Polls Apart

by Clare Stephen-Johnston

  “Yes, Don Monteith, has publicly pledged his support to the SDP.”

  Anna quickly sat up again, her eyes wide with sudden interest.

  “Don Monteith the film director?”

  “Yes. Henry’s even lined him up to do a couple of appearances with me out on the road.”

  “Well that’s fantastic, darling. Perhaps I could help there?”

  “What do you mean?” Richard asked, feigning confusion whilst privately celebrating the obvious success of Ray’s plan.

  “I mean,” Anna gushed, “if I’m going to be out campaigning with you, then I should definitely help organise the appearances with Don Monteith because I understand his world and how he operates.”

  “Oh, so you will be campaigning with me?”

  “Of course I will, Richard. When have I ever said anything to the contrary?”

  Flashlights lit up the night sky as Richard and Anna slowly made their way along the red carpet, well-rehearsed grins fixed on their faces. The strobe effect of the camera flashes created a surreal world in which they were half-blinded and thrown into slow motion.

  Anna was used to photographers, but even she hadn’t encountered anything like this before. She beamed from the inside out as she realised she was finally tasting what world-class movie stars now took for granted. Suddenly another flashbulb lit up; this time in her head. This is it, she thought. This is the big time.

  Once inside, the studio throbbed with celebrities all clambering to be seen with the small and frightened group of award winners who were being treated to a glass of champagne to loosen them up before they were paraded in front of the cameras. As Richard made his way through the predominantly celebrity guests who were standing around the dining tables set out in front of the stage, he took care to hold Anna’s hand tightly. He was afraid that, if left to her own devices, she would stop and talk to every second “industry” person they passed. Along the way he overheard one busty actress he was sure he’d seen on a soap, eulogising about a previously unsung hero whom she “just adored”.

  Clutching the rather startled fifteen-year-old close to her chest – in what Richard noticed was quite a proprietary way – he overheard the actress telling a TV reporter: “I’m just so thrilled to be presenting an award to Jamie. He’s such an inspiration to us all in the way he fearlessly fought for a pensioner’s wallet.”

  One of the organisers stepped in to whisper something to the actress, which Richard assumed must have been a correction by the way her face further contorted with every word uttered. He slowed to a snail’s pace as he made his way past the scene so he could watch the full spectacle unfold.

  The actress was waving her hands in front of her now.

  “Can we start again?” she asked in her thick Yorkshire accent. “I didn’t get that right.” She tossed her long hair to the other side and cleared her throat. “I’m just so thrilled to be presenting an award to Jamie. He’s such an inspiration to us all in the way he bravely fought off thugs who were trying to steal a pensioner’s wallet.”

  Richard couldn’t help but laugh out loud which earned him a very dirty look from the now-mortified actress. He turned to Anna behind him who was so busy scouring the room she had missed the entertainment right in front of their noses.

  “Mr Williams.” A very smiley young lady was standing in front of him and, judging from her headset and clipboard, he guessed she was from the production crew.

  “I’m Mary Waterman, the assistant producer. Pleased to meet you – and you Ms Lloyd.”

  Anna returned her smile but, Richard noticed, she still hadn’t lost that distracted look as she half-heartedly tried to listen to Mary’s instructions whilst star-spotting.

  “If you follow me to your table, I can introduce you to Ruth,” Mary continued. “I’ll then call you fifteen minutes before you’re due to present the award and take you backstage where there will be make-up artists on hand should you need freshening up.”

  “Lovely, thank you,” Richard said as he dutifully followed the assistant producer to his chair.

  “This is Ruth,” Mary said, pointing to a young woman who was the total opposite of what Richard had been expecting.

  “My goodness,” he blurted as he shook the girl’s hand. “How did such a petite young lady like you chase two armed robbers from a bank?”

  “I used shock tactics,” Ruth giggled. “I’d read an article in a magazine a few weeks earlier saying if you were ever assaulted then the best thing to do was to act all weird and make a lot of noise as it would throw your attackers off course.”

