Chapter 5
Dora's Parents
Arthur and Prudence Maddocks were settled. It was the word they always preferred to use whenever anyone asked had they been disappointed not to have been blessed with children (this being at a time when IVF and suchlike was many years in the future). Que sera, sera, they replied, with resigned smiles. Oh, yes, adoption did cross their minds, certainly, but they had thought better of it. Perhaps after all it was God's plan that they shouldn't be parents, what with their busy, busy lives. So instead they made regular donations to children's charities. It was all one could do, they sighed virtuously.
In politics however it was all about image. The last thing they had ever wanted was children. Muddy, rough, stupid creatures. Arthur, one of four brothers, had lost count of the number of times some brat had drawn attention to his bald patch. Prudence, an only child brought up in semi-isolation in a semi-palace, had been mortified the day a small boy loudly asked (when she and Arthur had just been stopped on their way into The Houses of Parliament and an electrifying silence from the gathered crowd awaited Arthur's response to the question about the prime minister's mental health, for Heaven's sake!) "Mummy, why does that lady have a funny nose?"
She was very sensitive about her mis-shapen nose, broken many years ago in a horse-riding accident, and which gave her plummy accent nasal overtones. Unhappily the surgeon had advised there was a 50/50 chance surgery could actually make the problem worse and so Prudence chose to keep things as they were. Her breathing had been largely unaffected and most people, children excepted, were too polite to mention its lop-sidedness. Yes, children were to be avoided at all costs. But such being the perverse way of the world, every now and again a child crossed their path.
Once a year, they were subject to the Xmas Eve Family Dinner hosted at Henry Maddocks' imposing castle. Now this would have been fine, even enjoyable, the chance to quaff a few champagnes and relax away from the public eye that hobnobbing with ministers and governments demanded. Except…
Arthur's brothers Henry and Charles had two brats each, a boy and a girl, and although they had been brought up to be seen and not heard the whole atmosphere would inevitably be spoilt by eldest brother Geoffrey, who pandered to their every whim, ignored what the serving staff were actually there for and cut up their meat or mopped up their spilt drinks, soothed tears, actively encouraged the silly myth of Santa Claus by inventing even more tales about the fat man in a red suit and played any amount of silly games with them.
At least there was little danger of Dotty Geoffrey adding to the world population, Pru and Art agreed, when, nerves shattered, they finally returned to the childless haven of their own home. Geoffrey was a lone wolf more interested in saving the planet or the whale or three-legged dogs or some other idiotic pursuit, and while he did, every now and again, bring a girlfriend to the family dinner, they were inevitably as eccentric and horsey as himself, and far from being the settling down type.
And so the years passed, as years will.
The nieces and nephews grew up and scattered. Clarissa, a gifted musician, was accepted into the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and decided to concentrate more on her music than boyfriends; Robin, who spelt his name Robyn these days, finally admitted, as everyone had long suspected, that he "batted for the other side"; Winston sailed the world as a Naval captain and Penelope, now a mother of four, had long since emigrated to Texas, where she and her husband were kept busy overseeing a huge ranch and an ever growing brood.
A wonderful "no children" lull ensued and peace reigned supreme at the Xmas Eve Family Dinner. And as if all this good fortune wasn't enough, Art and Pru didn't have to worry anymore about birth control as Prudence had begun the menopause…