Polls Apart

by Clare Stephen-Johnston

“Better, thank you,” Marie answered shyly. “I had backed myself into a very dark place from which I felt there was only one escape.”

  Damian immediately jumped in to rescue Marie from an uncomfortable situation. “She had been under a huge amount of pressure over the election campaign, for which I take full blame.”

  “And was that the reason for your resignation?” Esther asked with feigned confusion. “It’s just I don’t think you’ve made it clear why you decided to step down as editor.”

  “That was one of the reasons,” Damian said, clearing his throat loudly. “But, ultimately, because of the pressure to come up with blinding exclusives, I made some very bad decisions which I feel were not about good journalism and were instead down to desperation.”

  Esther turned back to Marie. “And was it that sense of desperation that caused you to harm yourself?”

  Marie sighed, carefully thinking through her answer. “Well… there were a number of reasons why I did what I did. Firstly, I think I was probably suffering from depression even before I took the job at the Echo. Secondly, I was writing pro-Alliance stories when I dearly wanted to see Kelvin Davis removed from office. I felt I was betraying my family and their values. All that meant I was in a bad place anyway, then I watched Anna Lloyd collapse on TV and faced the awful thought that I had caused a woman I admire hugely to suffer, and perhaps even lose her child.” Marie looked down at the floor and took in a deep breath.

  “Do you want to go on?” Esther asked, keen to show the more sensitive side her critics said she lacked when interviewing.

  Marie nodded before continuing. “When I interviewed Anna Lloyd during the brief period she was separated from her husband, I was struck by her strength and courage. She had overcome hardships in her life that are the stuff of most people’s nightmares. She told me that regardless of whether she remained married to him or not she desperately wanted Richard Williams to win the election as she knew he could make a difference to people who are suffering in just the same way she did. I think she’s an extraordinary woman and I’m very glad that she’ll be at the side of the Prime Minister as he runs the country because she will fight for those who most need a champion. I’m only sorry that this side of the story is one I didn’t get to tell when I worked at the Echo.”

  Marie’s words were ringing in Anna’s ears as their truth hit home. Until her separation from Richard, she had always seen herself as a woman of courage who would fight to stop children suffering in the way she had, to stop women being abused over and over again with no means of escape. She had longed for them to reach Downing Street so finally they might be able to ease the chaos and turmoil that was the life of so many helpless people.

  And just as though someone had turned a switch in her mind, she remembered why she had fallen in love with Richard in the first place. This was their shared dream. The very thing that had been forgotten in the run-up to the election. She had been focused on her career, and he on defeating Kelvin. They had lost sight of their very deep connection – something she now felt again for the first time in months.

  She grabbed her mobile phone from the bedside table and noticed that she had a missed call and text message from Richard. She realised he must have called when she was letting the removal men in. She quickly clicked to open the message. It read: Barely slept. You and baby must come first. I hope this will prove how much I love you. R.

  “No,” Anna shrieked as she frantically tried to dial Richard’s Blackberry. It had been hard enough to contact him before the election, let alone now that he was ensconced at Number 10. And in her hurry to leave the day before, she hadn’t taken any of the Downing Street numbers either. His Blackberry rang out, then went to voicemail.

  “Richard, it’s Anna. Please don’t resign. I had got myself into a really weird place. It was stupid… selfish. I want to help you achieve what you were born to do. I love you.”

  Anna started to tremble with the realisation that Richard could be about to end his career – and all because she had let herself become overwhelmed by fear and self-doubt.

  Her mobile started to ring and her heart took a skip of joy with the hope it might be him, only to sink again when she saw Libby’s name flashing on the screen.

  “Oh Libby,” she wailed. “I’ve messed up so badly.”

  “What have you done now?” Libby demanded.

  “I think Richard might be about to resign. I asked him last night whether he would be willing to stand down for me. I just couldn’t face being scrutinized and picked over any more – my insecurities over our marriage being magnified every day for all the world to see.”

  “And now you’ve changed your mind?”

  “Yes. I remembered what we had set out to do in the first place. I don’t know how it all got so out of control, but it did. And now I have to get hold of Richard to tell him not to stand down.”

  “Have you tried calling him?”

  “I can’t get through,” Anna wailed, the tears starting to pour down her face. “And he’s giving a press conference in thirty minutes and I think he might stand down.”

  “Right” Libby swung into action mode. “I’m calling John to come and take you to Downing Street now. Meanwhile, I’ll keep trying Richard and Henry and I’ll call the switchboard too.”

