Part One Hundred And fifty
The pause, as the final chords of the ensemble performance faded into the high domed church, was emotionally charged as with one exception, both audience and orchestra were as one. In that second, that driving tension was released from Joe Channing's elastic taut concentration. The showman in him flamboyantly turned round to face the audience with arms outstretched. Till then, the audience had been an invisible presence behind him. His smile of satisfaction was as expansive as his pride.
The end of the row on which Henry sat, was the first to break into applause, which was amplified and enfolded by the rest of the audience, which had not expected anything like the performance they had enjoyed. By not really knowing individual members of the orchestra as Henry's row did, they had been distanced and had only been cajoled to attend by Vera Everard's gimlet eye and forceful personality. In a concert setting, the unexpected purity of form and intensity of expression hit home. The sole exception was Neil Haughton. As the music ended, the whole elaborate performance faded. It had seemed designed to celebrate George's distance from him, however artfully the orchestra performance was contrived. He was held prisoner in his possession by convention and politeness. Henry, at a nod from Joe Channing, got up from his unaccustomed position in the pew, and walked to the pulpit. "On behalf of Chipping Ongar church, I want to extend to the Bar council an inexpressible debt of gratitude, for magnificent performance. I confess that I never realised until this afternoon, what an overflowing wealth of talent there is amongst members of the judiciary and their friends. It is truly a demonstration of God's will that he intended such abilities by which you earn your living, to be matched by entirely different talents for the glory of music and of God. On behalf of the church, I invite George, to step forward to accept this bouquet of roses for you all." George smiled wholeheartedly, yet nervously walked her way up to the pulpit, where Henry smiled kindly down on her. She felt incredibly whole, bathed by the light and love that was bestowed on her. Yet some instinct told her, that this was not some selfish emotion but one, which radiated between her and the rest of the magic company. She picked out the spirituality of expression on even Sir Ian's and Lady Rochester's faces, and reflected that even they had their rightful place here.
With legs like jelly, she reached her arms up, and smelt the softly perfumed roses. On her high heels, she teetered her way to the podium, on which her father stood. As she reached up to offer Joe the first rose, the difference in height carried her memory back to when she was little, and had sung for her father. The light in her eyes, and smile across her face, showed her that she could safely wallow in male approval. Daddy was different of course. Turning next to Monty, she generously offered him the second rose. She looked at him, the stiff-necked man in a new light, as a fellow artist. When she approached Grayling, an intense glance of gratitude shone from her eyes. If it had not been for him, she would never had performed here today. She deliberately took her time to saunter up to John, and the spark of understanding crossed between them. She passed her way through the section leaders of the rest of the orchestra, bestowing roses on them, as if it were an ancient courtly ritual. Each group of musicians had played to perfection. "I'm inviting the orchestra, and members of the audience, to stay behind..." In the middle of his invitation, a coughing fit overtook Henry. With some embarrassment, he struggled to finish off his words. "...At the church hall for drinks." Helen, Nikki, Cassie and Crystal, followed in behind the members of the orchestra and rapidly filled up the hall. To their surprise, it was empty of all the instruments and music stands, with which they had laboured so diligently after work and on weekends. With a table laid out with drinks, it was just the church hall.
