‘They’re an impressive pair of women,’ said Ralph proudly slipping his arm around Emily’s waist and giving her a kiss. She reciprocated warmly, wrapping herself around him with far more enthusiasm than usual, meeting Matt’s eyes triumphantly and hoping Ralph wasn’t looking too surprised at the unexpected attention.
Ralph and Matt vied with each other to compliment Emily’s cooking in between taking turns to show off for Susie who simpered and fluttered her eyelashes at them both. She was a pretty woman, slim and petite although with a regrettably big nose, accentuated by her unfortunate habit of wearing velvet headbands. Blonde and well-bred, she was used to being admired by men but had no serious relationship as far as Emily was aware. She was also intelligent and had benefited from an expensive education but chose to pretend feminine stupidity in a way that Emily found intensely irritating.
‘Of course Ralph’s position in the party was assured, long before he stood for election,’ she was saying to Matt, holding Ralph’s forearm proprietarily. ‘He was already acknowledged as one of the key architects of party policy. Really, we were keen to have him stand so we could make the best use of his talents.’
‘My biggest strength, as you can see,’ simpered Ralph, ‘is the loyalty of those around me. Susie’s been an absolute rock since I was elected,’ he said, giving her an admiring smile. ‘I was lucky to have her.’
Matt raised an eyebrow. ‘To have her?’ he queried archly.
‘Ooh, you naughty boy,’ giggled Susie. ‘You know he didn’t mean that.’
Emily knew different. Matt always said exactly what he meant.
‘Tell me about last year’s leadership contest,’ said Matt, relaxing back into his chair.
‘Tell you what about it?’ asked Ralph, but he knew what Matt was referring to. ‘You mean the contest between me and Alan?’ he continued. ‘Yeah, well, you know how it goes. There are often a couple of front runners but the main thing is to get the party to unite behind just the one. You know that.’
‘I understand getting the party to stick together was a bit of a challenge,’ Matt probed. ‘Rumour is there was a bit of a pact – a pay-off, promising power for you in return for you stepping down and backing the other man.’
‘You might very well say that. I couldn’t possibly comment.’
‘I’ll take that as a “yes” then, shall I?’
‘Okay, well … Alan will see me right, true enough,’ admitted Ralph. ‘It seemed to be what the party wanted,’ he added with false modesty.
‘A go in the hot seat then?’
‘I wasn’t aware there was a vacancy,’ joked Ralph, but didn’t deny it. ‘Let’s not forget, I may be the youthful contender, but Alan’s hardly on his last legs is he? He’s got a few good years in him yet.’
Emily was wringing her napkin through her hands, appalled at Ralph’s bravado and indiscretion. God knows, it wouldn’t be the first time his ego let him down. He was so easily flattered into saying more than he should and she was furious he was giving the impression of being so close to the leadership. Although Matt had no notebook or tape recorder handy, she knew he would be squirrelling away background for his story, and working out angles. Unbidden, memories returned of watching him gain the confidence of a bunch of Rwandan guerrillas, drinking beer with them as they lounged with their machine guns, all of them murderers but some of them no more than children. She knew all too well how he could feign comradeship and relaxation but really be sharply tuned to danger and the scent of a story. She wished she could warn her husband to be careful and tried hard to catch his eye.
Matt noted their interaction with amusement. Emily was right, he had done his homework and knew what questions to ask, but his secret weapon in the early stages of a story like this was simply to sit and watch. Flirting with Susie had been entertaining enough. She was willing, confident and responsive but as soon as the attention was off her he noticed it was Ralph she fixed her eyes on, not himself. He also noticed how she had flushed with pleasure when Ralph had praised her loyalty earlier. Matt was willing to bet her loyalty knew no bounds. She was Ralph’s for the taking and Matt wondered idly if he had.
