Never Marry a Politician

by Sarah Waights

  Her eyes were so gritty and sore, she felt they must be as pink as a white rabbit’s. The reflection in the dark glass of the window told her the rest of the story. A wan, shiny face with lank, greasy hair looked back at her, the eyes so darkly shadowed they reminded her of the empty eye sockets of a skull. And then of course she reeked, not just with the usual stale sweat but the rank, piercing smell of nervous perspiration. What a catch, she thought ironically, no wonder Matt couldn’t keep his hands off me. Recalling the hard expression on his face when he left her elicited a fresh rush of tears which she brushed away irritably. She felt so wired the continuous hum and clatter of hospital life outside the room grated unbearably on her nerves. A rattling trolley at the other end of the corridor sounded like someone dropping a hundred saucepan lids. She rested her head on the side of the bed and tried to close out the world. Incredibly, she slept.

  ‘Mrs Pemilly, Mrs Pemilly.’ Emily became groggily aware that someone was calling softly and shaking her shoulder.

  Sitting up, she saw a sweetly smiling Irish nurse she vaguely remembered from the night before. She was holding out a cup of tea. Emily would have preferred coffee but accepted it gratefully.

  ‘Your husband’s office called,’ she told her. ‘They say he will be coming in to see Alfie in a couple of hours,’ she said excitedly. ‘I hope it’s before ten o’clock,’ she added. ‘That’s when I get off duty.’

  Alfie looked just the same. ‘Should he still be asleep?’ Emily asked the nurse anxiously.

  ‘Sleep is very healing,’ she replied, tweaking his blankets straight and, touchingly, brushing Alfie’s fringe away from his closed eyes. ‘Doctor will be doing her rounds soon. She’ll be able to tell you more.’

  Emily watched the clock anxiously. Eight o’clock came and went. At nearly nine o’clock there was a commotion at the door of the ward.

  ‘Really,’ came a familiar voice, ‘I can assure you this child and his mother need to see me, and now, if you don’t mind …’

  Emily nearly wept with relief as Nessa swept in looking comfortingly familiar but even more than usually glamorous.

  ‘Nessa,’ she said, her mouth trembling.

  ‘Hush, hush,’ Nessa murmured, sweeping her into a hug. ‘Now,’ she added after just a moment, ‘chin up and tell Auntie Nessa all about it.’

  ‹It is so good to see you.’

  ‘Taken as read,’ nodded Nessa, ‘although not a sentiment shared by the dragon at the door,’ she added.

  ‘Takes one to know one,’ shot back Emily cheekily, ‘but still, I am glad you came. It’s been a long night.’

  ‘You’ve been alone?’ asked Nessa.

  ‘Matt was here.’

  ‘Was he now?’ she remarked thoughtfully, ‘but no sign of the big man himself?’

  ‘He’s trying to get here – apparently.’

  ‘Is he?’ mused Nessa, looking at an elegant gold watch. ‘And soon, I’ll warrant, if he’s planning to give the lunchtime bulletins something to cover.’

  ‘Hark at you,’ remarked Emily. ‘You sound like Gerald.’

  ‘Do I?’ said Nessa, raising an eyebrow, amused. ‘Funny you should say. Anyhow, you’ll think I’m even more like Gerald when I admit I brought you some clean clothes to face the cameras in.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ she admitted. ‘I stink and I must look a sight.’

  Nessa diplomatically said nothing, just handed Emily a holdall she hadn’t noticed until then.

  ‘You’ve been to my house,’ commented Emily, burrowing through the bag and seeing, with relief, Nessa had thought of everything.

  ‘I spent the night there,’ explained Nessa, ‘to look after Tash. I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘Mind? Of course not – thank you,’ said Emily. ‘But where was Ralph?’

  ‘Not sure,’ she said blankly. Emily knew better than to interrogate her, but clearly her friend was unhappy with the situation and Emily didn’t think it was her Nessa was cross with.

  ‘Desperate as I am to get cleaned up, I don’t want to go,’ she said, gesturing at Alfie, who was still fast asleep. ‘The doctor’s coming in a minute. I’ll miss her.’

