There Are More Ways Of...
Another story of the Charlbury Family Extraordinaire.
Petruchio and Katherine do not belong to me. I only borrow them
My thanks, as ever, to William Shakespeare for creating these wonderful characters, to his latter day aide, Sally Wainwright, for adapting them for the twenty-first Century, and to Rufus Sewell and Shirley Henderson for bringing them to life
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Thanks too for the pleasure all four have given me both in their work and by enabling me to borrow it to write my stories.
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There Are More Ways Of...
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The cleaning and restoring of the Great Staircase and landings had just been finished; the five hundred year old linen-fold oak gleamed and glowed. Kate was slowly walking down the stairs looking around her as she went. We had shuffled some of the remaining family portraits around to fill in spaces but there were still big gaps where the Old Masters which had to be sold had hung. We had managed to buy back some of the lesser ones, but as Kate said, there was no way the National Portrait Gallery would sell us back the Van Dyck, Reynolds, Lely or the Whistler, even if we could afford them.
"You know," she said thoughtfully," I think we ought to have the children painted, now while they are still young. Together. I know exactly where it should go, here above the staircase, so we can see it, each time we come downstairs."
I stood beside her and looked at the big panelled area above us.
"Hmm. It will have to be a big one."
"Yes, the four together, a la Winterhalter, traditional but modern too."
She nodded to herself as if making up her mind.
"Yes, we'll do it now before the boys get old enough to kick up a fuss." She smiled at me "The way you did. Will you sort it out, my love?"
Yes, of course.
No Problem.
Our marriage is based on the agreement that she would carry on with her political career and I would run our home and look after our children.
.
When I brought up the subject with the children, I wasn't anticipating any fuss.
Not from the boys; they are placid, amiable, agreeable boys, easy going children who do as they are asked, pleasantly, politely, without argument ... I don't know who they are like; certainly not their mother! Or me!
No trouble at all.
I wasn't expecting any from their sister. She is younger.
And you would think a little girl would like her portrait painted.
But that is where the problem came from.
The Lady Alexandra.
And did she kick up a fuss!
Why was I surprised?
At nearly six, she is hot tempered, wilful, determined.
If she can say no. she does. Frequently. Loudly. Violently.
She likes her own way and uses every means, devious and otherwise, to achieve it.
I cannot say I don't know who she is like.
She is like her mother... and me!
At least, if I am honest, Kate is not devious; she looks you straight in the eye and tells you what is what. Offend or please. Straight as a die.
No, Lexi does not get her deviousness from her mother.
,
I don't know why she objected so vehemently to sitting for the portrait. I am inclined to think it was sheer bloody–mindedness but every objection she could raise, she did.
And repetitiously.
"Why can't we have our photo taken instead?"
The portraitist came to examine where it would hang and discuss what we had in mind. He put forward his suggestions and talked to the children about what they would have to do.
"What delightful children." he said as he left.
We smiled politely.
Well yes, the triplets are delightful, bright, intelligent and charming. They are tall for their age, sturdy, with my black curly hair, big green eyes and the androgynous prettiness that the Charlbury boys have in childhood. They are my sons; in fact, my face is stamped clearly on theirs.
They are my pride and joy.
And Lexi, well, Lexi is a different matter; she certainly can be charming, when she wants to be.
She is a tiny, fragile scrap of a thing, with long straight black hair, with a few strands that curl, falling around her face. She has her mother's pretty heart shaped face with its swooping black brows and its perfect M shaped mouth. But the eyes that look levelly back at me are my own; big, green Charlbury eyes.
At six years old, she has a mind as sharp as a razor, a will of steel and the devil's own temper.
She both entrances and infuriates everybody. Her mother's colleagues, her aunt, her grandmother and step –grandfather love her indulgently. Her brothers worship her, and me?
I adore her.
I adore her only fractionally less than I adore her mother but like Kate, that does not mean I will allow her to run roughshod over me.
Or over her brothers for that matter.
So it started.
The battle of wills between my daughter and me.
She was not going to sit to be painted.
Yes, she was
No, she wasn't.
It was cruel to ask young children to sit still.
We should be reported.
She would not have to sit completely still, and it would not be for long periods
Why can't we just have a photo taken?
And so on.
