"I can look after myself, John," grumbled Joe testily." I've slept on it and I've decided that I'm visiting George in hospital today"
"You're sure, Joe?" John queried which irritated Joe especially as he had the worst hangover that he had ever had for years.
"She is my daughter, after all. I must go"
John glanced quizzickly at the determined tone in his voice. This was the obstinate, stubborn behaviour of a generation, which had withstood Hitler's massed armies, and was later hard to live with for the rebellious, up and coming generation. Of course, George had acted in her perverse fashion by inheriting this quality, and sneakily customizing it to her own needs.
"I wasn't myself last night. Forget all that emotional drivel I came out with. There's nothing that a strong cup of coffee can't sort out early in the morning. I must admit that I dislike this damned American habit of eternal coffee but it does have its uses from time to time"
Long experience had taught John to know better than to persist in disagreeing. Last night, the older man had gone on a spectacular bender, and he was clearly suffering the consequences. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and gave way.
When the purr of John's engine had faded away, Joe took a good look at himself in his mirror. He had verbally reassured John more heartily than he inwardly believed and felt pretty rough. He splashed water over his face to revive himself, and smartened himself up as his way of facing up to his fears. It was when he was looking for some prop, external or internal, that the brainwave crossed his mind to distract himself. It was only the matter of moments, to fish out the car keys and seat himself in his highly polished, ornamental but rarely driven Rolls. His long experience emboldened him to set it into motion with a shaky but still active sense for the feel of the controls. It gave him pride in himself, as he was seated so high up when compared with the streamlined, low slung, bullet shaped vehicles. Hmmh, he snorted to himself, they were cheap imitations and a direct corruption of the original idea of the freedom of the road. They bore as much resemblance to his car as a damned soap opera did to a Shakespearean tragedy. They had no class, no sense of style. The keen winter air that found its way into the driving compartment started to clear his head, and cheered him up as he poked the accelerator and shot past the nose of some modern machinery with a commendably executed swerve.
Ancient driving instincts took him to the outside of the Hadlington hospital, which he had not visited for a long time. He pulled his car into the side and peered at the new fangled turnstile and, grumbling at the gadgetry, put a coin in the slot, and selected a parking space at a distance from all other cars. It spread over into two spaces and the distinctive silver bonnet stuck out beyond the white painted designated parking area. He carefully locked up each door of his pride and joy with a faint mischievous expression on his face. Then, looking nervously around in case some wretched hound dared to scratch his car, he bustled himself over to the foyer according to the directions that John had given him.
"Ms Channing? Who shall I say is calling?" asked the nurse in the breathtaking surroundings of the grand foyer.
"Her father," rumbled Joe in tones of immense pride.
The nurse blinked and took another look at the distinguished looking old man, sensing his lifetime's experience of masterful dominance. He was clearly different from the usual patient of a similar age, accustomed to passively accepting his limbo state as a prelude to passing away peacefully. Even though that damned headache hurt him, he graciously let the pretty nurse lead the way throughout the spacious luxury of a private hospital.
Joe turned into George's room with assumed confidence and a wide smile, though her face was tinged with fear when she saw him. Daddy had come to visit her as she somehow expected he would. Her sharp eye detected that despite his bluff, hearty manner, the redness round his eyes suggested that he had been drinking the night before.
"Daddy, how good of you to call"
"Well, seeing that you aren't able to visit me at my house, I thought I'd better visit you here"
Joe's sharp eyes detected that flash of guilt on George's face that someone like Houghton would never notice in a thousand years.
"I meant to phone you or call on you before but I never got round to it"
"John explained everything when he called round last night." Joe answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. The sharp glance from her father told George that she wasn't forced to repeat what John had told him already though he wasn't stopping her.
"Can you believe me that I buried my head in the sand and hoped that everything would go away if I did my best to keep quiet about it"
"Very easily as I've been proud for so long of my beautiful talented daughter"
Joe put particular intonation on the word 'talented' as he expertly avoided the trap that lay at his feet. George smiled briefly but made no reply.
"Everyone is afraid of losing their looks as they get older and, believe it or not, there was a time that I had the good looks of Lawrence Olivier in his prime."
George looked at him with disbelief as Joe continued. She had not quite erased the belief that parents were born old, which was quite compatible with her own enduring beauty and mother of a grown up daughter. Daddy was different.
"What lovely lilies they are." Joe commented.
"Karen brought them round when she visited me"
"You see, I'm not the one who cares for you." Joe replied brightly.
The conversation meandered onwards. Joe took care not to look too closely in the direction of that portion of George, which had been operated on. George could not help noticing his gaze. The conversation became strained, as they both skated round the matter of the operation until the words that had been at the back of Joe's mind came out without thinking.
"What is troubling you, George?"
"I'm frightened that John won't be able to love me any more"
"Nonsense," boomed Joe." John came round to my house last night and, between you and me, we had a few drinks"
"Just a few, daddy. You know what your doctor keeps telling you." pursued George, in those affectionately nagging tones that virtuous children adopt for their errant parents.
"Well, more than a few, but we had a good talk, or rather I talked a lot about you but when John wasn't doing his best to reassure me, he let slip that he was a lot more worried about you than he let on. He will love you for who you are, George"
George smiled faintly as Joe struggled in his awkward fashion to reassure her of John's constancy of will. Daddy meant well and was trying his best but it wasn't enough. She was becoming tired by the concentration in keeping up with conversation and, as visiting time came close to an end, George did her token effort to keep command of the situation.
"I'll call a nurse to phone up for a taxi, daddy."
"Actually, that won't be necessary, George. I drove over here and showed some of those young whippersnappers a thing or two about driving, " Came Joe's answer with a mixture of understated nonchalance and bravado, while a wicked smile spread over her face.
"But, daddy, you hardly drive these days"
"Well, today was an exception and for a special occasion." Joe pronounced loftily.
"You haven't done anything which you may later regret. I know you," she declared. She spoke almost severely to Joe with that firm tone in her voice which she had developed when she was young and which John would get to recognize and, in turn, would pass on to Charlie as if it were a female gene.
"Nonsense, it's as easy as riding a bike. Once you get the knack, you never lose it"
Beneath her severe manner, there was something about him in these mischievous moments, which she ought to reprove, but which she couldn't help but find endearing about him. Beneath his gaze, he knew full well what effect it was having on George and that it raised her spirits.
Eventually, Joe had to take his leave and fortunately it was still light outside. As George lay back in her comfortable bed with a paperback, she realized that she worried occasionally about her father, that he was getting old. On balance, it was fortunate that there was recklessness about him to defy the odds. It was becoming more pronounced than ever, as he and John had become close after all the years of separation. It kept him young at heart. It crossed her mind that her divorce from John hadn't just split their own relationship. As she and John had become true friends again and sometime lovers, Joe and John had gravitated back to the way they always were without anything being said. She admired and revered daddy but she did worry about him sometimes.