“The piece?”
“The article.”
“Oh. Oh, yes. Well, honestly, Jocasta, I don’t think so. Sorry.”
“Fine. Absolutely fine. Bye now.”
“Goodbye, Jocasta. And thanks for calling.”
“Silly bitch,” said Jocasta aloud as she put the phone down.
“I…wondered what your plans were.”
Jeremy’s voice was as she had never heard it; almost diffident, just short of nervous. Clio was standing looking at the shampoo range in Boots; she was so surprised she practically dropped the basket.
“Well, I’m not absolutely sure, to be honest.”
“Where—where are you living?”
“In a flat in Guildford. Or I’m about to be. At the end of the week. I just signed the agreement this morning. Meanwhile I’m staying with the Salters.”
“The Salters! You’ve told them about—about what’s happened?”
“That I’ve left you? Well, yes. I had to really. But look, Jeremy, I’m in Boots—not the place to have a conversation like this. If you really want to talk to me, we’d better meet.” She felt cool and in control.
“Yes. I think we should. Would you like to come to the house?”
“I’d rather not. A pub?”
“Of course. What about the one at Thursley? About six?”
“What, tonight? No, I can’t do tonight. Sorry.” She could, of course, but…
“Oh. Well, tomorrow, then? Maybe nearer seven, I’ve got a long list.”
Clio switched off her mobile and went to join the queue at the checkout; her mood of confidence and pleasure had been very short-lived. Still—it had been a beginning.
“Do you have a Boots card?” said the girl.
“Oh, no. No, I don’t.”
“Pity.” She was very friendly. “You’ve got an awful lot of stuff here. You going on holiday or something?”
“No,” said Clio, “just restocking.” Restocking her life. It was a rather good phrase, she thought. Her spirits seesawed up again.
“Jocasta, hi. I just wanted to say thanks for last night.”
“That’s OK. Anytime you need a square meal. But Josh, you’ve got to get your life sorted out.”
“I know, I know. It’s not a lot of fun without Beatrice, and I’m missing those children horribly.”
“I expect you are. Still—” Her voice softened. “I don’t suppose she means it about divorce. She’s just trying to teach you a lesson.”
“’Fraid not. She’s seen a solicitor.”
“Oh God, Josh, I’m so sorry. You didn’t say that last night.”
“Well, I didn’t want to, in front of Clio.”
“She’s so sweet, isn’t she? I really like her. But she seemed a bit…awkward with you, I thought. Josh, is there something I should know? About you and her? You didn’t, well, sleep with her, did you? While we were all travelling?”
“Of course I didn’t!” He sounded so genuinely indignant that Jocasta believed him.
“Sorry. She just seemed a bit thrown. I wondered, that’s all.”
“Jocasta, nothing happened between Clio and me. OK?”
Martha was trying to do some work when the phone rang again. It was Chad.
“Martha, what do you think you’re playing at?” he said, his voice clipped and harsh.
“What do you mean?”
“Turning down what would have been a very big article in the Sketch? Are you mad? It could have won you hundreds, possibly even thousands of votes. I would advise you very strongly to see Jocasta Forbes. It’s the opportunity of a political lifetime. Well, at your stage, anyway.”
“Yes, but—”
“Martha, just do it. She’s not going to say anything unpleasant about you. Even if she does, it won’t do you any harm. It’s exposure. But why should she? It’s such a charming story, all of it. Binsmow childhood, going travelling together, and then your dizzy rise in the law, the cleaner dying, converting you to politics…It’s so good it sounds as if we made it up. If you get selected, you are to call Jocasta immediately. And eat a little humble pie when you do so—she was quite sniffy about it all.”
Martha was silent.
“Look,” he said, as if he were talking to a young child, “Martha, either you do this thing, or you don’t. Politics is a high-profile profession. I thought you’d have realised that by now.”
“I’m beginning to,” she said, “and actually, Chad—” Maybe she could get out of this, even now.
“Hold on a minute,” he said, “my other line’s going.”
She sat waiting. Why had she got into this, why hadn’t she thought about it properly? She was such a fool, such an absolute fool…
“Yes, what was that?”
“I…well, I was just wondering if…if…” Go on, Martha, say it, get it over, it’s only a sentence, a few words, then you’ll be safe again.
“Martha, what is it? I’m very busy.”
“If I could change my mind.”
There was a long silence; when he spoke, his voice was absolutely incredulous.
“Change your mind? What, stand down again?”
“Well…yes.”
“Martha, what the fuck is the matter with you?” She was shocked; she had never heard him swear.
“Nothing. I’ve just been thinking and—”
“You’ve been thinking! A little late, I have to say. Don’t you realise the amount of effort that’s been put into this for you? That Jack Kirkland’s written to the constituency himself? That I’ve given up a lot of time for you? That Norman Brampton has been working his tail off, making phone calls, probably incurring another heart attack? How dare you start playing games like some silly tart! I’m beginning to think we’ve made an appalling mistake.”
She was silent, wondering if she dared push on, wondering which fear was greater.
“Look,” he said, “I’ve got to go. You’d better pull yourself together, Martha, and pretty damn quick. Make your mind up, one way or another.” He rang off abruptly.