While Ralph’s easy charm and undoubted charisma bought him the adoration of all around him, Matt suspected his Achilles heel was his vanity and that was a fault which could lead him into big trouble. There was nothing so destructive as a woman scorned …
And what about Emily? he pondered. She must surely suspect Ralph and Susie were too close? In the past she would have come straight out and accused them both. She had been fearless, feisty, a loose cannon who spoke first and thought second, he remembered, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile. He had fond memories of her fury at a man in the park who dared to kick his dog in her sight; despite his being several inches taller and twice her weight, she had berated him with a stream of such articulate invective, it left him blinking and bemused, stammering an apology and hurrying away with frequent glances behind him. Matt had had to physically restrain her from following him, buying her an ice cream to take her mind off it.
And here she was now, suave and attentive, the perfect hostess. Dirty plates magically disappeared, wine glasses were filled and pertinent comments dropped into a conversation, all intended to commit to no particular opinion but to deftly place Ralph in the centre of the spotlight. Time to see how unshakeable she truly was, he thought.
When they were lingering over the last of the wine and the especially smelly cheese, Matt swirled his drink around his glass and announced casually ‘Of course Emily and I were contemporaries when we were starting out as aspiring journalists. I remember her well.’ Emily shot him a warning look, which he pretended not to notice. ‘Oh yes,’ he continued, enjoying her horrified reaction, ‘we all had Emily tipped for the top, as it were.’
Emily froze, not daring to look at Ralph. That was possibly the second most gruesome thing Matt could have said, beating only the initiation of a discussion about how their passionate relationship had overshadowed her entire early career. Just in case he decided to raise that next, she dived in to pre-empt him.
‘I’m rather tired darling, I think I’ll go to bed if that’s all right.’ She stroked the back of Ralph’s neck as she spoke, hoping Matt was noticing the intimate gesture.
‘I’ll join you,’ said Matt, his eyes glinting dangerously. ‘That is to say,’ he added, ‘I’m pretty tired too, if you could show me where you want me to sleep.’
Emily smiled brightly at him. ‘Sure,’ she said, but when they went upstairs together he followed her into the guest room, pushing the door closed behind him.
‘Good God, Emily,’ he demanded, his eyes opaque and unreadable. ‘What the hell has happened to you? Are you actually still in there somewhere? What’s the deal with the Stepford wife act? All this draping yourself over your husband …’
‘Exactly,’ she hissed. ‘My husband. That’s what wives do, it’s called being supportive. It’s called commitment. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’
‘Yeah, right,’ he said, his face inches from hers, his body so close she imagined she could feel the heat. ‘You should know all about commitment after what you did to me ten years ago. Then you scarcely knew the meaning of the word, apparently.’
‘What I did?’ whispered Emily furiously. ‘That’s really rich …’ She was rendered speechless with outrage for a moment. ‘You dare to talk to me about being unsupportive … Just tell me this,’ she panted, her hand on her thumping heart, trying to calm herself, ‘did you know I was Ralph’s wife when you decided to do this story?’
‘Of course I bloody did. I knew you dived straight into a relationship with him as soon as you left me. I thought I should give you some space. Give us both some space, but the next thing I heard …’ he rubbed his forehead wearily. ‘Mind you,’ he continued, with venom, ‘I can see the attraction. On the one hand you’ve got your slightly dodgy traumatised ex, having a bit of a tough time with the sheer bloody awfulness of the storie
s he’s having to cover, plus – I’ll grant you – a fleeting episode of commitment phobia over the woman he has fallen so passionately and totally in love with …’
She gasped, but before she had a chance to interrupt, he ploughed on. ‘And then, on the other hand, you’ve got a rather impressive up and coming politico by the balls, ten years older, sussed, panting after you and promising you a life of ease, where all you have to do is smile up at him every time he comes up with a particularly good sound-bite.’ He paused. ‘I just think you might have given it a bit more time. Thought it through. You loved me. I know you did. We fall apart and five minutes later you’re married to this random bloke …’
‘It wasn’t a rebound thing,’ insisted Emily, knowing it was. ‘I adore Ralph,’ she went on. ‘He’s good for me.’
‘And I wasn’t?
‘What do you think? Just … just, don’t mess things up for me, I don’t need … complications.’
‘Like this?’ he grabbed her around the waist and drew her to him, sinking his mouth onto hers.
