“Where’s the kids?” Dan asked.
“At your mother’s,” Libby smiled, glancing up only momentarily before she resumed typing.
“My mother’s?”
“Yes,” Libby fixed him with a challenging glare. “At your mother’s while I finish my work. She’s going to take them three afternoons a week.”
“I see,” Dan said.
“She’s dropping them back here in ten minutes so I’m just finishing this email and then I’ll put their tea on.”
“Right,” he replied, but didn’t move away.
“Is there something wrong, Dan?” She turned to face him.
“No. I’m just a bit surprised that you’ve taken this so far.”
“Taken what so far?”
“This working for Anna thing?”
“It’s not a thing, Dan. It’s a job. And we need the money don’t we?”
“Yes, but…”
“But your nose is out of joint because I’m no longer just little wifey, who looks after the kids, washes your underpants and cooks the tea. Is that it?”
“No, Libby,” Dan crossed the room to stand closer to his wife. “I just want to make sure this is right for you, not just Anna.”
“I volunteered to do this job, Dan. Until now, I’ve been moping around on my fat arse most of the day wishing something exciting would happen to me. Now something exciting finally is happening to me. I have a job I love, and I’ve spoken to people today who are all desperate to talk to me. And do you know what, Dan? I feel good. I feel bloody good.”
“Right,” Dan raised his eyebrows passively. “That’s me told.”
Libby got to her feet and threw her arms around Dan’s neck.
“Don’t worry, darling. I still love you. And I’ll still wash your undies.”
“Good,” Dan said, kissing her firmly on the lips. “I might be able to afford some bloody new ones now you’ve finally shifted yourself.”
“Out,” Libby joked, slapping him on the backside before pointing dramatically to the front door. “I’ve got work to do.”
Dan chuckled happily as he walked out of the kitchen, leaving Libby to wonder why she hadn’t gone back to work earlier. She had feared losing control of her family if she wasn’t there for them every second but, in reality, she’d lost control of her own life. With what Anna had agreed to pay her they’d be able to easily afford the mortgage; they could take a couple of holidays now and rejuvenate the house. But it was more than the money that was driving Libby. She was good at this. The press contacts she had spoken to were all warming to her which would come in very useful for when she needed to try and dig Anna out of a spot. And it also meant she got to spend more time with her sister who, until recently, had been starting to feel like a bit of a stranger to her.
Richard and Anna could hear the crowd’s screams from half a mile-away as they inched slowly closer to the Leicester Square Odeon, huddled together in the back seat of the chauffeur-driven car. Anna’s stomach lurched at the thought of making her first major appearance before the public since being outed as a former escort girl – and killer. Somehow the campaign outings, where they were surrounded by aides and police, just hadn’t seemed as daunting as stepping out in front of a large crowd like this. She’d had a nightmare the previous night that the onlookers had been chanting “murderer” at her as she walked along the red carpet and Richard had had to rush her indoors. And all she could think once they’d got inside was: “Is he going to leave me again?”
Now she had to face that nightmare. Henry had told her over and over again that the public were firmly behind her but, still, she feared that could change at any minute.
Richard was talking to her about that day’s campaigning but all Anna could do was watch the row of cars in front slowly start to clear until it was their turn to get out and face the crowd.
Richard’s chauffeur leapt out of the driving seat and soon appeared to Anna’s left. Before she had a chance to stop him, the door was open and Anna went into autopilot, swinging her legs around to face the pavement before stepping out. The screams were overwhelming and Anna stood stock still in panic. She thought she could hear them hurling abuse at her. She couldn’t catch her breath and reached for the car door to steady herself. Richard was now at her side and had folded his arm through hers, unaware of her torment.
“Let me back in the car,” she said frantically. “I need to get back in the car.”
“What’s the problem, Anna?” Richard asked in confusion.
“They’re screaming at me, Richard. They hate me.”
Richard pulled Anna close to his side and whispered loudly in her ear. “Anna, they’re screaming for you. Listen, they’re chanting your name.”
