Part One Hundred And Forty Three
On the following Saturday, June the eighteenth, George ran into Helen and Nikki, when she was looking for something new to wear for the performance, only a week away. It was mid morning, and the sun was shining, and she felt incredibly happy. She was walking passed a group of tables outside one of her favourite coffee shops, when she heard her name being called. When Nikki had seen her, George had looked to be in a world of her own, barely aware of the people around her. When George looked in the direction of the voice, she saw Helen and Nikki sitting at one of the tables, both half way through large cappuccinos. "You look like you've been busy," George said as she reached them, glancing over at the boutique bags that filled one of the chairs at their table. "New suits to frighten Sylvia into obeying my every order," Nikki said wickedly. "Would you like a coffee?" Helen asked as George sat down. "I'd love one," George said appreciatively. "It might give me some inspiration." As Helen went to get her an espresso, Nikki gave her a conspiratorial smile. "So, how's things? I haven't seen much of you for ages." "Interesting, might just be the word to describe it," George said ruefully. "Scary but incredible." "You're looking good on it," Nikki said scrutinizing George. "Well, you look a lot better than when I last saw you." "I'm sorry about that," George said sheepishly. "Everything was just getting a bit too much." "Don't apologise," Nikki said kindly. "I meant what I said at the time, I'm always here." "So, how was prison service training?" George asked, seeing that Helen was on her way back, and wanting to change the subject. "There were a few bigoted, pigheaded bastards," Nikki said philosophically. "But no more than I really expected. I can't wait for Monday though, to see Sylvia's face if nothing else."
When Helen reappeared with George's coffee, she said, "So, why are you in this neck of the woods this morning?" George took a grateful sip of the scalding black liquid and smiled. "I'm looking for something a little different to wear for the performance next week. You are coming to see it, aren't you?" "You bet we are," Helen said firmly. "I haven't heard Clare play since university, and I can't wait to hear you sing." "Oh, thanks for the pressure," George said dryly. "Karen says you sing like an angel," Helen said, making George blush scarlet. "Well, she shouldn't," She said with a laugh. "So, what are you planning to wear?" Nikki asked, seeing that George was highly embarrassed. "Apart from the fig leaf." "I really don't know," George replied, lighting a cigarette. "Sexy doesn't seem quite right for playing Eve, but neither do I want it to be too formal. We are supposed to be having fun whilst doing this after all." "Definitely something short," Helen said, clearly trying to picture it. "Without a doubt," Nikki agreed. "You've got the legs for it, so you may as well show them off." "Eve wore very little, while she was being drawn under Adam's spell, so you've got the perfect excuse," Helen said with a smile. "You want to show off everything you've got," Put in Nikki. "Without making it too obvious that you know just how gorgeous you are." "If you insist," George said with a nervous little laugh, flushing slightly at Nikki's compliment.
After finishing their coffee, they adjourned to the clothes shops that surrounded them, eventually settling on a short, black skirt, which stopped a couple of inches above her knees, showing off her extremely pretty legs to perfection. They then found a simple white, silky top that had a design of climbing roses from hem to neckline, ideal for a performance of the beginning of life. When George emerged from the dressing room, clad in what they'd decided upon, Helen's look of awe, and Nikki's exclamation of 'Jesus', told her just how stunning she looked. "Good job your Adam bats for the other side," Nikki said ruefully. "Or he'd lose himself down your cleavage in that top." "How do you keep your legs looking so good?" Helen asked, utterly mystified. "Swimming," George said succinctly, standing before them. "That, and standing all day in court in the highest heels I can handle. You don't think this is a bit too outrageous for Eve? And this is being performed in a church don't forget." "No, it's fine," Nikki told her seriously. "It's sexy, but right, if that makes any sense. You'll need a strapless bra though," She added, gesturing to the off the shoulder cut of the top. "And if you wear really high heels, your legs will look even longer than they already are."
