The Bonfire of the Sanities
December 2024
'It was better to dwell in the wilderness, than with a contentious and an angry woman.'
Proverbs 21:19
India Eleanor Trevor was born on a Saturday night early in December. Sir Harry Trevor was present, dutifully holding her wife's hand as the nuns fussed around, but it was a simple birth, at home, Brogan's third, and they were soon left alone. Brogan cradled the little mite in her arms, and Harry perched on the edge of the bed, his expression full of pride. Fatherhood was one of God's miracles and it had moved him visibly each time. He had never loved Brogan more than at that moment, with his first daughter in her arms. His family seemed complete in God's love.
"How would you like to sleep tonight?" He asked, after a while.
"Is that up to me?" Brogan murmured, not looking up from her baby. She was tired but she was not about to let him forget his mistakes. The tone in her voice surprised him, and made him catch his breath. He was losing patience.
"You need to rest, and I will tell Miss Howard to do as you request...she will need another feed at some stage of course...but you should sleep whilst you can."
"Our first born was put to my breast inside the sleeping gown, as I remember. It is possible as long as the guardian positions me correctly I believe."
"I forget all the mundane details." Harry stiffened slightly, annoyed by her attitude. He assumed that she was tired, but there were limits to his tolerance. If she intended to fight a battle of wills, he was determined that she would lose it. She would always lose. He could admire her spirit at times but her behaviour often shamed him, and worse, provoked him into proving that he remained master in his own house.
"I have certainly earned the choice."
"It is my gift to you...nothing is earned...except God's love...or deserved...it is just within my gift, Brogan...as you are my wife and a Daughter of Eve. It is not your choice."
"Oh what it is to have such power, Sir." Brogan did not raise her voice. Harry thought that her calmness made it all so much worse; her disdain, her unspoken insolence. He could hear just a little contempt in her tone. Not enough to castigate her, but enough so that he knew it was there. She made him angrier than anyone else, quicker than anyone else. "But thank you...for giving me this moment of peace with our daughter before having me settled for the night."
"I just thought that you should sleep...the night nurse will settle the baby for us." Harry protested, finally showing his frustrations. He had just watched his wife give birth to his first daughter, and she was accusing him of carelessness? It was unbelievable. But just for once he would not be provoked, despite her impudence. "But there is no rush if you want to hold her a while longer."
"As long as I can, before she is muzzled and covered from head to toe."
"She will grow in God's loving embrace."
"She will grow inside a gilded cage." Brogan hardly said it, almost thinking aloud, as India tried to grip her finger. Her daughter would know no different, of course. Maybe that would be better for her. Brogan sometimes wished that she had decided not to try and expose the Reformists, but if she had not done so, if she had written something else, she would not have India, and she would not have her boys. But she was hardly a hands-on mother. Most of the time she was not allowed the use of her hands at all.
"Are you still worried about Eloise and Grace?" Harry sighed again, grasping the nettle. It was the elephant in their room all of the time. He was tired of it, because it was none of his wife's business. He was doing his best for the girls in the circumstances. "We are their closest living relatives and I intend to adopt them, to treat them exactly as I will treat this little one as one of our family. Honestly Brogan, the way you react you would think that you were the only one who cares for them...you are not being fair."
"Of course Sir, you always know best...our idea of caring is a little different, I suppose...I offer them love, support and understanding if and when I can, and you...imprison them and brainwash them and silence them...as you say, you know best."
Harry bit his tongue. He kissed his wife and daughter and left them to rest, furious about such impertinence but unwilling to rise to it, to give Brogan the satisfaction of baiting him like a lovesick boy. He sent the night nurse in to put the baby down and asked Miss Howard to attend to his wife. She asked him what his wishes were.
"She needs a proper night's sleep with no distractions as far as possible." He replied, his expression hard as he took his inevitable revenge. "Put her in her sleeping gown for the night Miss Howard...she deserves the rest. Express some milk for the baby later...there will be no need to disturb my wife until the morning. She will no doubt appreciate the chance to sleep in God's loving embrace."
'The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles.'