A little later her phone rang yet again. It was Janet Frean. “Hello, Martha. I just called to congratulate you. You really have done awfully well. It’s hard enough when you’ve spent years in the business. I should know.”
“Thank you, Janet. Look—”
“We really need you, you know. People like you. You’re going to be the backbone of the party. I mean it. And we so need women, and especially young successful women like you. Now, I gather you’re feeling a bit wobbly. It’s completely natural—anyone would. I remember going into mega panic mode more than once. It’s pretty terrifying. But you’ll feel better again soon. Honestly.”
“Janet, I—”
“Look, if I could make a suggestion, what about a media course? They’re so worthwhile, they teach you presentation, how to deal with both radio and television, how to get your points across, even what to wear. I’ll give you the name and number of the one I did. And don’t let Chad bully you. Any worries, come to me with them. All right?”
As if, Janet, as if.
And then there was an e-mail. From Jack Kirkland. “Hello, Martha. Just to say congratulations. Very well done. I knew you could do it. All we need is about a hundred more of you. Don’t fail us now. We need you. Jack.”
“Oh God,” said Martha, and buried her head in her hands. And then Chad called again.
“Darling, I’m sorry I bawled you out. It’s natural you should be nervous. Absolutely natural. But you’re doing so well. And we’re all behind you. All right?”
“Yes, Chad.”
“Good girl. And call Jocasta back, will you? Soon as you can.”
God, thought Martha wearily, he’s got a hide like a whole herd of rhinos. “Yes, Chad,” she said again.
“Oh, and Janet called me, said she’d suggested a media course for you. Excellent idea, should have thought of it myself. I’ll get HO to book it for you. It’ll help you a lot. Right, well I’ll leave you to make that call.
”
“Yes, Chad.”
She seemed to be stuck with it; she couldn’t fight this lot. And when she got back to her flat that night, her father had written to her; she recognised his beautiful handwriting. She stood there, reading, tears in her eyes.
…People keep coming up to us, saying how much they hope you’ll be selected, and how proud of you we must be. Which we are, my darling, so very proud. And we’re being extremely discreet, of course. We both send you very much love. See you in a day or two.
How could she turn her back on that, tell them she wasn’t going to do it after all?
And after all, she thought, her panic receding again, why should she? She had this great new opportunity; she had wanted it so much. She couldn’t throw it away. Not now.
Millions of girls, millions of girls…
Jack Kirkland smiled at Janet across his desk, gestured to her to sit down. “Thanks for sparing the time. I just wanted to run something past you.”
“Oh yes?”
“We seem to have got young Martha back on the rails. I really wouldn’t want to lose her. It’s not so much herself that’s valuable to us—God knows how she’ll turn out—it’s what she represents, youth, a corner in the professional business world, a—”
“Jack, I’m sorry, but if you just want to talk about Martha Hartley, I have to be in a committee room in ten minutes—”
“No, no, of course not. Sorry, Janet. No, I think we’ve got Eliot Griers on board.”
“Oh, really?” Eliot Griers was the Conservative member for Surrey North; he was deceptively soft-spoken, savage in debate, and had been promised a position in the shadow cabinet by Iain Duncan Smith, which had never materialised.
“Yes. He’s confident he can talk his constituency party round. Enough of it anyway. How would you feel about that? Personally I’d be delighted. High profile, very clever, he’s more of what we need.”
“Well, obviously I’d be extremely pleased. He’s very clever, no doubt about that. Surprised though. Last time I spoke to him, he went on and on about how courageous we were, seemed in no mind to join us.”
“That was before he didn’t get his shadow cabinet post. He’s very bitter about that. Of course he’d want a seat on the top table, so to speak. He’d be coming in very much at our level. A spokesman for the party in a big way. We’d make a big song and dance about him.”
There was an almost unnoticeable pause. Then: “So why are you asking me?”
“Well, he’d be very visible. I wouldn’t want you to feel in any way sidelined.”
Janet stood up, pushed her chair back rather vehemently. Her eyes looked dark and almost angry.
“Jack, I would hope I’m above such things. What I care about, above all, is the party and its success. I am not in this thing for personal gain. Women mostly aren’t, you know. They have other concerns.”
“So you say, all of you. I’d personally beg leave to doubt it. I’ve always regarded you as pretty ambitious, Janet.”
“Of course I’m ambitious. But if you think I’m looking for the top job in any party, you’d be wrong. I do have another life, you know. I’m not married to Westminster.”
This was a slightly cheap jibe, given Kirkland’s failed marriage. He flushed. “Good,” he said. “As long as you don’t have a problem with Griers. I was only clearing the deck, so to speak.”
“Yes, and I appreciate it. Sorry, Jack. No, Griers would be nothing but good news.” She hesitated, then said, “His marriage is all right now, is it?”
“Oh, that stuff years ago? Gossip, Janet, nothing more. I’ve spoken to Caroline, lovely girl, she’s right behind him in every way. And like you, he’s got a very attractive family, always a help.”
“Well, he seems just about perfect then,” said Janet. “Thanks, Jack. I really appreciate your…thoughtfulness. I’d be more than happy to have Eliot Griers on board.”