  “So what did you do?” Richard asked.

  “I just shouted ‘raaaarrrrrr’ and then ran at them. And before I knew it they started running in the opposite direction.”

  “Weren’t you afraid it wouldn’t work?” Anna chipped in from behind Richard. “Some robbers would have shot you for less.”

  “Oh, hello,” Ruth said shyly as she realised who Anna was. “I didn’t really think about it, I just went on automatic. Looking back on it, I was very lucky that it worked and everyone escaped unhurt.”

  “I’d say,” Richard laughed. “What a wonderful story though. We need more people like you who are willing to stand up to the bad guys.”

  Suddenly an announcement cut across their conversation: “Ladies and Gentlemen. Will you please take your seats as the Great Britons Awards Ceremony is about to begin.”

  Richard spotted his place card beside Ruth’s while Anna was seated between her husband and the sponsor’s very straight-looking chairman whom she realised she would be stuck talking to for the next couple of hours. She sighed quietly to herself and glanced at who was placed on the nearby tables. She was quickly cheered to see she had been seated at a better table than several so-called A-list singers and actresses who were positioned behind them.

  Once she had taken her seat, Anna leant close and whispered in Richard’s ear: “I didn’t realise there were going to be so many major celebrities here.”

  “Yes. It’s become quite a high-profile event. That’s why Henry insisted we present the award.”

  “He’s much more in touch than I thought,” Anna laughed. “In fact, I’m quite looking forward to this campaign now. I think we’ll make a dynamic team.” She winked at Richard and gave him a teasing nudge.

  Anna woke early the following morning to the sound of their radio alarm and immediately regretted the fifth glass of champagne she had carelessly swigged shortly before they left the awards ceremony. Richard – ever sensible – had advised her against drinking it, but she’d got carried away as she enjoyed all the attention that accompanied her increasing celebrity. Finally, she was starting to get the kind of admiration she had always craved. Even directors who had once looked down on her as a two-bit soap actress – as that’s how she’d started out – were now actively courting her because of the kind of publicity she could generate. All this meant Anna was no longer nervous about her nine-thirty meeting that morning with a production company in Soho. They were interested in casting her as a single mother who turns to armed robbery to support her family. Her agent had told her it was a six-part drama that they were to begin filming in June but, while only last week she’d been desperate to get the part, last night had made her realise she could now pretty much choose whatever role she wanted. In fact, she’d decided she was going to invest her all in helping Richard on the election campaign and – once happily ensconced at Number 10 – she’d start knocking on Hollywood’s door; if the directors of Tinseltown weren’t already lining up to talk to her by then.

  Richard was stirring in the bed next to her and, feeling the warmth of abounding opportunity, Anna cuddled up behind him, her hands linking across his chest. She kissed him softly between his shoulder blades. “Morning darling,” she whispered in his ear.

  Richard turned towards her, staying in his wife’s embrace. “Good morning, my love,” he said wearily. “You seem very happy for six-thirty in the morning.”

  “T
hat’s because I’m very proud to be your wife,” she kissed him firmly, folding herself even closer into him.

  “You’re not rushing are you?” he asked with a devilish smile whilst manoeuvring himself to lie over her.

  “Not any more,” she giggled, drawing his face towards hers until their lips met.

  “Richard,” she whispered. “How about we try again for a Downing Street baby?” The brief silence that followed almost deafened Anna, who held her breath as she waited for an answer. For the last couple of months she had been pleading with Richard to try and start a family, fearing the ticking clock, but he had wanted to wait until after the election.

  “I thought you were getting all excited about your career again?” Richard asked, then immediately realised he was shooting himself in the foot by discouraging her from seeking a family life when that is exactly what Henry and all his closest colleagues were encouraging him to go for.

  “I can combine the two,” she said in a quiet voice that spoke loudly of her true desire. “I just want us to be a family, Richard. I want to give what I never had.”