Psalms 34:17
Chloe Ford tried to concentrate on her studies. She was doing her best, but it was never good enough, not even for her. She did not know why. She knew her duty. She had faith, and she respected her parents, and she knew that she was so fortunate to attract such a wealthy and important man as Kieran Radcliffe. She could not blame him for growing impatient. He wanted to marry her and he did not want to wait much longer, even though Mr Munroe cautioned him that she needed more time. So he had employed his own guardian to look after her, as he would have done anyway when they were married, as Miss Harris had the Munroe children to care for and had failed to make fast enough progress with Chloe, and Mr Radcliffe decided that Chloe needed closer attention, one to one. Hidden beneath her velvet covers, in a world of her own with Pastor Winstanley's recorded voice, she wondered who it would be and what she would be like. The next person to touch her would be her guardian for the foreseeable future, and probably on into her marriage, if she was ever considered worthy of that honour.
"Sit quite still, Miss Chloe. Maidens never move without permission during study periods as you very well know." A voice said, as the lesson abruptly stopped and Chloe started at the touch of a hand on her shoulder. "Nothing should ever surprise you, dear. If you are studying properly you should not even notice. From this moment on, do not even think of anything else. Let me do all your thinking for you, so that you can concentrate on your wedding and your duty in God's loving embrace."
Miss Scott did not need to introduce herself. Chloe could not respond, but even without her muzzle she doubted if she would have been able to find the words to do so. Her old mentor, a guardian with a reputation that certainly exceeded hers, and once even her friend, a person she turned to for advice. For the very first time, as the stark realisation of who her guardian was hit her, Chloe knew that she really was marrying Kieran Radcliffe. Miss Scott would not give her any other choice. It all became slightly surreal for her. She was guided to her room as usual, and undressed ready for her bath, until she was standing before Miss Scott naked apart from her mittens and muzzle. Miss Scott did not say anything for some time. She just stood there, as still as a statue, staring at her nervous charge.
"I am going to beat you for moving when I ended your lesson, Chloe. It is a relatively minor infraction, but you know as well as I do that it is unacceptable. You know better and I will not tolerate such behaviour. Enough is enough, my girl...whatever you have been, you are a maiden now and so help me God I am going to make sure that you are a good one."
For the second time in her life, and since her maidenhood truly began, Chloe endured a severe beating at the hands of her guardian, and it was all the more painful at the hands of her former mentor. Miss Scott knew her better than anyone else. Better than her parents. Daphne Scott knew what Chloe was, how good a guardian she was, and almost instinctively Chloe knew that her former mentor knew exactly how she felt. But that did not matter. Miss Scott was her guardian and she would force her charge to embrace her future. Her blows, dozens of them, were delivered with some harsh words because no maiden could disrespect her destiny in God's love. Chloe needed to drive out her sins and learn her place.
'Houses and riches are the inheritance of fathers: and a prudent wide is from the Lord.'
Proverbs 19:14
Pastor Nigel Brown and his parents were not rich, and it would not really do for a Pastor's wedding to be too ostentatious in any case, so Geoff Robinson did not really need to invest too much, either. It was another reason to be thankful for the match, and Megan simply wore a gleaming white silk robe over an ordinary gown, with just her younger sister in attendance to her. The entire congregation were there; all ninety of them, and Nigel managed to get his old tutor from Theological College to officiate. It was a traditional service. Four hours long with muzzles compulsory for all women present, a good chance to get all of his parishioners following the precise doctrine for once. His new wife looked radiant, and set exactly the right example.
Megan had not argued with her father. She did not see the point, anymore. She had no say and she did not dislike Nigel, apart from his beliefs, but she had lost that battle months ago anyway. She endured the ceremony and the reception, and finally left attended by the nuns based at the church, who would add her guardianship to their duties under the Pastor. She knew that she was no longer a part-time Reformist, putting on some sort of act under pressure from her parents, and she was not surprised when she was undressed and put into a sleeping gown, still in her mittens and muzzle. Nigel had no desire to see her body. He wanted her to procreate, nothing more. It was not quite how she had imagined losing her virginity but beggars could not be choosers in the cold early light of the modern renaissance. He fumbled around rather a lot, finding the right opening in the end, before using his fingers and some sort of cold gel to lubricate her. It was not exactly romantic. Then she felt him on top of her and she surrendered to God's loving embrace.
Bethany's frustration made it all bearable. Megan felt that she had beaten her sister to an escape, somehow. For all her sister's scheming and creeping she was still at home, still subject to the whims of their father, whilst Megan had Nigel. Bethany had suffered during their visit to Meadvale and their father was not impressed, so Megan left her behind in some sort of disgrace for a change. She was not exactly happy to be Nigel Brown's wife, but she was not unhappy either; she understood that it could have been worse. It had to be better than staying at home and living like some sort of overgrown child, she reasoned, and she was determined to make the best of it. She preferred marriage to a convent and although she was amongst the first to succumb to the Reformist revolution she already realised that she would not be the last as momentum continued to rise.
'Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil.'
Matthew 5:17
"Colin, I am your friend, I would not lie to you." Gary Pallister said with feeling as the two men stared into each other's eyes across the interview table. It was a small room, cold, with metal furniture all screwed to the floor, in the bowels of a police station, and Colin Hughes looked as if he had been there forever. "You cannot fight this...it will only make it worse."
"Ok...I get the fact that I am guilty of negligence because I allowed my child to have sex underage. But how can they hold her in custody?" Colin asked, not for the first time. But the solicitor provided by the police was not his friend, and he wanted to hear it from Gary. They had been at university together, and once travelled to football games all over Europe as young men. He trusted Gary as much as he trusted anyone in Britain.
"She is in care...protective custody if you like. Because of her age, she is not held at all responsible for the actual act of sex...instead, it is automatically recorded as statutory rape of a minor. Normally she would be taken into care, to protect her from you and for counselling to restore her honour."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"A convent 'education' and an operation to restore her hymen...then, when she is released she would be given the status of legal virgin and is free to marry without shame. No stigma can be attached to a child...as she is a victim of your negligence."
"Gary...this is important...would it be better if she was older?"
"Colin, this is not a game..."
"Just answer the question...would it be better if she was over the legal age of consent?"
"But she isn't..."
"Gary...humour me."
"Better for whom?"
"For her, of course."
"No, worse. She would be investigated to determine the extent of her sexual activity, and to decide if she was raped or entered willingly into sexual intercourse. Normally of course, it is the latter, and then she takes most of the blame. You would still be guilty of negligence, but also of failing to protect others from your daughter."
"But it happened abroad, where she did nothing illegal...if she was older?"
"No, you are judged as British because of your passport, it doesn't matter where you were in the eyes of the law...and she isn't older. We can claim it happened when she was with her mother, and you knew nothing about it, but your divorce and subsequent clear failure to supervise your wards properly would still count against you. At best you are looking at a fine and deportation, at worst five years. Natasha cannot be returned to you, because once convicted of negligence you are deemed as unfit to care for children, so she will routinely go into care."
"Can't she be returned to her mother?"
"She can, but her mother, and her legal guardian, presumably the stepfather if you were out of the picture, would have to appear before the court to gain custody of Natasha. One or both of them would then be arrested on the same charge as you, and Natasha would remain in care regardless. For God's sake, Colin...don't you read the newspapers or watch the fucking news anymore? Why the hell did you bring her back here?"
"Because I am a prick."
"Look, I will do my best...tell me everything...give me your wife's number...but don't get your hopes up. This is an area where the Reformists never cooperate...because they have public opinion on their side. She is underage and she has been raped...wherever it happened and however innocent it was, it is what they are fighting against...so you will face the full weight of the law."
'Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord.'
Psalms 31:24
"These numbers are interesting," Peter Munroe commented, looking over Harry Trevor's shoulder to explain his figures.
"You would say that, Peter." Harry chuckled, as his friend clapped him on the back. "Have you ever seen a spreadsheet you didn't find fascinating?"
"Ha bloody ha...emigration has increased...more people moving to places like Australia, but only by about fifty percent...and not huge numbers. But when you drill down, they are almost all undesirables...the ones who would never willingly convert, and the better off, so much harder to put pressure on as well if we are honest. But immigration is up too, not quite as much, which ultimately means we have slightly fewer mouths to feed, and more importantly they are coming here for the right reasons, with jobs...not as burdens on the state. More Muslims of course, because we are seen as a partner culture for them but also a lot of good Christians. Lots of Americans suddenly want to be posted here, mostly our Baptist friends I am glad to say. We are shipping all the bad apples out and getting shiny, friendly new ones in return who want to be here."
"It's still too slow though Peter...we do need to make faster progress." Harry sighed, sitting back in his chair.
"The snowball is gathering pace...it will get faster. I believe Michael is beavering away on some high profile recruits...well I know he is, as I have been helping him a little."
'That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.'
1 Corinthians 2:5
"Monsieur Catalane, so nice to see you again...I hope you are well?" Charles Buckingham smiled, shaking hands with the French ambassador as the small man strode into his office like a strutting peacock in a Saville Row suit. "Coffee by the fire?"
"Merci, Prime Minister...thank you for seeing me at such short notice."