Then a new tack.
Clothes! Why couldn't she wear jeans, she wanted to wear jeans, the boys are wearing jeans. She didn't want to wear a dress. This was in spite of the fact she loved pretty things and new dresses.
"They are wearing jeans and tee-shirts. And trainers. It's not fair. Why can't I wear jeans?"
"We don't have to wear jeans, Dad. We don't mind wearing our best trousers."
"And shoes. Really Dad, we don't mind"
We were having Sunday lunch.
"I don't care, I am not being painted"
Silence.
"Please don't kick your chair, Michael."
"I'm not, Mum. I'm only swinging my leg."
"Well, don't swing it against your chair."
"I don't care if they wear dresses. I am not being painted "
"I'm not."
Pause.
"I'm not!"
The triplets looked sideways at each other. Rupert put his napkin down.
"Please may we leave the table, Mummy?"
"But you haven't finished."
"We have had enough, thank you."
"It's apple crumble for pudding."
"No, thank you."
"Oh, alright then."
They departed to hide somewhere for some peace and I wished I could do the same.
It might help if I knew why Lexi was so opposed.
When I asked Kate, she only smiled wryly and shrugged her shoulders.
"Who knows?" she said.
As I said: Bloody minded.
Like her mother.
Lexi was stroppy but I could handle her.
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After one particular run in with her, I was on my way to Kate's office to offer her some tea.
Kate was coming to the end of her second term of office as PM. and while everyone was sure she would carry the country for a third term, there was so much extra work for her to do before she went to the Queen and asked her to dismiss the House and give her permission for Kate to go to the country.
She was up to her eyes in work.
I could hear Lexi.
I smiled to myself. She had gone to the top.
Well. She could go to Kate, but Kate would only refer her back to me
Kate always backed me.
Nevertheless I eavesdropped outside the door.
"I am not going to be painted, Mummy,"
No reply from Kate.
"I am not going to wear a frilly dress- an', an'-"
"We haven't bought a dress yet." Kate said absently.
"The boys . . . ."
"Lexi!"
"If you make me, I shall . . . . . I shall . . . have my hair cut."
Her voice was getting higher.
Lexi's hair is beautiful, long, black and thick, hanging way past her shoulders, straight except for the little tendrils of curls around her face. She is a little vain about it, so this is an idle threat, I thought.
"You will not." Kate's voice came, quiet and calm.
"I will, I will. I will go to the village and ask Mr. Northway to cut it for me."
"How will you get to the village?"
"My boys will take me, or Matt and Tom or Becky."
"They will not take you. I shall tell them not to and, in any case, how will you pay Mr. Northway?"
Silence while Lexi mulled this over.
"I have my pocket money. More than fifty pence!"
"And do you know much it costs?"
After more thought, Lexi, much shocked, said "More than fifty p?"
Kate must have confirmed this, for there was another thoughtful silence.
"I will cut it myself." she said defiantly.
I heard Kate's chair creak as she leaned back.
"If you do that Alexandra, you will be punished severely."
"Smack me, you mean?"
"No, much more severely. In a way you will not like at all."
"How?" Lexi was sounding wary.
"You will not have a new pony for your birthday."
There was a gasp.
"But Chuckie . . . he is old now and I am getting too big for him."
"You will have to do without then."
"You wouldn't." Her voice was quivering.
"Try me."
"I hate you!"
"I can live with that."
Another gasp and a rush of feet across the room; the door crashed open and Lexi stormed up the passage.
I went into the kitchen and poured out two mugs of tea and went back, lifting the latch with one elbow.
Kate took off her glasses and threw them and her pen down on her desk.
"What now?" her exasperation showing.
"I thought you could do with a cuppa."
Her shoulders sagged and she smiled at me.
"I thought it was Madam back for round two."
I went around the desk and handing her a mug, perched beside her.
"You didn't mean it, did you? About Chuckie? "
She smiled.
"No, of course not, she is right. Chuckie is getting too old and she is getting too big for him but it won't do her any harm to think that we might."
"If you don't want to fight, carry a big stick."
"Exactly!"
She put the mug down on the desk and leaning to wrap her arms around me, rested her face against me.
"I don't know about tea; I could do with a good shag."
