Author's Note: I fear the ending may be a little cheesy and clichéd so warnings for that. Sorry it took so long to update I was getting to grips with FINALLY being back in class (I haven't sat a lecture or seminar in five months, can you believe it? Longest summer ever) and I feel disgustingly sick with Fresher's Flu. Thank you for those who reviewed and I hope you enjoy this conclusion.
This was the time of day that Emma hated the most.
What on earth was going through the government's mind when they decided Highbury is small enough for one bloody water tap? The farms surrounding Hartfield and Donwell received their own water supply for the crops and their family but those that were not farming families had to go into the village square to receive their water ration.
That was a two mile walk almost!
Two mile walk (almost) with a child, a baby, and several heavy buckets that was to be their ration for their day. Their cups of tea, their baths, their water to cook with, and of course to clean with was being lost on the way home. Emma could barely manage the buckets if she was with George let alone on her own with two children. A lot of it got lost on the fields between Highbury and home.
Considering the limitations on what Emma could use with the water it was rather understandable that her house and person was no longer as clean as it used to be. Her father must be rolling in his grave right now.
Then to top it off she had to wait in a queue for the tap usually behind or in front of Miss Bates who won't shut up! If she wasn't rambling about the problems with the water she was rambling about her mother's health and if she wasn't doing that she was babbling excitedly about Jane and her family, or worse about the latest piece of gossip that Emma already heard five times before that day.
"Yes, quite right, thank you Miss Bates," Emma suddenly burst out on warm Saturday afternoon (thank god it wasn't raining. There was nothing worse than doing this when it was pouring down.) "I am awfully sorry but we must go. I shall see you tomorrow."
She hauled up two of the heavy buckets and began to march off back towards home with Emily happily trailing along while pushing the pram. Emma couldn't help but smile proudly at her daughter who was focusing on taking good care of her little brother. At first Emma had been apprehensive of letting Emily push the pram, what if she accidentally pushed it into a ditch? But after a couple trial attempts, where Emma lost about a whole bucket of water due to keeping a very strict eye on her daughter, Emily proved she would be careful and gentle with the task. George caught up with them eventually also carrying two heavy buckets of water.
"That was very rude of you," he scolded gently, "to dismiss Miss Bates like that. You weren't even listening to her either."
"Don't chide me like a child," she said, "I know it was rude but I have got to get this water back home before it gets dirty. Besides I have heard it all before! I will listen to her when she has something new to say, Jane will phone on Tuesday evening, so perhaps on Wednesday?"
This caused a bickering argument between them. George was stressing the need to be polite and good to poor Miss Bates while Emma was defending her need to get away, she had the water to deal with, two children to take care of, and a job to do in the afternoon. She could not waste time listening to Miss Bates' prattling when she had heard it all before.
The argument stopped to a halt once they reached the house. Emma was about to say something that was likely to be witty enough to stump George when she saw the rubbish bin on the street. Once a week the bin men would come and empty all the bins in the morning, this year it was on a Saturday, and it was almost two o'clock in the afternoon and the bins were still full.
"Ah..." George said, "I thought I heard they were on strike."
Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "It better not be a long strike," she mumbled.
She didn't need filthy surroundings on top of everything else.
EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW
Emily loved school.
She enjoyed her lessons, she enjoyed being smart and being praised by Mummy and Daddy, and she loved playing with all her new friends. Her bestest friend is Alice Cox though she had a sort of big sister in Anna Weston. Today was like any other day, they did maths, spellings, some reading, and now it was time for break, and Emily was hoping to beat her record at skipping today,
Only it wasn't quite like any other day. As they tidied up before rushing out into the playground Mrs Goddard gave Alice Cox one of the most horrible looks Emily had ever seen. It was the same one she gave to a couple older children that Emily didn't know very well. She didn't understand why and instead of skipping like she had planned to do she ended up learning something brand new with Alice as her teacher.
"Mrs Goddard doesn't like me anymore," Alice said sadly, "because my Mummy and Daddy are now divorced."
"What's divorced?" Emily asked.
"it's a horrible thing where Mummies and Daddies no longer love each other and decide to never see one another ever again," Alice whispered, "the Daddy moves out and only comes to see you on weekends while the Mummy has to pay for everything instead."
