“You’re right, Skay, that’s not much.” It annoyed him all the more giving that clerk an angel to run an errand; the chancing bastard. “But you get free meals. Come on, we have important things to discuss.”
*
Looking over the concrete parapet of the top deck, they could see across miles of petty domains to the north. Sarah-Kelly pointed out the M1 Big Drain curving amongst strip fields and redwood groves. Donald could make out a few clots of surplus flow on the drain, creeping like centipedes. This landscape seemed to be the territories of two gangster castles, which featured rambling walls and clumsy towers from which long banners streamed in the breeze. He turned and leaned one elbow on the thick parapet, smiling at Sarah-Kelly, admiring her smooth white neck, fine chin and strong eyes. Damn was she not a good-looking, smart young woman. In a few weeks, Lawrence would take her back and there would no longer be any reason to see her. Donald suffered a pang at that thought.
The works canteen, that is, the canteen for the humble ranks of shop staff, was a brick hall built on the old Public Era top deck. It had a wooden roof, much reliant on a forest of internal props. Still, it was cosy inside, with clean tables and a chair for each place, not benches. Donald availed himself of a mug of tea and a plate of mashed potatoes and fried onions sprinkled with minced ham.
“Let me bring you up to date. I travelled to Oban—”
Sarah-Kelly was so startled she gawped all fish-faced. It was obvious she had been expecting a waffle of lawyerly fluffle.
“How? It’s about five hundred miles away—as the crow flies. Except you can’t fly like a crow or you get shot down.”
“I did fly. Look, it’s not important. What is important is that TK accepts everything you said. Lawrence was wrongly charged by corrupt local merchants and glory officers. They’ve been dealt with in the most forceful way. No, don’t ask me details, I’m not going to tell you. I will say that justice has been done—definitely done.”
Sarah-Kelly stood up, leaned across the table and held Donald’s head in both hands. She kissed him on the forehead.
“Absolutely brilliant,” she said. “I knew TK would sort things out. I knew he was a right one.”
Donald took a moment to resettle himself. His face and neck were flushed. He took a deep breath.
“However, Lawrence is still in the Night and Fog. It will take time to get him out. We’ll have to be patient.”
Sarah-Kelly was still shaking her head, grinning.
“You’re a star, Donald. I must admit, that first meeting we had, I thought you were exactly as Lawrence said, a total uptight prick. Now I see how wrong I was. I just can’t get over how simple it was. I’ve been banging away for months trying to get the National Party to take up his case… I suppose I shouldn’t gripe, they’re buried under cases. Pestering the ultras is a waste of time. They don’t give a shit.”
For a few minutes, they ate in a contented silence, like a long-time couple. Donald savoured this feeling of ease in her company. Suddenly she asked:
“Do you have a family?”
If Sarah-Kelly noticed the hesitation before he answered, she did not comment on it. Donald found himself speaking in tones that sounded strained to him. Again, Sarah-Kelly did not seem to notice.
“My wife Lavinia and I have two daughters, Marcia and Cynthia.” He paused, thinking about that simple statement, how much it said, yet how little. “I don’t see much of them, unfortunately. Marcia and Cynthia I mean. In the week they’re away at school and at weekends they’re off at house parties.”
“What does Lavinia do?”
For several seconds, Donald was so floored by the question that Sarah-Kelly started laughing.
“I didn’t mean to pry. I was just asking. I don’t know much about you really, considering how much I owe you.”
“My wife was born to a manor in the Lands of Krossington.”
Sarah-Kelly tipped her head back and stared at him down her nose.
“Oh really? She’s quite well-heeled then. Why do you work if you’re so rich?”
Again, Donald found himself pinioned by what was actually a totally fair question. It was just not the sort of question that any of his acquaintances would normally ask. Sarah-Kelly reached over the table and gave him a prod.
“I can see it’s awkward for you. Your family is brainy but you aren’t landowners, you’re not her social equal. They snub you. Being in the National Party, I’ve learned a lot about the social hierarchy of the sovereign lands. It’s like the old caste system of India—do you know about that?”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Well. Put it this way. I sympathise. I can imagine how it is,” she said. She disposed of a forkful of pancake—she could certainly eat. “Your mother died long ago, didn’t she?”
“She died from complications of diabetes.”
“Lawrence told me about it. He said his stepmother was awful.”
She clamped a hand over her mouth and ducked her head in embarrassment.
“Oh my God, that was so stupid of me.”
Donald wanted to be fair about his stepmother.
“She was very formal. Even I had a difficult relationship with her. We were never close. After Father died, she went to live with her sister in Cambridge and I’ve not seen her since.”
“And do you have any other family?”
“No one close. Father’s elder brother committed suicide at Oxford—drank with sovereign gentry when he needed a First. We lost touch with Mother’s family long ago.”
“What about cousins?”
“Our family got scattered in the Glorious Resolution. My grandfather Sir Bartleigh was Wilson Krossington’s business partner—” He stopped and scanned about to check no one could overhear.
“I know all about how the sovereign clans got through the Glorious Resolution. Bunch of chancing bastards. Banner is certain they planned the whole thing.”
“Sir Bartleigh got asylum on Wilson K’s lands. For some reason his brother Michael gained asylum on a land up near Manchester. We’ve
