Part One Hundred And Fifty Nine
Over a week later, George still couldn't get the memory of that night out of her mind. She, Jo and John had all slept in the same bed, closer than they'd ever simultaneously been on any occasion. George had been the first to wake early on the Friday morning, and had found that her hand was entwined with Jo's, their interlocked fingers lying on John's bare chest. This simple act of closeness had displayed such a level of intimacy to her that it had almost been frightening. As John and Jo had still been asleep, George had slipped out of bed, silently put on her clothes and gone quietly downstairs. She'd left a note on the table just to let them know where she was, using a discrete departure from the digs as her excuse. She had needed to go home for a shower and a change of clothes, but she knew that she could have stayed longer if she'd wanted. But she didn't want any of that awkwardness that might have existed between them if she'd still been there when they'd woken. This way, she was saving all three of them a certain amount of perfectly natural embarrassment.
But here, now, on Saturday the twenty-third, most of her was happy. She'd seen both Jo and John over the last week, and they were all three of them back to the way they'd been with each other, before the fiasco of the Chlamydia had come to light. The only steadily growing concern that was slightly marring her feeling of contentment, was the knowledge that she was fast approaching that highly volatile day, when she would have to make a decision, one way or the other about Karen. Though, she conceded, decision was really the wrong word, because she couldn't halt the progression of her feelings for Jo if she tried. But Karen needed to know, and soon. It simply wasn't fair to keep her in the dark like this.
She cooked dinner for her father this Saturday night, and it was something of a break for her to have his emotionally undemanding, yet intellectually stimulating company. Joe Channing could see that his daughter had something that was weighing on her mind, but unless she ventured to tell him about it, he wouldn't probe. George was still trying to get used to the idea of his being aware of Karen's position in her life, and even though she had talked to Karen about this, it was still very new to her. Daddy wasn't supposed to know about things like this, not about his one and only daughter anyway. John had looked a little sheepish when she'd mentioned this to him, as he had been partially responsible for Joe's knowledge of George's extended private life. But George had gone through more than enough recent conflicts with John to even think of starting another one. George and her father had eaten the meal she'd cooked, and they were now sitting in the lounge, Joe nursing a large glass of port. It wasn't long after nine, and George found herself relaxing, even under her father's scrutiny.
When the doorbell rang, Joe looked up in surprise. "It's probably Karen," George said, getting to her feet. "She's been working today, and said she might call round this evening." When George opened the door, Karen looked tense, tired, but as though she'd certainly been home to change before coming here. But as Karen moved to kiss her, she saw the slight stiffening in George's body. "My father's here," She said quietly, at which Karen understandingly settled for touching her cheek. As they moved through the hall, George observed, "You look as though you've been fighting." As she said this, she gestured to a faint bruise on Karen's cheek, most of which had been cleverly concealed by make up. "Er, restraining where necessary, if you don't mind," Karen corrected with a wan smile. "Yes, it has been one of those days." "Restraining who where necessary?" Joe asked in amusement as they entered the lounge. "A violent new inmate with a nice little line in crack dealing," Karen told him without demur. Then, lifting a hand to cover a yawn, she added, "Just what you want on a Saturday afternoon, and because we always end up short staffed at the weekend, I usually end up getting far too involved." "Would you like a drink?" George asked, this question being pretty much superfluous after a day like this. "A large scotch would go down a treat," Karen replied, almost in hunger, digging out her cigarettes. "I'd clap that one in irons and leave her to stew, if you ask me," Joe concurred with a rumble of disapproval. "You know, Joe," Karen said wearily. "After a day like today, I might just agree with you." "I wouldn't let John hear you talking like that," George said, sitting down at the other end of the sofa from Karen. "Or he'll put you down as a thoroughly lost cause." "It's all right for him," Karen said, knowing she was goading Joe in the process. "He only hands down the sentence." "Very rarely without good reason," Joe replied ominously, immediately rising to her less than subtle bait. "The sentence any judge chooses to impose, is built upon years of experience and not without the due process of thorough consideration." "Oh, sure," Karen said lightly, taking a long drag of her cigarette. "But dealing with inmates on the ground as it were, doesn't usually allow for the time necessary for the due process of thorough consideration. Decisions have to be made at a moment's notice, and as far as possible, must be right every time. There is very little room for human error, when you're dealing with a confined quantity of women, who are as volatile and unpredictable as the atom bomb. At least when a high court Judge, or any Judge for that matter, makes a mistake, the appeal court is there to rectify that mistake. We don't have that sort of safety net." "That's as maybe," Joe said dismissively, not actually wanting to consider his role in the appeal court too closely at this point. "But my question is, that if those such as your officers are as professional as you say they are forced to be, why, in the grand scheme of things, is the prison population continually growing?" "Oh, I didn't say that all my officers were professionals, anything but," Karen said with a broad smile. "Half the time, it's like running a ship where not enough of the crew are willing and able to do the job. Far too many of them see it as ample opportunity to take out their anger against the world, on some of the most vulnerable members of society." "That's very open and honest of you," Joe replied, liking her candor. "But why do you put up with such a lackadaisical approach from so many of your staff?" "It's all about finding sufficient grounds for disciplinary action, Joe, you know that. Trust worthy evidence isn't just the be all and end all of the judiciary. It's the lack of such evidence for dismissal that keeps some of my staff in a job. The other consideration is, that if I were to have all the witless and incompetent members of my staff suitably dealt with, I'd be hard put to find enough enthusiastic individuals to take their places. That is, of course, if I were actually given the go ahead to find replacements." "What makes you cast such doubt on that inevitability?" "Because the home office expects us to perform bloody miracles, under an increasingly dwindling budget." When she saw the soft expression on George's face, Karen asked, "What are you smiling about?" And gently touched her cheek, remembering too late that George might not want her to show such a sign of affection in front of her father. "You sound just like John," George said almost in wonder, briefly taking Karen's hand in hers. "It's usually him being so forthright about the failings of the system." "I often sat here with John, arguing like this, didn't I," Joe said in fond memory. "Yes, I remember it well," George said dryly, thinking just how much times had changed. This wasn't John, and she and Karen weren't married, but in all other respects the situation was the same.