There was a heightened sense of animation in all the orchestra, as old rivalries remained suspended. Sir Ian even smiled at Francesca and was happy to chat with her and the ever-present Lawrence James while Neumann Mason-Alan promptly attached himself to the group. The four musicians slid smoothly on a cushion of good feeling that nothing could break. Sir Ian looked on fondly at everyone. Even Deed had performed impeccably. People seemed to move sedately in and out of his vision like a slow moving kaleidoscope in an ever-shifting pattern. First Clare Walker, then Barbara, then Karen, then Roisin moved into view and were irretrievably linked to their individual threads in that wonderful aural tapestry they had woven. Suddenly, there appeared a short, blonde haired woman, hair cut in a short bob. He instantly registered the boldness of her manner and a jagged memory impulse shot into his brain like an electric shock. He cursed his work mode of thinking, something that he heartily wished could be switched off for just one afternoon in his life. "That woman, entering the room, is Cassie Tyler. I remember crossing swords with her at the Lauren Atkins trial," Said Neumann quietly. So Roisin must be her partner and both her and Barbara had served a term of imprisonment, Sir Ian concluded. This revelation upset his secure foundations, and what passed for his morality. Put simply, he was there to lend protective colouration for members of the establishment and fearlessly expose those on the other side of the fence. It ought to have shocked him that two women who he had welcomed into their exclusive company were not as they appeared to be. But they were fellow musicians, dammit, he didn't want to know. "How very interesting, Neumann. Small world, isn't it. Let's not talk shop today, there's a good fellow." He hoped he sounded far more debonair than he felt, as he turned his gaze to attract Brian Cantwell's attention.
"I must admit, George," Joe loudly proclaimed. "That you and Neil, made a splendid couple. I mean the superb bass singer, and not that other unspeakable man, who I trust will fall on his sword having seen what he has lost." "Hardly, Daddy," George muttered, flushing slightly. While Daddy is here to stay in blissful ignorance of what ever she is doing, there are occasional drawbacks. "Nonsense, George," He boomed, and stopped a moment to think. "Are you talking about your singing partner, or that ex of yours?" "Neil Grayling, of course. He's a wonderful singing partner, a good man and a dear friend, but Daddy, he's gay." George kept her voice down low and looked furtively around, to check in case anyone she knew was nearby. "What!" "Daddy, do keep your voice down. Does what I have told you really matter? If Neil hadn't been here, there would have been no performance, think about that." "How long have you known about this?" Joe asked incredulously after a distinct pause. "Since the beginning, of course," George replied in wide-eyed innocence. "What is the world coming to?" Joe rumbled rhetorically and not for the first time in his life as he tottered off to chat to Henry. He had that air of reassuring normality, as well as a wife at his side.
"So, Nikki, how did you enjoy the performance?" Grayling's friendly manner broke in unexpectedly on Nikki as she was chatting to Clare Walker. "More than I could possibly say in words," Nikki exclaimed fervently, her eyes shining. "I have never been so moved in all my life. When do you and the rest of the orchestra plan to take this on tour?" Grayling made a self-deprecating gesture, though the thought of it did take his fancy. A new dimension in his life had been allowed to flower within him. "Mrs. Warner would have the perfect excuse to lecture me that my mind isn't properly on the job. I do need to be around to ensure that none of my enemies move in on my pitch, to try and undermine both you and Karen, not that the idea isn't tempting." "You really must have faith in us." "If you've got through the first week without anything untoward coming to my ears, you must be doing fine." Grayling's broad grin was infectious. "You can tell so soon, Neil?" Nikki queried. "That's the way it goes," Grayling replied cheerfully. "If you don't mind, I'd sooner not talk shop, Nikki, not on a day like this." Grayling seemed totally alive and utterly centred. "I'm sorry, Neil." "Not to worry, Nikki. Let's enjoy today. We all deserve it."
Brian Cantwell circulated round the hall. That often acid tongued egotistical man fuelled inside by bittier prejudices, wore a pleased expression on his face, but this was no selfish sentiment. "Have you enjoyed playing with Jo Mills?" Clare greeted Brian cheerfully. She had seen from her place in court how the two of them had regular verbal sparring matches. "Surprisingly well, Clare," Brian retorted, his mind still alert after the intense concentration of the afternoon performance. "We might even get on next time we appear in court." There was a spiky edge to his voice, and a lurking affection he knew very well not to expose too much to general view.