"My pleasure...but a distressing business...a curse of this modern age."
"Quite so, and something of an embarrassment, for France." Catalane replied, settling in his chair and accepting a cup of black coffee from the principal private secretary.
"Child abuse is not purely a French disease. I don't think any blame attaches to you or your people." Charles said, choosing his words with patent care. His differences with his European partners were many but relationships were being maintained for the common good. Britain's economic recovery was matched only by the German's in Europe. Every other proud member of the European Union had received considerable financial assistance, technically from the World Monetary Fund and the European Central Bank, but a large slice of the money needed Charles Buckingham's signature on the cheques. No longer the poor relations, Britain could afford to plough its own furrow a little more robustly than ever before.
"Sir Charles, these poor people have been living blamelessly in France for some years...the crime committed is more usually treated with a little more...commonsense...in France. If the...act...was between two consenting young people it would not be condemned at all...in fact, it is highly unlikely it would ever come to light in the first place. The severity of the punishments that may be handed down are likely to cause great distress at home?"
"Claude, your idea of commonsense and mine may differ a little," Charles smiled, sipping his own coffee. "Sex with a minor is child abuse...period...not something we can just shrug off and tolerate. Even if I agree with you that sexual intercourse between minors should not be classified as such, or indeed as rape, although the precise circumstances would still require some investigation, the fact is that the child in question should have been better protected by her parents, who remain British citizens. Random health checks are rather like random drugs tests...they are a deterrent, to support the laws. I can see how you might think it unfortunate that this poor young girl was checked, but she was and her abusers must be investigated... and if guilty, punished, of course...you must understand this. Whilst this sort of thing would rarely come to light in France, if it does it is investigated...I believe?"
"I can appreciate your position, Sir Charles...and fining the father and deporting him would not be the end of the world, I am sure. But incarcerating the child..."
"She would be taken into care, not incarcerated, Claude." Charles pointed out, not giving an inch. He had found it the best strategy in Europe. His intransigence was legendary in Brussels and he was known for standing his ground, so he was not going to stop doing so over that particular issue, just because it offended or embarrassed the French. "Social services would keep her out of harm's way until she reaches her maturity. She would hardly be thrown in a cell and fed on bread and water."
"Can you not see how this looks to the rest of Europe? Of course, we do respect the right of the British people to run its own internal affairs, but you are taking this poor girl away from her family?"
"Claude, removing a child from negligent parents is hardly extreme, and the real problem is that you do not respect our laws at all, of course. You still profoundly disagree with them and you are frightened about what the press in Paris will say if you allow it to happen...but you are also equally frightened that we will withdraw your credit if you really upset us...so you are caught between what we call the devil and the deep blue sea..."
"An apt description, Sir Charles...and not an inaccurate one," Catalane grinned, accepting the point, quite accustomed to the rough and tumble of diplomatic relations. "I have always found your ability to, as you say, cut to the chase...rather refreshing...and often time saving of course. However, my President hopes that a compromise position could be found...perhaps if she was returned to the mother in France, but kept under close scrutiny from our own social services?"
"I cannot interfere with the due process of the courts, Claude."
"Of course...but you could make...representations...could you not?"
"Claude...you really must understand that this case is at the very heart of one of my own most basic beliefs...these laws are the most Reformist legislation we have as yet passed, by far. Promiscuity and sexual activity outside marriage are major social ills, and that we all let it go on for so long is a disgrace. The lax attitude you still have to children having sex appals me...and the people of this country who voted for me. I would have more sympathy with you if this girl was older, mature by your laws, and had lived in France since she was a child...and indeed we have turned a blind eye to many such people caught up in random checks as long as they abide by the new laws whilst here. It is not a general amnesty but as you say we have applied some commonsense, in many cases. But this is a child, Claude. You can argue about our new age limits as much as you want, but she would still be a child by the old limits, too, and that is pertinent here. Her parents are at best conspicuously guilty of negligence. I will not be a party to sending her back into that environment, Claude. Not as long as I breathe. As I understand it, the police cannot rule out the father yet, or indeed the stepfather, although they do say that they have little evidence to suspect either, but this child has been abused and she will be looked after as the courts decide regardless of French public opinion."
"But if the mother and her second husband were cleared?"
"Our courts would still hold them responsible for allowing her to be raped...it is negligence pure and simple...a classic example of what we are trying to eradicate. But you can make your representations to the court...the judge will decide, not me."