Their discussion continued in the same occasionally heated vein, for roughly another hour and a half. But when Joe finally decided that it was time for him to be making tracks, George went upstairs to find a jacket to put on to drive him home. She'd picked him up earlier, so that he could drink and relax. Whilst she was upstairs, Karen and Joe were left in companionable silence. Nailing her briefly to the spot with his penetrating gaze, Joe said quietly but firmly, "I love my daughter." Softly smiling back at him, Karen replied, "And though she doesn't know it yet, Joe, I love your daughter too." Having obviously obtained the answer he'd been looking for, Joe relaxed back into his chair. "Why don't you tell her, if that's the way you really feel?" He asked, thinking that it was possibly the most legitimate question he'd asked that evening. "Because I don't think she's quite ready to hear it," Karen told him, without adding the suspicion that she didn't think George would ever be ready to hear that particular sentiment from her.
Saying that she wouldn't be long, George left with her father to drive him home. Karen took her glass out into the garden, taking in the cool evening air, her thoughts lingering over the slowly growing question of how long this relationship with George would really last. She wasn't stupid, she could sense that George's attention was somewhere else at the moment, but George didn't seem able to tell her. Well, that was the point of a fairly free and easy relationship, wasn't it, but Karen found herself realising that this was no longer what she wanted. She wanted everything, the commitment, the difficulties, everything, and at the same time knowing for sure that she wouldn't get it.
In the car, George and her father were quiet for the most part, but when Joe asked, "I assume she is staying?" George came out of her quiet contemplation of the road ahead of her. "Daddy," She protested with a blush, always highly embarrassed at any of her father's fairly obvious enquiries into her sex life. Joe laughed. "And just how do you suppose you came into the world, young lady?" "My, 'coming into the world', as you put it, is something I'd really rather not contemplate," She replied tartly, making Joe laugh even more. "It happens to us all, you know," He said fondly. "Yes, I am very well aware of that, thank you," She said with an emerging grin of her own. Then, to put him in his place for embarrassing her, she added, "And yes, Karen is staying with me tonight, and I should imagine I will enjoy every minute of it." "Stop, right, there," Joe said firmly. "I have no desire whatsoever to know the details." "Well, then, don't ask," She quipped back, as ever determined to have the last word. They lapsed into silence again, until they turned into Joe's gravel driveway. When she brought the car to a stop by the front door, he put out a hand and briefly touched one of hers. "Don't take Karen too much for granted," He said gently, causing her eyes to widen in response. "You were testing her, weren't you," She said in realisation. "That's what this evening was all about." "Not really," Joe replied evasively. "Karen was clearly looking for an outlet after a very frustrating day, and when deftly prodded into a heated discussion, she reacted with admirable finesse. If I took advantage of that invaluable opportunity, to assess the woman my daughter has become involved with, you can hardly blame me. All I am trying to say to you is, that in not wanting very much from her, you are in fact expecting an awful lot." "I don't understand," George said quietly, wondering just what he'd managed to deduce from this evening. "You go away and think about it," Joe told her, always wanting her to work the puzzle out for herself if she could. But as he reached for the door handle, she put out a hand to stop him. "Daddy," She said softly. "Don't get too attached to her, will you?" "Just you think about what I've said," He replied cryptically, getting out of the car and walking towards the house, leaving her with more than one niggling question in her mind. As she drove away, she knew that in another couple of weeks, perhaps even less, the time would come, to end what was between her and Karen, to shatter all the pointless hopes her father seemed to have for her in that direction, and to make the way clear for she and Jo to bring John up to speed with the unstoppable progression of their feelings. But this wasn't going to happen tonight, not if she could help it. For tonight, George wanted to be with Karen, and only Karen, to make love with her, to exchange the touches and kisses and murmurs of pleasure that had become so familiar to both of them.