This chapter is dedicated to Putrefaction. Thanks to everybody that has reviewed- it makes me ridiculously happy.
****
She had eaten dinner with the enemy, visited the house of a man at the heart of British government, a man that's mission in life was to take down her party- the very thing that made her life fulfilling. It wasn't something that Natalie could afford to let herself think about, especially since she and Phil would be accompanying Peter to DoSaC today in order to investigate the quality of the civil servants, and it was almost inevitable that they would run into Malcolm Tucker. Closing her eyes, Natalie pulled the feather pillow back over her head and attempted to fall asleep once more, but just as she began to drift off the alarm on her phone went off. This was not going to be her day. Ignoring the desire to phone in sick and return to sleep, she pushed back the soft, warm duvet and climbed out of bed. If Natalie didn't shower before Emma then there would be no hot water left, and there was no way that she was going to leave the flat without being fortified by warm water.
Awakened by the glorious gift that was hot water, Natalie managed to dress herself smartly and apply a bit of make up before traipsing into the kitchen and helped herself to a slice of toast on the rack, most likely left for her by Emma. If there was one thing Natalie would miss about living in the flat it would be Emma's mothering; hangover cures, the constant supply of food and the nights spent drinking wine and bitching about every conceivable wrong in their lives were all golden. It was the way Phil walked around the flat in his tatty dressing gown and most likely unwashed boxers that reminded Natalie why it was so important that she leave. He sat beside her at the table and took the remaining slice of toast.
"Phil, you are not Hugh Hefner. Nobody wants to see you in a dressing gown and it would take a lot more than a mansion and the bank balance of Croesus to make a bunch of plastic pretty blonde girls want to sleep with you." He stopped buttering the toast and looked up in what Natalie could only assume was intended to be a suggestive manner.
"What about a not-so-plastic pretty brunette girl?"
"No Phil. I'm about as interested in you as I am in catching leprosy." She didn't have to lie- Phil was perhaps the most irksome person she had ever met.
"Oh that's right, I forgot- you're sleeping with Malcolm." Natalie quashed the urge to poke out Phil's eyes, the accusation making her feel an uncomfortable mixture of anger and worry. The sooner everybody forgot about it the better.
"No Phil, I'm not. Unlike you I'm capable of having meaningful relationships rather than the occasional, rare one night stand. Do you really think that anybody has a meaningful relationship with him; he's Malcolm Tucker?" There was a pause during which Phil desperately tried to come up with someone Malcolm Tucker could potentially not want to use or destroy for the welfare of the government. He failed. "Exactly." Luckily for Phil, he was saved from having to think up a witty reply because of the appearance of his arch nemesis- Ollie.
"What are you doing here, you twat?" As always, Phil was displeased to see Emma's boyfriend in his home and maintained the facade of surprise at his appearance- he would never admit that he was used to seeing Ollie around.
"Oh, what a devastating insult from Moby Dickhead, the penis brain extraordinaire- my heart bleeds." Ollie sat on Natalie's other side, making her feel that she was trapped and at risk of becoming infantile and stupid by osmosis. She tried to finish her coffee and toast and ignore the voices on either side of her which were getting continuously louder.
"Well if I'm Moby Dick then all you are is... is... Pip." It seemed that Phil hadn't read much Dickens.
"Pip isn't even in 'Moby Dick', you idiot." Ollie seemed to enjoy the opportunity to rub how well read he was in the faces of others, particularly Phil.
"You didn't specify that it could only be a reference to 'Moby Dick' and I made the logical assumption that we were allowed to use more than one Dickens novel. That's like referring to Groucho Marx and then complaining when someone mentions communism." Ollie opened his mouth to retort but Natalie interjected before the argument could escalate.