Emily's eyes widened. "How do a Mummy and Daddy get divorced?" she asked curiously.
"I don't know. They need something called a lawyer but I know a Mummy and Daddy only get divorced if they argue lots," Alice said, "my Mummy and Daddy had been arguing for months and months before they got divorced."
Alice started to cry and Emily was so busy trying to cheer her up that she didn't get to ask any more questions. She wanted to know what Mr and Mrs Cox had argued about, she wanted to know if it was about the lights, the water, the rubbish, Miss Bates, and woman's rights, because that seemed to be all her Mummy and Daddy talked about and it was always in an argument.
As they were forced back into class Emily's tummy began to hurt with dread.
What if her Mummy and Daddy got divorced too?
EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW
"Mummy?"
Emma stopped peeling potatoes and turned to face her daughter. It had been a long and tiresome day and they both looked equally tired. Emily also looked very worried, upset, and nervous, far too nervous for Emma's liking. She also didn't speak immediately like she usually did when Emma turned round to face her. Worried that there was something wrong with Emily, like a stomach virus or something, Emma put down the knife and knelt down to her daughter's height, tucking a loose part of her dark brown hair behind her ear. It must have escaped from her ponytail during school today.
"Yes, Emily?" she asked hoping to prompt an answer.
She got her wish. "Mummy," Emily repeated hesitatingly, "Are you and Daddy going to get a divorce?"
Emma was silent for a moment, having been a curious and adventurous child herself there had been little Emily could do to shock her, and this was one of those rare moments where Emily thoroughly shocked her. "Why on earth would you think such a thing?" she demanded to know once her brain started to work again.
"Alice Cox's parents are divorced," Emily explained, "And Alice said they argued all the time before it happened. You and Daddy always argue."
"Oh sweetheart, I wouldn't worry," Emma said softly as he pulled her daughter in close. "Mummy and Daddy argue but it is a good sort of arguing. We're sorting our problems and we're telling each other how we feel. Sometimes we might say a bad thing when we're angry but we always sort it out later. Daddy and I will never get divorced."
She wouldn't let George Knightly walk out on her. She was incredibly selfish like that. Not that she really needed to be, George knew the very best and the very worst of her, he always had known, and it never changed one jot on how he feels about her. He had made that very clear several times in their marriage. George's kind, patient, loyal qualities always made Emma feel like the bad guy in their marriage. If George was being as impossible as she was she wouldn't be so patient with him.
Oh wait, he was being impossible right now that's why they were arguing again!
"Really?"
Emma snapped out of her thoughts in time to catch her daughter's hopeful question with its matching hopeful expression. Emily's dark brown eyes were as bright as the sun they were shining so much hope.
"Really," Emma said reassuringly, "now go and clean up. Dinner will be ready in half an hour."
"What are we having?" Emily asked now back to her usual cheerful self.
"Lots and lots of green vegetables."
Emily groaned while Emma laughed merrily as she continued to prepare dinner. It was moments like this that made life a tiny bit easier than it really was.
EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW
George stepped into the election box and closed the curtain behind him.
Today was the day.
The day he and Emma had been fighting about for the last month. Despite their wealth, despite their technical gentry' background, and despite their old fashioned influences in their fathers, George and Emma had always been ardent Labour supporters. They always held the belief that the lower classes needed representation that unions should get their due, and the world should be just a little easier for those from poorer circumstances. Every election they had voted for Labour since they were of age and now suddenly it had changed.
The Conservative Party was becoming more and more appealing to the country as England sunk further and further into problems.
They had a solution for every problem there seemed to be. Those who were tired of blackouts, were tired of having to share one tap with the whole village, tired, and quite frankly disgusted, of the growing pile of rubbish in their garden wanted a change in government.
George was more reluctant to vote the Conservatives in. He had no doubt once the issues were resolved they would be stuck with a government that cared more about the rich minority than the poor majority. He had no doubt given more time the current government could resolve the issues they have.
The Conservatives new appeal wasn't just because of the country crumbling around them. They were appealing and popular amongst the people – the women especially – because of Margret Thatcher. The Leader of their Party was a woman, and all those women out there who marched for their rights were eager to give a woman power of the country no matter what Party she was from.
