Finally I turn the corner into the main road. The water on the street’s not so deep here, but I can see more of the dark grey sky. I’m soaking wet and try to shake the rainwater from my head as I approach the gates to Casa Amanhã. They’re closed, the chain with the padlock wrapped around the bars in the middle. I can barely see the house for the rain, just the outline of the building slightly darker than the sky behind it. I can’t make out any of its features.
I don’t have the padlock key; no pockets for it to be hiding in, and it’s not around my neck on its leather cord. I grasp hold of the padlock and it just comes apart in my hands, the chain sliding around the bars before falling to the ground. Even though I’ve not touched them, the gates open inwards by themselves with a dull screech. I walk down the driveway, which has become a gravelly swamp with puddles dotted around, clumps of grass and weeds poking through here and there.
The door to the restaurant is closed, boarded up just like the windows. The front door’s open, though. I walk carefully up the two steps because they’re slippery. It’s gloomy inside the house; I feel like I’m trespassing somehow, even though it’s obvious nobody’s been here for years. Lottie’s novels are covered in a yellow slime, as are all the walls. Gingerly I begin to climb the staircase, the doors to all the bedrooms are covered with planks of wood, seemingly nailed there hastily like they’re designed to keep something from bursting out. There must be holes in the roof because the rain’s coming in, drops passing me on their way down to the vestibule.
The door to Room Seven is open. The red duvet is smeared with the same yellow slime. One of the French windows is ajar; several of its panes are smashed and the broken glass is strewn on the tiled floor.
Into the bathroom I go; there’s the painting hanging lop-sided from the wall as usual, but the picture itself has changed. The fisherman’s no longer serene, he’s angry. His eyes are wide open, just like his mouth which is frozen in a snarl. He stares furiously at me, as if he might at any point reach out from the painting and attack. I can’t look at him as I pick up the painting off its hook, and pull it away from the wall. Another crack of thunder from outside, right above the house by the sounds of it.
The alcove’s here, dark and empty. It seems deeper than before, though; I can’t see the back of it. I put my hand inside, feeling around for a note or anything. My arm keeps going in, impossibly, the sides of the alcove feel slick. Then I hear the noise and barely have enough time to pull my hand back out before hundreds – no thousands of bees come flying out of the alcove, batting against me as I take a step back, trying to scream. More of them come, attaching themselves to my arms and legs, crawling up my neck. Still more of them are pouring out of the alcove, their buzzing getting louder.
I turn and run out of the bathroom, trying to make my way out of Room Seven back to the staircase but I can’t really see because bees are covering my head, crawling into my mouth, ears and eye sockets. I trip at the top of the staircase, go flying over the handrail and begin to plummet down the stairwell, all the time still covered in the bees.
I was woken by the sound of James’s feet stomping up the staircase. ‘Are you up here, L?’
‘Yes.’
His head came into view. ‘What happened? You left PMQs before it even started,’ He looked worried, but not obviously about me.
‘I felt a migraine coming on,’ I looked away from him, staring up at the small windows. ‘I was worried I might be sick.’
‘If you weren’t feeling well, you shouldn’t have gone,’ He sighed quietly. ‘It’s fine, we’ll just have questions about your exit to answer, I’ll tell Rosie.’ He didn’t sit down, I could just see the side of his suit jacket in my field of vision. He was tapping his foot lightly as he was firing off a message. ‘Well, there’s not much we can do about it now, except to give you some more rest. Have you been taking any medication, by the way?’ He was trying too hard to sound disinterested.
‘Medication for what?’
‘I don’t know, anything. It’s just that I’ve heard from the doctors in DC. They said there was something unusual about the results of your scans.’
‘Well, don’t you think I should’ve been told about that first?’
‘Shhh, L, it fine. They only asked me to ask you, that’s all. Anything?’
‘No,’ I said after a moment. ‘I’m not taking any medicine.’ That, strictly speaking, wasn’t a lie. ‘I want to keep going,’ I stood up shakily. I had to avoid extending my confinement to the flat where the walls seemed to be closing in. ‘Perhaps the Commons wasn’t the best place for my first outing.’