"Ohhh, what do you call what we had this morning?"
"Well, another one."
"My love, as delighted as I would be to oblige, you know as well as I do, if either of us laid a finger on my zip, there will be a stampede of feet down the passage. It's a kid magnet."
I looked down at her and then pulled her up into my arms and was kissing her thoroughly, to both our satisfaction.
"Yuck"
"Eugh! Kissing "
"Why do you do it?"
"What did I tell you?" I murmured.
Our sons stood in the doorway, looking at us in distaste.
"I like kissing your Mum."
"Yuck! We won't do that, when we are grown up."
"I think you will."
"Any way" Kate asked. "what do you little lot want?"
"Can we go down to the village?"
"Is this Lexi's idea?"
"No, we want to get our comics and some sweets, ready to take to Cub camp."
"We thought we'd bunk off before she found out."
"Where is she?"
"She's in the kitchen with Becky. Can we go on our bikes? "
Kate looked at me.
"I'm not sure about the road." she said.
"We'll go on the foot path, Mum." I nodded OK to Kate.
"Has one of you got your mobile?" They nodded.
"How long will you be?"
"About an hour."
"If you are going to be later..." The house phone was ringing.
"We know; we'll ring."
They were gone.
I picked it up.
"Yep, Yep, er . . . er that's very nice of you . . . how long? Shall we or. . . . that's very kind, thank you."
I put the phone down.
"Becky is taking Lexi over to Home Farm to see the new puppies. She'll bring her back." I winked at her. "We have an hour."
Kate's mouth curved in that M that I loved. She moved fast towards the door.
"Beat you upstairs." she flung at me as she disappeared. I moved nonchalantly after her.
She burst through our bedroom door and leant against it breathless but triumphant; she flipped off one shoe and then the other.
I lay on the bed propped on one elbow and watched her.
"What kept you?" I asked mockingly.
She gasped in surprise, her lovely mouth open.
"Shut your mouth Kate. Or—mmm- maybe not. I know a lot of wonderful things I would like to do..."
"How did you do it? I was ahead of you all the way."
"Through the kitchen, up the back stairs, across the gallery and along the back landing. I was in here before you even got to the top of the Grand Staircase. Come on Kate, get your gear off. We only have an hour."
I swung my legs to the floor, watching her all the while.
I pulled my pullover off.
"Which knickers are you wearing?"
"Um, white cotton, school regulation passion killers."
"And what bra?"
"Same sort of thing, white cotton school gym sports"
"Uh-huh and very nice too."
"You don't care really, do you? You only like asking. Kinky sod."
I winked at her.
"O.K. they're bottle green."
I made a little sound of satisfaction as I saw the dark silk and lace against her skin.
I stood, and loosening her hair, I turned her and pulled her to me, kissing her neck,
"Kate" I whispered "Kate" and I kissed my way along her jaw to the hollow behind her ear.
She drew a quick breath and tipped her head back on my shoulder. I put my arm around her waist and pulled her tighter against me
The desire for her tore through me.
The way it did every time.
The way it did the first time I saw her.
Well maybe not like the first time; much more than the first time. I didn't know then how it would be with her; how I would want her more each time.
I wanted to pull her with me to the floor, looking deep into her eyes as I did, to see that she needed me as much as I needed her. I started to sink down and was surprised when she resisted.
"The bed is better."
She was laughing. I love it when she laughs. She is so serious most of the time.
I swung her up in my arms and put her on the bed I lay beside her and the burning joyful ecstasy began; the exquisite wonder of making love with this woman, my woman.
My Kate.
"Hey, I didn't tell you" she said later as she snuggled contentedly against me. "I was propositioned last night at Boris's party."
Some of the EU countries had had elections and a change of leaders recently, and the Mayor of London had hosted a cocktail party for them.
"Who? Not Boris again?"
It was a long standing joke between Kate and Boris Johnson, the brilliant, eccentrically flamboyant Mayor of London. They had known each other since they had joined the Party as twenty year old students. They had no interest in each other except as political colleagues and holders of two of the country's top jobs, but Boris liked to joke that they did.
"No, Francois Wotsisname, the new French man. He kept feeling my bum and then he said 'Mon petit homme a presque vingt cm.'. He said it twice before I understood what he was getting at."