She tried to pull herself together just long enough to hear what they were actually saying. The chants were in perfect rhythm, with not a single voice out of step. And, just as Richard had told her, it was her name they were calling over and over again. She clutched his arm tightly and they began to walk forwards, pausing for a few moments to smile for the photographers who were shouting for them to kiss. Richard moved in awkwardly and pecked her on the lips. He probably shouldn’t have done that, Anna thought. The papers would have the body language experts all over the pictures tomorrow, but they could worry about that later. Right now she was just savouring the moment. Her darkest secrets were out and the public still loved her. It was the ultimate acceptance.
She separated from Richard to greet some of the well-wishers who were holding their arms out to her. She saw a young girl of what she guessed to be around thirteen standing next to her mother and screaming her name. Anna reached out to shake her hand but the girl lurched forwards and pulled her into an embrace. “Oh my God. You’re amazing,” the girl shrieked, tears tumbling down her face. Anna swallowed hard, trying not to show her shock. She thanked the girl, kissing her on the cheek before pulling away to walk towards the cinema, still shaking as many hands as possible. Soon one of the film PRs was pulling at Anna’s arm and telling her to walk with her. “Your husband’s waiting for you,” she said in a tone that was a bit too chastizing for Anna’s liking.
She turned to see Richard standing in the foyer of the cinema smiling broadly in her direction as he chatted to Don. The PR led her quickly to where they were standing.
“Sweetheart,” Don said, his Derby accent turned up particularly thickly for the evening. Anna could see he was in a different mode to the more sombre and attentive director she had met on the bus and so warmed to.
“You look absolutely divine, but you’ve completely overshadowed my film premiere,” he laughed.
“Yes, sorry about that,” Richard said jovially. “Henry’s going to be absolutely ecstatic though.”
“He’ll have me at every film premiere going now,” Anna chipped in.
“Well, you two get on in there and enjoy the film. Will I see you after for a drink?”
“We could use a drink, couldn’t we, Anna?” Richard said, giving her a comforting hug around the waist. “We’re living like nuns at the moment.”
“And a good thing too,” Don winked cheekily in Anna’s direction, making her jolt slightly as she realised he was probably referring to her past.
She turned with Richard to walk towards the cinema theatre and, once out of earshot, whispered: “Was he just having a dig about the escort work?”
“Who knows and who cares, Anna. He’s just a big-headed oink.”
“I thought you liked him?”
“There’s a difference between tolerating for the sake of the election and actually liking,” Richard whispered, careful to keep smiling so the photographers wouldn’t pick up on the more serious turn in the conversation. He signalled for Anna to go into the cinema in front of him and, as she stepped into the darkness, she couldn’t help but wonder whether Richard was just tolerating her for the sake of the election too.
12
Davis “Buckling under Pressure” on Tax Reform
Th
ursday, 16th April, 2009, UK Newswire – Prime Minister Kelvin Davis was today accused by opposition parties of carrying out a major policy U-turn after announcing a surprise round of tax cuts if the Alliance Party wins the general election next month.
Davis yesterday pledged his government would raise the special personal tax allowance for the over-seventy-fives by £2,000 a year to enable them to “keep more of their hard-earned money”.
The Social Democrats immediately seized on the move, calling it “an act of desperation” and arguing that the cut would primarily benefit better-off pensioners rather than those in real need.
The announcement by Kelvin Davis came on the same day that several polls placed the SDP twelve points clear of the Alliance.
Today, SDP officials said the Government’s pensions policy was now “in chaos”. A party spokesman added: “Alliance Party credibility on taxation and pensions is now in absolute tatters as they flail around looking for ways to endear themselves to voters who gave up on them years ago.”
“i’m not a nun,” lloyd told williams before split
By Marie Simpson
Today the Sunday Echo lifts the lid on a string of rows between Social Democrat leader Richard Williams and his actress wife Anna Lloyd that led to their sensational split just days into the general election campaign.