Karen and Michael Nivin were comparing notes on their musical contributions when she caught a glimpse of Henry. The lighting in the church hall was bright enough so that Henry could be seen clearly. Her memory of him was that he always had a pale complexion but she couldn't remember his cheeks being as drawn as they appeared today. Babs was smiling and talking in her usual sociable manner, but her eyes never left him. This isn't just the very real love she feels for him, surely. She resolved to quietly talk to her in the lobby now that everyone who was coming to the party was present. "I was rather hoping that no one would notice," Barbara said, looking a little flustered and uncomfortable. "I suppose having once been a nurse, you would be bound to be the first to spot it." Karen started to get really worried for her friend. She hadn't formed any definite conclusions, but Barbara supposed that their plight was more visible than it actually was. "You see, Henry has lung cancer. He's been under the hospital who urge him to rest, but you know Henry. He won't do that while his flock is there and they need him." Karen cut short her immediate reaction, that for once Henry could give way to a moment of selfishness in his life. In contrast, she remembered Ross when he was at home, always childishly demanding, never thinking beyond his own needs. "We must have faith as to the future. If you don't mind, Henry is rather tired, and I need to persuade him that he needs to rest." It upset Karen to see how Barbara's smile was rather strained and forced. She suspected the prognosis was worse than Barbara was letting on. "You may be sure, that everything here will be looked after. Don't worry."
George was standing with Helen, Nikki, Cassie and Roisin, and feeling happier than she had in years. She had performed to the best of her ability, they all had, and she had enjoyed every minute of it. "I nearly jumped out of my skin on that huge crash of light," Cassie was saying. "Yes, I saw you," George said with a laugh. "And I never thought Grayling could sing like that." "I didn't think it would be at first," George said fairly. "But it's been fun working with him." "I think every member of the audience was staring at your legs during that dance," Nikki said with a smirk. "Just goes to show what fabulous taste me and Helen have." "Oh, so the not so innocent looking Eve was your idea?" Roisin asked, having been slightly astounded when she'd first seen what George was wearing. "Our fault entirely," Helen agreed. "The Judge kept taking his eyes off his music to look at you." "As if he doesn't get more than his fair share as it is," George replied dryly. "It's weird," Cassie put in. "I've listened to Roash practicing her part for weeks, but I'd never heard it all together before today." As she leaned forward to kiss Roisin proudly, George laid a warning hand on her shoulder. "I wouldn't do that here," She said quietly. "You aren't serious?" Cassie said in total disgust. "Very," George explained, not remotely put off by her tone of voice. "I doubt it will surprise you to know, that the vast majority of the legal profession are still living in the nineteenth century." "She's right, Cass," Roisin agreed, gently detaching Cassie from her. "And does that include you and Karen?" Cassie demanded of George, her anger at not being permitted to show her affection all too evident. "In a setting such as this, yes, it most certainly does," George told her. "I'm sorry," Cassie said, feeling a little foolish at her outburst. "Discretion isn't something I've ever really appreciated the need for." "George," Said Nikki, finding the perfect excuse to move away from this far too sensitive topic. "There's a weasly looking bloke heading over here, looking as though he wants to talk to you." As George glanced in the direction Nikki was gesturing, she saw Neil Haughton approaching. "I wondered how long it would take him," She said to no one in particular. "George," He said as he reached them. "Can I drag you away for five minutes?" Giving him the type of in-depth scrutiny, that told everyone around her that she was definitely lowering her standards in talking to this individual, she said, "Five minutes is all you'll get," In that curt, dismissive tone he knew so well. Then, seeing the look of blatant discomfort on his face, she added, "Go and wait for me outside, and I'll join you in a minute, unless you wish to conduct this particularly pointless conversation in public?" At the slight shudder that meant he would rather dip his feet in undiluted acid than have anyone witness his humiliation, she said, "No, I thought not." When he'd gone, Cassie grinned. "Nice one, babe, that's the most accurately delivered dismissal I've seen in years." "Who was that?" Nikki asked, hoping that she would never have cause to get on George's bad side. "Do you remember me telling you about my cabinet minister? Well, that was him, the secretary of state for trade himself." "Jesus," Said Cassie in disgust. "No wonder the DTI's approaching a serious melt down, if an oily git like him is in charge." "Nikki, can you do something for me?" George asked, filing Cassie's comment away as something to use if she ever ran out of tactical put downs. "Can you ask John to come and rescue me in about five minutes?" "Sure," Nikki replied, seeing John talking to Joe Channing on the other side of the hall. "George, what did he do to incur such deep seated disgust?" "You may well ask," George replied, walking away from them and heading towards the outside.
