Polls Apart by Clare Stephen-Johnston Page B

nothing to do with the party’s future.”
    “Oh that’s wonderful, Bob,” Richard held his hands up in frustration. “You tell me this now when there’s no way back. I asked you to be at that meeting on Monday morning to decide what we should do and you didn’t bloody turn up so it’s a bit late now to hit me with the ‘stand your ground’ talk.”
    “I didn’t turn up because Henry had ordered me to talk to every TV and radio show in the country to cover your arse. The man deliberately sets things up so I can’t make key meetings. I thought you would have twigged that by now.”
    Bob looked at Richard for a response but he stayed silent. “Richard,” he continued, “Henry knew if I’d been there today I’d have told you to stick with the woman you love and not go dancing to the media’s fiddle.”
    “Look it’s done now,” Ray jumped in. “There’s no point sitting arguing over what’s already happened. Anna’s going be just fine and we’re going to concentrate on winning the bloody election so let’s just stay focused shall we?”
    Though he had stopped talking, Richard continued to glare at Bob – partly out of anger, but mainly because he knew he was right and it was killing him.
    Anna watched in bemused admiration as her sister raced around the kitchen piecing ham sandwiches together, grabbing drinks and yoghurts from the fridge and, moments later, producing three packed-lunch boxes.
    “You’ve managed to turn that into an art form,” Anna chuckled.
    “Yeah, well it’s the only form of art I’d ever be able to produce,” Libby replied only half-jokingly whilst trying to tame her wildly curly hair back into a bun.
    Libby’s husband Dan appeared at the kitchen door and collected the three lunches. Anna could tell just by watching the two of them that they had perfected a morning routine that rarely wavered by even a minute.
    “Jasmine, Ollie, Rupert, let’s go,” Dan shouted with the authority of an army major.
    Anna smiled as she heard the thunder of feet on the stairs and through the hallway until the children’s faces appeared alongside Dan’s and they stood together like a ramshackle Von Trapp family. Jasmine, who at eleven was the eldest, shared her mother’s corkscrew curls and fox-like pointed features. Ollie, two years younger, with his tousled blond hair inherited from his father and bright blue eyes, appeared to Anna to be an exquisite urchin – an impossibly beautiful scruff. And little Rupert was a law unto himself with wide-eyed, asymmetrical features like no one else in either family. Unlike his brother and sister, Rupert was immensely well turned-out, taking great pride in his appearance despite being only six years old.
    “We’re off then ladies,” said Dan.
    “Bye Mummy, bye Auntie Anna,” Ollie called. Libby rushed forwards to kiss her children, slightly panicked at the thought they could turn around and leave without saying goodbye properly.
    “Bye kids,” Anna shouted after them. “Have a good day at school.”
    As stressful as the last few days had been, Anna couldn’t help but feel glad that they had created the opportunity for her to spend some time with her family like this. In the six years she had been married to Richard, she had never stayed with Libby and had only seen the kids on the odd afternoon. She’d never stopped to imagine her sister’s existence as a wrung-out housewife, always dashing here and there trying to organise her family. From where Anna was sitting she could see that Libby’s life – though pretty much devoid of luxury – was worth a hundred of her own. While her sister was surrounded by people who would be bereft without her, there was no one who couldn’t live without Anna. In fact, she realised, she was little more than an ageing commodity that could be as easily disposed of as an empty can of Coke.
    Her breakfast duties over, Libby sat down at the kitchen table opposite Anna and let out a long sigh. “It’s only