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'Murderer!'
'Say that again!'
'You heard me!'
And they all started to yell at one another until Kenneth banged his gavel on the desk and they were all instantly quiet. The Judgement of Solomon© was the last form of arbitration; there was no appeal from here and they all knew it.
'It is the Judgement of Solomon© that … you should all have the first-person narrative.'
'What?!' yelled Mr Lockwood. 'What kind of loopy idea is that? How can we all be the first person?'
'It is fair and just,' replied Kenneth, placing his fingertips together and staring at them all serenely.
'What will we do?' asked Catherine sarcastically. 'Talk at the same time?'
'No,' replied Kenneth. 'Mr Lockwood, you will introduce the story and you, Nelly, will tell the major part of it in deep retrospection; the others will have their say in the following ratios.'
He scribbled on the back of an envelope, signed it and handed it over. They all grumbled for a bit, Nelly Dean the most.
'Mrs Dean,' said Kenneth, 'you are, for better or worse, the single linking factor for all the families. Consider yourself lucky I did not give the whole book to you. It is the Judgement of Solomon© – now go!'
And they all filed out, Nelly complaining bitterly while Heathcliff strode ahead, ignoring all the others.
'That was quite good,' I said as soon as they had left.
'Do you think so?' asked Kenneth, genuinely pleased by my praise. 'Judgementing is not for everyone but I quite like it. The trick is to be scrupulously fair and just – you could do with a few Solomon franchises in the Outland. Tell me, do you think Lola will be going to the Bookie awards next week?'
'You know Lola?'
'Let's just say I have made her acquaintance in the course of my duties.'
'I'm sure she'll be there – on the chicklit table, I should imagine. She's starring in Girls Make all the Moves.'
'Is she really?' he said slowly. 'Who's next?'
'I don't know; it depends on the choice available. Sometimes she goes through them alphabetically, other times in order of height.'
'Not Lola, next for me.'
'Sorry,' I said, flushing slightly, 'I'll go and get them.'
It was Emperor Zhark. He seemed surprised to see me and told me what a great agent Miss Havisham had been. I walked him in and he and Kenneth both started when they saw one another. They had clearly met before – but not for some time.
'Zhark!' cried Kenneth, walking around to the front of the desk and offering the emperor a Havana cigar. 'You old troublemaker! Haven't seen you for ages! What are you up to?'
'Tyrannical ruler of the known galaxy,' he replied modestly.
'Get away! Old "Sneaky Zharky" of Form 5C, St Tabularasa's – who'd have thought it?'
'It's "Emperor" Zhark now, old chum,' he said through gritted teeth.
'Glad to hear it. Whatever happened to Captain Ahab? Haven't seen him since we left school.'
'Ahab?' queried the emperor, brow furrowed.
'You remember. One leg and madder than the March Hare. Set fire to his own trousers for a bet and stocked the school pond with piranhas.'
'Oh, him,' replied Zhark. 'Last I heard he was convinced a white whale was after him – but that was years ago. We should have a reunion; one falls out of touch so easily in the BookWorld.'
