Gremmington was much like Laurence remembered it. Dull, cold, and cloudy. The only thing he didn’t recognize was the ladder.
Sturdy and seemingly aimless, it was like something out of his grandmother’s tall tales. Though tall was an understatement. Its wide base was anchored into the ground with four posts. Rungs ran up one side, while huge beams criss-crossed the other three. People said it was meant to go to the moon, but as of yet it barely reached the top of the smallest building in the town square.
Laurence stood admiring the craftsmanship for a long time. A method to the madness. The phrase rose readily in his mind, and he nodded, satisfied, before turning away.
The town square was bustling with vendors selling handmade items, baked treats, and an assortment of meats and fruits. Strolling through the crowds, Laurence felt quite out of place in his suit. However, he wouldn’t have had time to change before his meeting with the mayor.
He only wished he had brought some change with him. Many of the stalls were enticing. As he made his way around, his attention was drawn to a plain wooden stall with a sign above it. “Donations.” Laurence furrowed his brow as he read it, wondering why someone wouldn’t also write what the donations were for.
As he drew closer to the stall, he set his eyes on the young woman attending it. Her frail figure was practically swimming in an old brown coat, and there was something familiar about her patient smile. Intrigued, Laurence approached with a smile he hoped matched her own good will.
“Good morning!” he said, nodding courteously.
“Good morning, sir!” the woman replied. “I saw you admiring the ladder. You should have been here half an hour ago. He was hard at work then.”
Laurence chuckled. “Too bad. I only just arrived on the train half an hour ago.”
“Really? Where have you come from?” Her hazel eyes brightened with curiosity.
“Noxton.”
“Ah, I hear the weather’s nice this time of year.”
“It certainly is,” he agreed. He decided she couldn’t be much younger than him. “Though I don’t remember Gremmington being this cold.” He shivered as a brisk wind rushed through.
She laughed, and it was like something out of the movies. What in the heavens was she doing here? He wondered, but he couldn’t say that, so instead he asked:
“Say, what are you gathering donations for?”
“They all go toward Madam Cynthia’s Home for Children. It used to be the local orphanage, but we’ve expanded it so parents who work at the factories have somewhere safe to leave their children. It’s awful how many are out of school this year, especially as we head into winter. Money is appreciated, but we also take donations of clothes, blankets, coats, and food.”
“Oh,” Laurence said sympathetically. “What’s really awful is I have none of those things with me. But I shall have to stop by later and make a donation. And who shall I credit for sending me?”
“That really isn’t necessary,” the woman said. “But my name is Lydia Turner.”
“Oh, Lydia!” Laurence’s eyes widened as he recognized the name. “Laurence Bridges, from Miss Hudgen’s elementary class, do you remember?”
Lydia gasped. “Oh, yes, I do! No wonder you seem so familiar. Where have you been?”
“All over.” Laurence laughed. “I went to university and got a doctorate in law. I’m actually here to see the mayor about some welfare law. Perhaps I could bring up your situation. I’m sure he would lend an ear to it.
"I hope that’s true," Lydia said gratefully. "We've sent letters before with no answer, but I’m sure he’d listen to you.”
“Yes, I haven’t seen the law for myself, but I’m hoping it will improve things around here. Speaking of which, I ought to be on my way. Wouldn’t want his first impression of me to be that I’m late.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that,” Lydia. “Well, goodbye for now, and good luck!”
City hall was a few blocks away from the city square, and Laurence was pleased to find the window of the mayor’s office had a clear view of the ladder. The mayor’s secretary had informed Laurence that the mayor would be late. In the meantime, Laurence was happy to wait in the cozy office, admiring the luxurious decorations and enjoying the warmth from the fire.
After a while, the door opened, and Laurence rose from his cushioned chair to greet the mayor.
“Good morning, sir!” Laurence said, holding out his hand. The mayor smiled and shook it firmly.
“Yes, and how are you this fine morning?” he asked in a gruff but cheery voice.
“Just fine, thank you,” Laurence replied. “I take it you’re in good health?”
“Just splendid, thank you!” Still smiling, the mayor walked around the mahogany desk. “Just, uh, give me a moment to get settled, and we’ll get right to it. How was the train ride?”