"Firstly, shut the fuck up both of you. Phil, aside from a name there is no connection between Karl and Grouch Marx; one was a communist and the other was a comedian, therefore your point is void as that was a shit comparison. Secondly, it is too early in the morning for me to think about communists without wanting to bitch slap somebody." She didn't have to turn around to know that Ollie was smirking over her shoulder. "Ollie, you're closer so it might as well be you, and if you don't stop provoking Phil then you will not be coming back to the flat because we will vote you out รก la Big Brother."
"What have you done now, Ollie, and why aren't you guys dressed?" Emma appeared in the doorway fully prepared for a day of work, and it occurred to the two males that they should indeed get organised. This raised the problem of how to extract themselves from the conversation to put on clothes without appearing to be pussy whipped.
"Nothing... I was just waiting for... for Phil to finish eating so that-" Taking umbrage at being used by Ollie to get back into Emma's good books, Phil interrupted.
"No you weren't, you were-"
"You two are just like children, although kids don't have the secret urge to sodomise one another senseless. I'm going to work now, are you coming Nat?" She nodded and followed Emma from the flat, eager to avoid spending any more time with Phil and Ollie than was strictly necessary. They made their way downstairs in companionable silence, happy to be rid of the two males in the flat.
"I was wondering...." Emma looked reluctant to raise the subject, aware of how sensitive it was.
"Yeah?"
"About DoSaC today- would you like me to go with Peter instead of you?" Natalie knew exactly why her friend had made the offer, but she wasn't willing to acknowledge Emma's reasoning- the less fuss was made over what hadn't actually happened between her and Malcolm, the sooner it would be forgotten.
"Why would I want you to do that? I know DoSaC isn't anywhere special, but it isn't that bad." As a result of years of friendship Emma knew Natalie too well to be taken in by her faux nonchalance.
"Oh come on, even if you managed some kind of miracle by making it go away, whatever happened between you and Malcolm.... well, you can't be that happy about seeing him again." What was it about Malcolm Tucker that made people believe that he had an almost supernatural ability to use every situation to his advantage? He was good at his job and he was ruthless, but not a ninja or Spiderman- there was only so much he could do, wasn't there? For a second Natalie toyed with telling Emma bout dinner with Malcolm, but it felt wrong somehow.
"Nothing happened." Why was it that Emma didn't believe the truth?
"You know I won't judge you, Natalie. Everyone does something really stupid sometimes, but-"
"Christ Emma, I told you than nothing happened and I'm not lying. I didn't sleep with Malcolm- I didn't divulge sensitive information or anything else for that matter, okay? I'll see you later." Using the natural advantage of having longer legs than Emma, she increased her pace and strode briskly through the crows of pedestrians, leaving her friend increasingly farther behind.
****
It was almost a relief to Natalie to leave Victoria Street and travel to DoSaC- almost, but not quite. Phil had ceased channelling the fused spirits of Stewart and some crazed old mathematician to make what he termed an "implementation matrix" and she "a complete waste of time" in order to join her and Peter, which was regretful but even with his company the trip was better than having to stay behind.
"Phil, what are you doing?" She hissed. "Trying to be a member of the older, duller spy kids? Can you please act like a human being, just for a little while?" Phil ceased cradling the phone to his ear and ended the call, favouring her with a dark look. Natalie smiled sweetly, resisting the temptation to leave the building and return to somewhere that Malcolm Tucker wouldn't be; she didn't know how she would cope with meeting him again in a professional environment after everything that had been said, and regretted her pride having prevented her from accepting Emma's offer. Right now he could be anywhere in the building, moving from office to office and psychologically damaging fully grown adults in the name of the government. She sighed- with the prospect of Malcolm appearing and Phil being... well, Phil, the day was going to be a difficult one.
Two flights of stairs up, Malcolm observed Peter Mannion and his acolytes entering the PFI building, unnoticed due to the way Terry's stalking was taking up the attention of the three Tories in the atrium. He had planned on being there to greet them, purely motivated by courtesy as opposed to the desire to maim the opposition, but had decided against it when he had seen who was with Peter. He had to admit that she had balls to show up, surely knowing that the building would begin to gossip about them both, and it seemed probable that the whole operation would run more smoothly if he didn't make a spectacle of Natalie and her colleagues. He decided to check up on Glenn and Ollie to make sure that they kept their mouths tightly shut.