  ‘You won’t,’ reassured Nessa. ‘I’ll stay here with Alfie. You pop to the loos across the corridor. I’ll come and get you if anyone turns up.’

  As it was, after a lightning quick shower, the sheer joy of changing into clean clothes and even putting a bit of make-up on, Nessa and Alfie were still alone.

  ‘That looks better,’ commented Nessa approvingly.

  ‘Good choice,’ said Emily.

  Nessa’s efficiency was extraordinary. She had managed to pick out Emily’s favourite jeans, and a relatively smart grey cashmere sweater which was Emily’s fall back comfort wear. She had even chosen matching underwear. She only had a momentary wobble over the thought of Nessa having to rummage through her far from organised knicker drawer. It was a bit like having your mum sort out your clothes for you, she decided.

  The young doctor eventually returned, this time in the wake of Dr Llewelyn, who was either still on duty, or perhaps had gone and then returned.

  ‘So, we meet again Alfie,’ she said, smiling briefly at Emily and taking the offered chart from an underling.

  After a brief perusal of the clipboard, she examined Alfie, who half opened his eyes for the event and even pushed her hand away irritably.

  ‘A good sign,’ she murmured. ‘Hello Alfie,’ she added, louder. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘My head hurts,’ he muttered, eyeing her crossly. Emily stifled a sob of relief.

  ‘I am sure it does,’ said the doctor. ‘You’ve been a poorly boy.’

  ‘He’s been?’ interrogated Emily, no longer able to watch without comment.

  ‘I would say he is on the way to recovery,’ said the doctor, addressing Emily this time. ‘It’s been a tough night for mum,’ she observed. Emily nearly dissolved at her matter of fact sympathy, and just nodded mutely.

  ‘I’m pretty happy with him,’ continued the doctor. ‘We’ll not get the result of the lumbar puncture for a couple of hours but he’s clearly on the mend,’ she said. ‘We’ll need to carry on with the antibiotics and keep a very close eye on him for now.’ Her entourage all nodded in unison. ‘He had his guardian angel looking after him that’s for sure,’ she added. ‘The tragedy is when parents leave it too long before they bring their children in to us. Lucky you got him here so soon,’ she told Emily who was just thinking she knew exactly who Alfie’s guardian angel was, although she wasn’t sure if Matt was the type for white fluffy wings.

  ‘What about this …’ said Emily, gesturing at the dark blotches, lightening before her eyes, now she had received such reassuring news.

  ‘His skin looks grim I know,’ said the doctor, ‘but in many ways it looks worse than it is. A bit like frostbite.’ Emily nodded, not having the faintest idea about frostbite either. ‘Will he lose his fingers and toes?’ she said, glancing at the young doctor nervously.

  ‘Not unless he has an extremely unfortunate accident with a lawnmower,’ joked the woman, giving her underling a stern look. ‘I understand this little boy has a very important daddy?’ she queried.

  ‘Hard to tell until tonight,’ said Emily drily. ‘Until then he’s merely a shadow of his future self.’

  ‘“Shadow”, right, got it,’ said the doctor appreciatively, ‘that’s good. Well, let’s hope by tonight Alfie is a proper PM’s boy, not a shadow PM’s boy.’

  ‘More a victim of a single parent family,’ muttered Emily, which made the doctor give her an odd look.

  ‘Talk of the devil,’ said Nessa, who had been discreetly standing by the window out of the way. Emily went over to follow her gaze. She saw Ralph’s car draw up by the main entrance, sweeping past a gaggle of media and a short row of smartly turned out staff. He got out of the car on the opposite side to where the cameras stood but, after a brief flurry of activity, the two women watched as, comically, he got back in the car, which
then reversed a short way and swept in again. This time, he got out of the side nearest the entrance where the cameras could see him and, looking serious and concerned, shook hands briefly with the staff before striding inside.

  ‘Ever the media tart,’ said Nessa sourly.

  Clearly the media opportunities continued because it took an inordinately long time for Ralph to reach Alfie’s room. Eventually, he rushed in as if he had run all the way, ruffling his hair to create the necessarily ‘distraught father’ persona which suited circumstances.

  ‘Darling,’ he said giving Emily a cursory kiss. ‘What’s the story?’

