"Hey John, I told you we'd be there. We've seen and heard everything that's gone on. You are totally amazing," called out the tall dark haired woman who had edged to the front of the crowd.
"I must congratulate you in handling a street demonstration with so much style," a Scottish brogue proclaimed with clarion volume.
Nikki was smartly dressed in a long dark overcoat, the wind ruffling her hair, a broad smile on her face, eyes gleaming with excitement. She was holding hands with a smaller woman with striking features and a broad smile on her face. They had slid out from the rest of the crowd. Behind them, a windswept Trisha and Sally Anne smiled in a friendly fashion at the spectacle, which had impressed them and made getting up at such an early hour so worthwhile. Other women who were more shy and retiring had clung to the security of the crowd. Only Gill had failed to turn up.
Nikki and Helen looked up admiringly at the man who was overflowing with Olympian stature of personality and a profound capacity to use words as a righteous weapon. They could see with affection, how much of a show off and a performer he was, yet it was the truest, most glowing expression of himself. In turn, John's dazed mind took a little time to register the fact that Helen and Nikki had popped up out of nowhere and had been true to their word. Tears formed in his eyes at the thought that they, too, had come to lay their bodies on the line in the most meaningful fashion possible.
"Nikki's really impressed with your performance, John. She's done something like this a couple of times on my watch when I was being the bossy git in charge at Larkhall. In my book, you definitely get ten out of ten for style."
"Hey, what about the rest of us?" Monty asked in grinning joking tones to a chorus of laughter from the others. They didn't really mind being upstaged by John. For one he deserved it and for another, they thought affectionately of this talent of his.
"You are all totally marvellous and we are totally inspired by each and everyone of you but let's face it, John has the glamour."
"Typical John. He always has had a female fan club," laughed Joseph Channing, his spirits overflowing with comradeship.
"Ah, but we are women with a difference," laughed Nikki.
"At least, we're under the protection of the highest law in the land," joked Helen, her skin flushed with the cold and the heady excitement of the moment.
So the light-hearted banter carried on. All of them were sensitive people and realized that they were living a moment that was at the most intense level of felt experience. They were up high with the spirit of the occasion. This was one of those intensely spiritual moments of their lives that they would all recall in quieter moments. They were disengaged from that modern sense of the passing of time so that this precious moment could extend forward to limitless horizons. To Nikki, sharing the power just for the day of running G Wing with Yvonne, the Julies and Barbara meant exactly the same as exchangingconversation with these judges who were armed with supreme moral authority. It was a real comedown when Helen who had surreptitiously checked her watch signalled to Nikki that they had to make a move. A part of her didn't want to be torn away from that scene and she knew they had to move on.
"The comrades and I have to make a move. We've got to get to work and I've got an article to write up. I expect we'll meet again sometime," their radical friend politely interjected.
"So long as you're not in the wrong end of my court." Joked John. Instantly, he regretted his remark. He shook hands with the man, followed by Monty, Joseph and Morag.
While they had held back in their dealings with the others, it was only out of a peculiar sense of shyness, not having John's adaptability in mixing with all kinds of people and finding something in common with them. Their friend led the crowd away from the scene of their triumph and all that was left were the four of them, the policemen and the sound of transient traffic passing. Presently, the police shuffled their way down the street as they were needed elsewhere. Both women decided that this was their cue to say their goodbyes or they never would tear themselves away.
"Unfortunately, we have to make a move," Helen said slowly, feeling her words inadequate. "If there is any help you want from us, just say the word.""I think neither of you feel that the help you give is ever enough in this world." John said, a smile shining out of his eyes and glowing in his face. "Take it from us, you've done everything that could be expected of you. Till the next time."
The other judges murmured assent and the two women finally shook hands with the judges in comradely fashion and reluctantly moved away. Work was such a comedown by comparison. Nikki vowed mentally to herself that they would somehow, sometime meet again.
"What do we do now?" John asked as the emotional high tide began to ebb away and the feelings of tiredness, which had been kept at bay, returned with a vengeance. The mixed presence of the two forms of intimate comradeship still hung in the air."I'm all for another shot of whisky," came Morag's prompt response. They were feeling chilled to the bone and that was an excellent idea.
"Where do we go now?"