Several people serving on the Joint Committee on Human Rights with Janet Frean that day remarked that she didn’t seem in the best of tempers.
“You’re a star,” Ed said, “an absolute star. I’m so proud of you.”
She’d been afraid of seeing him after the weekend, afraid he might sense there was something wrong, something worrying her. He read her so well.
“Ed, don’t. I’ve got such a long way to go. I may never get elected at all, I—”
“I know all that,” he said. “I’m just proud of you for having a go.”
“I wouldn’t have without you,” she said. “I’d still be dithering.”
“Nah. You’d have done it anyway. I know you.” He smiled at her, raised his glass. “Or I’m beginning to. To the Right Honorable Martha. Long may she reign.”
It was a perfect May evening; the light brilliant, the air cool and clear, drenched with a recent shower. They were sitting on Martha’s balcony, drinking some champagne Ed had brought round.
“Are you all right?” he said suddenly. “You seem a bit edgy.”
“Oh—oh, I’m all right. I was a bit…worried about something.”
“Not any longer?”
“I don’t seem to be, no,” she said, half surprised.
“Well, that’s being with me. Cure for any amount of worry, I am. Give us a kiss. And now look at that, will you? Rainbow.”
And indeed there was, glancing down from a newly black sky onto the shimmering buildings across the river.
“Well, that should do it, even if I don’t. Melt your troubles away like sherbet lemons or whatever it is.”
“Lemon drops. Oh Ed—how did I ever manage without you?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” he said complacently. “You know what I was just thinking? I’ve never been to bed with a politician. Could you put it in your manifesto, do you think? Sex for the masses?”
“Certainly not,” she said, “just the chosen few.”
“Well, here’s the first of the few. All ready and waiting.”
And as she took the hand he held out and followed him inside, laughing, she thought that he would never agree to her giving up politics again, either.
Clio looked at Jeremy as he put a white wine spritzer down in front of her; he was pale and seemed very tired. He smiled at her almost nervously and said, “Well, how are you?”
“I’m…fine. Considering.”
“Good. Is it all right at the Salters’? What did you tell them? About us?”
She looked at him; he was sweating slightly. She was surprised. Why should he care so much? She supposed it was all part of his arrogance, not wishing to appear in any way less than perfect.
“I told them we’d separated. I had to. Why else should I need somewhere to stay? And my job back.”
“Your job back?”
“Well, yes. I have to live, Jeremy. I’m not the sort to demand huge alimony payments. And anyway, I love my job. There seems no reason to give it up now.”
“You decided that? Without consulting me?”
“Why should I consult you? You made it perfectly clear our marriage was over. I don’t see what it has to do with you.”
“I was…upset,” he said. “And I—I’d like you to reconsider. Well, both of us to reconsider.”
“What do you mean?”
“That we should—should try again.” She stared at him; this was the last thing she had expected. “Clio, I was very hasty. I said a lot of harsh things and I really don’t want to live without you. I don’t want our marriage to end.”
“Jeremy, on what basis? I mean, do I still have to give up my job?”
“No,” he said quietly, after a long pause, “no, you don’t. That was…unreasonable of me. I can’t face life without you, Clio. I came to see very quickly that I…well, I do still love you. I want you back. I really do.” He waited, as she stared at him. “What do you say?”
“I—I’m not sure,” she said. “I mean it was a bit of a shock, all that. But—you mean I can go on working and everything?”
“Yes, you can
.”
It was tempting. So very tempting. The thought of living alone, of making her own way again, might be attractive in theory, but in practice it was scary. She was used to being married, to living with someone, considering them. And he had made several huge concessions. She had never heard him apologise before. To anyone. Clearly he had missed her considerably. Even allowing for the fact he would have found it so hard to admit to his colleagues and their mutual friends that their marriage was a failure, this was pretty astonishing stuff.
“Well,” she said again, “as long as I could work…”
“You can work, Clio. I promise.” He stopped and looked at her. “Of course I would hope it wouldn’t be for long. That we should be having children pretty soon. I mean, that is a given, as far as I’m concerned. And you too, I’m sure.”
Clio knew the moment had come, that she couldn’t go on any longer, deceiving him, when he had made such huge concessions to her.
“Jeremy,” she said, “Jeremy, I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen. Or almost certainly isn’t going to happen.”
He stared at her, his face absolutely puzzled.
She took a deep breath.
“I’ve got something to tell you, Jeremy, something I should have told you a long time ago. Should we talk here, or would you like to go back to the house?”
“Let’s talk here,” he said. His face was expressionless.
Clio moved to sit beside him. She took his hand and, feeling sorry for him, as she had never thought to be again, her voice surprisingly steady, she began to tell him.
Chapter 17
She hadn’t seen Ed for almost a week. He’d been filming out of London and she’d missed him horribly. He’d called her a couple of times, but rather briefly, saying he was frantic. It had been unnerving—she felt eighteen again. Had he gone off her? Had he found someone younger or prettier, someone with curly hair and a small nose? Probably. She wanted to see him, talk to him, be with him, have him. She really, really wanted to have him. Maybe she never would again, maybe that had been the last time…
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