Scene Eleven
The run up to Christmas was a less problematic affair for John. The one area of agreement between John and George in the bitter fallout of their divorce many years ago was over Charlie's upbringing. They had agreed that John would bring up Charlie since there was more of a rapport between the two of them than Charlie ever had with George. For all George's blustering confidence and mastery of the social occasion, she found herself strangely inexpressive and inarticulate when it came to the needs of a child. Typically, John's 'new age' ways made him the ideal modern parent, much to Joe Channing's chagrin and he disagreed with John about his novel idea of parenting as much as anything else. If Joe Channing had his way, Charlie would have gone to the finest public school instead of the local comprehensive that he contemptuously nicknamed the 'cess pit.' Likewise she would have gone to either Oxford or Cambridge instead of that fearful concrete and glass construction that was Sussex University. Paradoxically, despite Joe Channing's gloomy prognostications for her future, his granddaughter was his granddaughter and, when he had the chance, he spoiled her outrageously.
What helped Charlie's upbringing was that, no matter how John quarrelled with George and Joe, all three of them had that knack of somehow uniting where it mattered. She accepted that her mother kept her distance and grew up to view her father as somehow all-powerful and godlike in his professional duties and tolerantly accepting of his frailties in his private life. As a result, Charlie was a normal carefree law student who was home for the Christmas vacation.
"Did you have a good night out?" John enquired as a very sleepy looking Charlie slid in to her accustomed chair for a late breakfast. She was very grateful that bacon and eggs weren't waiting for her, as her stomach would have protested.
"I met some of the guys and we did a pub crawl. I wished I hadn't now."
She poured herself a black coffee, no sugar to see if the world might look brighter. It didn't though. She nibbled tentatively at a half slice of buttered toast.
"Aha, the price we pay for pleasure, Charlie. Would I be foolish to suggest that the lesson is now well learnt?"
"Hardly that, dad. I'm a student. It's just that I can't afford to go out till New Year's Eve. That doesn't matter as all my friends are also broke."
"So I'll be sharing your company for the next few days."
John took for granted the unpredictable comings and goings of his daughter with complete imperturbability. He was, after all, an upholder of liberal beliefs.
"That suits me fine. I could do with the quiet life for a bit."
In Charlie's eyes, she could safely lie back and take life easy. Christmas was a period when her normal taste in TV went out the window and she could indulge herself in kid's television because, well, it was Christmas. It was a time of Christmas presents, Christmas trees and decorations, and all that corny stuff and eating and drinking under her father's more indulgent eye than normal.
"Grandad will be coming round on Boxing Day."
Charlie's face lit up at the news. She knew that there was a temporary armistice in the normal tense atmosphere between the two men and that it centred on her. She could bask in the affection both of them held for her and granddad, like his father, was immortal in the strength of spirit within him.
"You know that your mother will be coming round today, minus Lover Boy."
Charlie's face fell at the thought. Maybe it had seemed logical for her father to bring her up but she had piled up so many resentments for her mother who had seemingly abandoned her. Her name for her mother 'the Ice Maiden" was one that her father heartily disapproved of. She could never work out how her father could overlook something so obvious about her.
"Must she?"
"She is your mother, Charlie. I know that she loves you in her own way."
"She has a funny way of showing it," muttered Charlie rebelliously." I'm not sure I'll be around when she comes round."
"Charlie, you know that your mother has an immaculate taste in Christmas presents. You simply can't exploit that shamelessly and give nothing in return. The only thing that is asked for is your time and civil behaviour."
"It's only given out of guilt."
"I can't remember you ever turning your nose up at her choice of presents. Maybe she does feel guilty but she is to be pitied for that and not criticized. What was decided for your upbringing years ago was the one instance of your mother and I getting together and deciding unselfishly what was best for you. It is a lot easier for all concerned for her to come over rather than go and visit her."
"So you don't have to see Neil. What's the difference?"
"Simply that I am not related to him in any way and, while your mother and I are legally divorced, you never truly break the ties where a child is concerned. Your mother and I both know that to be a fact without saying it."
"Well, she'd better come over and get it done with," Charlie concluded grumpily. She knew that there was no way out of this unwelcome situation so she should face it as best as she could.
The weekend before Christmas for Neil Haughton and George Channing was a very formal affair. Their opulent house was a testimonial to George's good taste, which her partner was far too busily engaged in public affairs to be involved with in any detail. The long brocaded curtains that were tied neatly back and pale greenish, slightly patterned wallpaper were details, which she had overseen in every detail.
"You must wear that new dress I bought you. It cost a fortune but it will show the others that we are people of consequence."
The formal smile on George's face graciously acknowledged the compliment.
"I will later on but I need to visit Charlie and exchange Christmas presents. Duty calls, you know."
"You know that we have the reception to go to. We absolutely must allow enough time to be ready."
George knew that very well and Neil Haughton's proud emphasis on the word 'the' marked it as the exercise in mutual self-congratulation of the inner circle of the political 'movers and shakers' that decided the destiny of the country. She knew very well how nervous Neil was of time spend in the Deed's company, as she referred to him.
As a result, George drove up to John's flat, more inwardly flustered than she let on and her makeup was that much more elaborate. She had always set a great store on appearance but it didn't conceal how jumpy she felt. It always made her more tactless and more prickly than normal. After the round of greetings and maternal and paternal commonplaces, George found herself saying these words to her great surprise as onlooker.
"Neil is taking me to a fantastic party today of the great and the good. I shall wear my finest dress."
"I would have more fun visiting my father's council house in Birmingham if he were still alive," muttered John in retaliation, contemptuous of her shallowness while Charlie rolled her eyes at her mother.
"I suppose your impoverished background gives you street credibility in the circles you mix in."
"It is a fact of my life that I am not ashamed to want to conceal it. I accept myself, warts and all. Perhaps it has given me more backbone than some of my contemporaries."
It was a curious fact of John Deed's persona that while he had mimicked the languid public school accents to perfection, he stood apart from the contemporaries who had grown with him. In his earlier years, he was known behind his back as the 'baker's boy' but this had given him his boldness and pugnacity.
"Parents," Charlie proclaimed loudly above the growing hubbub." It is Christmas day, or nearly."
"I apologise, Charlie. It was unforgivable."
In the sudden hush, John had been the first to collect his wits while George's mouth remained open, the next taunt on her lips, unspoken. Even in moments of contrition, her mind raged, that infuriating man is somehow being dominant.
"Darling," George said with that aristocratic drawl and wide smile which encapsulated her to Charlie for good or bad." I'm sorry that we have been in horrid moods. I hope that your studies are going well but, remember that you only have one life so make the most of it."
"I'll remember," Charlie said tonelessly, conscious how far away her vague well-intentioned words were from her world.
"Perhaps I can offer you a drink," John offered in neutral tones. For Charlie's sake, he didn't want the Christmas memory of her mother to be yet another tasteless row and her flouncing off in a rage.
"That would be nice, John," she answered. Charlie stood aside as an onlooker and her eyes weren't deceived by appearances.
The run up to Christmas at Larkhall was no different than any other year. The Julies got the miniscule Christmas tree and arranged the baubles on the straggling silver foil branches, at least those that hadn't cracked on them. Denny and Yvonne looked on. This was Christmas as normal. The only thing they had to look forward to was the screws serving them Christmas dinner and how much it choked them to do it.