When she appeared through the doors of the church hall, she saw Neil waiting for her. "Well, well," She said, moving to stand beside him. "This is nice, isn't it." The steely-edged tone in which she delivered these words, belied their actual content. Knowing that it would utterly infuriate him, she lit up a cigarette. "I'm surprised you've taken that up again," Neil said, his mouth working before his brain. "One would have thought, that you would want to keep such an incredible voice in peak condition." "Ah, well, as it happens, I can do both," She said icily. Then, when he didn't appear to be very forthcoming, she asked, "What are you really here for, Neil? What do you want?" "I wanted to see you," He said quietly, and she could see that this at least was the truth. "Well, granted I look an awful lot better than the last time you saw me," She put in before he could continue. "But perhaps that's because I'm happy." "You certainly look it," He couldn't help agreeing. "I am," She confirmed. "I don't think I've ever been as happy with every part of my life as I am now." "George," He said a little hesitantly, after taking a moment or two to work up the courage. "What I did to you, I'm sorry." "For what it's worth," She said quietly. "I know, though whether you are actually sorry for hitting me, or sorry that by doing that you lost me, is anyone's guess."
As soon as George had gone outside, Helen and Nikki made their way over to where John was standing talking to George's father. "Can we butt in for a moment?" Helen began, seeing as she knew John somewhat better than Nikki did. "Of course," John said amiably, and then introduced them. "This is Sir Joseph Channing, George's father, and Joe, this is Nikki Wade and Helen Stewart." "Nikki, Wade," Joe said contemplatively. "I had wondered if today might be my opportunity to meet the most recent recruit to the prison service. I must congratulate you, on being the first person whose appointment has rocked the establishment, even more than that of the Deed here." Smiling broadly Nikki shook his hand. "I'm not sure whether to take that as a complement," She said, seeing the smile of encouragement on John's face. "How was your first week?" John asked, before Joe could drop himself in it. "Knackering, but fantastic," Nikki summarised. "And before I forget, George would like you to go and rescue her from the secretary of state for trade, in about five minutes. I think she was hoping to give him a bit of a roasting first." "About bloody time," Joe Channing growled. "I was not best pleased to see that waster as a member of our audience." "I would have thought he would have had more sense," John agreed. "But if George is putting him in his place, that is something I would quite like to see," He added a little evilly. But as Nikki and Joe got into a discussion of the merits of custodial punishment, John contrived to move Helen a little away from them. "How is our mutual concern progressing?" He asked when they were well out of earshot. "Not brilliantly," Helen said unhappily. "He's not doing well at all. He needs her, Judge, if he's going to have any chance whatsoever of getting out of this." "And you know that neither of us can tell her," John persuaded gently but firmly. "Did you seek that higher advice you were after?" "Yes, from the very man Nikki is talking to." "What did he say?" "Precisely what I thought he would say. You cannot tell her, Helen, neither of us can, no matter how much we might want to."
