One Day in May - Catherine Alliott [32]
I walked to the window and gazed out, leaning the heels of my hands on the sill. A thunderstorm was gathering, and the light was fading fast, turning the sky violet over the ancient crenulated stone of Westminster. Down on the lawn I could see the camera crews, news teams from around the world, some beginning to pack up now, collapsing huge lenses: the remains of the day.
‘Thank you so much… Oh, I agree… I agree entirely, and rest assured I will do my utmost to preserve it, nothing will jeopardize it… be assured of that… Many thanks, how kind… and many thanks again for calling.’
He put the phone down, an almost dazed look in his eye. An exhilarated one too. Then he walked to the door, locked it, came back and took both my hands in his.
‘He wanted to touch base with his opposite number.’ He reached up and pulled down the window blind behind me. I knew what was happening but felt powerless to stop it. ‘Wanted to assure me of his support, and be sure he could count on me.’ He took my face in his hands, steering me away from the window, leaning back on the light switch. As the room plunged into darkness, his lips found mine. He kissed me gently: once, twice.
‘Wanted to be sure of our special relationship. To preserve it at all costs.’ He was still kissing me gently, drawing me in closer. I felt my body melt into his.
‘Do you feel that special relationship, Hattie?’ His eyes were trawling mine, as dark as the violet sky outside. ‘Do you feel it too?’ he whispered, almost pleading.
‘Yes,’ I breathed. ‘I do.’
Our eyes locked then in silent communion and he took me in his arms and kissed me properly. I shut my eyes, felt my bones turn to liquid, my senses swim: saw only a blinding white light and heard a roaring rush in my ears. I’d never lost consciousness before, but it seemed to me this might be how it would feel: reeling first, then spiralling in slow motion down somewhere deep and precipitous to oblivion. It was certainly an impediment to thought.
Down below, the traffic rumbled by; a distant soundtrack and a reminder of a world beyond this one, but muffled and indistinct.
Another noise, this time much closer: footsteps – voices too – and then the light snapped on. As the room exploded into terrible clarity, Dominic and I sprang apart in its glare. Standing at the only other door to the office, the one rarely used and only accessed via the coffee room, so therefore only by a Commons secretary, was Katya. Her eyes were bright and darting, her face grim but triumphant. Just behind her, luminously pregnant in a black and white floral dress, matching patent heels and handbag, her hair done professionally in a coil, all ready for the cameras, was Letty.
8
I left my job immediately, of course; Katya saw to that. Had seen to it, in fact, that very evening as, hands shaking, I went through my desk drawers, gathered any possessions – books, magazines – eyes lowered. Dominic went after Letty, who’d stumbled away with a strangled sob, one hand to her mouth: but not before her eyes had found mine, wide, grey and shocked. After that, she’d turned and fled.
Katya, of course, had stayed. Standing over me like an SS guard, seeing me off the premises.
Meanwhile I’d gulped things like, ‘Can’t stay.’
‘No, quite. I can see that.’
‘So sorry… Can’t think why… so sorry. Explain why I’m going, would you? I can’t…’
‘Of course.’ Chilly.
‘But don’t say. Don’t tell them about…’
‘Of course not.’
I knew she wouldn’t. Knew, if Dominic were to keep his job, which she wanted at all costs, she’d keep her mouth shut. It was her life, this place, and the blood shed in it flowed through her veins. I found my handbag and she escorted me to the door.
‘I can’t think what…’ I was muttering. ‘Don’t know what came over me.’
‘Don’t worry.’ She could afford to be kind now. She’d never see me again. ‘Just go. I’ll talk to Personnel. Tell them it was to do with