Author's Note:
More visitors for Malcolm. It's Friday afternoon in reshuffle land.
MALCOLM: When are u coming? Ward C. Bring papers.
JAMIE: Meeting with PM next. Wait ur turn.
MALCOLM: Cheeky bastard. When is that?
JAMIE: When I'm done here. Keep ur shirt on.
MALCOLM: Not wearing one.
JAMIE: TMI. TTFN.
Jamie pressed Send on the email going out to existing ministers advising them to be in the office on Monday and packed his laptop bag. He included a decent stack of back issues of the top three newspapers, plus the issue of The Tattler with the write-up on Malcolm. After the monster days he'd put in this week, he had no problem with an early Friday.
There had been no further press about Malcolm, thank God, other than the retraction from The Tattler about the insinuation that Malcolm had TB. The brief text exchange with Malcolm earlier led Jamie to believe the enforcer was well on the mend and ready to catch up on everything he'd missed since Wednesday morning.
Jamie had heard from Sam that Malcolm was in a private room and had already had a shower and first brief walk of the hallway. He wondered if they'd done the tests Malcolm alluded to, and, if, so, what the news was. The tone of Sam's text didn't give anything away.
Arriving at Malcolm's room on Ward C, Jamie discovered he already had a visitor.
"Absolutely not."
"But Malcolm, think of how it will look if the PM doesn't visit."
"I don't give a fuck how it looks. I won't be part of the latest public opinion campaign. We've met, right, Julius? No fuckin PM visit. That's out of the question. I'm going home tomorrow, anyway. There isna enough time to arrange security and all that."
"Very well, but expect a large floral arrangement from Number Ten. And be sure to have it in your lap when they wheel you out to the exit when you're released so the cameras can see that the PM cares about you."
"There will be no cameras when I'm released, Julius. They wouldna dare."
The bald ponce grinned and waved at Jamie on his way out.
Jamie noticed a new addition to Malcolm's bedside.
"Is that your evil twin?" Malcolm, who was fully dressed and sitting on the bed, picked up the sock monkey.
"Looks more like Julius. Look at that bald head. He sent it to watch over me."
"Or something. Man's sweet on you, you know."
"Sam will have a run for her money."
"Anyway, I've got something better." Jamie dug in his laptop bag and came up with the stack of papers with a handmade card from Morgan and Maisie on top. The work was really all Morgan's, with help from Beverly, with Maisie's handprint in finger paint on the back.
"Look at that. How sweet." Malcolm studied the card, a bemused expression lingering. "Now that was nice of you to include your handprint, Jamie. Nice touch." The enforcer propped up the card on the nightstand next to the resident sock monkey and moved on to the papers. He pawed through until he found The Tattler buried in the bottom of the stack. He pulled it out and was just turning to the marked page when Sam entered the room.
"What's all this?" Sam's tone was sharp as she looked at the stack of papers and over to Jamie. He avoided her gaze.
"No. He's not to read these, Jamie McDonald. You take these back where you got them. He's supposed to rest." She gathered the papers and extended them to Jamie forcefully, but he didn't take them. Malcolm still had The Tattler, and had found the write-up by Marianne. Sam tried to take it away, but Malcolm turned his back, still reading. It was a short article, so it didn't take long. He turned back and surrendered the paper to his irked wife.
"That's all? That wasna too terrible. The quarantine part was rather nice. Did anything come of it?" Jamie's shoulders relaxed.
"Nothing but the retraction I made them print the next day. It's been quiet since then."
"Really, Sam, what's the harm in the papers, Luv? I've been watching the news all day. Already caught up on the world."
"That's not the point." Sam turned away, searching for a bin. Locating one by the door, she took the bundle of papers and tossed them in definitively.
Malcolm coughed and quirked an amused eyebrow. "Then what is the point?"
"You're not to work. You need to rest. If you dig into those papers you'll become engrossed and before I know it you'll have your mobile out of my purse and be setting up more meetings."
More meetings? Jamie wondered who else had been by, other than Julius.
Jamie watched the interplay between Malcolm and his wife. Why was it that when he and Beverly had a disagreement, they skipped right past the bickering stage and landed in a knockdown drag-out mud slinging fight? With Sam and Malcolm, it was clear there was anger, but also love. He made a mental note to ask Malcolm about that some day. The sweary Malcolm Tucker's advice to the lovelorn. Maybe after he retired from politics he could have a column.
Malcolm tipped a wink in Jamie's direction, then smiled winningly at Sam. "Sorry boss, I slipped up. Won't happen again." Sam came over and gave him a kiss.
"Yeah, right. Won't happen again today, you mean." His arms encircled her waist and he pulled her in for another kiss.
"How uncomfortable do you think this is making Jamie feel?" He asked her quietly, but loud enough that Jamie was sure to hear. Sam laughed and glanced at Jamie, who was blushing a little.
"A lot, I think." She stepped back. "I'm going to give you two some time. This is a test of whether or not I can trust you. And that goes for you too, Jamie."
"Yes, Ma'am," Jamie replied, not sure how seriously he should take it.
She gathered up her purse, and then walked back over to the bin and dug out the papers, apparently deciding that they were perhaps one temptation too many. "You can have these back tomorrow once you're home, and you will only have them for limited periods of time. That is my compromise. I will bring back something nice for dinner in about two hours. Do you think you can behave that long?"
"We'll try, Luv. See you in a bit." Malcolm watched Sam leave, his eyes following her beyond where he could actually see her anymore. The silence spun out.
"I think I've gotten on her nerves a bit today."
"Been pushing the envelope, have we?"
Malcolm grasped the IV pole and rose from the bed. Jamie had to say it was good to see him upright after three days of seeing him flat on his back.