  “Okay,” Anna gasped, trying to get her breath back.

  “Now go,” Libby ordered.

  “Thank you, Libby. I’d be lost without you.”

  “Yes, you would,” Libby chuckled. “I love you, you silly sod.”

  “You too.” Anna ended the call and threw on a pair of black flared trousers and a crumpled blouse she found on an armchair near the bed. She swept her hair back into a low ponytail and quickly powdered her face, adding a little blusher and lipstick. She knew it would be all over the papers if she arrived looking dishevelled so she put a fitted jacket on and hoped she’d sufficiently covered up her chaotic state.

  She glanced out of the window and saw John already sitting in the car outside. Grabbing her handbag first, she darted down the stairs, much to the alarm of the removal men in the hallway below.

  “You all right Mrs Williams?” one asked, concerned.

  “Yes,” Anna blurted in reply, before throwing the front door open. “Got to rush.”

  She slammed the front door and walked briskly to the car, trying not to arouse the suspicion of the waiting press. It was then she noticed the unmarked police car in front, waiting to escort them. Oh shit, she thought. Now there was no way John could break the speed limit, so the only option she had was silent prayer.

  Marie stared intently at Damian as he finished the intriguing phone call he had been taking for the last ten minutes. She knew she was involved in some way because he had kept winking across the table at her in the café where they were having breakfast. “I’m pretty sure she’d be interested,” he told the caller, “although it’s really something I’d need to talk to her about before confirming.”

  Watching Damian relaxed and in full flight only warmed her to him further. A man she once saw as a bit of a bully, now seemed like a harmless puppy. Pressure does funny things to people, she reminded herself. And though things had not yet turned romantic between them, the fact that they seemed to find an excuse to spend their every moment together meant she knew they were heading only one way. Marie smiled and allowed herself to feel the first flushes of happiness in many weeks.

  She tuned into Damian’s voice again and, as the call seemed to be drawing to a close, realised he was setting up a time for the two of them to meet with the stranger on the other end of the line. “Monday at four thirty is good, yes.” He smiled back across at Marie again.

  “We’ll look forward to seeing you then.”

  When he finally ended the call, Marie could hardly contain herself.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  “That was Miles Hildon. He’s setting up a new website called The Truth which will feature what he describes as journalism of the highest editori
al integrity, and he wants to talk to you and me about working for him.”

  “Let me get this right,” Marie laughed. “He wants to talk to the two journalists in the country who have displayed the least editorial integrity in recent times, about employing us to tell the truth?”

  “That’s right, yes.” Damian flashed another self-satisfied smile. “He said he greatly admired our courage in taking a stand against being pressurized into printing stories we didn’t believe in.”

  Marie’s mind boggled as to how opportunities like this were starting to present themselves when they were supposed to be in the journalistic doghouse. Miles Hildon was a former tabloid editor, turned TV star after a very public fall from grace.

  In his press days he had been a young, brilliant and daring editor who was willing to take risks in the name of a good story – until he took a risk too far. Marie suspected that, although lucrative, his TV career wouldn’t offer the heart-stopping thrill of chasing a great story, and that’s why he wanted to start up this new online venture. And having just watched her and Damian speak of their shame in failing to work to proper editorial standards, he will have no doubt spotted a publicity opportunity. For they had each paid a heavy price for their mistakes and had publicly walked towards the light when it came to good journalism.

  Marie looked across at Damian to find that he had been watching her lost in thought for the last few minutes.

  “You looked like you were thinking that one through,” he smiled.

  “I was just thinking that a few days ago a career in journalism seemed like the furthest place from where I wanted to be and now, suddenly, I feel excited about it again. Just like I did when I first started out.”

  “You and me both, Marie. We could do something really different here. Shake things up a bit. Worth a shot, don’t you agree?” he asked, flashing an enthusiastic grin worthy of even the cheekiest schoolboy.

  “Worth a shot,” Marie agreed, returning his smile.

  The police officer guarding the entrance to Number 10 could barely hide his shock as he watched Anna dash from the car, in full view of the world’s press, and hot-foot it to the doorstep. And once inside the corridor, she left the house staff similarly stunned when she broke into another run, turning from left to right trying to remember her way to the State Dining Room where the press conference was scheduled to start within the next couple of minutes.

  She spotted a member of staff further into the entrance hall and breathlessly asked for directions before rushing off again. As she rounded the corner she found Richard and Henry deep in conversation as they approached the dining room. She quickly caught up with them in time to hear Henry say: “I’ll miss working with you hugely. Things are certainly going to be very different.”

