God's Crusade

Part Twenty-Eight

Campaign Fever

April 2041

"Soon, as far as I can gather," Robin Sullivan, the junior defence minister, sighed into the telephone, waving his wife to a chair and making a yapping sign with his hand to indicate that the conversation was going on a bit longer. Imogen Sullivan grinned and sank into the seat opposite him, her dressing gown wrapped all around her. "Christ Simon...if that wasn't an election speech I'd really hate to listen to the man when he starts campaigning...Buckingham must have given him the nod and we all need to prepare. Ok...yup...and I'll get Joe to call you later on."

"Problems?" Imogen asked as he slammed the receiver back down and made a face. He was tense. She could always tell.

"Some of them don't seem to understand that this might be our only chance. If Radcliffe replaces Buckingham, he is still only a young man...fifty two or whatever...he could rule for twenty years. It's now or never for us."

"And that really doesn't bear thinking about," Imogen murmured ironically. However her husband either disregarded her comment or failed to hear it. His ambitions were for the good of everyone. Including her of course, even if she did not necessarily agree.

"So...what are you doing today?" He asked, reaching for his tie and lifting the collar of his shirt, getting ready to leave. He was interested, he wanted her to be involved, engaged, even though he knew she found it hard sometimes. It was hard for women, he got that. He was working to change things for them, to make life easier. Imogen was his inspiration to work harder, to show a softer side of the renaissance. That was why he could not stand by and watch Kieran Radcliffe rise to power without a challenge.

"Oh a lunch with Mrs Munroe and all her cronies...and when I get back Charlie will have some playmates here, so it will be a long afternoon...please tell me you're not inviting anyone for dinner?"

"I won't be here for dinner; I'll stay at the House. Charlie won't be happy then?"

"She isn't...but she just has to learn...doesn't she?" Imogen suggested, running her fingers through her wet hair. "And if you run for the leadership it's only going to get worse. Much worse Robin?"

"But better if I win...at least a little," Sullivan grinned, a point he had made many times in the past, before kissing her and taking his leave.

Imogen went back upstairs and joined their daughter, and Dee, her best friend and loyal guardian, in the big room they had turned into a dressing room and hiding place. Dee was still nagging Charlie. Her daughter was sixteen, and caught, extremely uncomfortably, right between two, possibly three, rock hard stools. Rob and Imogen had chosen not to start veiling her when her menstruation started, when Charlotte was almost thirteen, which was only just about socially acceptable. It had caused a few raised eyebrows at the time, because people of their class, and people in Robin's occupation, tended to be more conservative than less, and they could conspicuously afford to do it properly, but they had played the eldest daughter card, letting people assume that they spoiled Charlotte rotten. And that was true, Imogen reflected, pouring herself some tea and trying not to get caught up in the simmering squabble between her best friend and her daughter. In the end they had started her maidenhood when she was fifteen, which was much too late. Charlotte knew the rules and knew that she was lucky deep down, but she still griped and grumbled about the smallest things. In the middle of the modern renaissance, Imogen recognised that as the epitome of the spoiled teenager. If her parents really were the Draconian monsters she sometimes suggested they were, Charlotte would not be allowed to moan.

"Can't I be sick? Call them and tell them I have a cold or something...you can't wear a muzzle when you have a cold...and they won't want their precious little angels catching my germs, will they?" Charlotte insisted, her own dressing gown hanging open to reveal her long Mickey Mouse night shirt underneath, the facade exposed for all to see. Dee was the only one dressed to face the world outside the front door. Her role as guardian meant that she would have to answer the door to any unscheduled callers and would have to do so in character. Her sombre grey gown served as a reminder to Imogen of what they really were, but her daughter did not even seem to notice.