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By Root 1572 0

constituency office, acknowledging the extent of Labour’s victory. But in his moment of triumph, after a carefully stage-managed campaign in which he has been presented as a mature and thoughtful politician undaunted by the prospect of high office, the new Prime Minister appears suddenly adolescent, almost on the verge of tears. Suddenly the prize for which he has worked so tirelessly, the culmination of his consuming ambition, stands before him. And as he comes to terms with the weight of the responsibility which has been placed on his shoulders by millions of people, right there in front of the cameras it is possible to see Blair experience a dawning realization: that there is a price to be paid for success. He actually looks panicked by what he has achieved.

This is something that I have come to realize far too late. That we allow ambition, the hunger for recognition, to blind us to wider consequences. We are encouraged to pursue goals, to make the best of ourselves, to search for meaning. But what does a person do when those dreams come true? What is the next step?

36

West

Eight twenty p.m. Ten minutes until we are scheduled to leave. On the far side of the neat gravel path a man is standing, back straight, head level, eyes closed. He wears purple shorts and a plain white T-shirt bearing the inscription ‘moon’ in narrow black letters. A canvas bag lies at his shoeless feet. Slowly, he moves his legs apart. Then the man lifts his arms in a wide arc above his shoulders, palms face upwards to the sky, until his body forms a composed, tranquil cross.

Fifteen feet to his left, two women, both in jeans, stand up from their bench and drop two empty Diet Coke cans into a wire-mesh bin. They move away.

The man’s mouth opens, emitting a just-audible noise, a sustained meditative yawp out into the trees. For a moment, the stillness of it erases all the white noise of London. Then a creak of the metal gate at the entrance to Queen’s Club Gardens and Saul appears, shouldering an overnight bag.

The first thing he says is:

‘She can’t come. Says she’s going to drive down first thing in the morning. You all right? You look knackered.’

I ignore this.

‘Can we just head off?’

I am anxious to leave, keen to be out of London. Whatever self-confidence I had is gradually draining away to a constant fear that what has happened to Cohen will happen to me.

‘In a minute. I told her to come over so I can give her instructions about how to get there.’

I look back at the man. From the canvas bag he extracts a sandwich and begins eating it in a pool of fading sunlight. Behind him, an elderly couple are playing tennis on a hard court, the slow thock of balls like a clock.

There is no one else in the gardens. No one who could be watching me.

‘Seen much of Fort and Katharine?’ Saul asks, and the question catches me off guard.

‘A little. Their contract at Andromeda hasn’t been renewed. They’re thinking of moving back to the States. In fact, I think it’s definite. They may be gone by the end of the month.’

I am so tired of lying to him.

‘That’s a pity,’ he says, gazing up at the sky. ‘It’d be good to see them before they go.’ There’s a tick-shaped cloud above his head like the Nike logo.

‘I’ll try and fix something up.’

Saul bends over now to tie his shoelaces and I say what I have to say while I don’t have to look into his eyes.

‘I may have to go away, too.’

‘Really?’ he says into the ground.

‘Yeah. Abnex have a posting overseas. Something came up. In Turkmenistan. It would just be for a year or so. I think it would be a great opportunity.’

He stands up.

‘When did this happen?’

‘Just last week.’

‘You’re not going straight away?’

First thing this morning I booked a cross-Channel ticket to Cherbourg, leaving late on Monday afternoon.

‘No. Most probably not.’

‘Good,’ he says, relaxing immediately. Then he looks across at the gate.

‘Here she comes now.’

Saul’s new girlfriend is tall and slim and attractive - they always are - with dark hair cut short to the nape of the neck. A little like Kate’s new bob.

‘Hi,’ he shouts