  He studied her for a moment, her eyes imploring him to understand, to commit. “We can try, darling,” he smiled, kissing her gently on the forehead. “I mean, I’ve always said we could do with encouraging more young people into the party.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, still wrapped in his embrace. As Richard leant in to kiss his wife again he thought he could see a single tear run down the side of her cheek and disappear into the pillow.

  Two hours later Anna bounced into the back seat of the Mercedes and bid a cheerful good morning to John, her regular driver with the chauffeur firm she’d been using for the last five years.

  “How’s life treating you today, John?” she asked as she rifled through her TARDIS of a handbag to try and find her mobile. It was only eight forty-five but already she noticed she had two missed calls from a number she didn’t recognise. With a little buzz of excitement at the thought it might be one of the directors she met last night trying to reach her, she hastily hit the redial button.

  A woman answered after a couple of rings but spoke hesitantly.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi. It’s Anna Lloyd. You dialled my mobile a couple of times this morning?”

  “Yes… Anna, it’s Sylvia Levine here. I hope you don’t mind me calling.”

  Anna’s heart plunged as she realised who she was talking to.

  “What do you want Sylvia?” she demanded coldly.

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” Sylvia’s aged voice sounded shaky and panicked as she got to the point of her call. “A newspaper reporter’s been calling me these last few days telling me she knows all about your work for the agency and asking me all these questions. I didn’t know what to say to her, Anna. I thought I should tell you.”

  Anna clutched the edge of the car seat in a futile attempt to stop the world from spinning around her. Her breathing sped up to a pant as the implications of what Sylvia was telling her played through her mind.

  “What paper is she from?” Anna asked icily.

  “The Sunday Echo.”

  “Shit. Have you told them anything?”

  “No, nothing Anna. But they know you worked for me for six months and they know what kind of work you did.”

  “This… is a bloody nightmare,” Anna shrieked. “We’re just about to go into a general election campaign and this blows up in my face. I knew the past would come back to haunt me, I knew it.” Anna’s voice sounded strangled now and she fought hard to regain some kind of composure. She could see John giving her alarmed glances in his mirror and she realised quickly that she would have to try and avoid more people finding out or the evidence against her would start piling up.

  “I’m so sorry, Anna. They already know the names of some of your regulars.”

  “Don’t say it like that, Sylvia. You make me sound like a hooker.” Anna could feel the cold sweat breaking out across her brow. “Look. I need you to just stay quiet and never call me again, do you understand?”

  “Perfectly,” Sylvia replied calmly, and Anna instantly detected the shift in her voice. Her stomach lurched when she realised what had just happened. Sylvia had set her up – and she had no doubt that she was well and truly stuffed.

  “Well, Dicky, this is really it. The moment we’ve been waiting for.” But Henry quickly realised he was talking to himself. Richard’s attention was firmly locked on the TV balanced precariously on a pile of folders above the filing cabinet in his office. A blonde newsreader with a perfect bob spoke earnestly into the camera as a ticker running beneath her proclaimed: PM set to announce general election date.

  Henry moved silently to sit next to Richard as they watched Kelvin Davis emerge through the front doors of a primary school and make his way towards the crowd of waiting photographers and reporters.

  “Look at him,” scoffed Richard, shuffling uncomfortably on the edge of the meeting table where they were both now perched. “Not a hair out of place while there’s a bloody gale raging around him. How does he manage it?”

  “Hairspray I expect,” said Henry.

  Richard glanced at his head of communications, but decided there was no time to analyse whether his comment had been genuine or in jest. Henry’s dry wit and deadpan delivery often left Richard a little bewildered as to how he was supposed to respond.

  Kelvin smiled like a well-practised Hollywood star as he approached the cameras, the teeth-whitening for which he’d recently been ridiculed by the press now in full view.

  He took a moment to nod in acknowledgment to the hundreds of school children who were gathered all around him.

  “Trust him to surround himself with kids, as well,” said Richard. “Is there any stunt too low for him to pull?”

  “Doubt it,” replied Henry.

