it all when you shouldn’t be.’
Again, Charles was lost for words, surprised to have been given a dressing down by his own assistant. It was unnerving just how similar Elaine and Faye’s behaviour towards him was; loving yet berating at the same time, a complete juxtaposition of emotions.
‘Faye, you are quite right, thank you. I shall prepare myself for the meeting,’ Charles suddenly came to his senses. Here, in his office, he was the Deputy Prime Minister. At home he could once more become Charles Lloyd and dwell on the loss of Lorna, but whilst at work he had to maintain the image he had worked so hard to build. ‘I appreciate the offer of some … perspective,’ Charles said a little uneasily.
‘Anytime, sir.’ Faye smiled and left the office. The moment had passed and she had succeeded in her quest to raise the Deputy Prime Minister’s mood, but knew better than to linger and risk pushing the boundaries between them further. She had already spoken to him inappropriately; she had no desire to make a habit of it.
Charles again practiced his smile and tried to completely banish Lorna from his mind. Obligingly, her memory retreated to the shadows of his thoughts, allowing him to resume his role of Deputy Prime Minister, if only temporarily. He knew she would return again that night as soon as he dared to close his eyes and lose himself to the darkness. She was always there waiting in his dreams, refusing to let him forget.
The main meeting room within Downing Street was the venue for the meet and greet with the interns. This suited Charles as it meant that his office, which had become his bolthole, was close by.
He gave a brief speech to the room full of fresh, eager faces, without lingering on any of them for too long, preferring to speak into empty space. Charles gave them the usual spiel of what a great opportunity this was and how it would hold them in good stead for their future career, and his ethos of work hard if you want to succeed. That was probably the best quality his own father had succeeded in instilling in him – his work ethic. Charles had been a devoutly conscientious student and was even more dedicated when he entered the working world. Arguably, it was born of his desire to please, but it was still an admirable quality which had earned him the respect of his peers.
Charles drew his speech to a close, willing the meeting to end, although he had to admit that it had been easier than he had thought it would be. When Faye suggested he take twenty minutes to mingle with some of the interns, he agreed – his old, social self beginning to resurface.
The interns who he spoke to were polite and hung on his every word, which always made Charles a little uncomfortable. Quiet awe he could tolerate but sycophants he could not. He was beginning to find the banter almost bearable. An intern would introduce themselves and he would show a cursory interest in them, asking where they were from and so forth.
He was mid-way through a conversation with a young man with short dark hair and trendy rimless glasses when he spotted a halo of blonde hair bobbing amongst the sea of interns just beyond his eye line.
Instantly his heart skipped a beat, his thoughts instinctively thinking of Lorna.
Discreetly, Charles glanced past the man he was engaged in conversation with. There again, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair which belonged to a petite young woman but her back was to him. Charles chastised himself for being ridiculous. Lorna was creeping back into his thoughts and playing tricks with his mind. There are millions of women with long blonde hair and small, slender frames, he thought to himself; he needed to gain some perspective.
But Charles could not tear his attention away from the blonde who was now talking to another intern on the other side of the room. If only she would turn around – if he could see her face, he could relax. Charles could feel his heart rate quickening with anticipation, the
Again, Charles was lost for words, surprised to have been given a dressing down by his own assistant. It was unnerving just how similar Elaine and Faye’s behaviour towards him was; loving yet berating at the same time, a complete juxtaposition of emotions.
‘Faye, you are quite right, thank you. I shall prepare myself for the meeting,’ Charles suddenly came to his senses. Here, in his office, he was the Deputy Prime Minister. At home he could once more become Charles Lloyd and dwell on the loss of Lorna, but whilst at work he had to maintain the image he had worked so hard to build. ‘I appreciate the offer of some … perspective,’ Charles said a little uneasily.
‘Anytime, sir.’ Faye smiled and left the office. The moment had passed and she had succeeded in her quest to raise the Deputy Prime Minister’s mood, but knew better than to linger and risk pushing the boundaries between them further. She had already spoken to him inappropriately; she had no desire to make a habit of it.
Charles again practiced his smile and tried to completely banish Lorna from his mind. Obligingly, her memory retreated to the shadows of his thoughts, allowing him to resume his role of Deputy Prime Minister, if only temporarily. He knew she would return again that night as soon as he dared to close his eyes and lose himself to the darkness. She was always there waiting in his dreams, refusing to let him forget.
The main meeting room within Downing Street was the venue for the meet and greet with the interns. This suited Charles as it meant that his office, which had become his bolthole, was close by.
He gave a brief speech to the room full of fresh, eager faces, without lingering on any of them for too long, preferring to speak into empty space. Charles gave them the usual spiel of what a great opportunity this was and how it would hold them in good stead for their future career, and his ethos of work hard if you want to succeed. That was probably the best quality his own father had succeeded in instilling in him – his work ethic. Charles had been a devoutly conscientious student and was even more dedicated when he entered the working world. Arguably, it was born of his desire to please, but it was still an admirable quality which had earned him the respect of his peers.
Charles drew his speech to a close, willing the meeting to end, although he had to admit that it had been easier than he had thought it would be. When Faye suggested he take twenty minutes to mingle with some of the interns, he agreed – his old, social self beginning to resurface.
The interns who he spoke to were polite and hung on his every word, which always made Charles a little uncomfortable. Quiet awe he could tolerate but sycophants he could not. He was beginning to find the banter almost bearable. An intern would introduce themselves and he would show a cursory interest in them, asking where they were from and so forth.
He was mid-way through a conversation with a young man with short dark hair and trendy rimless glasses when he spotted a halo of blonde hair bobbing amongst the sea of interns just beyond his eye line.
Instantly his heart skipped a beat, his thoughts instinctively thinking of Lorna.
Discreetly, Charles glanced past the man he was engaged in conversation with. There again, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair which belonged to a petite young woman but her back was to him. Charles chastised himself for being ridiculous. Lorna was creeping back into his thoughts and playing tricks with his mind. There are millions of women with long blonde hair and small, slender frames, he thought to himself; he needed to gain some perspective.
But Charles could not tear his attention away from the blonde who was now talking to another intern on the other side of the room. If only she would turn around – if he could see her face, he could relax. Charles could feel his heart rate quickening with anticipation, the
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