Paralysed with shock, she let him kiss her for several heart-wrenching seconds … then she pushed him away with all her might. She swung an arm to slap him but he was too quick for her.
‘Oops. Close, but no cigar,’ he taunted as he grabbed her hand. ‘Oh no you don’t,’ he added, grabbing the other one too before she had even consciously registered the intention. Grasping both her wrists in just one hand, he held them with no visible effort as she tried and failed to wriggle free. ‘Now this is more the Emily I remember,’ he observed. ‘Passion, a bit of conviction … just like old times.’
‘Get. Off. Me.’ Emily hissed, horrified at how slow she had been to reject him and knowing he had noticed. ‘I am a happily married woman.’
‘Ah, but are you though?’ he asked. ‘Only it seems to me you are just playing the part of a “happily married woman”,’ he went on. ‘There you are, acting out the role of the dedicated politician’s wife, the perfect partner, the charming consort … you do it really well by the way. But all the while, you know…’ he insisted, pushing his face closer, ‘… you know you’ve made a mistake, that you’re living a lie, that you’re just another member of the “Vote Ralph Pemilly” team. You know he doesn’t really give a damn about you, don’t you? Your place by his side is only as secure as the next focus group tells him it is …’
‘Shut up,’ she whispered, her face blank with shock. ‘It’s not true … Ralph loves me. I know he does.’ As soon as Matt released her hands, she used them to cover her mouth, to press back the sobs that broke through her fingers. He regarded her sadly, for a moment, sighed and then gathered her up in his arms, cradling her head on his shoulder as the sobbing intensified.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, rocking her gently to and fro. ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s not true. Of course he loves you …’
‘Mummy?’ A voice intruded, barely audible over the blood pounding in her head. ‘I’ve got a tummy egg.’
Matt groaned. ‘You had better go to him,’ he murmured, so close to Emily’s ear she could feel his breath. She swayed as he unwrapped his arms. He steadied her, tenderly brushed her hair back from her tear-stained face and then, gently, pushed her away.
‘Go,’ he said.
And she did.
Chapter Four
Much as she disliked going to the constituency office, duty prevailed the following morning. There was the small matter also, that even folding leaflets was preferable to making polite conversation with Matt over the breakfast table.
TJ was looking grey-faced.
‘Lovie,’ he said when he saw Emily, ‘bit of a balls-up on the media relations front.’
‘Tell me about it,’ said Emily, thinking about her behaviour with Matt the night before. On the other hand, TJ could hardly be expected to know about that. ‘How so?’ she asked.
‘Village of the damned?’ he said, raising an eyebrow.
‘The Corfield release?’ said Emily. Suddenly she gasped and put her hands to her face. ‘Noooooo!’
‘Oh, yes,’ said TJ. ‘I had a call from the Sussex Weekly asking if “Corfield – village of the damned” was an official rename or just the opinion of its MP. Then the radio guys called to ask if we planned to engage in some sort of exorcism or purification ceremony and, if yes, would the cost be covered by the council tax?’
‘Ralph,’ she said slowly and with grim certainty, ‘will absolutely kill me.’
‘Actually that’s not true,’ contested TJ, ‘technically, he’ll kill me. Publicity is my job after all.’
‘You mean you wouldn’t dob me in?’
TJ straightened up and stuck out his jaw. ‘Certainly not,’ he said, loyally.
‘I’ll tell him it was me, of course,’ she said.
‘I think the priority is to kill the story,’ said a voice behind them. ‘Leave the tearful confessions until later,’ continued Matt, joining them.
She groaned. ‘Not you again,’ she said charmlessly. ‘Do you always listen in to private conversations?’
‘I’m a journalist,’ he grinned, not remotely offended at her manner, ‘it’s what we do. Now,’ he said briskly, ‘who’s it gone to?’
‘All the media in the constituency basically,’ she admitted.
‘Okay, so that’s a couple of weekly papers, local radio and the two TV station news desks who were probably going to ignore it anyhow. Lucky I’ve got contacts in low places.’