It seemed that nobody was that enthusiastic about the Fourth Sector, judging by the conversation Glenn was having with the person on the other end of the phone and the satisfied I-knew-this-was-a-bad-idea sigh he gave upon returning the telephone to its cradle. As Malcolm approached the desk he saw something bizarre, and there wasn't much that shocked him. It occurred to Malcolm that Glenn may well manage to traumatise somebody more than he ever could, but the thought didn't bother him because this was above and beyond anything a completely heterosexual man would ever do. And it was counterproductive.
"Well, well, Fagneto here seems to be busy..." Malcolm ignored Glenn's pleading glance and shifted the strategically placed paperwork to uncover small pictured of Mannion's face, love hearts and a blue ring binder folder with the name 'Terry Coverley' inked along the spine. "Busy playing matchmaker, I see. Has there been anyone since the divorce? Anyone female, that is?" Ollie coughed and it sounded suspiciously like the name Robyn. "Shut it Pinnochio who will never be a real boy, and get back to work, the pair of you!" Just as he was about to leave to make sure that the department of education had a clue about what they were doing, Glenn dropped a bombshell.
"Malcolm..." He directed his bollocking face towards Glenn, not amused by the prospect of cleaning up yet another mess made by DoSaC. "There's something you should know about Nicola's daughter, Ella. She's going to be excluded for bullying."
Shit.
****
They had spoken with DoSaC's team of civil servants and during the meeting Terry had edged her chair progressively closer to Peter's- as a result the experience had been tense to say the least, and discussion had been brought to a close prematurely. Because of Peter's insecurities Natalie knew that she was going to have to email Robert King their agenda and bring him up to speed with everything. It was very frustrating considering she had taken a morning out of her schedule for the express purpose of making sure the civil service knew what to expect after the general election. She stood awkwardly with Peter beside the elevators.
"Natalie, what do you think about this whole thing with Nicola Murray's daughter bullying another child?" She ceased replying to Emma's text and looked up at her boss, one eyebrow raised. It was obvious that Peter wanted advice on whether he should go to the press or not, but he was going to have to work for it after he had doubted her because of Malcolm.
"It's a shame, I suppose, for Ella because she's unhappy at school and obviously for the other girl too." Peter frowned slightly, aware that she was intentionally avoiding answering the question he had wanted to ask but unable to call her on it.
"Yes, but I meant to ask what you think I should do about it."
"You want my opinion? I thought that I was unreliable." There was something in Natalie's tone that he couldn't quite understand.
"No, no. You're perfectly stable, and the reason I'm asking you is because you never seem to lose sight of what's really important like Phil or Stewart do. You have principals." Natalie smiled and was pleased to know how much stock Peter put in her judgement.
"It's a very personal thing and I think it would be wrong for us to exploit that. And it would get us a lot of bad press for resorting to using a child against the government." For a moment Peter thought this over and Natalie waited to see how much weight she carried with him. The temptation presented itself with unexpected force.
"You're right. I can't believe that I ever considered doing anything like that for DoSaC of all places. Thank you, Natalie." She nodded and finished her text message, hiding the delight caused by her influence. "Did you see the way that the useless one kept trying to propel herself onto my lap?"
"Peter really, what's the worst she could have done to you? I mean, from what I've heard she'd probably screw up her plans to kidnap you because Holby City came on the television. Something would come up and distract her from organising a safe house." Peter failed to see the funny side of the situation entirely, and she couldn't help but pitying him for attracting only the most annoying of people.
"It wasn't funny. It wasn't you that Terry was molesting in her imagination- did you see the way she looked at me? I feel sullied. It's worse than going for a slash in the urinal next to Phil." The thought that she was a cover up for Phil's true interests made Natalie feel slightly less stressed about the potential appearance of Malcolm at any second and so took the sting from her response.