“Alright, thank you. The train arrived a bit early, and I had time to do some sight-seeing.” Laurence resumed his seat.
“Hmph, not much to see, I’m afraid,” the mayor said, pulling out his seat so that his large figure could sit in it.
Laurence detected the oddest sliver of resentment in his jovial tone, but he tried to brush it aside.
“Well, I actually grew up here, so it was more of a homecoming than a tour. Much has changed since then. Do you know when they closed down that old factory outside of town?”
“Ah, the watch factory? Hm…” The mayor thought for a moment as he drew some papers out of a drawer. “Yes, that would have been five years ago. The company ran into some bankruptcy. All the workers were laid off. Terrible waste, if you ask me. Anyway, here are the official documents. We’ll put it to a vote next week, but I wanted someone more experienced to look it over. I hear you helped with Noxton’s welfare laws?”
“Yes, it has been extremely fruitful.” Laurence smiled, always happy to talk about his first big assignment. “The poverty rate has already decreased significantly, and I’m hoping these new laws you’re working on will have the same effect.”
“Hm, yes, something similar I hope.” The mayor tapped the papers on the desk to straighten them before setting them in front of Laurence. “There it is in full. Do take your time.”
While the mayor waited patiently, Laurence went to work skimming through the technical jargon he had learned to translate so well. The law itself was a mixture of worker’s compensation and food stamps. Basic, a good start, he thought. However, one of the foot notes made him take a second look.
“It all looks to be in order,” Laurence said, pushing the papers back to the mayor. “Though I do wonder, is there a reason the worker’s compensation only applies to workers in specific businesses?”
“Well, we must ensure they are employed at reputable businesses, mustn’t we?” the mayor replied.
“I understand that,” Laurence said, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to understand where the mayor was coming from. “But these requirements are extremely tight. It would rule out any aid toward family-run operations or even small businesses. It’s limiting. I really think you ought to reexamine it if you’re truly looking to improve the lives of the poor.”
The mayor guffawed. “Why the devil should I care about family businesses? If they wanted a stable job, they should have thought of that before going off to start their own. Besides, it does nothing for the economy. We aren’t bringing in revenue by supporting businesses that exist only for themselves. All these requirements ensure the company is helping the government.”
“Help the government?” Laurence stood abruptly, barely believing his ears. “The government should be helping the people!”
“I didn’t ask you to critique my governing,” the mayor said, voice rising. His puffy face was turning red. “The only reason to offer welfare is to keep the next generation of workers from dying off. How else will we keep the factories running? How else will we bring in money? I thought a respectable businessman like yourself would understand that. If I had known you were such an urchin-sympathizer, I never would have invited you to help me.”
Laurence tried to take a breath, but it only added to the volume with which he yelled his next words.
“I was an urchin! One these very streets, and I’m the only respectable person in this office! Of course I sympathize with them, I know exactly what they’re going through. And I know what it’s like to climb up the ladder, only to be greeted by people like you at the top of it.” He paused, breathing heavily. The mayor was flabbergasted, and his mouth hung open. Laurence continued, steadying his voice. “But none of that should matter. You’d need the eyesight and apathy of a mole to sit here and enjoy your champagne while your people lie in the slums, scrounging for some way to live, if you can even call it living. Whatever you call it, I want nothing more to do with your welfare laws.”
Laurence took his coat and left without waiting for an answer.
He went straight to the town square, where he told Lydia everything.
“That’s terrible,” Lydia said when he was finished. “I… can’t believe he would say all that.”
The man building the ladder had returned with more supplies, and Laurence watched him unload for a moment.
“My father would,” he said finally. “He would believe it. He didn’t want me to come back here. Always said it was a lost cause.”
“Do you think so?”
Laurence looked at Lydia’s pale face. She waited for his answer as though it would decide the fate of the world.
“No,” Laurence said. Then, more certain, “No, I don’t believe there is such a thing as a lost cause. I’m going to make things better here, you’ll see.”
“How?” Lydia asked curiously. Laurence turned back to the ladder.
“The same way that man is building his ladder,” he said. “One rung at a time.”
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