"Back to the digs." Exclaimed Joseph promptly. "You did say we could celebrate, John. I for one am not doing any of my normal work. That would be indecent and it can surely wait."
"Do we phone for a taxi?" Monty asked in vague tones. They were at that level of tiredness, when even banal matters take time in thinking through.
"I've a better idea. George will pick us up. She did promise us."
Fifteen minutes later, John spotted George's car in the line of traffic. Fortunately for her state of mind, there wasn't a policeman in sight.
"Do you seriously think that my car will be able to take all of you? I'm not driving a cattle truck." George exploded when John imperiously demanded that George took them all to the digs.
"I don't know. Perhaps Joseph ought to be in the front. The rest of us will squeeze in the back, somehow."
"It's the somehow that worries me." George said grudgingly, eyeing the space in the rear seats dubiously. She capitulated, as her poor Daddy was looking especially cold and tired. She permitted herself a secret smile as it struck her just how thin skinned and neurotic Neil was and that their protest might just work. She could not afford to be squeamish in letting the most disreputable means achieve her goal. She never had in the past so why stop now?
"Well, just for Daddy's sake, I agree but only on conditions."
"I might have known you'd drive a deal."
"For a start, I will not put up with any backseat drivers. If you don't like my driving, you can jolly well walk. For another, I do not want to see a single mark on my car."
George could feel the extra weight, as soon as she moved away and she drove with the utmost delicacy. It was uncomfortably sluggish when she braked, or when she accelerated. Only for that reason, were the passengers spared the aggressive style of George's driving in slicing in front of dithering weekend drivers.
"Is there a spare television that we can set up in the bar?" John enquired of the barman when they had piled into the digs.
"Why on earth do you have this unaccountable desire to watch daytime television?" George drawled with a knowing look in her eye, while the others looked as pleased as punch at the idea.
"Oh, only to watch the news. Nothing else."
"So you can see if the camera has caught your best profile, darling and minister to your vanity."
"Look who's talking. In any case, I know you really don't mean it, George."
"Just watch my lips."
"Never mind this infernal argument." Monty cut in, weary of this pointless bickering. "I'm dying for a drink."
"Do you want to join us, George?" came John's oh so innocent tones.
"I'm just checking on what Jo's doing just as a matter of interest." The expression on George's face was particularly unfathomable as she felt for her mobile and moved to a quiet corner of the bar, which was beginning to get noisy.
"Jo, I'm at the digs and I'll be getting drunk with that disreputable band of judges, including daddy. After all, someone's got to keep charge of them."
"George, you tell everyone 'well done' from me. John looked and sounded positively superb on TV," Jo replied, her voice shaken by emotion with her particular ability to let go and ignore any sense of public embarrassment.
"Yes, yes, Jo, but don't ever tell John that, or his head will swell so much that he'll never get through a normal sized door."
"Too late, George. He knows it already."
George grinned, clicked off the phone and made her way back to the table. She was going
to get her share of drinking in. She stood foursquare at the others and, hands on hips, looked John in the eye.
"Yes John, I'm being perfectly contrary in joining in your victory celebrations. You know very well what I really feel about how splendidly you've behaved. Now do you have a problem with me?"
"I wouldn't dream of arguing."
"Let's have a bottle of your finest malt," boomed Joseph, the light of incipient pleasure in his eye." None of your tiny thimble sized measures. Five glasses and the bottle, and leave the rest to us. We want to celebrate."
"I'll see to the chairs. You take the weight off your feet, John. You look about done in.," offered Monty in a concerned tone of voice.
"Nonsense, he's got more stamina than that," smirked George." As his ex wife, I should know."
John smiled weakly at the others. In their different ways, they were being kind hearted to him. He dropped down in his chair, more worn out than a particularly grueling fencing duel. In the meantime, Joseph's slightly shaking hand poured out recklessly large measures of neat spirit.
"Whew," Morag exclaimed." The fumes alone are enough to knock you out."
"I've had whisky that is strong enough to fuel a rocket to Mars and got us back to the pub for closing time." Declared Joseph roundly with firm conviction.
"My Lord," the barman called." We've found a portable television for you."
"That's excellent." John exclaimed, coming back to life." Can you set it up, so that we can all watch it?"
