. Later when I went, the food tray was still there, as it was. I told this to Mr.Samson. He didn’t pay heed. That night, as I went with the dinner tray, Mr.Samson sent one of his men with me. They opened the door, and we went inside. That sight, I’ll never forget for as long as I live. It’ll haunt me for the rest of my life. There…” She stopped, choked for words. Hugo knew what was coming, he felt weak, his knees buckled and he fell against the wall, the colour drained off his face, all his feelings, numbed, he could hear nothing, darkness enveloped his eyes, but he had to hear it. Hear it from her lips. “No…” he whispered…. “They were lying there on the floor, motionless. The guards went up and turned them over, but they were long gone. The boy had died of his fit, and the woman, oh the pain, of having her child die on her lap, helpless in her agony, she’d slit her wrist and bled herself to death…” her voice trailed off, as she broke down.  “Mr.Samson.. “ she struggled, “He ordered for it to be cleared up.. he.. he.. he told his men to remove the bodies… and they did… that night… where… I don’t know….but…” she couldn’t go on. Hugo fell on his knees, every inch of strength, drained from his body. The numbness spread over. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak…. “…I must go now…” he heard her vaguely as she trailed off. He didn’t even look up. He couldn’t. The darkness closed in around him, and he passed out.

How long he lay there, unconscious, he did not know. When he came around, it was pitch dark and the streets were empty. He felt dead inside. A rage was building up inside him. He sat up and screamed. Screamed into the dark night, shattering the silence. He got up, and limped back to Samson’s house. He picked up a rock and threw it straight at a window, it shattered with an almighty crash! “COME OUT YOU MURDERING SCUMBAG! COME OUT AND FACE ME IF YOU DARE. I’LL KILL YOU.SNUFF THE LIFE OUT OF YOU, YOU MURDERING SICKOPHANT! COME OUT YOU COWARD! FACE ME! KILL MY FAMILY WILL YOU? I’LL TEAR YOU APART PIECE BY LITTLE PIECE, COME OUT, YOU MURDERING DOG!” his screams tore through the stillness of the night. Lights flicked on, in the houses on the streets, heads poking out, mumbling and muttering. The door opened before Hugo and two men came out. He charged at them, but they held him with ease and landed two heavy blows to his head. He fell back reeling on the ground. He felt a kick dig deep into his stomach, another on his knees, he heard a crack and his leg went limp. Two more kicks and then they picked him up and threw him across the street, where he lay in a crumpled heap, motionless. “Nothing to worry about, just some drunken idiot. He won’t bother us again, go back to sleep” he heard someone say, before, for the second time that night, he passed out.

_________________________________________________________________________________

The little bell jingled softly as the cart rounded a corner and swung into Park Lane. The tree leaves cast a shade on the road, the sun glimmering in through gaps in the branches. Hugo pedaled his cart, with his leg rolled in plaster. There were dark bruises visible on his face and bandages on his ribs. He hadn’t shaved for three weeks since the night he’d found out about his family’s death. How he’d gotten back home that night, he himself didn’t know. Once back, he hadn’t eaten or spoken. Just lay there day and night, lost in thought, lost in his own anguish, sometimes, even forgetting about the pain. Mr.Allen had come by one day and had found him in that state. He’d taken him to the hospital, and got him cleaned and bandaged. Then he heard his tale. He’d offered to help. Contact the police and bring the people concerned to justice, but Hugo had refused. He’d known it was of little use. The police were in Samson’s pocket. And there was no proof. Mr.Allen didn’t stress on it too much, perhaps out of fear for his own safety. Finally, that day, he’d gotten out and taken his ice-cream cart along. The company raised a big fuss about it, but seeing his condition, they finally agreed. As he rolled it down the familiar territory of Park Lane, he saw the red brick houses, he saw the kids, running and playing on the park. They all stopped when they heard the little jingle of the cart. They looked to their parents, and their babysitter’s but no one came running, following the cart along. He stopped at his usual spot, and bowed his head in thought. He thought of his wife, their marriage. He thought of the day when Joe was born. Their first trip, it was to the zoo. Of his first day in school, when he’d made his mother wait the whole day for him, just so he could see her. Lost in thought, he felt a tug on his trousers. He looked around. There was a kid, a boy of around five, standing there, his eyes, staring intently at Hugo. A coin rested on his little palm. He didn’t speak but simply pointed to a picture on the cart menu board. Hugo smiled, but before he could ask which one, the boy’s mother came round, “Not from him, Joe! How many times did I tell you. I’ll get you the ice-cream later”, and pulled the little boy away, casting dark looks at Hugo. The boy stared at Hugo pleadingly, but he was lost once again. A wave of sadness and pain spread over him! Without another word, he wheeled his cart along.

As he pedaled his mind wandered to that pond behind the little cell he was imprisoned in. He thought of those birds, so many different colours, so pretty, flying around in circles, hopping on twigs. They were free, free of boundaries, free of worries, free of the shackles that bound his world. Pristine, beautiful, he thought of freedom.

As the sun set that evening, the golden rays fell through the window of a little apartment. A small chair lay lying on the ground. From the ceiling hung a rope, and from it hung a man. He wore a uniform that was white with red stripes. The golden rays glittered off the little buttons, shining bright. There hung the lifeless body of Hugo, The Ice-Cream Man.

             The End                   

_________________________________________________________________________________