  “No,” she cried, grabbing Richard by the arm. Startled, he and Henry swung round to look at Anna.

  “You can’t resign. I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  Henry and Richard looked at one another before both broke into raucous laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” Anna asked, bemused and a little annoyed by their reaction.

  “Don’t worry,” Richard beamed. “I spoke to Libby. She told me you were on your way and that I didn’t have to step down from the highest ranking job in the land after all.” He reached out and touched her arm. “I’m so sorry you were feeling so scared and I didn’t even stop to notice. Or maybe I just didn’t want to notice, because I wouldn’t have known how to fix it.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” she replied, meekly. “I wanted to talk to you about it. But things were so hectic I just never found the right time – until yesterday.” Then, suddenly remembering the conversation she’d just overheard she turned to look at Henry. “But why were you saying you’d miss Richard?”

  “Because one of us has just resigned I’m afraid.”

  “Henry,” Anna gasped, open-mouthed. “You’re not leaving?”

  “Just for a little while, yes. I’m going to take myself away to France for a few months to clear my head. I need to sort a few things out in my mind and this just isn’t the place to do that.”

  “Sort things out?” Anna asked. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” Henry stuffed his hands awkwardly into his trouser pockets. “I need to take a bit of time to work through everything that’s gone on in the last few weeks. My separation from Joy… and, also, some of the mistakes I made in the heat of the moment.” He bowed his head momentarily, and Anna knew emotion was getting the better of him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “You know,” Anna said, “I truly believe the things that happened during this campaign were meant to be, because we have learnt and we’ve emerged stronger. So don’t go all gloomy on me when you’re getting out of this madhouse.” Anna gave him a playful poke in the ribs.

  “You two were born for this,” Henry laughed. “You won’t need me. And I’m not leaving the planet, I’ll still be keeping in touch and sticking my oar in. And before you know it, I’ll be back.”

  Anna could feel her eyes welling up with tears. She attempted to fight them back but realised her hormones were far more in control than her senses. Instead she leant forwards to wrap a startled Henry into a bear hug.

  “Thank you, Henry. We’ve all been through a lot together these last few weeks and we’ll miss you terribly.”

  Henry’s face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and emotion.

  “I’ll miss you both too,” he replied croakily. “I’m going to go now before this gets harder. But I won’t be far away.” He reached out and clasped them both by the arm. “You’re going to be terrific.”

  With that, Henry turned and walked the corridor of Number 10, heading for the front door.

  Richard and Anna watched in silence until he was out of sight.

  “And then there were two,” Richard said quietly.

  “I feel like we’re missing an arm now,” Anna replied, only half-jokingly.

  A Downing Street press officer suddenly opened the door of the dining room to look for Richard, only to jolt back when he found him standing right outside. “Ready when you are,” he said, before closing the door quickly again.

  “Will you sit in on the briefing with me?” Richard asked Anna anxiously.

  “Course I will,” she smiled reassuringly. “We can do this, Richard. We just have to stick together; no more letting other people talk us into decisions we’re not comfortable with.”

  “No,” Richard said, putting his arms around her. “This is strictly a double act from now on.”

  “Soon to be a triple act,” she winked.

  “Yes,” he stroked her cheek fondly, his face turning serious. “Do you trust me now, Anna? Are you ready for all this?”

  “I’m ready,” she answered, confidently. “I guess I just needed to know you would put me before your career if it came down to it.”

  “I would – and you must trust me on that. I won’t let you down again. Now we need to go and tell the people who voted for us that we’re ready to do what we promised to. Are you coming?”

  “Yes,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his waist. They held each other tightly and Anna allowed herself to relax into his embrace, feeling safe for the first time in months. After a few moments she stepped back and tucked her arm under his.

  “After you, Prime Minister,” she said before they stepped forwards together into the packed dining room.

  Turning to face the press, Anna smiled confidently, before leaving Richard’s side and taking a seat next to a stunned reporter who clearly wasn’t used to having a Prime Minister’s wife as a seating companion.

  “Don’t mind me,” Anna smiled at the now flushed young man.

  “Will you be speaking today?” he asked sheepishly.

  “No.” Anna turned to look at him. “I’m just here to support my husband – and you can quote me on that.”

  Clare Stephen-Johnston, 38, is a journalist from Edinburgh, where she lives with her husband, two sons and s
tepdaughter. She is a former editorial director of the Press Association in Scotland and Ireland, and magazines editor with the Daily Record and Sunday Mail. Polls Apart is her debut novel.