  ‘It’s been a tough night,’ she said. ‘The doctor says he’s doing well.’

  ‘Hallo trouble,’ said Ralph affectionately ruffling Alfie’s hair.

  ‘Ow, Daddy,’ he muttered grumpily in reply, making Emily cover her mouth to hide a smile. ‘Don’t, my head hurts.’

  ‘Course it does mate,’ continued Ralph. ‘Mummy says you’ve been pretty poorly. But you’re on the mend now. You can go home soon I expect.’

  ‘Will you be there?’ asked Alfie so plaintively Emily’s heart swelled for him.

  ‘Well,’ said Ralph, ‘I’ve got a lot on, mate.’

  ‘No, then,’ said Alfie with resignation, and sighed. ‘I’m tired,’ he added. ‘I want to go to sleep.’

  ‘You do that, sweetie,’ said Emily. ‘I’ll be here when you wake up.’

  ‘No point me hanging around by the looks of it,’ said Ralph briskly when they adjourned to the corridor.

  ‘None at all now you’ve given the TV stations their story,’ said Emily daringly, but he seemed impervious to sarcasm.

  ‘They should be broadcasting it by lunchtime,’ he said looking at his watch anxiously. ‘I wonder if I ought to offer a statement, something about the excellent work of the NHS, only obviously they’ll have to deliver a bloody sight more when I’m in government,’ he added, checking cursorily to make sure none of the staff could overhear. The nurses at the station up the corridor, who were paying close attention while pretending not to, grinned brightly at him and bridled at his returning smile.

  ‘Now, darling, the plan is for you to come back to the constituency with me in a few hours, to wait for the results, obviously. In the meantime, I’ll need you to look adoring at the lunchtime press conference.’

  ‘No,’ she said.

  He looked so astonished she nearly laughed. ‘I can’t leave Alfie,’ she explained.

  ‘Okay, well, that’s all very laudable, darling,’ said Ralph with the ultra-reasonable voice that she found particularly annoying. ‘But he is just going to be asleep isn’t he? Not much point you staying here and watching him do that.’

  Emily didn’t bother explaining to her husband how the whole principle of her being a mother made it physiologically impossible to leave her son’s bedside. Instead, she turned on her heel and went back into Alfie’s room. When she glanced out through the glass door a moment later Ralph had gone.

  Hours later, she had read Alfie a Thomas the Tank Engine story – five times – and had even seen him eat a reasonably good tea. Normally she wouldn’t be keen on him eating nothing but chocolate mousse, but today she was thrilled when he asked for more.

  ‘How are you feeling darling?’ she said, stroking his hair.

  ‘I feel tired Mummy,’ he admitted. ‘My legs are still poorly I think, but my arms feel better,’ he said, waggling them around to demonstrate, but then flumping back on his pillow, pale with the effort.

  ‘That’s what made me decide to go into paediatrics,’ Dr Llewellyn said, appearing suddenly at Emily’s elbow and looking at Alfie approvingly. ‘Children can be at death’s door one minute and racing around the ward the next. You certainly know where you are with them.’

  ‘Not racing around yet,’ said Emily, although she was nearly tearful with relief at Alfie’s recovery.

  ‘Try him tomorrow morning,’ said the doctor knowingly. ‘You’re doing well Alfie,’ she said to him, ‘but take it easy. You’ve been very sick – gave your mummy quite a fright.’

  ‘And my daddy,’ corrected Alfie automatically. ‘Do I have to go back to school tomorrow?’ he added, reluctantly.

  ‘Not tomorrow darling,’ said Emily. ‘You’ll need to stay in here for a bit, I should imagine?’ The last bit was more of a question.

  ‘I expect we’ll let you go in a couple of days,’ said the doctor, ‘if you keep doing as well as you are now.’

  Emily was amazed it was so quick. Also, she wondered where on earth they would be in forty-eight hours. If Ralph got his way, would they even be allowed to return home? She consciously calmed her panic, reassuring herself that, despite her best efforts to show her loyalty, James for one was highly sceptical the election could be won. Even if the worst happened, she had pledged her loyalty only until tomorrow. She had lied for Ralph, lied to Matt, and – one way or another – she would be able to put it all straight again. That was what Ralph had promised.