"Don't worry; we can bin her after the election, I suppose." As though summoned by the words of his idol and employer, Phil charged along the corridor looking as though he was being chased by some kind of phantom. Malcolm. Her heart lurched. Despite the panic eating away at her nerves, Natalie managed to joke at Phil's expense. "Oh, look what the bouncer from the local gay bar dragged in. I'm going to see Ollie and try doing a bit of detective work."
Natalie rounded the corner and, as she passed through the network of desks, began doubting the wisdom of her self-proclaimed recon mission, or even coming to DoSaC in the first place. A man she identified as being Glenn by his apathetic facial expression and grey hair was sitting behind his desk and cutting something out from a sheet of card with a vigour that indicated it was unrelated to work. He looked up from what appeared to be a mask of Peter's face as Natalie's shadow landed across his desk. She wondered if she had entered the twilight zone.
"What the hell is that?" It was then she realised that Peter's fear of being dragged away and raped by the employees of DoSaC wasn't unfounded. This was just plain creepy.
"Oh hello, I don't believe we've met before. I'm Glenn Cullen and I can only presume that you're one of Mannion's minions." Natalie smirked, the irony of the situation not lost on her as it was him.
"I'm not the one making a mask out of a picture of Peter's face. I knew things were bad at DoSaC, but never in my wildest dreams could I have pictured anything so seriously fucked up. Are you trying to curry favour with him so that you can jump ship and keep your job after the election? I don't think that Peter wants to be gang raped, and so I'd try to control myself if I were you. It's Natalie Ward, by the way."
"Ah, Malcolm's latest conquest. Your distinct lack of manners explains what you two have in common." Christ, who hadn't heard about them being seen together? What was more, why did everyone assume she had slept with him? She wondered what Malcolm had been saying about her to his underlings and decided against seeing him again- it was career suicide. "And it isn't me that wants to make love to Mannion, just look at Terry's desk."
"Make love? What is this, Mills and Boon in the Victorian era?" He ignored her jibe and scathing tone, gesturing towards the working area on his left. "Fucking hell..." Natalie knew that they were all morally lacking over here- they would have to be unscrupulous to work for the New Labour government- but she had never imagined anything as wrong as this. There were tiny little cut outs of Peter's face and pink love hearts attached to every available surface. "I don't know what to say Glenn, in fact I'm so freaked out that I'm just going to collect Peter and leave in the hope that we manage to make it out before we're jumped."
"And risk missing Malcolm? He'll be hurt. " The subject of Malcolm wasn't one that Natalie was ready to joke about quite yet. She was so worried about seeing him here that at first she assumed that it was a result of paranoia that made her believe Malcolm had just stepped from the minister's office, but when he marched straight towards her with a face like thunder, dashing all hopes she had of going unnoticed- bugger. He stopped just in front of her.
"What the fuck do you know about this?" It seemed likely that he was referring to the incident with Nicola Murray's daughter, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of an easy answer when he was being so rude. Glenn observed them both, most likely restraining himself from making a comment about sexual tension judging by the aplomb with which he returned to actual work as opposed to arts and crafts.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Malcolm looked left and right, his expression becoming particularly severe when he saw Terry within hearing distance. Firmly, yet with surprising gentleness he grasped Natalie's arm and pulled her towards the office, presumably his, with the glass walls covered in old newspapers. Malcolm's strides were so long that Natalie almost had to break into a run to keep up. He closed the door behind them.
"Nicola's daughter- what do you know, Natalie? You'd have to be pretty fucking retarded to lie to me." He was absolutely furious about this, and it was obvious why nobody stood in his way for long.
"More than enough." Concentrating on appearing calm, Natalie checked her nails for ragged edges.
"You even think about leaking it and I'll-" Emboldened by the rage caused by Malcolm's insinuation, she interrupted him, talking over him when he attempted to regain control of the conversation.
"You don't know anything about me, so don't presume that I'd try and use a story about a child for leverage." The intensity of her response surprised both of them. He was the first to recover.
