them, but they happen, and it is not until later that the scientists can work out exactly what has happened. Meg had been correct: people get bored and they crave change just for the sake of change. There is no rhyme or reason for it, and it is bad luck on anyone caught by the short-fall.
Will broke into a smile of relief when I pushed my way through to him. ‘Thought you’d done a runner.’
Like minor royalty, he and I stood side by side as people came up to discuss, take orders, make a point. Every so often, Will felt for my hand and pressed it. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Matt Smith making a beeline towards us.
Will whispered, ‘Could you smile at Matt, Fanny?’
‘You ask me to do such terrible things.’ I forced my lips into the appropriate shape.
And so… on to the torture of the count. Keyed up and fatigued, the bystanders wandered around and made aimless conversation. The activists were best at keeping up the semblance of mad activity and, with respect to the drones, it was those from the opposite party who appeared happiest and more diligently occupied.
The ballot boxes arrived, were emptied, the papers sorted, bundled and placed in lines on the trestle tables. I knew now to watch the lines. Sometimes they creep… sometimes they rocket along and you can tell from the way the tellers glance in your direction which pile belongs to whom.
No one appeared to be looking in Will’s direction.
‘See?’ said Mannochie, in an undertone. ‘Not good.’
‘I know’
I helped myself to coffee from a Thermos. It was stewed but at least it was hot. Anyway, it gave me something on which to concentrate. No need to get the bad news before it was necessary.
At four o’clock there was a final altercation with the Natural Earth candidate over spoilt ballot papers. That sorted, the returning officer made his way to Will and me. ‘I’m sorry.’ He spoke directly to Will. ‘You win some and some you don’t.’ Will swallowed. The gaze of the returning officer drifted towards the winning candidate. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated.
Will stood on the platform, as upright and unflinching as he had trained himself to be, and I was proud of him. The final figures were read out and he did not falter, not once, not even when he heard how his majority of 7,005 had been wiped off the face of the earth.
The victorious candidate bowed, grinned, and made a speech in which he individually thanked most people in Stanwinton.
Then Will took the microphone… and we were back to the beginning. He spoke about change, the need to rethink and recharge, and how he had fought to hold on to his ideals. He thanked his supporters and told them that nothing had been wasted.
Every word drained him, I could see that, and I willed him to the finish in this gladiatorial death. At the end, head bowed, he listened to the applause. Then he raised his eyes and sought mine.
It did not end quite there: we had to speak to so many people who required to be reassured and reminded that there was a tomorrow and it would come.
On the way home, Will said suddenly, ‘Stop the car.’
He wrenched open the door and stumbled out. I followed him.
Then he was sick.
I held him until the bout was finished. ‘Sorry,’ he managed.
After he had got his breath back, I made him walk with me as far as the oak tree at the corner of the field. The sun was just poking above the horizon and, after the heat and frenzy of the town hall, the air was fresh and cool. We leant on the gate and looked across the field to the dawn, where the light was picking out the pattern of leaves on the hedgerows. The birds were stirring in the beech trees.
Will laid his head on his folded arms. ‘I always wondered how I would deal with it when it came.’
‘The answer is, fine. In fact, more than fine.’
His voice was muffled. ‘We will have to think again about everything. How we live, all that. What we do.’
Back at the house, I made him tea which he drank thirstily. ‘Let’s see what’s happening on television,’ he said.
But I stopped him. ‘No, that’s finished for the moment.’ The dark eyes were dull with misery. ‘I suppose you are right.’
Although I knew he had not had any dinner the night before, he refused to eat anything, and I led him upstairs. He submitted obediently as I unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. His body was soaked in sweat and, every so often, he gave a shuddering sigh.
In bed, I eased myself close and held him.
After a few minutes he fell into a twitchy sleep, but I kept on holding him until my arm grew numb. When I could not stand it any longer, I detached myself from Will and went downstairs to phone Chloe.
It took a bit of determination to track her down but, eventually, I got through. It was very late at night for her, and she sounded terrified when she came to the phone. ‘Mum? Nothing bad has happened?’
‘Nothing so terrible, but Dad did lose his seat last night. He wanted me to ring you.’
‘Oh, poor Dad. Is he very upset?’
‘Yes. He’s sleeping at the moment.’
Once Chloe was reassured that, basically, her family hadn’t been wiped off the face of the planet, she sounded quite cheerful. ‘He can do something else. Tell him lots of people do. It’s the spirit of the age. It’s good for you to have a change. Tell him he’s lucky to have another chance of doing something.’
‘Darling Chloe, I do miss you. I want to tell you about a lot of things and what I saw in Italy.’
It struck me that it was time I talked to Chloe about the family and its history.
‘Oh, Mum, I miss you too…’ She chatted on for quite a time, and it was only towards the end of our conversation that she dropped in the following information: ‘Mum, I’ve met someone… His name is Paul…’
I surveyed my domain. I tidied the kitchen, checked the food and wine supplies. Without a doubt, Mannochie and the team would be coming over in droves and they would require feeding in defeat as much as in victory. I would cook bowls of pasta and open bottles of wine and we could sit round the table and go over what had happened until it was shaped enough to consign to memory. Then we had to move on.
I picked up the diary and leafed through it, resisting the temptation to score through the dozen or so pre- Christmas constituency engagements. That would be to snatch too small a victory from the jaws of defeat.
‘Fanny?’
I looked up from the diary. Will was in the doorway. ‘I’m here,’ I said.
‘Good,’ he said and, unable to resist, disappeared next door to switch on the television. The nation had spoken. The party was out. The other one was in and everyone was either licking wounds or looking smug or pious, or both.
We discussed what this would mean for various colleagues, and by how much this pushed back Will’s dream of the Chancellorship. Privately, I knew that it was unlikely Will would ever realize it now. But it was not the moment to say so.
‘I’ve rung Chloe. You’ll be pleased to know that she thinks you should look on this as an opportunity for a second chance.’
‘Cheeky monkey,’ he said, and dropped into a chair, smiling wryly. ‘But she’s right.’ He frowned painfully. ‘I’d give anything to see her.’
‘Do you want more tea?’
‘No.’
‘Neither do I.’ I bent down to inspect the bottles in the wine rack. ‘I never want to drink tea again. Lots of lovely wine instead.’
Now that Meg was not here, I felt I was at liberty to say that sort of thing.
Will went quiet.
We were both busy with our thoughts – and mine were principally preoccupied with how I was to shore Will up until he felt better.
‘Will,’ I said gently, ‘you never know, you might like being free for a while.’
He shrugged. ‘Easy to say’
It was not as though he lacked courage, Will had masses of that. It was just that, at the moment, he was used to thinking along one set of lines. I would have to persuade him that trying out another set would be uncomfortable,