Outside, Neil was saying, "George, as much as it might surprise you to know, you meant everything to me. I thought that... Well... Maybe..." George laughed in the face of his struggle to find the right words. "Neil," She said, her tone dripping with scorn. "What could possibly, give you the idea that I still need you as my status symbol? Because I can assure you, I don't. I've never needed anything less. Do you know something, for the first time in my life, I have friends. Not the kind of friends who demand political support and legal performance in return, but friends who actually care about the person behind the career. I used to think you could be useful to me, just as I was to you, but since then, I've learnt that mere professional advancement just isn't important. You don't know the meaning of the phrase sincere loyalty, do you, but in the last year or so, it's something I've learnt to cherish." "Tell me," Neil replied, with more than a little scorn in his own voice. "When you speak of friends, I assume you're talking about the group of ex-cons I saw you with earlier. Keep on maintaining friendships like that, and you'll soon discover what supposed loyalty can drag you into." "Oh, really," She said scathingly. "Well, I'll tell you this much, I certainly won't be cajoled into defending rotten to the core cases, all in the name of political expediency." When she saw John appear on the periphery of her field of vision, she tried to ignore his presence and keep on going. "My career was heading straight for disintegration, with all the corrupt cases you kept insisting I had to win. I crawled out from under that particularly loathsome rock, Neil, but you're still there, still clinging onto your not so sturdy hand hold in the government's pocket. Everything I was, everything I stood for when I was with you, disgusts me, so why you think I would ever want to go back to that, I'll never know." Neil took a breath to deliver some resounding retort, when he also became aware of John's presence.
On walking quietly out through the doors of the church hall, John had seen Neil and George facing each other not far away, and he had heard George's last little speech, making him fill with pride that she of all people could come out with such words of sincerity. When he finally reached them, he solicitously put an arm round George's shoulders, just to further enhance her last point. "Oh, don't tell me," Haughton said in resigned disgust. "Don't tell me you've stooped so low, as to go crawling back to him?" "The only time I have ever stooped lower than I deserve," She said mockingly. "Was when I deigned to sleep with you, because believe me, when one adjusts their course of action from sleeping with you to sleeping with John, they are definitely raising their standards. Wouldn't you say so, darling?" She added, smiling lasciviously up into John's face, her expression asking him to play along with her. "You have to admit, she does have a point, Haughton," John replied, the beginnings of a laugh just at the back of his voice. Neil's lip curled, but in the face of her obvious satisfaction, his expression wavered. "You don't like me threatening your overblown sense of masculinity, do you," She said silkily, her voice almost reminding him of how fabulous she'd always been in bed. "But you see, John here, gives me everything I could ever want in a lover. He doesn't concern himself solely with the pursuit of his own pleasure, he doesn't tell me I'm depraved, when what I want is perfectly normal, and most of all, he gives me an orgasm, every time I sleep with him, something you certainly never did." John could feel the slight tremble in her as she let forth this stream of resentment and anger, something which had obviously been begging for release for quite some time now. Neil looked shocked, probably as a result of all her accusations. George couldn't quite believe she'd said all that. Yes, she knew it wasn't strictly true that John always managed to give her an orgasm, and she was quite aware that he knew it too, but the assertion had served its purpose. Never again would Neil think she would lower herself to his level, not after this. When it appeared that George's tirade had come to an end, John said, "I think it might be time for you to leave, Haughton." His words carried such protectiveness, such authority, that Neil would have been testing what courage he had to disobey them. Turning about, he walked to his car, got in and drove away.
When the smoke from Neil's exhaust had dissipated, John turned George into his embrace, enfolding her in the arms that were most familiar to her. "Are you all right?" He asked softly into her hair. "Fine," She said a little unsteadily. "I wasn't quite expecting to say everything I did, though." "I'm sure he'll get over it." When George drew her face slightly back from him, he could see the sheer need in her eyes. When she reached up to kiss him, he could feel her extreme desire to forget Neil and to banish all thought of his existence from her mind. She'd given him his long overdue dismissal from anything to do with her, and now she simply wanted to move on. Her kisses were fierce, passionate, demanding in the extreme, and at the moment, just the way he wanted them. He had been suppressing his desire for her all afternoon, but now he allowed it to take hold of him. When his hand moved round to begin caressing her left breast, she didn't falter, even though they were stood in the middle of the carpark in front of the church hall. He felt her nipple harden under his fingers, just as she clung even closer to him, aligning their centres, and finding his own hardness begging for attention. "Let's go home, now," She said almost urgently, detaching herself from him and taking his hand in hers, dragging him unprotesting over to his car.