"What?" It was only his absolute shock at what he had said that kept Malcolm from losing his temper after he was interrupted. He couldn't work out if she was serious or not and that deeply perturbed him.
"I don't want to leak the story; it'd be wrong." She didn't look away despite his scrutiny, so intense that the vein on his temple was throbbing.
"Are you fucking with me?"
"No. That's all I have to say on the matter."
"Are you for real?" She was sickening. Malcolm felt the kind of revulsion that he associated with fluffy bunnies and anal sex when he considered her high-ground morals. "Jesus, Natalie as much as I love the Nice-Girl act, this isn't playgroup; this is fucking politics. Seeing as you're not long out of fucking nursery I thought you'd at least recognise the fucking difference."
"Yes, that's great Malcolm. I'm leaving now." He didn't move away from the door, instead folding his arms and looking down at the angry brunette. "Leaving; as in not staying."
"I'm sorry." And he did look genuinely apologetic.
"What?" Anyone who had heard the name Malcolm Tucker knew that remorse wasn't his thing. He was renowned for being ruthless in his attempts to gain the upper hand for the government, and it was assumed that due to its strength this characteristic remained the same in every aspect of his life.
"I'm sorry. It's just a bit fucking rare stepping onto the set of fucking Snow White and the British Government." From what she could see Malcolm had no reason to lie, and he did look remorseful, but surely he was an adept liar by now. "I'm meeting a friend of mine for drinks on Sunday and it would be nice if you could join us."
"No."
"Be at mine on Sunday, twelve o'clock." He was unfazed by her outright refusal, continuing as though it had never taken place.
"No, Malcolm." Natalie shook her head and made to leave again.
"I'll even buy you lunch." He smiled sardonically and there was nothing malicious in his eyes.
"The answer is still a firm and resounding no." But Malcolm was gone before her firm and resounding 'no' had passed into existence. He had left as soon as he had issued the invitation. Natalie leant against the wall, bashing her head against it rhythmically. "Jesus. Fucking. Christ."
****
"Are you going out somewhere?" Emma stood in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame clad in her soft white dressing gown and nursing a steaming mug of coffee. She looked slightly worse for wear after last night's trip to the local pub and Natalie had to admit that it was impressive that her friend had managed to leave bed after the amount of alcohol she had consumed the previous night.
"Yeah... I'm meeting a friend." Natalie ignored the way that Emma's eyebrows rose with a studied detachment as she applied a touch of lipstick to her mouth. She took in the appearance of her mirror reflection; the smart-yet-casual black flared skirt and the green peasant blouse a combination that was within the realms of everyday clothing yet high end enough to create a lasting impression, her artfully braided hair and her tastefully applied make up. It was a good look and Natalie knew it, but so too did Emma.
"Is it a date?" Natalie's eyes widened as she looked at Emma and started to laugh.
"Definitely not, no. I'm actually going to meet a couple of people there." Picking up her keys from the dresser, Natalie dropped them into her handbag and headed out of the room, pausing by Emma.
"Oh... Well if it does turn into something more then... good luck." Emma squeezed her arm before disappearing into the bathroom. It was a moment before Natalie managed to continue out the front door. She had made an effort with her appearance, but it didn't do to appear too slovenly and that most certainly didn't make it a date. Did it? But if one of Malcolm's friends was there then it couldn't be classified as a date. Natalie sighed in relief as she hailed a taxi, now slightly curious about the identity of this mystery person. For the duration of the journey she considered possible candidates that worked in the media or for the government, but each was crossed from her internal list as quickly as their name had been placed upon it.