I sniggered. "What did you say, my love?"
"I said 'C'est magnifique, M. le President, mais mon mari, il a plus vingt cinq cm.'."
"Kate," I spluttered." What a porker! I should be so lucky. You should be so lucky. No wonder he was so interested in me when we were in the Gents- and I thought he fancied me."
"Not as much as I do." she nuzzled me."I love you."
"I love you too. My love my dove, my treasure."
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We had showered and I had dressed and was putting my shoes on, when we heard it. The thunder of little feet.
" Daddy, Mummy," and Lexi burst in.
"Oh! Daddy, Daddy, you should see them," she stopped as Kate came in from the bathroom wrapped in a bath towel.
"Why have you been in the bath? It's only afternoon. Are you going somewhere?"
She noticed the unmade bed; very alert is our Lexi.
"Why have you been to bed? Are you poorly, Mummy?"
"What is it we should see?" Kate is very good at diversionary tactics.
"The puppies, Mummy. They are so small, teeny tiny and they haven't opened their eyes yet.
Did you know that, Daddy? They are too little to open their eyes. They are so sweet. Mrs Martin says she has to find homes for them, when they are bigger."
I knew what was coming next.
"Daddy, can I have a puppy? Mummy? Please?"
I sat on the bed and pulled her to me.
"Lexi, no."
Her face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears.
"Lexi, I am sorry but we cannot have a puppy. We cannot have a puppy at Number 10; it would need to run around and it couldn't do that in an upstairs flat. And we cannot leave it here at Hazlington on its own. Who would look after it?"
"We could leave it at the stables, like Chuckie."
"Ponies are different from puppies. Ponies can be left to be looked after in livery stables. Puppies are different; they need their owners to look after them, to be with them, all the time. They get very lonely."
Kate came and sat on her heels in front of us and Lexi slid from my lap onto Kate's, nestling her face against her. Kate's eyes met mine.
Surprisingly, Lexi did not have a tantrum, but her mouth quivered. She understood.
I crouched down and hugged them both to me and a brilliant idea struck me.
I knew how I could win the picture battle and I went to ring my mother in law.
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They arrived the next day. My mother-in-law and step-father-in-law, AKA Harry, my best mate since we were seventeen.
"We thought we would surprise you and drive down for lunch with you."
"Lovely!" Kate's voice was welcoming but her eyes were narrowed in suspicion at me over her mother's shoulder.
She knew that although we were easier together these days, there was no way her mother would deposit herself down at Hazlington without a gilt edged invitation from me.
I opened my eyes wide and smiled blandly at her.
"What are you up to?"she hissed at me.
"Me? What could I be up to?"
"Hmmm"
"When we heard the triplets were going camping with the Cubs, we had to come down, didn't we Harry?"Lesley said over lunch. "First time going away on your own; we had to see you off."
She beamed at them.
My mother-in-law may be an empty headed loony shopaholic but she adores our children.
We smiled at each other and I looked from her to find Kate and Harry watching me with the same deep suspicion.
I smiled at them, my most sunny innocent smile.
"Lexi, darling," her granny said later, after we had seen the boys off. "You don't want to be stuck here on your own, do you? How would you like to come up to town for half term with Grampa Harry and me?"
Lexi's face lit up like a beacon.
"Oh please. Please Daddy, Mummy?"
"We-ell, I don't know."
"Daddy please."
"Oh, I suppose so." And I found Harry and Kate looking at me again with the same expression of distrust
"Quickly, Lexi, get your jimjams, toothbrush and some clean knickers and we'll go before Daddy changes his mind."
"But..."
"We can go shopping if you need anything else."
We stood on the front steps and waved them goodbye.
"You are up to something."
"Moi? What could I be up to except, maybe thinking of a few days of lust, lechery and debauchery? Are you complaining about that?"
She smiled but she was still suspicious.
What have I ever done to make her so suspicious of me?
Well, there was that business of our wedding. . . I suppose. And the travel arrangements . . . then there were those . . . happenings . . . on our honeymoon. Nothing since . . . well not much . . . . not really . . . nothing that she's found out about.
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Lexi arrived back all excitement and surrounded with bags and boxes.
