Author's Note: a couple weeks ago I found this reality TV show where several families were forced to live their ancestors' lives in the earlier decades of the twentieth century. It had covered the Edwardian period, the twenties/thirties, World War Two, the sixties, and then finished with the seventies. I found the social life not only fascinating but rather perfect to set two of my favourite Austen characters in while tackling several issues. In this one I will be looking mostly at racism, the somewhat liberal attitudes to sex, and the rebellious life that young adults led thanks to the economic boom of the sixties. So be warned and please review!
George Knightly couldn't understand what moved Emma to decide to leave her comfortable home in Highbury for a grimy little flat in London. He would admit that Emma made it quite a nice place with her decorating skills but he could never understand what was so exciting about these new clubs, wearing short skirts, and working in a shop when she could keep her propriety and live in comfort with her father.
He had felt it was his duty as her brother in law as well as a dearest old friend to take care of her.
"So what do you think?" Emma asked excitedly as she passed him a cup of tea in a very chipped cup.
"It's certainly...unique."
"You hate it," Emma grinned knowingly.
The flat was a large room with a futon she had covered with a patchwork blanket her mother made years ago, her wardrobe hidden under several posters from magazines of Twiggy and several bands, the walls were equally covered with prints of flowers as well as posters and the kitchenette looked out of place with the vibrant green fridge, pale pink small oven, and yellow sides.
He did quite like the purple beaded curtain she installed between the kitchenette and the main room. The sunlight entering from the windows made it sparkle like real jewels just like Emma's blue eyes did.
"It works for me, I don't need that much space," Emma shrugged.
"Where is your bathroom?" George asked. He couldn't help but notice that there were only two doors in this room, one he entered through, and the other that was a cupboard that Emma hastily shoved her bedding into. "You do have one don't you?"
"It's a shared bathroom with the other tenants downstairs," Emma said. "A little inconvenient but nothing I can't handle."
"A little inconvenient?" George repeated horrified. "Emma you are living with complete strangers! It's a bit more than inconvenient if a strange man walked in on you bathing!"
"Don't be overprotective," Emma chided. "There's a lock on the door."
As if that was the solution to every problem! Emma should not have to worry about strange men perving on her! If she just stayed home all she would have to worry about is being smothered with extra blankets and eating gruel on a daily basis! Perhaps that's why she left to live in this grim little flat in a dangerous part of the city. She was fed up of not being able to move without her father worrying but now she can't move without worrying everyone.
George's thoughts were instantly interrupted by a knock on the door. Emma opened it to reveal a beautiful and rather exotic looking girl with chocolate coloured skin and hair tied into tiny little plaits covering her whole head. She wore a plain clothes that covered the majority of her, clothes that Emma used to wear before she came to London and George suspected that they were Emma's clothes and a soft nervous smile when she noticed him.
"Harriet, this is George Knightly a very dear friend of mine," Emma said before she turned to smile at him, "George this is my neighbour and good friend Harriet Smith. She came over from Barbados."
Harriet held out a hand to him and he rushed over to shake it. On a closer look she had wide dark brown eyes that made her look like a deer caught in headlights and her lips barely twitched into a welcoming smile. "Nice to meet you," she mumbled shyly as her dark cheeks tinted in embarrassment.
"It's nice to meet you to," George replied before letting go of her hand.
Harriet then turned her wide eyes into Emma's direction and a much warmer and confident smile replaced the shy one when she saw Emma's smile. "I just came over to remind you about tonight's party and ask if you can bring some beverages. If you like you can bring...Geoff?"
"George," George corrected.
He was ignored. "Yes, of course," Emma said happily, "George would be delighted to come, and I invited another friend and he wished to bring another, is that ok?"
"Oh that is fine," Harriet replied, "I shall you see you two tonight then,"
As Harriet drifted out George turned on Emma out of indignation rather than anger. "I would be delighted to go? Really, Emma? I would be delighted?"
"Oh don't be like that George," Emma begged, "you said you wanted to know what my life in London is like and what is a better way than meeting my friends at a party?"
George inwardly groaned. He was never one for parties, it was all well and good when it was a community party like they had for the Queen's coronation but when it came to private parties he had never been very good at them. John despaired when George failed to be as charming as he should in his business parties.
But one look from Emma and he gave in quickly as always.
He can't help but think this would be his downfall.
EWEWEWEWEWEWEW
"She's living with a black girl, is that safe?"
"Isabella!" John chided his fearful wife. "You have worked with plenty of people from the Caribbean whether they are in the office or out in public. There is nothing dangerous about them."
"There's a difference between saying hello on the street and sharing a lavatory with one, John!" Isabella protested proving herself to be very much her father's daughter – a constant worrier. "What if this girl has different germs from her home country and transmits them to Emma? She does not mean to but she could accidentally cause Emma's death through some sort of tropical disease!"
John turned to George with a pleading look that basically screamed please help me calm down my crazy wife.
George returned the look with another one with a matching shrug that simply said, hey you married her. Out loud however he coughed and changed the topic, "I am no doubt that Emma is safe from diseases. A dodgy bloke that lived down the hall however is another subject entirely. If you would like I could try and find out more about Harriet Smith, she has after all invited me to a party," George said calmly, "she also asked for me to bring drinks, what sort of drinks do you bring to a house party?"
John and Isabella exchanged slightly sceptical (George really just preferred the company of family and close friends to parties), confused, and quizzical looks before turning back to George and speaking simultaneously, "Wine?"
"We don't go to erm...house parties," Isabella said hesitatingly.
"My friends prefer dinner parties," John explained unhelpfully.
Maybe George should have asked Emma what she preferred to drink before he left to have dinner with the two most unhelpful people in the world.
EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW
After spending what felt like an eternity at a shop George finally made his way back to Emma's with two bags filled with heavy bottles. He had remained unsure what to bring until he made a snap decision and grabbed a couple bottles of far too expensive vodka and coco cola which he had never been keen on but the others might enjoy it.
Already he was hating this party and he had yet to step foot in the door.
As he turned onto Emma's street he almost collided into a small brunette dressed properly in a poodle skirt from his own teenage years and was glaring with disdain at a sign stuck in the top of the window. The house was an old three story one much like the one Emma lived in now and just like the one Emma lived in it had obviously been turned into flats as well and the ground floor flat was available to rent.
The owners however obviously had an idea of what tenants they would prefer to have as the sign read:
One Bed available to rent – no dogs, no Irish, and no coloureds.
"I think that is despicable," the girl spat out, "I have many friends in Ireland and they are good honest people."
"It is terrible how some people think a colour or a nationality is the very being of the person," George agreed hesitatingly.
The girl looked at him in surprise it was obvious she had not been aware at how close he had been in knocking her over. "Oh!" she flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry! I was just on my way to a party, a friend of mine had been invited and he thought, well anyway I just got distracted by the sign, and well...ah...I will just let you pass now."
"No it was fine, I happen to agree with you," George said rather amused at her flustering, "I was about to go to a party too, a friend of mine had also invited me. I don't suppose your friend is a friend of Harriet Smith or an Emma Woodhouse?"
"He mentioned an Emma," the girl offered, "and he told me it was this street but to be honest I can't remember which house he said it was."
"I can show you," George offered. He couldn't stand the idea of letting a young girl wander the streets of London in the dark. Something terrible could happen to her and it would be on his head for letting her go ahead on her own. "I'm George Knightly by the way," he held out a hand to her.
She accepted it with a soft smile and then shook it. "I don't suppose you mean from Highbury?" she asked eagerly, "I'm Henrietta Bates' niece, Jane Fairfax."
EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW
George was actually enjoying the party.
He was sitting on a rather uncomfortable sofa chatting to Jane about life in Highbury. He could not believe what a small world it was for him to stumble on the village's local gossip's niece. He had only met Jane once before and she had been a painfully shy eight year old on a visit before returning back to her godparents. Now she had blossomed into a pretty young woman who was preparing eleven year olds for their exams.
The party itself was rather enjoyable as everyone took a turn in entertaining the people. Emma sang beautifully as always and Harriet also had a beautiful rich voice and a talent of singing blues which no one George has ever known would be capable of imitating. Several read poetry instead and everyone was enjoying themselves.
Emma and Harriet were finishing a duet together much to everyone's delight and just as they finished George noticed with some dismay Emma was shooting a particular look at one of the boys across the room. He was tall, quite good looking, and held himself with far too much confidence. He seemed to be preening under Emma's attention and George didn't like it at all.
"Jane you must sing!" Emma suddenly called out as she pushed Harriet gently into the direction of the boy. "Your aunt says you have a voice like an angel and I have always longed to hear it."
George inwardly snorted. Emma had always ranted with jealousy about the constant praising Miss Bates preached to her whenever she was in contact with Jane. Though George did privately agree with Emma that the constant praising for the niece she never saw was irritating and mostly over-exaggerated. Jane was a quiet girl and she barely spoke to George about herself, from his conversation with her he could tell that her high intelligence, perfect linguistic skills, multiple talents in piano, dance, and every other thing were either exaggerated by Miss Bates when Jane wrote about her lessons in her letters or very well hidden. There was nothing about Jane that betrayed that she was nothing more than a rather intelligent young woman with a quiet joy in her job.
"My aunt exaggerates," Jane protested, "I rarely sing."
"Just one song," Emma pleaded with her, "and then you can submit to the torture of listening to George sing."
"I am not that bad!" George protested weakly because he really was that bad.
"Dogs howl as your chorus!" Emma retorted.
Jane let out a small giggle, "I suppose I could sing but only if George doesn't if he's as bad as you say," she said.
"Oh he is," Emma said cheerfully, "but we love him anyway. Come on Jane, you can sing anything you like."
As George watched Emma lead Jane towards the 'stage' he felt his stomach twist at her words, but we love him anyway, what could she mean by that? Did she just mean the family, or did she mean Highbury, or the party? It could not be the party she meant since he only really knew her, Jane, and Harriet. Could she have just meant herself while trying to include Jane? She had so far been nothing but warm and friendly to Jane despite her childhood jealousy, could she just have been including Jane?
He was ashamed to admit he just wanted her to love him. The rest of the family, Highbury, and Jane could just disappear.
He tried not to think about it as he watched Emma subtly bringing Harriet closer and closer to the boy he saw earlier with whispered words as she half watched Jane in admiration and half kept an eye on what Harriet and the boy might be talking about.
Jane was halfway through the latest Beatles single when the door was thrown open and the music cut short as everyone turned to look at the doorway.
He was the most ridiculous man George had ever seen in his life. He wore a long bright orange shirt over his jeans with a red waistcoat over it, his dark hair wasn't long as some men has grown it but it was long enough to fall over his eyes which were covered with a small pair of ridiculous purple glasses.
Seriously the actual glass was purple.
"Frank!" Emma cried out cheerfully as she ran into this man's arms.
"Hey, Em Babe, sorry I'm late," Frank replied as he pressed his lips on her cheek and kept an arm round her waist. "Did I miss much?"
George wanted to punch him. This man had not only had the indecency of being late as well as empty handed for the party (it was only polite to bring something for everyone to drink!) but he had his arms all over Emma, and looked like a complete prat.
As everyone warmly welcomed him, even Jane, and quickly fell under his spell of cheerful charisma George Knightly knew that there was no one he hated more in the world than Frank Churchill.