Next Step (The Reluctant Doorkeeper Trilogy Book 2)

Book summary

In "Next Step" by Sue Parritt, set in Melbourne in the year 2100, Trainee Doorkeeper Emma Cartwright faces a daunting dilemma. Her son Jack's future hangs in the balance as he awaits trial for organizing a prohibited demonstration, while her new partner, Cal, is under constant scrutiny. Struggling to balance her personal life and her role at the Productive Citizen's Bureau, Emma unexpectedly becomes embroiled in intelligence work. As secrets unravel, she must summon her inner strength to navigate both her personal challenges and the mysterious world of the PCB.

Excerpt from Next Step

Luck remained on Emma’s side as there was no sign of Sarah in either the corridor or the training office. All the same, disparaging comments greeted her late return, one woman expressing a fervent desire that Madam Suck-up would pay the price for popularity. Colour tinged Emma’s already flushed cheeks. Hurrying to her work-station, she welcomed the lack of an immediate neighbour.

‘Leave her alone,’ Jean’s voice rang out. ‘We ought to be pulling together, not promoting division. None of us has any idea what awaits us at the end of the training period, so who can blame Emma for knuckling down to complete the modules. She’s protecting herself, not grovelling, and we should be doing the same. Do you want to end up like Harie?’

‘You have news of her?’ one of the three male trainees asked.

‘Better than that,’ Amy piped up. ‘I saw her this morning from the train. She was clearing weeds near my station along with other prisoners.’

‘Prisoners! Are you sure?’ another man asked.

‘I recognised the uniform. We used to see them at the university tending the gardens or doing odd jobs. Category 3, according to one of their supervisors. In other words, not considered a flight risk.’

Emma clutched the edge of her work-station to stop her hands shaking. A prison work gang wasn’t what Colin and Sarah had intimated. Surely, they could have found Harie a paid gardening job somewhere? And what about Harie’s daughter? At 15, she couldn’t live alone.

Sarah’s arrival put paid to further discussion.

Tension pervaded the office throughout the afternoon, no one speaking even when Sarah left the room to attend another meeting. Amy’s news had stirred up the fear lurking in hidden crevices, reminding them all that nothing could be relied upon, especially for a group whose unemployment history had led them to the PCB training office. Fear guaranteed compliance, as well as keeping citizens alert for signs of dissent in others. Reporting a friend or neighbour for a minor transgression was preferable to being caught up in matters that could impact one’s immediate family, and consequently their future security.

Since the introduction of the One Pregnancy Law and the banning of assisted reproduction, the family unit had shrunk to its smallest size since Europeans arrived in Australia, which led many parents to discourage offspring from leaving home until they were ready to create their own households. Housing regulations for those living in apartments placed an added burden on single-parent families like Emma’s, should their adult children depart. Couples often circumvented the “each bedroom must be occupied” rule by claiming they slept in separate rooms due to health issues, but Emma would have to sublet Jack’s room when he left home, be it at his own volition or because a judge had handed down a prison sentence.

***

On the train home, Emma’s thoughts strayed to Cal, living alone in a large detached house built for his family when climate change forced them to abandon farming. One bedroom for his parents, one for Cal, one for his twin brother Dugald and one spare. Absolute luxury of a kind Emma hadn’t known since the age of 25, when her home since birth had been demolished due to rising sea levels. Unlike many of today’s families, she and her parents had decided to go their separate ways, government compensation insufficient to purchase another detached house. Until buying the Safety Beach apartment with Aarav, Emma had shared an apartment close to the city with a succession of friends.

Twenty-one years later, she had no desire to dwell on living with a stranger should Jack be found guilty. Although moving in with Cal might transpire in the future, their relationship felt too new to take the risk of renting out her apartment, when she had yet to experience his bedroom. On the single occasion they’d slept together, intimacy had been limited to warm embraces, Cal unwilling to take advantage, when her offer to stay the night followed an evening spent drinking wine. Sometimes, Emma wanted to throw caution to the wind, make the most of an unexpected late-life romance with a compassionate if eccentric man, yet common sense always prevailed, reminding her that living together could compromise her mission. Retaining her position as a TDK was vital, given that a minimum of one year’s service had to elapse before she could apply for a promotion to fully-trained doorkeeper (FTDK), the role both she and Cal believed would lead to uncovering evidence connecting the PCB to inhumane procedures. At this stage, she couldn’t afford to be linked with a man under surveillance.

Emma found it hard to believe that Dugald had only recently suspected his twin brother of unlawful activities, when Cal had been enabling two aged aunts to evade the authorities for years. The same went for his providing food to the Bay-enders. There had to be another agenda; a successful businessman like Dugald didn’t need to earn extra by spying for the government.

