nodded. ‘I ought to get her in, so she can go home and get some sleep. It’ll be a another long day tomorrow,’ James went to stand up.
‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Tell me the highlights first.’
He smiled, patiently. ‘Alright,’ he sat back down on the sofa, took a fairly large glug of wine. ‘Rob Kitchener for the Treasury, as you’d expect. Hugo’s staying at Foreign, Gilly to the Home Office.’
‘Really?’ I was surprised at this last bit. Gilly Caulfield wasn’t in James’s camp, and I knew he’d promised the Home Office to Jack Gorton, who’d been one of his key backers.
‘I need to keep Gilly close, she’s going to be a menace otherwise,’ said James, as though it were blindingly obvious.
‘Is she competent enough?’
‘Not really, but hopefully she’ll screw things up so royally I can just sack her within a year, that’ll take the sting out of her. Anyway do you want to hear the rest?’
‘Any interesting ones?’
‘Well, a couple of people are staying where they are, but I’m offering Drake party chairman.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘No, it’ll only be for a year or so, and he might turn it down. But I need to offer him something, and he might be useful in keeping the old guard in check.’
I was genuinely shocked. ‘Do you think he’ll accept it?’
‘I think he will,’ James drained his glass. ‘Rav thinks it’s a good idea and I’ve been won round to the merits of it, shall we say. Right, I think we should get out of here. Rosie!’
The door opened and she came in. Clearly she’d been listening; I imagined her head cocked to the keyhole.
‘We’re going back over the road, Rosie,’ said James, standing up. ‘Do you want to come with us and I’ll brief you on the way? Or first thing tomorrow?’
‘Tonight would be better,’ said Rosie. ‘I’ve agreed to leak something for the morning, and they’re waiting for me to come back to them.’
‘Okay, but I don’t want to give them anything major,’ James was putting on his suit jacket which had been hanging from the back of his desk chair. ‘Tell them Rob’s going to be chancellor.’
‘I’m not sure they’ll be happy with that, it’s not much of a surprise,’ To be fair to Rosie it was an onerous job, having journalists constantly badgering her.
‘I don’t want the rest of it leaking out tonight,’ said James as we walked out of his office, heading down a flight of stairs to the internal courtyard where the PM’s car was waiting. Big Ben was striking ten. It was late September but still muggy, nobody was really sleeping particularly well and party conference season was looming.
TV crews and photographers were waiting at the gates to Parliament, the camera flashes temporarily blinded me. The next morning I’d see those photos splashed all over the news. I’d looked pretty happy, quite self-satisfied. And I had been, because Rosie had been denied her time alone with James in his office.
Travessa
The music coming from inside La Roda isn’t familiar but still I understand every single word; James never knew I’d learned a fair bit of Portuguese. The song’s about overpowering love, intense emotions that you can’t bear to lose. It’s there in the man’s thin voice, the fear and apprehension. My own experience of love has been far less easy to define; more malleable. I’m not sure I could pack it into one song.
I pick up a stoneless olive, chew on it briefly and swallow. Taste and texture in my mouth, but no sensation of it going down. No hunger to quell. Jean and Bill don’t seem to care that I’ve been regressing. Both of them are just looking out to sea.
‘I keep remembering things,’ I say to them. ‘About my life.’
‘Oh you will, love,’ says Bill. ‘For a while, at least. Then you’ll decide whether you want to stay or not.’
Then I have a sense of something; it comes and goes quickly but lingers. It’s my mother’s hands, cupped underneath my chin. Soothing me.
‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Tell me the highlights first.’
He smiled, patiently. ‘Alright,’ he sat back down on the sofa, took a fairly large glug of wine. ‘Rob Kitchener for the Treasury, as you’d expect. Hugo’s staying at Foreign, Gilly to the Home Office.’
‘Really?’ I was surprised at this last bit. Gilly Caulfield wasn’t in James’s camp, and I knew he’d promised the Home Office to Jack Gorton, who’d been one of his key backers.
‘I need to keep Gilly close, she’s going to be a menace otherwise,’ said James, as though it were blindingly obvious.
‘Is she competent enough?’
‘Not really, but hopefully she’ll screw things up so royally I can just sack her within a year, that’ll take the sting out of her. Anyway do you want to hear the rest?’
‘Any interesting ones?’
‘Well, a couple of people are staying where they are, but I’m offering Drake party chairman.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘No, it’ll only be for a year or so, and he might turn it down. But I need to offer him something, and he might be useful in keeping the old guard in check.’
I was genuinely shocked. ‘Do you think he’ll accept it?’
‘I think he will,’ James drained his glass. ‘Rav thinks it’s a good idea and I’ve been won round to the merits of it, shall we say. Right, I think we should get out of here. Rosie!’
The door opened and she came in. Clearly she’d been listening; I imagined her head cocked to the keyhole.
‘We’re going back over the road, Rosie,’ said James, standing up. ‘Do you want to come with us and I’ll brief you on the way? Or first thing tomorrow?’
‘Tonight would be better,’ said Rosie. ‘I’ve agreed to leak something for the morning, and they’re waiting for me to come back to them.’
‘Okay, but I don’t want to give them anything major,’ James was putting on his suit jacket which had been hanging from the back of his desk chair. ‘Tell them Rob’s going to be chancellor.’
‘I’m not sure they’ll be happy with that, it’s not much of a surprise,’ To be fair to Rosie it was an onerous job, having journalists constantly badgering her.
‘I don’t want the rest of it leaking out tonight,’ said James as we walked out of his office, heading down a flight of stairs to the internal courtyard where the PM’s car was waiting. Big Ben was striking ten. It was late September but still muggy, nobody was really sleeping particularly well and party conference season was looming.
TV crews and photographers were waiting at the gates to Parliament, the camera flashes temporarily blinded me. The next morning I’d see those photos splashed all over the news. I’d looked pretty happy, quite self-satisfied. And I had been, because Rosie had been denied her time alone with James in his office.
Travessa
The music coming from inside La Roda isn’t familiar but still I understand every single word; James never knew I’d learned a fair bit of Portuguese. The song’s about overpowering love, intense emotions that you can’t bear to lose. It’s there in the man’s thin voice, the fear and apprehension. My own experience of love has been far less easy to define; more malleable. I’m not sure I could pack it into one song.
I pick up a stoneless olive, chew on it briefly and swallow. Taste and texture in my mouth, but no sensation of it going down. No hunger to quell. Jean and Bill don’t seem to care that I’ve been regressing. Both of them are just looking out to sea.
‘I keep remembering things,’ I say to them. ‘About my life.’
‘Oh you will, love,’ says Bill. ‘For a while, at least. Then you’ll decide whether you want to stay or not.’
Then I have a sense of something; it comes and goes quickly but lingers. It’s my mother’s hands, cupped underneath my chin. Soothing me.
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