Why was she here? As she hopped out of the taxi Natalie questioned her own motive for accepting Malcolm's offer, which had really been more of a demand. He possessed a highly amusing if offensive sense of humour and had great taste in food, but beyond that there was no reason for her to want to spend time with him outside of a professional capacity. Malcolm could poison her career, but Natalie had no idea what she knew about that was important enough for him to want to discover. There was nothing immediately obvious for Malcolm to gain from sharing her company, but the plots of the spin doctor were never immediately obvious to anybody. Today she would be perfectly polite, making it clear that they couldn't see one another again before going home. She pressed the doorbell and didn't have to wait long for Malcolm to appear. Before he could speak a voice called out from behind.
"Those annoying cunts selling stuff appearing every single fucking day is the other thing I don't miss about living in London. I don't know how you manage, Malc, unless there are a few more bodies in the basement since I was last here." A younger man, smaller in stature than Malcolm but with a similar accent appeared in the doorway beside her host. "I'm sure what you're selling is fabulous sweet cheeks, especially if it happens to be yourself, but we're not interested." Natalie gasped sharply, but Malcolm intervened before she could retort.
"No Jamie, this isn't a fucking prostitute, this is Natalie. She's coming out with us today- remember I told you on the phone last night?" Malcolm watched openly as she struggled to regain her temper.
"Oh... Hello Natalie." She didn't return Jamie's sarcastic wave, narrowing her eyes slightly. "D'you know I wish you were a prostitute just so that I didn't have to know that you were one of those posh, artsy, afternoon-tea eating, bourgeoisie bohemian fucks that works for the Tories- that aside we'll get on swimmingly." Leaving a flabbergasted Natalie stood on the doorstep, Jamie turned and walked back into the house.
"What the fuck was that, Malcolm?" She whispered aggressively, unwilling to make a scene in front of his neighbours. The look on his face told Natalie that he was amused by this.
"He just doesn't like meeting new people- fucking bad experience as a child, you know?" Malcolm looked at her as though he had made a casual remark about a television programme and was expecting a simple response.
"Uh... I see." Malcolm closed his eyes and sighed.
"Oh, Christ there's one born every fucking minute. He's from Motherwell, that's all. Come in." Bewildered, she followed Malcolm into the lounge and sat awkwardly on the sofa across from Jamie. Until now she hadn't imagined a situation during which she would long for the spin doctor's company, but as he went into the kitchen Natalie wished he could somehow distract Jamie, preventing twin holes from being burned through her skull by the intensity of his stare. The only sound was him crunching noisily on a mouthful of crisps taken from the bowl between them.
"So how did you meet Malcolm then, J- Jamie?" Natalie toyed with the folds of her skirt, more anxious to have something to do with her hands than for any real need. Until very recently it had been an innocent item of vintage clothing as opposed to a middle class anathema.
"Match dot fucking com." Natalie nodded a few times and didn't try to strike up a conversation again, resigning herself to an awkward silence. After what seemed like a lifetime Malcolm reappeared.
"Right, let's go. I could eat a fucking horse, and when I said that Natalie was going to be a part of our lunch date I didn't mean that we were going to shove her in my fucking oven. Besides, she's so small that she couldn't even be fucking classed as an appetizer." Both men began to laugh, but considering their reputation for being more than slightly psychopathic Natalie couldn't quite relax enough to join in. She remained quiet as they filed back out of Malcolm's home and listened to their conversation.
"So, how's Holyrood working out for you?" Jamie had gone to work at the Scottish government. There had been a lot of talk about his disappearance but nobody had ever confirmed where he had gone.
"Same useless cunts, but nicer scenery really- and less of that lot..." Jamie nodded towards Natalie indicating his disdain of her political beliefs. "It's not bad but it's like comparing a Nissan Maxima to a fucking Rolls Royce. They both work pretty much the same way, but a Royce has all the prestige."
"Are you all pugnacious, foul mouthed communists at the Scottish Parliament then?" The two men exchanged a look.
"She does have a pair then Malcolm, yeah I knew there must be something fucking interesting about Natalie wants-to-be Portman if the sex is good enough to put up with being seen in public with her: a member of the fucking opposition, you sly bastard." It was impossible to say whether or not Jamie was serious about his jibe. His smirk could be anywhere between teasing, impressed of disgusted.