  ‘What, Mummy?’ queried Alfie perceptively.

  ‘Nothing at all, darling,’ said Emily. ‘Just wondering how to keep you amused if you can’t go back to school for a few days.’

  ‘DVDs and cuddles on the sofa,’ he said quickly, returning to the reassuring ritual Emily had established with both children when they were ill.

  ‘With a blanket on?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Alfie, ‘and popcorn,’ he added hopefully.

  ‘We’ll see,’ she smiled, stroking his feet.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A nurse had come in and put their television on for the teatime news. ‘I expect you’ll see your daddy,’ she said, smiling brightly at Alfie and handing Emily the remote control.

  First the presenter interviewed a commentator who talked in serious tones of Ralph’s statesmanlike demeanour despite the stress of his child’s illness and even made obsequious allusion to the dignity and focus of his behaviour since Alan’s death. Emily was nearly sick. They didn’t even damn well mention his affair. One sick little boy, it seemed, and old Ralph was Mr Goldenballs. Granted then, just to even things up, they had someone talking in support of the opposition, but the spokesman was too wily to try and score any cheap points against saintly Ralph, for fear it would backfire, like the accusations of dirty tricks over the affair had done. Instead he confined himself to casting doubt on the depth of Ralph’s experience given his sudden rise to power. That wasn’t nearly enough to scupper Ralph’s chances thought Emily with irritation. He was so obviously a weasel-worded politician with a tendency to be led by the willy, she couldn’t believe people couldn’t see it. What was wrong with everyone? Still, reassuringly, she could imagine most of the women would see through the bullshit and they constituted half the electorate after all.

  Despite the increasing tension outside, and her irritation at the media coverage, Emily felt comfortably cocooned from the events of the day. Time was marked out comfortingly in the hospital by meals, medication rounds and cups of tea. Alfie ate some ice cream for supper which delighted Emily and caused a smiling Irish nurse to suggest ‘doctor’ would order his drip to be disconnected in the morning – providing he continued to eat and drink, she warned, wagging her finger mock sternly.

  Emily’s only regret was that she didn’t have Tash with her too. Nessa had promised to bring her in but, as the hours ticked by, Emily watched the doors of the ward with increasing impatience.

  At last, Nessa pushed through the double door with Tash holding her hand. Jolted out of her usual insouciance, she looked young and vulnerable. She rushed to Emily and clung to her tearfully.

  ‘Hello my gorgeous girl,’ she whispered in Tash’s ear. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘I missed you too, Mummy,’ Tash replied in a near wail. ‘Nessa’s been really kind, though,’ she added hastily, separating herself from Emily and giving Nessa a polite smile. The sudden flash of adult grace under pressure made Emily’s heart swell.

  ‘Tash has
been the kind one,’ contested Nessa, brushing Tash’s hair out of her eyes. ‘She’s been terribly grown up and good, showing me where everything was.’

  ‘Tash,’ muttered Alfie weakly, waking from another of his profound sleeps.

  ‘Hi monkey face,’ said Tash, trying to sound laconic, but swiftly and impulsively leaning down to give him a kiss, before pulling a face to counteract the embarrassing display of affection.

  ‘Have you had an exciting time darling?’ asked Emily, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  ‘S’pose so,’ replied Tash reluctantly. ‘Lots of grown-ups pawing me and telling me how clever Daddy is.’

  ‘He is,’ said Emily, loyal for her daughter’s sake.

  ‘I know,’ replied Tash. ‘But I’m clever too, so I already know. They just suck up to me to get to him.’

  Emily blinked. Over Tash’s head she saw Nessa stifle a smile.

  ‘So,’ continued Emily, clicking into mummy mode, ‘have you had some supper? Heavens, it’s eight o’clock already. Perhaps Nessa will take you down to the cafeteria to get something to eat.’

  ‘Nooo,’ wailed Tash, suddenly back to being the child she truly was. ‘I want to stay with you, Mummy.’

  ‘Of course she does,’ said Nessa briskly. ‘Now you both need to eat, so why don’t I stay with Alfie and you go and get something. Tell you what, there’s a Pizza Hut just around the corner, why not get properly out and have some fresh air too?’