After dropping her purchases off at home, and grabbing a quick something for lunch, George drove over to the church for the final rehearsal. This was the last chance they had before next week, to iron out any mistakes. They would all be together, the orchestra, the soloists, everyone. She picked Karen up on the way, and they talked about Nikki's impending arrival at Larkhall on the Monday. "I can't wait to see Sylvia's face," Karen said with a smirk. "She's going to look even more like a fish out of water than she usually does." "From what I saw this morning," George said, trying to find a parking space. "Nikki's certainly going to look the part." As they walked through the churchyard, walking in the opposite direction to that they usually took, the actual church being at the other end, Karen caught sight of something that made her stop in surprise. It was a tombstone, almost hidden among several others, with a small rose bush planted at its base. But it was the name that halted Karen in her tracks, the name that had featured so prominently in two trials, Ritchie Atkins, followed by his dates. Karen hadn't exactly forgotten that he was buried here, at least not that he had been buried in this very churchyard, but perhaps she had forgotten where. "You go on without me," Karen said to George, wanting a moment alone with her memories of this event. "I'll catch you up in a minute." "Are you all right?" George asked in concern, following Karen's gaze to the name on the headstone. "Fine," Karen told her. "I just want a few minutes." "I didn't know he was buried here," George said, not immediately moving away. "I hadn't forgotten, I just don't think I'd expected to be confronted with it, that's all." Giving her hand a quick squeeze, George left her to it, walking the rest of the way to the church.
Karen moved off the path and onto the grass, standing looking at the inscription. "Stay safe my little angel." Jesus, Karen thought to herself, those words were so Yvonne, signifying everything she had ever wanted for her children, probably speaking for every mother alive.
As Joe Channing walked through the well-kept churchyard, he reflected that having no Vera here today was a godsend. She had refused to attend either this rehearsal or the previous one, proclaiming herself to be in high dudgeon over her dismissal. Monty had offered him a lift today, and Joe had gratefully accepted. Monty had dropped him as close to the church as possible before going to find somewhere to park. Joe had caught sight of his daughter and Karen Betts in the distance, and had seen them stop by one of the headstones. After exchanging a few words, George had briefly touched Karen's hand and left her to it. It had highly confused Joe to see George exhibit such a gesture of affection to another woman, and he found himself thanking god that she hadn't done anything so obvious as kiss her. He might be aware that his daughter did such things in private, but that didn't mean he ever wanted to see public evidence of it. As George walked away towards the church, he watched as Karen moved a little closer to the headstone, clearly reading the inscription, and taking a moment to dwell on memories she would rather forget. When Joe reached her, he stood on the path, just watching her, waiting for her to become aware of his presence. When she eventually turned round, she didn't look overly disturbed to see him there. "Someone you knew?" Joe asked, though it was obvious the occupier of the grave had been. "Yes, in a manner of speaking," Karen said with a mirthless laugh. "And Ritchie Atkins was anything but a little angel," She added, gesturing to the inscription. "Ah, Atkins," Joe said after reading the engraved words. "There wasn't a judge in the country who wasn't aware of that trial." Joe could remember the highly sensational speculation that had been all over the press at the time, most of it details of this particular woman's sex life. If everything he'd read at the time had been true, she had been cruelly used by too many men one way and another, so perhaps it wasn't so difficult to understand why she had started looking at other women instead. "It's all we ever want for our children, isn't it," Karen said quietly, bringing Joe back out of his thoughts. "To keep them safe." "Yes," Joe said with a heavy heart, thinking of just how much he knew of Karen's son that she didn't. "Even when they're forty nine, and think they know everything about life and all its joys and hardships, their safety is always the concern uppermost in one's mind." They were silent as they walked towards the church, each lost in their own quiet contemplation. "John mentioned that you have a son," Joe said eventually, his curiosity finally begging to be fed. "Yes," Karen said with a fond smile. "He was twenty-two last week, and he thinks he knows everything too." "You don't look old enough," Joe replied, seeing the gentle yet slightly exasperated mark of a real parent in her. "Some might say that Ross is the fruit of my misspent youth. His father died in the Falklands, so it's mostly just been me and my son." She didn't sound resentful of the fact, but almost proud. "George said that her mother died when she was ten," Karen added quietly. "Yes, she did," Joe replied a little sombrely. "And there isn't a day that goes by, that I don't wish she was here to see all that George has achieved." "I bet she was a handful as a fourteen-year-old," Karen said with a smile. "Yes," Joe agreed ruefully. "Though very occasionally, it feels as though the last thirty five years haven't existed," He added conspiratorially, making Karen laugh. "After watching her in court," She replied. "I can quite imagine that." As they walked into the church, and Karen looked for somewhere to rest her viola case, Joe was forced to admit that he did like this woman, even if she had a tendency to get into trouble that occasionally far outweighed John's.