When he had pointed this out to Emma it caused her to snap.
"It has nothing to do with the fact that she's a woman!"
"Uh-huh," George has said disbelievingly, "and if there was a man in charge of the Conservative Party, you would still vote for them?"
"Yes!" Emma cried out. "Because if you haven't noticed the Labour Party has been bloody useless in the last few years."
"It has not!"
"Look outside the window George! They haven't solved anything! I'm certain that we have rats in the garden!" Emma was a little hysterical at this point. "Do you want our children to grow up like this? Do you want them to sit through blackouts, hike for their water, get ill because of their filthy surroundings, and barely go anyway with their lives because of one strike or the other? Do you want Emily to be refused any opportunity simply because she's a woman? Do you want our boy to fall down the stairs and die like his namesake?"
George had tried to soothe Emma, who at this point was now in tears, but she wouldn't let him near her. She continued to cry quietly for the rest of the hour before cleaning herself up and sorting dinner out for the children. She didn't even look or speak to him when he said goodnight and he knew she waited until he was dead to the world before she climbed into bed beside him.
He hated this silence between them.
He hated the arguments.
He hated seeing Emma cry.
He hated Emily's hesitant questions about whether or not her own parents would get divorced. And he hated even more her ever growing disbelieve in their answers.
He hated the circumstances everyone was living in right now because Emma was right this wasn't the sort of world he wanted his children to grow up in.
The current government was doing nothing to help.
So he ticked the little box, placed his card into the box containing all the other votes, and walked out with his head held high.
He might be just one person with one measly vote but one vote could always make the difference.
He just hoped his would.
EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW
Emma hadn't spoken to George for a whole day and already it was killing her. She hadn't not spoken to him since before they were married and even then it was under some extreme circumstances.
They ate dinner in silence once again and with a mumbled awkward good night they went to bed without a kiss or hug. Emma didn't know what George thought about this but to her it was murder. She hated not having him in her life properly. She hated not speaking to him. She hated not hearing him tease and chide her, to not have him kiss her, to not feel his arms round her, and worse of all she hated the fact that he cannot see that for this time she was right.
Damn her pride.
After a bad night sleep in which as soon as she managed to drift off her alarm jarred her back to consciousness they made their way into the living room to watch the morning news.
It was time to see if history was going to be made today.
There was a few tense moments as the BBC took time to start airing during which George used the last of the water to make them cups of tea. They sat there waiting grimly until the television suddenly made a noise and the usual theme music of the BBC News filled the room.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen," the news reader said, "For our first story as you must be all eager to hear is history has been made. Today we see the rise of the first ever female Prime Minister; the Conservatives have won majority three hundred and thirty nine seats making Margret Thatcher-"
Emma had the urge to jump up and down and cheer like a child at this. She refrained from saying something though and tried to stop smiling when she turned to face George. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"Whatever for, Emma?" George asked looking bewildered. Emma was used to having that effect on him; she never ceases to confuse him it seems.
"I know you wanted Labour to win," she said, "that you don't trust the Tories to do what's right...and I'm sorry for yelling at you the other day."
"Emma," George said suddenly cupping her face. She revelled at his touch it had felt like years instead of days since he touched her. She leaned into the warmth of his hands and tried to avoid looking into his eyes. "Emma you were right."
"What?"
"Don't make me repeat myself," George joked lightly.
"I think I might, and get someone to record it for me so I can replay it to you whenever we argue," Emma teased.
Their eyes met and they chuckled together sharing the same old joke. The argument was forgiven now. At least Emma was forgiven as George continued nonetheless. "I meant you are right about the world our children should grow up in. The previous government wasn't doing anything to help...so I voted for Thatcher."
"You went against your principles for me?" Emma asked wonderingly.
"You know that I would do anything for you."
Emma flung her arms round his neck and dragged him down into a kiss. Everything was going to change. It may not be for the better but these things were always hard to predict. Whatever does happen though she and George were going to watch history be made and they were going to do it together.
It was needless to say that nine months into Margret Thatcher's regime their third child was born.