"Slow down there, Speedy Gonfuckass. I cannot stress to you how wrong that idea is. Natalie is not my bird." Malcolm frowned more deeply still when he caught sight of the knowing smirk his friend shot him, and was Jamie anyone else he would most likely have been trembling at the sight of the bollocking face. Instead he laughed, slapping Malcolm on the back.
"Seconded- I haven't got feelings for him, and by the way Malcolm I don't want to see you again after today." For the millionth time Natalie wondered just why it was that she had subjected herself to the unnecessary stress of seeing Malcolm. She followed his lead into a small pub and considered texting Emma for an escape route phone call.
"Right, whatever you two say. Mind you, you do make a pretty fucking cute united front if I don't think about, you know, your fronts being united." They sat around a table in the corner and read over the laminated menus. Natalie didn't have the energy to respond to the crude innuendo, and she missed the loaded look that Malcolm shot his friend. It was the look that he had worn when he had suggested Claire Ballentine for party leader; one of determination, one that spoke of a plan.
"First round's on me, so what can I get you?" Natalie regarded the two Scots, deciding that the quickest possible escape plan would be to buy her perfunctory round, eat lunch, make some polite chatter and leave for a fictional appointment for which she was already late.
"We have chivalry in Scotland you know, the same as we have fucking plumbing and- and the internet too- isn't that amazing?" As she looked at Jamie, Natalie wondered how any human being could be so singularly offensive. It must have been bad because Malcolm intervened.
"Just tell her whatever the fuck it is you want to drink, other than the blood of a fucking Englishman; we can't scare her too badly now. I'll have a beer."
"Please may I have the same?" Jamie turned to Malcolm, slightly surprised by the older man's expression. Standing, Natalie made her way through a throng of people and into the queue for the bar. Her frown denoted acute frustration.
"Play nice. She could actually be useful." Despite the loud chatter filling the pub, Malcolm leant closer to Jamie and lowered his tone as though afraid of being overheard.
"What, in the way that a fucking fork can be useful for eating soup? She is one of them, Malcolm, the scary fuckers that take away kids' milk and support the poll tax. She may look like a human being but really she's a fucking vampire with cold, blue blood. If you put a cross or any literature promoting inherttance tax against her skin, that Tory bitch will sizzle."
"You're too old for this fucking 'Twilight' crap." The lack of interest Malcolm expressed in his warning urged Jamie to continue. Malcolm had been alert to every possible danger to the party before he had left for Edinburgh.
"A girl with fangs and, and capitalist beliefs and a fucking poster of Margaret fucking Thatcher on her- on her bedroom wall where she can see it every night before-" There was only one person brave enough to interrupt Jamie, and having his judgement called into question the individual decided to use the privilege.
"A girl with information on the opposition, an inside scoop on whatever pies Mannion's lot have their dicks in. And she's not bad looking either, once you get over the accent." Malcolm couldn't help but laugh at the expression on Jamie's face. "Did I give you a fright there? Did you think I'd fucking gone soft?" Natalie returned with their drinks, unaware of the conversation that had taken place of her absence.
"Listen Natalie, we got off on the wrong foot earlier and I'm sorry about that." She nearly choked on her gin and tonic, but the resultant coughing fit delayed her response far less than her overwhelming shock. Looking between Malcolm and Jamie, she saw no hint of duplicity and the afternoon would be much more pleasant without the horrible tension that had hung between them earlier.
"That's- that's alright Jamie." Malcolm smiled almost imperceptibly before drinking from the pint glass, showing something that on anyone else would have been termed gratitude.
"Just look after the big guy here. If you don't then I'll kill you in your sleep." Natalie attempted to smile in return, too distracted by the open threat to refute the previous insinuation.
