One Day in May - Catherine Alliott [21]
‘Absolutely. You crack on.’
I set off at breakneck speed, something all us Carrington children could do, almost as a party trick. Dad had taught us one summer, when there was no money for a holiday and we were kicking around the garden, bored. He’d lined up three old typewriters, which were being chucked out of the New Statesman’s offices, in the back yard – we’d hit Kilburn by then, not an address my mother favoured – and put boards over our hands to teach us not to look at the keys. Laura, Kit and I had races, the winner rewarded with an ice cream from the shop on the corner. I typed now as I’d typed in that Kilburn garden: competitively, lips pursed, imagining Laura rattling away beside me, whilst Katya made her calls. At ten to eleven she stopped me.
‘You’ve been terrific,’ she said, beaming gratefully over my shoulder. ‘Truly, truly helpful. Come on, I’ll take you across the road and we’ll see what’s cooking.’
I could tell she was pleased and we chatted companionably on the way across. She lived with her sister in Vauxhall, she told me; had worked for Dominic for five years, and before that for his uncle, who was also a politician.
‘Really? I didn’t know that.’
‘Roger Forbes?’
‘Oh, yes. I’ve heard of him. Didn’t know he was his uncle.’ Black mark to Mum.
‘They’re a very distinguished family. Rather like the Attenboroughs, everyone is talented. But quietly, and in different ways. Charming with it.’
‘So you like working for him?’ We dodged a motorcyclist on our way across.
‘I love it. It’s my life,’ she said simply, and somehow that didn’t sound so sad. Yes, OK, she was unmarried and lived with her sister, but for eight – no, probably eleven – hours a day she was a vital cog in the ever-spinning wheel of one of the world’s most modern, constitutional governments. In this great edifice of parliamentary democracy, she was in the engine room. She wasn’t your archetypal role model, I thought as I followed her thick calves and swinging hips into Parliament, waiting as she paused to reapply her over-pink lipstick covertly in a compact before we went in, but in that moment, at that particular time, I wanted to be her. Wanted to purr ‘Dominic Forbes’s office’ down the phone to whom it may concern, but wanted, especially, for the man himself to turn as we approached in the busy lobby, thronged with people hurrying too and fro, sweep back his blond hair and come towards us eagerly.
His eyes lit up as he saw Katya.
‘All well?’ he asked anxiously.
‘Yes, fine. Ted Mallory wanted to know if we could reconvene on Tuesday and I said not unless the Whips’ Office could have a say in the final proposal – he said he’d let us know. Colin Mercer called to say yes in theory, but no to the extended budget. Oh, and we need an amendment here –’ she handed him a paper – ‘Section B apparently should read “centralized”, not “ministerial”, and then a signature here…’ she handed him a pen and he scribbled, ‘… and here.’ He signed again. ‘And I’ve cancelled your trip to Delhi on Friday and rearranged it for the following Tuesday so you can still vote on the health bill.’
Whilst she’d been speaking, periodically punctuating her flow with a proffered piece of paper, he’d nodded, muttered ‘Right’ or ‘OK’ occasionally, but by the time she’d got to the end, his face had cleared.
‘Good. Well done. I’m pleased you managed to put the India trip off. Did you check it with his lordship?’
‘I did, and then had to ring the world and his wife and rearrange their diaries. But it helped enormously having Hattie. She waded through your correspondence, bless her, whilst I haggled.’
He turned; seemed to see me almost for the first time. ‘Did she, by Jove? Hattie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you without your mortarboard. How marvellous that you’ve been such a help.’ He smiled and I glowed. ‘I’ve certainly never heard Katya say my attempts at integrating students were anything more than a hindrance. You’ve clearly earned your keep!’
Another dazzling smile, in which I basked like a salamander, determined to do even more that afternoon.
‘I’ve