  Kelvin fixed the cameras with a look that said “I’m about to say something really important” before he began his prepared speech. “Earlier today, I saw the Queen at Buckingham Palace to ask for a dissolution of Parliament so there could be a general election on Wednesday the 6th of May.”

  “What?” Henry shouted at the screen. “Why’s he holding it on a Wednesday? I thought it had to be a Thursday.”

  “It’s convention for the election to be held on a Thursday, but this is Kelvin’s little power game – ‘I can change it so I will change it,’” Richard scoffed. “It’s pathetic really.”

  Henry shook his head in dismay before turning his focus back to the television where Kelvin had paused for a moment to enjoy the excited little ripple amongst the assembled press, caused by his convention-breaking.

  “My goal is to continue to secure a better future for all, but most especially the children and young people of this country who deserve the best start a nation can offer.”

  Kelvin paused again to smile affectionately at the children gathered directly to his side, but was forced to cut what was meant to be a poignant moment short when one of them embarked on a rigorous effort to release a bogey from his right nostril.

  “Ha! Make that child an honorary member of the Social Democratic Party. He’s created one of the most well-executed diversions ever to be seen in British politics,” Henry roared.

  “Beautiful,” Richard beamed, smacking Henry triumphantly between the shoulder blades.

  3

  Social Democrats Rocked by Lloyd “Escort Girl” Claims

  Monday, 30th March, 2009, UK Newswire – Opposition leader Richard Williams’ hopes of leading the SDP to an election victory in May suffered a severe blow after a Sunday newspaper printed claims his wife previously worked as a professional escort.

  The allegations, published in yesterday’s Sunday Echo newspaper, came just three days after Kelvin Davis announced that a general election would be held on Wednesday, 6th May. The newspaper claimed that Lloyd worked for the Mademoiselles escort agency in 1994 for a period of six months.

  The timing of the claims about the actress Ann
a Lloyd, who has been married to Williams for six years, could not have been worse for the Opposition leader or his party who have, to this point, been riding high in the opinion polls.

  The allegations were firmly denied by Lloyd and an SDP spokesman who dismissed the article as “ludicrous”, but the Sunday Echo last night released a statement saying it stood by its story, which, it maintains, is supported by several sources.

  The Sunday Echo editor, Damian Blunt, added there were “more revelations to come” on Lloyd’s past, which, he says, will run in the newspaper this Sunday.

  Williams is expected to make a personal statement about the claims following a visit to City of Bristol College later today where he was due to talk about the Democrats’ planned further education policies.

  While I was shocked to hear the claims made against my wife, Anna, in a Sunday newspaper, I was even more concerned that – at such an important point in this country’s political evolution – so much time and interest should be paid to what is effectively gossip, rather than the real and very serious issues facing this nation.

  I want to assure all those people who long to see Britain stand on its economic feet again and to see the focus shift to some of the most pressing issues in our society – rebuilding the NHS, tackling crime and supporting families – that I will be undaunted in my determination to win the next general election and to make this nation proud again.

  Richard stared mournfully at the newspaper pages in front of him, still trying to absorb the magnitude of his problem. He was sitting in his party HQ office, flanked by Henry on one side and Ray on the other. Sandra was making her way through the Monday morning rush-hour traffic, but they had decided to start without her as Henry was determined to prepare a “statement of intent” before they left – in little over an hour – to catch a train to Bristol where Richard was due to make a speech to college students and staff later that morning.

  Richard had been informed in a phone call by Henry on Saturday afternoon that the Sunday Echo would be running the story the following day. Henry had picked up an early edition and read it word-for-word to Richard late on Saturday night as Anna lay on the sofa across from him, sobbing into a cushion. Richard had sat in complete silence as he heard how Sylvia Levine had damned his wife with praise as she described the time Anna had spent working for her. “She was a very beautiful young lady and the punters absolutely loved her,” she’d been quoted as saying. “I could have booked her every night of the week if she’d been available.” And while the paper hadn’t actually stated whether any of Anna’s encounters had been sexual, it had strongly hinted that way.