***

Jack greeted her with a hug, then propelled her into the living room where the lights had been dimmed and a candle was burning in the centre of the dining table. ‘A small flame of hope,’ he declared, when she asked why they were having a candlelit dinner. ‘Penelope was brilliant! I reckon she should have been an actor.’

‘They say what goes on in a court of law is theatre,’ Emma murmured, feeling a sudden need to sit down. ‘What did you think of the prosecutor’s performance?’ She slumped in a dining chair.

‘Bit of poser, and all that nonsense about creating the Death Video to cause distress to citizens I don’t even know. What would be the point? Anyhow, I can prove I’m studying drama, not animation.’

‘Yes, but both subjects are taught in the Performing Arts Faculty, which might explain the prosecution’s assumption. Can you think of anyone working in animation who might have a grudge against you?’

Jack shook his head. ‘I’ve done a couple of voiceovers, but I wouldn’t say I’m particularly friendly with either of the students.’

‘And their projects were well received by the tutor?’

‘I believe so.’ Jack leant across the table to pick at the salad he’d prepared earlier.

‘Let’s eat before it goes limp,’ Emma suggested, recalling lettuce leaves strewn over the road. ‘We can talk more later.’

‘Sorry, I’m a bit preoccupied.’

‘No need to apologise. I just feel we’ll both be able to relax a little when we’ve eaten. I bet you didn’t eat lunch?’

‘No, I was too churned up. I did have a glass of iced coffee.’

Emma smiled and picked up the serving tongs. ‘It looks good, Jack. Thanks so much.’

‘And thank you for coming to court. I guess you didn’t have lunch, either.’

‘Nothing, which probably explains why I felt a bit faint just now.’

‘So long as that’s all it is. Illness is the last thing you need.’

‘No need to worry, I’m tougher than I look.’

‘Don’t I know it!’

They ate in silence, Jack shovelling food into his mouth like there was no tomorrow, Emma chewing slowly as she mulled over his response to courtroom drama. Renewed confidence would serve him well when it came to his own testimony, as would his knowledge of interaction with fellow students. It would be difficult to produce concrete evidence linking Jack to the Death Video, which might explain the prosecutor’s decision not to add cyberbullying to the existing charges.

The video of her encounter with Prosecutor Nguyen had added another layer of intrigue, and one Emma looked forward to sharing with Cal when next they met. Forwarding the file from her wrist-band would be too risky, an IT expert of Barry’s calibre would be needed to achieve the transition without alerting government cyber-controllers. Soon after the personal plaques had been taken down, citizens had been told that they were the work of a mentally disturbed hacker. So far, there had been no media reports of locating a culprit for either cyber-crime, although many citizens suspected the plaques had been devised and uploaded by someone in the employment minister’s office, to cause distress to the long-term unemployed. Prosecutor Nguyen’s conviction of PCB involvement had yet to surface in either the official or unofficial media.

The scrape of a chair on polished concrete returned Emma’s mind to family dining.

‘Chocolate cake and ice-cream?’ Jack asked.

Emma looked puzzled. ‘When did you have time to buy dessert?

‘I didn’t buy it. I had a call from Fred. He wanted to know how I was coping. Then he suggested picking up some chocolate cake and a tub of ice-cream to share with you. The cake was left over from the previous evening, so he couldn’t sell it.’

‘Not half-chewed by customers, I trust?’

‘Bit of a strange story. Two guys came in for a meal, ate their first course, then pushed off before dessert arrived. They paid for it, too.’

‘How odd. I can’t imagine anyone from around here wasting food or money.’

‘Fred reckons they were blow-ins.’ Jack hurried to the cooler.

Strangers, a theory dismantled with one strike; Fred would have recognised Dugald Ritchie. She should have realised Connor Hardcastle wouldn’t have hung around Safety Beach long enough to eat a meal at Chez Frederic, even if it was only one course. As for Dugald, most likely Sonya was correct in her assumption that his absence at the family dinner table was due to drinking. Emma hoped Sonya had thrown his meal in the bin.

Chocolate cake and vanilla ice-cream provided the perfect dessert, both mother and son tucking in with no intention of saving any for the following day. Afterwards, Emma insisted on washing up, while Jack lounged on the sofa, his feet dangling over one end. He appeared relaxed; with luck he would sleep well. A further question about Nyugen could wait, a mother’s curiosity irrelevant. ‘Tea, Jack?’ she called from the kitchen.

‘No thanks. I’ll stick to water this evening.’

‘I’ll join you shortly. Anything you need washing tonight?’

‘I wouldn’t mind wearing the blue kurta and pants again. They seemed appropriate.’

‘No problem, love. I’ll put them in with my work clothes.’

When she finally padded into the living room, Jack appeared to be asleep, his eyes closed, and his long arms crossed over his chest. Reluctant to disturb him, Emma sat in the single armchair, sipping tea and contemplating what a second day in court would bring.