****
"So did you have an okay time today?" Jamie had left for his hotel room, and now they were walking aimlessly around London. Natalie was unwilling to examine why she hadn't headed home after they had eaten. It was one of the last truly nice days of the year, if a little chilly, and it was pleasant being out. Surprisingly Malcolm's presence didn't detract from the peaceful feeling that walking around the city usually created. His conversation was amusing, if a little cruel towards others, and it was rare to find someone else that seemed to enjoy manoeuvring their way through the crowds of pedestrians for the sake of the experience.
"Yes. Jamie was... everything I'd heard, yet not somehow. Rather like you I suppose." Natalie leant against the guard rail and looked down at the flowing Thames, watching the swirling patterns the currents made on the surface. Edging through the string of people navigating the pavement and stopping beside her, Malcolm decided that now was as good a stage as any to enter the next stage of his plan. He reached over placed a hand on her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin under the loose cotton of her top. For a fraction of a second Natalie stiffened, moving with an awkwardness that denoted self consciousness before she settled.
"And how is that like me?" He watched the slight twitch of her mouth as it dawned on Natalie that he was flirting with her.
"You know your reputation. It isn't pretty; you're ambitious, devious and too clever by half at manipulating people. But you care about keeping the government in power. You're always loyal to the party, and no matter what tough decisions you have to make, you do it. Maybe that isn't a good thing." She stood straight up and Malcolm saw the opportunity slipping away from him. Impulsively he moved closer and kissed the corner of her mouth chastely before pulling away to witness her reaction. Confusion reigned, causing her delicate features to curl into a frown. She turned back towards the Thames as though the answers floated on its surface. This assertiveness was perfectly in character, and surely would alert her to the fact that something was amiss. Malcolm sighed heavily before breaking the silence.
"I'm sorry Natalie. I think I'll go." Not waiting for a response, he pivoted and headed back across the bridge, a knowing smile softening his features. Any second now she would tell him to come back.
"Malcolm, wait." A rapid pounding of heels on the concrete pavement confirmed his theory. He stopped and waited for her to catch up, schooling his face into a more sombre expression in a split second. "I..." Natalie moved her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to continue and unaware of the angry looking woman who cursed her. Placing a hand on the small of her back, Malcolm propelled her along the street until they reached a small secluded park that Natalie knew was relatively close to her flat. The lack of background noise intensified the feeling of awkwardness and Natalie fidgeted with the stitching on her skirt. Slightly annoyed by the action, Malcolm gripped her fingers in his. She looked up sharply.
"I really am sorry." The weight of his unknowable thoughts made the apology seem believable to Natalie.
"What for? It-" He cut her off with another swift kiss, this time lingering. She sighed softly as they broke apart, and Malcolm took this as his queue to continue, twining his free hand through her hair. As he inhaled her vanilla scent, it occurred to Malcolm that this was the most painless thing he had done to further his own career in a long time. After a few moments, Natalie turned her face away from him, flushed slightly red. "Malcolm, we can't." She placed a finger against his mouth and continued, obviously flustered. "You don't know me at all. Jamie's right; I do work for the opposition, and what's more I'm proud of it. Don't you find my conservatism off putting? My primary aim in all things is to overthrow the government and displace you. We're complete fucking opposites- we can't."
"I should completely despise you, with your fucking artsy clothes and fucking Nazi party membership, but I don't." And although his aim was to mould her into a potential safety net, Malcolm recognised a grain of truth in his own words. Natalie laughed, gently digging her elbow into his side.
"Was that your idea of a compliment? You've got a long way to go Malcolm."
"It was the truth." The amusement faded from her eyes as Natalie considered his words. Although they were not delivered with any embellishment, the lack of theatrics and swearing made her think about what he had actually said. She looked up at Malcolm to find that he was openly staring at her, flushed in embarrassment, and before she could look away he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed her again.
"This doesn't make any sense." And it didn't. Natalie didn't understand why she continued to agree to Malcolm, or why she had enjoyed being kissed by him.
"Why should it?" He squeezed her fingers once more before dropping it and walking around the corner and out of her sight. Natalie examined her hand and marvelled over the feeling of warmth infusing it.
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