The revelations throw into serious doubt the newly reunited couple’s claims that their marriage is now rock solid.
A friend of the couple, who witnessed the rows first hand, has told the Sunday Echo how Lloyd once screamed down the phone “I am not a nun”, in a row with Williams over her role as a lap dancer in a TV drama.
The friend said the couple regularly argued as the SDP leader struggled to control his wife’s insatiable desire to grow her acting career, regardless of the controversy caused by her choice of roles.
During the same telephone row, Lloyd also told Williams: “I’ll never be Barbara Bush. I am an actress.”
Damian pounced on Marie’s email as soon as he spotted it in his inbox. It was eight thirty in the morning and he usually liked to start his day in the office by going through the papers, but, as soon as he saw the subject line “Lloyd/Williams Copy”, he threw his routine out of the window. He double clicked and leant forwards to read the full contents. Almost the day Damian hit forty he noticed his reading vision starting to go but, more than a year on, he still hadn’t been able to bring himself to buy a pair of glasses. He squinted slightly at the screen, first noting the time the message was sent last night, 22.16. Marie had started her email with a brief note:
“Hi Damian. Story on background to Lloyd/Williams’ split follows. Couldn’t resist adding the headline. I think it’s the splash – don’t you? Marie.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Damian thought to himself, at the same time knowing he would never actually say that to Marie. Any other reporter would have got it in the neck for a cheeky comment like that, but she was different.
He quickly read on, a smile lighting his face as soon as he saw her headline.
Damian sat back in his chair and allowed himself a moment’s break from reading the story just to relish what was proving to be a run of amazing front page exclusives on Lloyd and Williams. They had demolished the competition over the course of the campaign, pushed up sales by another 100,000 and – the icing on the cake – delighted Victor Nemov, the billionaire media mogul and owner of the Echo titles. Damian smiled again to himself as he thought how an executive role in the Nemov News Group must now almost certainly be in the bag. Nemov was a big pal of Kelvin’s and had pledged his unfailing support to the Alliance leader before the election campaign. He had all but promised Damian a long shelf-life with the group if he delivered on this pledge – and Damian knew he had done that and more. Just one more sensational splash right before Britain heads to the polls and his career would be secure. Even better, for Damian, was the thought that he didn’t have to come up with it.
He looked through the glass divide to his office and saw Marie walk into the newsroom to begin her day’s work. He chuckled to himself as he watched her fumble around her pockets and then her handbag looking for her mobile, only to realise she had already laid it down on the side of her desk. In her he saw a kindred spirit: a loner, driven by a sense of inadequacy and the desire to prove others wrong.
He studied her a moment longer and frowned as he detected more than a hint of sadness settle across Marie’s face as she sat down at her computer to start her day’s work. She was a confusing mix of motivated and reluctant all at once – some days up, some days down. All part of her complex but engaging personality, he guessed. He wondered if it would be deeply unprofessional to ask her on a date. Then he decided he would leave it until after the election – when they would hopefully be out celebrating together – to raise that prospect.
“God, I’d forgotten how grubby this city looks,” Kelvin whispered to Reggie as they made their way through the centre of Leeds on their luxury battle bus. Joy, sitting opposite, shook her head in dismay when she overheard his comment. If only the people of Leeds could hear what he actually thought. At the time she had accepted Kelvin’s offer of working on his campaign team, she believed it would be the perfect tonic to get herself over her break-up with Henry – and Anna. But within a few days she realised she should have just made a clean break and taken her time before deciding what to do next. Now, she was forced to study on a daily basis footage of her husband and her former close friend storming the country with what was clearly a winning campaign. She could tell Henry and Anna had put their differences aside, and she shivered every time she watched them laughing gaily as they strolled behind Richard on some tour or walk-about. Not only had they mended bridges, but Joy could see they were now really getting on. It was as though they had forgotten her completely. And that, more than anything, was what made her want to wipe the smiles off their smug faces.