"And I'll pour another round," added Monty. There was a big smile on his lips. He was happy being sat in a comfortable bar chair, with good company and no Vera to put a damper on everything.
"This has all the signs of a drunken debauch," came George's non-committal observation.
"Are you complaining?"
"Only if you don't get me some soda. This whisky is stronger than paint stripper," came the cryptic reply as she sipped the smallest amount possible from her glass.
"We forgot to get it videoed, dammit," suddenly exclaimed Monty in a woebegone tone of voice.
"It's just as well that there is someone around with brains and organization," George retorted, an insufferably smug expression on her face." I taped it, while I was at home….well, I knew that none of you 'heroes of the revolution' would ever think of it."
John commandeered the remote control and flicked through the channels and, sure enough, the opening shot of the familiar sight of the Home Office headquarters came into view, only that the perspective was curiously detached. It did not feel that the viewer looked at the scene through their eyes.
"And now, news has just come in of extraordinary scenes outside the Home Office. Four judges, in full regalia, demonstrated outside the building, calling on the minister to withdraw the bill that would limit the powers of judges. There were minor scuffles, as they attempted to waylay Neil Haughton the Home Office minister. When interviewed about any future strike action, the leader, John Deed remarked that "If they have minds, then they can be open to reason and they should be large minded enough to admit their mistakes. The ball is in their court."
In the background, was shown the skirmish with Neil Haughton and his car and John's voice threatening to drown out the reporter. In a blink of an eye, a fragment of the press conference just came and went.
"A Home Office spokesman was not available for comment," concluded the interviewer before continuing with some item of pure trivia.
"Just that? The villains. I bet you that the BBC have been nobbled by those crooks," exploded Joseph Channing.
"Relax, Joseph. This will hit the press as well, not forgetting our worthy ally. They may try to minimize and misrepresent us but I bet you that we'll sleep easier in our beds tonight than Haughton will. Now drink up." Monty replied in hearty tones.
"That sounds a good idea. Draw a chair up, for George my splendid daughter and someone get a bottle of tonic water. We'll make this a day to remember."
Several hours later, a very prim and disapproving Vera stomped downstairs, dressed immaculately in her most unbearably pink suits. In contrast, the crowd of five sat with a nearly empty bottle between them and talking loudly. They seemed to be engaging with some long running joke that only they could understand.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," She said looking at Morag.
"Why, just because I can drink these three under the table?" Morag retorted, waving her glass vaguely in Vera's direction.
"I'll give you a run for your money, Morag," muttered George. She was surprised to find that she was holding up better than she expected.
"Monty, you are hanging out with bad and disreputable company. Must you disgrace yourself? I have my reputation to maintain amongst all the other judge's wives."
"Vera, I have mixed with people here and others who were outside the Home Office with us who are the very salt of the earth."
"I don't know what I did to deserve this."
"Vera," Monty retorted in firm, unyielding tones "We have struck a blow for freedom. Now will you have the goodness to either join in or go away and let us get on in peace with some serious drinking?"
As Vera stomped off in high dudgeon, Joseph refilled their glasses with generous measures.
"I'll never drink malt whisky again," groaned John, his head in his hands, as George discreetly poured him a cup of strong coffee on Saturday morning. They had gathered at the obvious strike headquarters, which was Joseph Channing's baronial mansion. The newspapers were spread discreetly on the table, including a mysterious brown envelope. They had covered the strike more or less sympathetically, but in the envelope, he and the merry band of men and women were centre stage on Page 1, with an excellent write up. Somehow, he managed to upstage everyone else in the front-page photo. He had never achieved this amount of fame in his student days.
There was a knock on the door and Morag breezily walked in, looking as cool and as fresh as she ever did. It hurt his eyes to look at her.
"They say that sex is the best cure for everything," came her cool voice from out of his line of vision.
"For the first time in my life, Morag, I can definitely say it does have its limitations. I would never have believed it."
"This must be the first time I've seen you the morning after a night on the tiles and regretting it." Grinned Jo as she saw the human wreckage laid out before her. It was just as well that George kept her away from the party.
"My mind thinks so but I wish my body did." Mumbled John as he reached for the glass of Alka Seltzer that was fizzing away sympathetically at him.