"We went shopping an' bought lots of things an' we went to see the Lion King. An' Grampa Harry and me went on the London Eye, Gramma wouldn't go on it, she didn't like it and we bought my dress and new shoes, white ones with buckley things to do them up an' lace tights and we went to the picture moozueum , what was it called Gramma ?"
"The National Portrait Gallery."
"Um, Yes an' there were four paintings of people from our family, an'd'you know they had green eyes like us."
I met Kate's eyes; mine were only filled with innocent amusement at Lexi but I was not sure of Kate's.
"An' Gramma gave us this ..." her voice trailed away, uncertainly, and then picked up again fast.
"She bought him a basket too, to carry him in an' she said he can come to Hazlington and No.10, an' he wouldn't bother anyone 'cos he can come in the basket with us in the car. He is to share; he has to belong to us 'cos he's got black hair an' green eyes like us. Can we keep him?"
She chose a box from the heap on the floor and put it on the table to open it and lifted out a kitten, a tiny, black, fluffy thing with a white face and huge green eyes.
"Daddy, we bought my dress for the painting, it's white with a big pink bow and Daddy, when we went to the. . . um. . . that picture place, there was a painting of a little girl in a white dress and holding a kitten. When we have ours done can I hold him?"
I could feel Kate watching me so I looked up and winked at her.
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We had our photo taken too.
A family one.
Kate, unusually with her hair loose, and I, sitting in the courting chair from the music room; Lexi at my side, leaning against me. Rupert standing behind Kate, his hand resting on her shoulder and Peter and Michael kneeling on either side of Kate, their elbows resting on her knees.
I have a framed copy on my desk in the old man's study and Kate has one in her office in the Commons. She has a small one too, in a leather travelling case which goes with her when she has to go away.
The portrait is finished and is hung where Kate wanted it, above the stairs. It is three quarter life size and is set in the drawing room, with the big bay window off centre, behind the side table from my old man's study, the table I had sat on for mine. Lexi is sitting on it, ankles crossed, in the middle with Michael perched on it to her right, and Peter to her left, Rupert standing behind her. The boys are wearing immaculate sharply creased navy trousers with white shirts and navy ties and brightly polished shoes. I had scrubbed and brushed them out of recognition but when the artist bloke called us in to approve the arrangement, Kate had stood, chin on fist, studying them; then she had darted forward, and ruffled and pulled their hair till it hung in curls around their faces.
"There!" she had said.
"Oh Mum" they had protested.
Lexi is wearing her new, full skirted, frothy white dress with a pink sash and her hair hanging loose but caught back from her face with a matching pink bow. She is holding Aggie on her lap.
Aggie?
Oh yes.
The cat.
He is black, as I have said, with a white face with white whiskers and black flecks around his mouth and big green eyes. The children think he looks like me.
I don't see it myself.
They wanted to call him Petruchio but I put my foot down about that. You have to draw the line somewhere.
Kate was highly amused.
So they called him Aggie, after the villain in a blood and guts DVD that the boys had bought cheap in the village Spar.
She wasn't so amused about that.
The DVD, I mean.
I was having a bit of peace doing the Telegraph Sudoku and they were watching this DVD when Kate came in. She screamed like a banshee and turned it off amid roars of protests.
"Christ, Piers, what the hell are you doing letting them watch that! Weren't you bloody watching? Didn't you check the sodding certificate?" she yelled.
"I was doing the Sudoku...It's only a bit of blood and thunder...And you are swearing, Kate." I said piously.
"I'm swearing? Jesus God Almighty! The surprise is that's all I'm doing. 'It's only a bit...' It was explicit! He was ra ..." she stopped as she became aware of four pairs of green eyes watching her intently.
"What was he doing, Mummy?" Lexis asked. "That man, the one that looks like Daddy, the Amagademonon one?"
"Never you mind." She jabbed at the DVD-player until the disc came out and she confiscated it.
"Why aren't you all outside, not inside watching junk?" Her tone was sharp.
"It's raining!"
"Well! Find something else to do." she snapped.
The disc disappeared forever but they did not forget it.
Oh no!
Especially when it came to naming our cat.
So there you are!
Our children were painted with their cat who is called Agamemnon.
Because he looked like Daddy, and the cat does too.
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