The Sweetest Dream

They sat silent, listening to Joh

' Perhaps you could all do the washing-up,’ said Frances. ' I've got to work. Goodnight. '

She lingered to see who would take up this invitation. Geoffrey of course, the good little boy; Jill, who was clearly in love with handsome Geoffrey; Daniel because he was in love with Geoffrey but probably didn't know it; Lucy... well, all of them, really. Rose?

Rose sat on: she was fucked if she was going to be made use of.

The influences of Christmas Day, that contumacious festival, were spreading dismay as early as the evening of the 12th of December when, to Frances's surprise, she found she was drinking to the independence of Kenya. James lifted his glass, brimming with Rioja, and said, 'To Kenyatta, to Kenya, to Freedom.' As always, his warm friendly, if public, face under the tumbling locks of black hair, sent messages all around of unlimited reservoirs of largesse of feeling. Excited eyes, fervent faces: Joh

A vast meal had been consumed, a little of it by Sylvia, who was as always by Frances's left elbow. In her glass was a stain of red: Andrew had said she must drink a little, it was good for her, and Julia had supported him. The cigarette smoke was denser than usual; it seemed that everyone was smoking tonight, because of the liberation of Kenya. Not Colin, he was batting away waves of smoke as they reached his face. 'Your lungs will rot,' he said. ‘Well, it's just tonight,’ said Andrew.

‘I’m going to Nairobi for Christmas, ' James a

‘Oh, are your parents going?' Frances unthinkingly asked, and a silence rebuked her.

‘Is it likely?’ sneered Rose, stubbing out her cigarette and furiously lighting another.

James rebuked her with, 'My father was fighting in Kenya. He was a soldier. He says it's a good place. '

'Oh, so your parents are living there? Or pla

'No, they aren't living there,' said Rose. 'His father is an income tax inspector in Leeds.'

'So, is that a crime?' enquired Geoffrey.

' They are such squares,’ said Rose. ‘You wouldn't believe it.'

' They aren't so bad,’ said James, not liking this. ‘But we have to make allowances for people who are not yet politically conscious. '

‘Oh, so you are going to make your parents politically conscious – don't make me laugh,' said Rose.

‘I didn't say so,’ said James, turning away from his cousin, and towards Frances. ' I've seen Dad's photographs of Nairobi. It's groovy. That's why I'm going. '

Frances understood that there was no need to say anything as crass as, Have you got a passport? A visa? How are you going to pay for it? And you are only seventeen.

James was floating in the arms of a teenage dream, which was not underpi

What had been Frances's equivalent dream at, not sixteen, she had been a busy schoolgirl; but nineteen? Yes, she was pretty sure she had had fantasies, because of Joh

'You can't go to Kenya,' said Rose. 'Your parents will stop you.'

Brought down, James reached for his glass and emptied it.

'Since the subject has come up,' said Frances, 'I want to talk about Christmas?' Faced with already apprehensive faces, Frances found herself unable to go on. They knew what they were going to hear, because Andrew had already warned them.

Now he said, ‘You see, there isn't going to be a Christmas here this year. I am going to Phyllida for Christmas lunch. She rang me and said she hasn't heard from my... from Joh

‘Who doesn't?’ said Colin.

‘Oh, Colin,’ said Sophie, ' don't be like that. '

Colin said, not looking at anyone, ‘I am going to Sophie's because of her mother. She can't be alone on Christmas Day. '

‘But I thought you were Jewish,’ said Rose to Sophie.

‘We have always done Christmas,’ said Sophie. ‘When Daddy was alive...’ She went silent, biting her lips, her eyes filling.

‘And Sylvia here is going with Julia to Julia's friend,’ said Andrew.

‘And I,’ said Frances, ' propose to ignore Christmas altogether. '

‘But, Frances,’ said Sophie, ' that's awful, you can't. '

‘Not awful. Wonderful,’ said Frances. ‘And now, Geoffrey, don't you think you should go home for Christmas? You really should, you know. '

Geoffrey's polite face, ever attentive to what might be expected of him, smiled agreement. 'Yes, Frances. I know. You are right. I will go home. And my grandmother is dying, ' he added, in the same tone.

'Then, I'll go home too,' said Daniel. His red hair flamed, and his face went even redder, as he said, ‘I’ll come and visit you, then.'

' As you like,’ said Geoffrey revealing by this ungraciousness that perhaps he had been looking forward to a Daniel-free hols.

'James,' said Frances, 'please go home.'

'Are you throwing me out?' he said, good-humouredly. 'I don't blame you. Have I outstayed my welcome?'

' For now, yes,’ said Frances, who was by nature unable to throw anyone out permanently. ‘But what about school, James? Aren't you going to finish school?'

‘Of course he is,’ said Andrew, revealing that admonitions must have occurred. His four years seniority gave him the right. ' It's ridiculous, James, ' he went on, talking direct to James. ‘You've only got a year to go to A-levels. It won't kill you. '

‘You don't know my school,’ said James, but desperation had entered the equation. ' Ifyou did...’

' Anyone can suffer for a year,’ said Andrew. ' Or even three. Or four, ' he said, glancing guiltily at his mother: he was making revelations.

' Okay,’ said James. ‘I will. But...’ and here he looked at Frances, ' without the liberating airs of Frances's house I don't think I could survive. '

‘You can visit,’ said Frances. ' There's always weekends. '

There were left now Rose and the dark horse Jill, the always well-brushed, well-washed, polite, blonde girl, who hardly ever spoke, but listened, how she did listen.

'I'm not going home,' said Rose. 'I won't go.'

Frances said, ‘You do realise that your parents could sue me for alienating your affections – well, that kind of thing.'

' They don't care about me, ' declared Rose. ' They don't give a fuck. '

' That's not true,’ said Andrew. ‘You may not like them but they certainly care about you. They wrote to me. They seem to think I am a good influence.'

' That's a joke,’ said Rose.

The hinterlands behind this tiny exchange were acknowledged as glances were exchanged among the others.

‘I said I am not going,’ said Rose. She was darting trapped glances around at them all: they might have been her enemies.

'Listen, Rose,' said Frances, with the intention of keeping her dislike of the girl out of her voice, 'Liberty Hall is closing down over Christmas.' She had not specified for how long.