He bobbed his head from side to side slightly. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
‘But James, I really resent you telling everyone we’re getting the kids christened without discussing it with me first. I did say on the plane that I wasn’t keen.’
His eyes creased slightly at their outside edges. ‘I’m sorry, L. Heat of the moment, you know? I didn’t see the question coming and I just said it, you know, off-the-cuff.’ Only then did he take a step forward, tried to pick up my hand to hold it. ‘I’ve got to go to Geneva tonight, I promise we’ll discuss it at Chequers properly at the weekend, yeah?’
‘What are you doing in Geneva?’
He sighed, running his hand through his receding hair. ‘You should know this, hasn’t Anushka given you today’s grid? It’s the Middle East summit. Everyone’s going, Morgan included.’
‘Sorry, please don’t blame Anushka. She must have told me, it’s just…’ I began to cry again, hating myself for enjoying it.
James drew me close to him, put his hand behind my head, resting his forehead against mine. ‘Shhh, L. It’s fine.’ His breath was bilious. ‘You’ll get through this, I promise. Just let me know if you’re feeling remotely unwell, okay?’
‘Okay,’ I whispered. ‘Maybe I’ll take the kids to Chequers tomorrow morning, if you’re going to be away.’
James took a step back. ‘Sure, if that’s going to help,’ he said eventually. ‘Just make sure Anushka logs it all properly.’ The rules regarding the use of the PM’s country retreat were labyrinthine, to avoid any allegation of sleaze. ‘Right, I’ve got to get back to it. Let me know if you’re still feeling rough, alright?’
‘Yes,’ I had recovered some composure. ‘What time’s your flight?’
‘Oh, about four, in the meantime I’ve got some meetings with the energy companies. More bashing of heads together, I’m afraid.’ He grinned, insincerely. ‘Got to run. Give the kids a kiss goodnight for me, will you?’
Bobby and Sadie were both delighted when I announced they would be getting two days off school. It was something we avoided wherever possible, although there were contingencies in place. The school provided a little pack of activities for them so they’d keep up with the rest of their peers, it just required a call from Anushka early that afternoon to arrange. The next morning we left for Chequers in the car, leaving Number 10 through the back door. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the press watching me, that was nothing new. It was the reasons why I was being watched that gave me a newfound dread.
It took just under ninety minutes to drive from central London to Chequers, a special branch guard in the passenger seat while Anushka, me and the kids sat cramped in the back. I kept Sadie on my lap, managing to keep her quiet by loading cartoons for her to watch. I smelled her blond curly hair, noticed it was overdue for a cut. I thought about Luis, how he never found out whether or not Sadie was his. How terrifying it must have been for him, those last moments desperately trying to swim away from the approaching boat, I thought. Then it occurred to me, how did I know that? Because he told you, answered my consciousness. No he didn’t, I replied to it.
‘Mummy, how long would it take for me to get to Alpha Centuri?’ Bobby was happy enough doing his homework, his growing thirst for knowledge prompting surprisingly complex questions. I laughed, feeling like it was the first time I’d done so in months, but it only served as a tempo
rary respite from my worries. I didn’t understand how I could have strange memories of things, conversations with people who were dead, but they were there in my head - in a different way to how Lottie’s voice used to haunt me.
At the junction with the motorway there’d been an accident and the traffic slowed to a crawl. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a government agent walking down the inside lane towards the car, gun drawn. When I looked directly at him he was gone.
It had turned quite warm and sunny by the time we pulled into the driveway at Chequers. Immediately the kids bounded out of the car and ran into the house, where the housekeeping staff were waiting for us at the door. I paused in the courtyard, looking at the bronze statue in its centre. Hygeia, supposedly the ancient goddess of health, looking slightly frail and sad. Quite unlike myself, I silently asked for her blessing as I deeply inhaled the country air.
After lunch the kids and I settled in the Long Gallery, one of the more cosy rooms in the giant house. I wasn’t used to being there with so few people present, normally our visits coincided with formal dinners and working weekends. It was better to be rattling around a giant stately home than cooped up in the attic above Number 10, I thought. Still I felt like an intruder; years ago my predecessors had been allowed to make Chequers their second home, even make minor decorations. That had all been declared improper some time before my tenure, though.
