"Fridge is full, sweetheart, I organised it."
"You mean Debbie organised it, I presume?" Abbey said as she made her way into the kitchen, which, like the bathroom, was in an extension that had been built on to the back of the cottage. It was compact but beautifully hand-crafted with light oak cupboards and was fully equipped.
"Well, okay," Jed admitted, "–but I told her what we wanted. Oh, and Mrs – er – something-or-other from the village will come in every other day to house-keep for us, and do laundry and stuff."
Between them they cooked a breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs with Dubliner cheese.
"So what's the plan for today?" Abbey asked, sipping her second cup of coffee.
"No plan, no schedule – and do you realise that it's past midday and I haven't even seen a newspaper yet?"
"You getting withdrawal symptoms?"
"Yeah, can't wait to read an Irish paper and find out whether Mrs Bridget O'Connor won first prize for her potato jelly, and how long it took Paddy O'Malley to pull a tractor all round Galway Bay!"
"So how far are we away from civilisation?"
"Village is about quarter of a mile down the road."
"Your mother's village?"
"No, that's about twenty miles from here."
"Okay, so how about I unpack our stuff – and you wander along to the village to buy yourself a newspaper?"
"You sure?"
"Yeah – and put a coat on. It's January, remember?"
"Abbey, this is Ireland, not New Hampshire!"
"Coat, Jed," Abbey said firmly.
"Okay, okay!"
Jed retrieved his long black coat from the bedroom, carefully avoiding the overhead light as he flipped it expertly over his shoulders. It looked slightly incongruous with his jeans and brown boots but until Abbey unpacked the rest of their stuff and found his fleece jacket, it was all he had.
He stopped as he reached the door. "Hold on, I need some money, don't I?"
"Welcome back to the real world, babe!"
Jed found his wallet in his briefcase and slipped it into his pocket. "Wonder if I can give the agents the slip?" he grinned as he went out of the door. But he had only gone a few yards when Charlie Tynan, was there, a tall well-built man in his late thirties, with a shock of dark hair.
"Good afternoon, sir."
"Hey, Charlie!" The greeting had such a familiar ring to it that Jed winced slightly.
"You going far, sir?"
"Only to the village. Relax, no-one knows we're here."
"Yes, sir."
"Walk with me, Charlie." As they set off along the lane, Jed looked round at the agent. "Charlie, is there any chance you and the others could keep a low profile during this trip?"
"Sir, we have a duty to protect you and Mrs Bartlet."
"Under Public Law 89-186 I had the right to decline that protection, I didn't because – well, that doesn't matter right now, but this is a private visit, we're here under assumed names, everyone thinks that we're in New Hampshire, and no-one has the first idea that we are here in Ireland–"
"Until someone recognises you, sir."
"Think about it, Charlie – I'm about to go into a tiny store in a very small village in the middle of nowhere in the west of Ireland. Am I really going to be recognised?"
"Sir, your face is known world-wide."
"Where do you come from, Charlie?"
"Alexandria, Virginia, sir."
"Nice place," Jed commented, "but maybe a little too near DC for me to make my point. So let's imagine that you lived in some small township in – say, Ohio – and that one day you were in your local store and the former President of the United States walked in. What would you think?"
Charlie laughed. "I'd wonder what the hell he was doing in my local store!"
"Yeah, right – and then?"
Charlie considered for a moment. "I guess I'd probably think I was mistaken, that it couldn't possibly be him, that it was just some guy who looked like him."
Jed nodded. "Exactly – so now transfer that scenario from the mid-West township, where the man's face had been on your TV screen almost every day for the past eight years, to a small village in Ireland where he might occasionally have appeared on TV or in the press. And what do you get?"
"Just some guy who looked like him?"
"You got it. And now let me make another point. If you then walked out of that store in Ohio and saw two men standing outside the store – probably wearing dark glasses and with earpieces – and obviously waiting for the guy you had just seen, what would you think then?"
Charlie nodded. "Yeah, if he had bodyguards, then maybe it really was him after all."
"Good man – my point exactly." Jed slowed down as they neared the village store. "Now I know full well that all your instincts are saying that you gotta go into that store and make sure that there isn't a Qumari assassin waiting in there on the off-chance that I might stop by – but I guess what I'm saying is this – can we cut a deal, Charlie?"
"Sir?"
"Can you back off for the next few days? Can I temporarily decline the 24/7 protection? Because Abbey and I want to visit a few places – and when we're in one of the villages around here, or even in Galway City, the last thing we want is for passers-by to realise that this American couple – who look vaguely familiar – just happen to have a couple of bodyguards trailing them. Because then they're just gonna put two and two together and–" Jed held up his hands "–well, that's the end of our anonymity, isn't it?"
Charlie hesitated. "Sir, I understand what you're saying but–"
"Hold on, you haven't heard the rest of the deal yet. What I'm saying is – yeah, okay, I know you need to maintain your presence around the cottage, that's fine – and I know you need to follow us to wherever we might decide to go – but can you at least stay in your car and not tail us everywhere? Here's the deal – would you do that if I promise you that we will always – always – have our panic buttons with us?" Jed stopped and then grinned. "You could go sit in the local pub – or go fishing – or whatever it is that you guys do when you're off duty. So can we make a deal, Charlie?"
Charlie nodded slowly and then held out his hand. "Yeah, okay, we have a deal, sir."
"Thanks, Charlie." Jed shook his hand and smiled. "Now would you just get back up that lane and let me walk back reading my newspaper in peace?"
"You got your panic button with you, sir?"
"I have it right here," Jed grinned and patted the pocket of his overcoat.
"Okay, sir."
Jed stood and watched for a moment as Charlie turned and retraced his steps along the village street towards the lane that led to the cottage. Then he went into the store.
The village store had just one copy left of the 'Irish Times' and Jed struggled with the new currency, studying the notes carefully until he found what he thought was the right one.
"Keep the change," he said casually as he handed over a ten Euro note
The girl behind the counter looked at him in confusion. "But ye've given me far too much."
"I have? – I'm sorry, I don't have any coins."
"Here's y'r change then."
"Thanks."
Jed stepped out of the shop, clutching the newspaper and a handful of coins. 'Call yourself an economist?' he muttered to himself.
As he walked back along the lane towards the cottage, he fished in his pocket for his glasses then flipped through the pages of the newspaper. After articles on the Fianna Fail, the forthcoming local elections, a bank robbery in Dublin and the mixed fortunes of the Irish football team, he finally found a photograph and brief article about the inauguration of Matthew Vincente Santos as the new President of the United States. 'Former President Josiah Bartlet,' he read, 'has retired to his family home in New Hampshire.'
And that was it. For a few moments he yearned for the Washington Post and the New York Times, and then checked himself. It really didn't matter any more, did it? That part of his life was over. He could write his memoirs, get involved in the plans for his Presidential Library. But retired? No, he really wasn't ready to retire yet – there were still so many things that were wrong in the world.
A wry smile crossed his face as his mind went back in time, to something he had said to Abbey so many years before when they were both still students. "There are so many things wrong in the world, Abbey – I want to do something to change it, to make it better – for us, for our children, for our children's children, for all the future generations."
"Jed, you can't change the whole world," Abbey had said.
And he remembered his reply. "Abbey, I have to do whatever I can, I just can't NOT do it."
So – he thought to himself – what's next? But now there was no White House staff to remind him…
TBC