Matt sent TJ out to fetch them all some decent coffee – ‘no offence mate but a cup of instant isn’t going to cut it today,’ – and then he hit the phone.
She had to admire his skill. Most of the contacts knew who he was by reputation and a couple appeared to know him personally, judging by the matey “how the hell are you” comments being bandied around.
The angle Matt went in on was simple. Printing the story would simply cause poor TJ to be sacked and alienate Ralph. As he had not even seen the release before it was sent out, any attempts to suggest that it reflected his personal views would fall on stony ground. In addition, they would ruin an otherwise fruitful relationship with Ralph’s office which would be worth even more after the election, given that they would then have the Home Secretary himself in their constituency. He was sure TJ would make their loyalty worthwhile in the future. Finally he gave his word that if they spiked the story their competitors would spike it too.
The last point struck Emily as being particularly clever. ‘Thank you,’ she said, when he had put the phone down for the last time.
‘You’re welcome,’ he replied, smiling warmly and draining his triple espresso. He had already sent TJ out for another one. Having barely slept after Emily left, caffeine – and plenty of it – was essential. ‘Do you remember,’ he said, ‘when we were starting out, the only thing scarier than telling our editor we didn’t have the story was him finding out that we didn’t have it but our competitors did?’
‘Oh yes,’ she shuddered. ‘Do you remember Brian? He was a sadist.’
‘He was the editor from hell,’ agreed Matt. ‘I was livid with him when he made you call up the families of anyone who showed up in the obituaries that’d died young …’
‘So I could ask them what happened in case it was a gruesome story,’ Emily continued, ‘like being beheaded in a forklift truck accident or something … I thought you were going to go in and wallop him.’
‘I would have done, for you,’ said Matt softly, enjoying how she smiled at the memory.
‘Yeah, well,’ she said, suddenly uncomfortable with their rapport. ‘It was helpful really. It told me I was never going to cut it as a real journalist.’
‘You were a real journalist. You may not have wanted to exploit grieving families but you were ruthless when it came to rooting out dodgy politicians. It just beats me why you went “poacher turned gamekeeper” on us all.’
‘I didn’t,’ she protested. ‘And also, I don’t know what you mean, there’s no dirt on Ra
lph. He’s one of the good guys.’
‘I really hope so. For your sake, I really do.’
She stared at him, aghast. ‘Oh my God. You’re here to do an exposé, aren’t you?’
He shook his head but wouldn’t meet her eye.
‘You are,’ she insisted, ‘you want to dig up some revolting story to destroy my husband and his political career. Good grief, you really are bitter it didn’t work out between us, aren’t you? Even after ten years nothing would please you more than to reveal my husband as a sleazeball. You are unspeakable …’ she stopped, panting slightly.
‘Do you think I’d have helped you out of this mess this morning if I wanted that?’
She had to admit he had a point.
‘Listen if there’s dirt to dig, I’ll find it. That’s what I do,’ he snapped. ‘I would be letting everyone down, the readers, the editor, my country, damn it, if I did anything else,’ he paused. ‘There was a time when you were the same.’
‘I still am. I am. But … my job is to support my husband now – and the party – and to raise my children. You know what? I really don’t feel the need to have a career where I have to fight some sort of war everyday …’ she petered out, tears springing to her eyes.
Just then, they heard the door to the street slam as TJ returned with the coffee.
‘I just hope for your sake that your precious husband is the paragon you think he is,’ said Matt quietly before TJ came back in.
The next time Emily saw Ralph, she didn’t have to confess about the balls-up with the release, as she had bribed TJ to admit it to him in advance. Luckily TJ totally understood, especially when she promised him a box of his favourite artisan chocolate truffles. Mind you it wasn’t too much of a confession with no harm done after all – thanks to Matt’s intervention. Trouble was, thinking about Matt reminded her about the other thing: Matt kissing her. There was certainly no need to mention that. No, the reason she didn’t want to be admitting guilt about anything was because she was pretty keen to rip Ralph’s head off over his indiscreet comments at supper with Matt and Susie. And she couldn’t maintain the moral high ground if she had to admit fault first.
Never Marry a Politician Page 4