I was supervising the kids’ homeschooling assignments when Anushka came in, in the middle of a call. ‘Can you just hold for one moment please, while I discuss this with Mrs. Weeks? Thankyou.’ She muted the call, her eyes wide. ‘Ellie, it’s the White House. Gavin Cross is flying to London tonight and he’s asking if he can see you in the morning.’
I shivered involuntarily. ‘What’s he doing in London? This wasn’t scheduled, was it?’
‘Not at all,’ Anushka was obviously as bemused as me. ‘He’s having some private meetings, apparently.’
‘Well of course I’d be happy to meet him, but do we have to go back into town? It would be nice if he could come here, if he’s got time.’
‘I’ll see.’ Anushka returned to the call. ‘Hello? Yes. Mrs. Weeks wonders if the First Gentleman might be inclined to meet at Chequers?’ There was a pause at the other end, then a voice came back. Anushka smiled. ‘Really? That’s perfect. Ten o’clock?’ She turned to me and I nodded. ‘We’ll look forward to it. Thanks.’ She hung up. ‘He already knew you were here.’
‘That’s going to be impossible to keep out of the news,’ I said. ‘James will be annoyed about it.’
‘We’ll just make sure it’s one photo, maybe outside in the garden?’ Anushka was already composing a message.
‘No, let’s do it out front, hopefully that’ll keep people from traipsing through the house.’ I was pleased at the thought of seeing Gavin, but also keen to maintain a sanctuary for Bobby and Sadie. ‘I guess this makes it a formal visit, now,’ I added. ‘You’ll have to have a word with Number 10 about the finances.’
‘Gotcha,’ said Anushka. ‘By the way, that call didn’t come via the Downing Street switchboard. It was direct.’
Once again I found it hard to sleep that night, endlessly speculating about the reason for Gavin’s visit. In a statement the White House explained that security concerns had prevented earlier disclosure, refusing to give any more details. I had to trowel on foundation to hide my tiredness, hoping the photo I’d have to pose for would be wide-angle.
Anushka kindly agreed to look after the kids that morning. I asked her if Number 10 had queried Gavin’s abrupt visit to Chequers and she frowned. ‘Nothing from them at all,’ she said. I was vaguely surprised, but most of James’ senior staff were in Geneva and pre-occupied. From James himself I’d not heard anything since Wednesday night, not a single message.
With typical fastidiousness Gavin’s car pulled into Chequers on the stroke of ten o’clock. He got out of the car along with two young-looking men, they strolled slowly across the courtyard to the front door where I was waiting for him. I felt a degree of relief when I noticed he looked just as drawn as I did, smiling only weakly.
‘Good to see you,’ he said, kissing me on both cheeks. ‘Shall we get this photo out of the way now, then we can talk?’
‘Absolutely,’ I said. Our eyes met, there was immediate and intimate understanding. ‘I’ve arranged some brunch for us inside.’
‘I’m not all that hungry, actually.’ He turned to face Hygeia as the White House photographer quickly assembled his tripod, mounted the camera. Flash, flash, click.
‘All great, looking good, sir,’ said the photographer.
‘That I doubt,’ Gavin grimaced as we turned away and walked into the house. ‘Thanks guys, I won’t be needing you for a while,’ he gestured to his two assistants who were following behind us.
‘Anushka, could you?’ I said, and she nodded, gestured for the two men to follow her. ‘You’ve given me a pleasant surprise,’ I said quietly as we continued down the short hallway, lined with ancient artworks.
‘Do you know why I needed to see you?’ Even though we were alone, he kept his voice very low.
‘Needed to? No.’ I wondered how much of my angst he’d been made aware of. ‘Things have been difficult this past fortnight, though. Perhaps you’ve been feeling the same.’
‘Can we go outside?’
‘Of course.’ I led him through the Great Hall, past the table where brunch had been served for us. We left the house through a side door and were shortly on the terrace outside. ‘So, what’s been happening?’
‘Further away from the building, if that’s okay?’