"Perhaps. Let's get out of here. I need a change of scenery." Jamie followed Malcolm out the door.
"What happened to trying to behave for two hours?"
"This is behaving. I'm supposed to walk. Doctor said so." Jamie noticed that Malcolm was already out of breath, and they'd barely made it five metres down the hallway. He was also moving at a snail's pace.
"Not breaking any land speed records today, that's for sure. Seriously, if you fall, Sam will probably castrate me. This is a bad idea. Let's go back."
"Fuck's sake, have you no faith in me? We're just going to the lounge at the end of the hallway."
By the time they made the lounge, Malcolm was pale, sweaty, completely winded and in dire need of a rest. Jamie grasped an elbow and assisted as he plopped down in one of the chairs near the tellie, which was set on the same BBC news broadcast that was on in Malcolm's room. The cantankerous patient leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes and breathed. He didn't move for long enough that Jamie thought he might have passed out. An elderly couple seated nearby looked on appraisingly. Jamie stood to get the attention of a passing nurse when Malcolm opened his eyes again and sat up.
"Pushed it a bit far, maybe," He said, still breathless. He wiped sweat from his brow. "No harm done. We'll have a rest and then head back."
"What the fuck are you trying to accomplish here, Malcolm? Seriously, I just about shat my pants. Are you alright?" Malcolm finally registered how worried Jamie was.
"Sorry, Jamie. I'm going home tomorrow. I need to make sure I can get around okay. You've seen our house. Remember all those stairs? Julia leaves Sunday morning, and I want to make it as easy on Sam as possible. She's been through enough. She shouldna have to nursemaid me." This was delivered slowly, with pauses to breathe between sentences.
"Well, it won't be very easy on her if you fuckin expire right here because you had to go and over-do it. You're making me an accomplice to your own demise. Thanks for that."
They didn't talk for a while. Malcolm recovered his breathing. Jamie calmed down.
"Look, maybe I over-reacted, Malc, but you didn't see how bad you looked on the trolley on the way to the ambulance. I thought you were fucking dying. Sam probably did, too." Jamie felt badly when he saw the look of remorse on Malcolm's face.
"I can help out when you're home. I'll be coming by a lot to check in with you anyway as things get moving with reshuffle. I still don't know what the fuck I'm doing, and next week the rubber meets the road."
Malcolm watched the television screen, where a reporter stood in front of Number Ten. The banner at the bottom of the screen said Travel ban in advance of reshuffle. "Did the notice go out today?"
"Aye, it did. Sent it myself. Got all the reshuffle comms drafted and through to the PM, too."
"What about Dan Miller?"
"I wrote two versions of the blurb about Dan. Only sent one to the PM. He'll see the other when he changes his mind about Ray Hartford." Malcolm sighed resignedly.
"So Hartford's still in for International Affairs, then."
"By an arsehair. But let's see what happens after the news."
"What news?" Malcolm brightened. "Wait, it's Friday. What time was his thing?" Jamie made a show of studying his watch.
"Festivities should be kicking off—right about now. A fiver says it'll be on the ten o'clock news."
"You're on, and let's hope you're right."
The nurse Jamie had seen passing in the hallway when he thought Malcolm was done for approached them, pushing a wheelchair.
"There you are, Mister Tucker. Ranging a bit far, are we? Time to head back for a breathing treatment."
Malcolm moved over to the wheelchair. Jamie walked alongside as they headed back to the room. The elderly couple turned their attention back to BBC now that the show was over.
Back in the room, someone had delivered a large floral arrangement. "Look, Malcolm, your boyfriend sent you flowers," Jamie jibed, removing the card. The aroma brought back the memory of his father's wake.
"From the PM. Isn't that nice?" He said to the nurse, who was helping Malcolm back into bed. She got the breathing treatment going and left the room. Much like the last time, Malcolm relaxed back, eyes closed, breathing the vapour through the mask. Jamie grabbed the remote and turned up the sound on the tellie, which was currently showing sports coverage.
"What's going on with you and Ollie?" Jamie twitched and dropped the remote with a clatter. He scooped it up and turned off the television. The only sound was the rattle of a cart out in the hallway.
"Nothing, really. I had to talk to the bawbag. He was being a twat." He didn't make eye contact with Malcolm, hoping that answer was enough. The enforcer's keen nose for bullshit did not seem to be impaired by the breathing treatment, though. He raised his head, pointedly looking at Jamie until Jamie finally caved.
"Ollie leaked the story about you to the press. Top three. Told them you'd collapsed in a meeting and that an ambulance was on the way. When they wheeled you out the press pack was waiting. Don't worry—I had them cover your face. I had to twist a lot of arms to keep it out of the news, and The Tattler story still made it through."
"Ollie. Of course."
"I saw him when I came here to see you and gave him a proper bollocking. Even made him call his girlfriend, who he'd also told. I think I scared him enough that he'll never try that again."
"Or he'll do it again as soon as he gets another chance. Have you ever heard of reverse psychology?"
Jamie didn't have anything to say to that. At the time, it was all he could do not to pound the skinny cunt right into the pavement. He hadn't exactly thought it through.
"We've got to work on your temper, Jamie. It really gets in your way." Malcolm's words had slowed a bit and his eyes looked glassy. Jamie remembered that the ICU nurse said the treatment made him groggy.
"There's the pot calling the kettle black." Malcolm didn't say anything, so Jamie went on. "I…I know it does, and I want to change. I just get so angry sometimes I canna think."
"I know. We're a lot alike. We'll talk more about it. Sleepy now." Malcolm drifted off, his head rolling to the side.