She hoped desperately that Kelvin’s tour of a housing project in Woodhouse would go without a hitch and they could get back to London as soon as possible. Kelvin had to chair a cabinet meeting later that afternoon so Joy was fully intending going home and getting an early night. The last few weeks had left her completely drained and she needed to get some serious rest if she was going to be able to withstand another two weeks of being bossed around by a grossly insecure Reggie.
The bus pulled in near the estate and Joy looked out of the window to see a large group of housing officials, along with the local Alliance candidate – who clearly didn’t stand a chance – all nervously waiting to greet Kelvin. Behind them were gathered a rather bewildered looking group of local residents who had come to get a look at the Prime Minister. And to the side were the usual assortment of photographers and film crews, who had already begun to capture the PM’s arrival.
“My tie straight, Joy?” Kelvin asked casually.
“Yes, Kelvin,” she replied robotically, wondering if he had begun to regret employing her as much as she regretted choosing to work for him.
She trotted dutifully down the bus, taking care not to get too close to Reggie who had made it clear very early on that he was to walk immediately behind the PM, making Joy feel like the second bridesmaid.
Kelvin bounced off of the bus, sweeping his foppish fringe back as he stepped onto the pavement. He thrust out his hand to enthusiastically greet the local candidate, Eric Maitlin, but his perma-smile was almost instantly wiped from his face when he felt the crack of an egg hitting the back of his head. His face froze as he first registered the impact and then the obvious consequences of a broken egg shedding its contents down the back of your neck and jacket. The Special Branch team were quick to act and wrestled the perpetrator – a spotty, teenage local – from the scene. The crowd jeered at the sight of the boy being led away, and suddenly the atmosphere turned ugly.
Police officers moved in to control the local residents, while Reggie led Kelvin back on the bus so he could change his jacket. As Joy followed them up the ste
ps she could hear Kelvin ranting. “What does that say about my bloody security when I’m pelted with an egg at close range, five seconds after stepping off the bus? There needs to be a serious rethink on security if I’m going to do any more of these sodding walk-abouts. I’m not going to stand there like a mug and let some little turd take a pop at me. God knows, in this area, I’m lucky I wasn’t shot.”
Reggie started furiously wiping at the back of the Prime Minister’s head before helping him remove his jacket. Kelvin turned momentarily towards the window and realised that the ungainly scene was being filmed and photographed by the assembled media on the street outside.
“Shut the fucking blinds will you, Joy?” he shouted.
She quickly reached to pull the shade down over the window before stepping back into the shadows. Even counting her first job working as a waitress in a smorgasbord restaurant, Joy had never felt so disrespected by an employer. She was clearly becoming surplus to requirement as Kelvin realised she didn’t have the insider information on the SDP that he at first hoped. Her only chance of making it through the campaign with her professional esteem in tact was what would surely be the splash in this Sunday’s Echo about Richard and Anna’s rows before the split. Maybe then Kelvin would see her worth – and Henry would finally realise that he couldn’t just walk away scot-free from his years of bullying without paying for it.
Trying to get five minutes alone in a bathroom to do a pregnancy test proved to be no easy feat for Anna. She had joined Richard on a whistle-stop tour of Wales and they were running to an extremely tight schedule, which was seriously stressing Henry out. Using the toilet on the bus was a non-starter, both because of its acrid smell and the constant motion, therefore she had to wait until they stopped at a campaign venue. Even then, each time Anna asked to go to the toilet, Henry would say, “Okay, but make it quick,” and she’d have to scuttle off while he hovered outside the door waiting for her. It had been difficult enough to get hold of a pregnancy test in the first place. It wasn’t as if she could just stroll into her local Boots and ask for a kit, so Libby had picked one up for her and slipped it to Anna under the table on the bus earlier that morning. Libby had decided to join them for the day on the campaign trail as it was her only chance to catch up properly with Anna to discuss offers of work, which had been piling up.
Polls Apart Page 13