‘Sure,’ I was perplexed, but was happy enough to guide him to the east lawn, where we stood in the sunshine. In its full rays it became obvious how haggard he’d become. ‘I was worried this place had been bugged,’ he whispered.
‘Oh, it almost certainly has,’ I replied.
‘I was going to head to Geneva to meet Morgan, but when I heard you’d left London I thought I’d make a quick stopover.’
‘How did you know about that?’
‘I saw it on a blog. I’ve been monitoring things, waiting for a good moment.’ He grimaced. ‘It’s difficult. They insist our searches in the private residence aren’t recorded, but I don’t believe them. They tried to make up a tonne of reasons why I couldn’t stop in London, but I’ve still got some power, I guess. And of course you gave me a good pretext.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and produced my engagement ring. ‘Very clever of you.’ He handed it to me.
‘I wasn’t even sure why I did that,’ I said. ‘I wanted to give you a signal, more than anything. Everything that happened in DC after the attack just put me on edge, I didn’t quite know how to convey that.’
‘Did he notice?’
‘Not about the ring? No.’ I smiled to myself.
He exhaled, breathed in again. ‘They’re watching me, Ellie, I know they are. They say it’s enhanced security, but we’ve been through some high alerts before and it was never like this.’ He pressed his finger to the space between his eyes. ‘It’s Morgan. Something’s happened to her and I don’t know how, or why.’
I said nothing, disturbed by the fear in his face. There was a breeze getting up, whipping my hair around me. ‘This all since the attack,’ I said.
Gavin nodded once. ‘She told me last week that the end of days was coming, that there had to be war in Israel before the Second Coming.’
‘Oh God,’ I said, in disbelief. ‘That’s not her talking, even I know that.’
‘She wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming her head off. Sometimes she won’t stop yelling, even when I try to shake her. Then the next morning she’s completely unaware that it’s happened. Can we sit? I’m feeling jetlagged.’
We sat down on the lawn, Gavin with his knees raised, picking at blades of grass and twirling them around in his hand.
I took off my shoes, enjoying the feel of the soft lawn on my feet.
‘Does anyone else know about Morgan’s behaviour?’
‘They must do, they’ve been trying to limit her appearances ever since the attack but she won’t stop. It’s like she’s pushing herself, even though she’s exhausted. And you’re right, this isn’t her. Nothing like her.’
After a minute’s silence I told Gavin about my own sleep problems, along with the disaster in Parliament earlier in the week and the strange thoughts I’d had about Rav. Then we sat in silence for a minute or two, from somewhere in the woods behind us I think I hear the croak of a crow.
Gavin cleared his throat. ‘That’s not the main reason why I came to see you though. What you said to me in Washington, about skiing. It’s stuck in my mind.’
‘How so?’
‘I’ve been having bad dreams too. You’re in them, lately.’
‘Oh?’ I felt uncomfortable.
‘Each time I’m skiing, down a black run. But then I go for a jump and I lose control. Then I fall, go tumbling and sliding and I can’t stop. I wind up on the edge of a cliff, dangling off the edge, just hanging on with my hands.’
He looked over at me, his face paler. ‘Then you’re there. You reach down to me and try to pull me back up, but I can’t grab hold of you and I fall over the edge. I fall and I fall, then just before I hit the floor I always wake up.’ He swallowed. ‘At first it was just a hand, but then after a couple times it started being you. Yet it’s odd, because you’re wearing the wrong clothes. It’s like you’re dressed like, you should be..’
‘On a beach,’ I blurted, not looking at him. ‘I’m wearing a bikini.’
‘Yes,’ He grabbed hold of my hand, forced me to look at him. ‘You’ve had the same dream.’
‘Not quite, but similar,’ I said. ‘Also, I’ve been experiencing memories, and they don’t feel like they’re mine, they just come. They’re not connected to anything else, they’re not part of a timeline.’
I told Gavin about Luis, the whole story. It took longer than I’d expected, concluding with the strange thoughts about his death I’d experienced just the day before. Gavin took it all in without much surprise, nodding almost consensually when I told him about my on-off affair with Luis.
Weeks in Naviras Page 28