Chapter 6
I was not sure what to make of that tea session with the Home Secretary… Dawes… Molly. I would have liked to call her Molly, but it felt too personal. She was my client and I had to keep some distance, although having a night time tea together was hardly achieving that, or the fact that she seemed so normal, so nice – that also made distance more difficult. The more I saw of her, the more I liked her. She kept surprising me in positive ways, often in situations when I first thought she had shown a less flattering side but she then turned it around.
A few days after the tea chat, Ms. Dawes was in her office and I had had a short lunch break which was considered safe when she was in her office. I had just returned and came walking on the ground floor of the office building when they shouted to me from the reception desk;
"Security! Security, they need you upstairs, quick!"
Adrenaline immediately shot through my body and my pulse was beating fast during the seconds it took me to ascend in the elevator. It went painfully slowly, but when the doors finally opened, and I rushed out, I heard Chantal shouting upset. Her target was Rob McDonald.
"How can you treat me like that?! You hated me from day one!"
"PS James, there you are", McDonald for once seemed relieved to see me. "Would you kindly escort Ms. Dyson from the building?"
"Good luck recruiting! You don't even know what I do on a daily basis, because you are that fucking arrogant! You never cared to find out what I do!"
She kept screaming obscenities at McDonald, a very feisty lady for her petite size, until I took her by the elbow and asked her to please come with me.
"No", she said but suddenly seemed completely deflated and sad.
"Come on, let's talk about it downstairs, all right?"
She then nodded and came with me without further struggle. In the elevator down, she seemed close to crying.
"What happened, Chantal?"
"They started interviewing candidates for my job. Didn't even tell me they were giving me the push."
"They didn't say why?"
"She's a sociopath, he's a narcissist, that's reasons enough. Good help anyone who sees through them."
I had Rob down for a prick, but I had started to think better of her, so I felt a bit disappointed. Chantal had done a shitty job as a PA, that had been apparent on several occasions. Still, this was not a fair way to treat someone who had worked for you. Would Ms. Dawes really do something like that?
"I'm sorry Chantal. Good luck."
I waved to a cab to stop for her.
"Good luck to you who has to keep working for them", she bitterly said and jumped into the cab.
My gaze followed it as it drove off and wondered if I would find out what the true story was. I did later that evening. We sat in the car on the way the flat when Ms. Dawes spoke, seemingly disturbed over the development with Chantal.
"I'm sorry you got pulled into the mess with Chantal. Rob thought that you would be able to handle her, he apparently didn't on his own... you know, with your negotiation skills… You managed to talk a suicide bomber out of setting off a bomb, so you clearly have some skills in the area."
"I guess I know how to calm down people, even if I haven't practised on furious PAs before", I smirked. "Did you really start interviewing people for her job?"
"It was so awful", she sighed. "I had planned to talk to Chantal today, tell her I have to replace her because she does not live up to the standard I need, as you might have seen on an occasion or two. I have given her so many chances because I want to help a young woman who wants to make a career, but she's just so sloppy and careless. It affects my job, how I come across, and I can't have that. But I didn't want it to end this way."
"What happened?"
"The HR department and Rob had screwed up and scheduled Rob to start interviewing candidates too early. To tell the truth, I'm not sure if Rob cared if there was an overlap. He's not always that considerate. Chantal found out and hell broke loose. I don't blame her for that part, I think it's completely understandable. If she had wanted to listen I would have tried to explain but she thinks I'm a bitch anyway, so I don't think it matters what I say."
"You may be right there."
I felt glad to learn how things really were, that she was not as cold-hearted as to let a girl know she had been sacked by finding out about interviews for a replacement. She sighed.
"It's really exhausting to feel that people hate you. She's not the only one you know."
I suddenly got the feeling she was quite lonely, and maybe not as strong as she always appeared in public. I got the stupid idea that she probably could have needed a hug. Then we pulled up in front of the house and the conversation was over.
-OG-
A few days later, Ms. Dawes and Rob McDonald were headed for the Chambers with the bodyguard team in tow as usual. As she got out of the car, a man approached her, and I did not stop him because I recognised him from photos. He was her ex-husband, Roger Penhaligon, also known as the Chief Whip. A title I never quite got my head around, as it makes me picture someone standing with an actual whip, whipping other politicians – and when I saw Penhaligon I thought to myself that he probably would have enjoyed that. It was difficult to picture this man as her ex-husband, the one she came home to after work and shared a meal and bed with, maybe planned for children with even though it obviously never had happened.
"Do you mind if I steal your Boss for a minute Rob?", he said but it was clear that it was a rhetorical question and he did not expect McDonald to object, which he indeed did not. The more I saw of him, the more spineless he seemed to me.
"Sure, see you inside", he just said and strode off.
Penhaligon was substantially older than both me and Ms. Dawes, yet good-looking. Tall, with a sharp face, dark hair with some silver by the temples and with a somewhat haughty expression in his face. He did not beat about the bush but went straight to the subject without any greetings. If I had not known it, it would have been impossible to guess they had once been husband and wife.
"Interesting TV interview. You must be very proud."
"I'd really like to get to the Chambers, if that's all right with you, Roger", she sighed and seemed less than thrilled having to talk to him.
"Planning on high-jacking the counter terror debate for shameless self-promotion?"
"I did not ask to do that interview! The PM made me, and I did the best I could. You know Norman Hawkes isn't easy. And this damn regulation… Is there a point to this conversation?"
"You're not returning my calls."
I could see that she seemed very uncomfortable, so I decided to intervene.
"Pardon me, Ma'am. For security reasons I'd prefer if we moved indoors."
"You work for us Plod, so wind your neck in", he snapped. Apparently one of these mighty men who think they are well above the common man. Her ex really was not a pleasant personality. He turned to her again, lowering his voice so it sounded threatening.
"I'm the fucking Chief Whip. When I call, you answer. We're claiming center ground but you're heading off-piste."
"The PM can count on my full support."
"Bullshit, he's weakened if everyone does not back him up on this - and anyone who can read a face can see you're not behind this regulation even if your beautiful little mouth says different. You're taking this opportunity to strengthen your own position. You're making a move for the leadership."
"Sir, Ma'am, I really need you both to move inside for security reasons."
"Can't you call your monkey off? Throw him some nuts."
Even if I could not care less about what a shit like him said about me, it bothered me that she would let him talk like that to someone who was working for her. But she wouldn't as it turned out;
"He's mixed-race, Roger. Take care so you don't come across as racist. It would be bad for your image, wouldn't it?"
That shut him up and smirking she swept past him and left him standing fuming on the pavement, while she shot me a glance filled with amusement. When we came inside and walked the hallway down, I saw her chest rise and fall from upset breathing. Apparently, the chat to her ex was upsetting in some way. She stopped and looked at me.
"I'm not."
"Not what, Ma'… Dawes?"
"I'm not making a move for the leadership. I don't want it. But as long as the PM and Roger think that I do, they will consider me a threat. I can never… just lean back and relax, then someone is coming for me."
I'm not sure why she told me, she probably just wanted to get it off her chest, but it told me quite a bit about the world she was struggling in. I wished I could relieve her from this pressure.
"Mixed-race? You really think I look like it?"
"No, but maybe you look a little bit like a monkey. All that hair and the brown eyes…", she snorted like she was trying to hold back laughing for real and it seemed like the thought of me having similarities to a monkey was hilarious to her.
"A monkey? I have a feeling I should be offended."
"I like monkeys. I like them much more than I ever liked Roger Penhaligon."
Her eyes twinkled and then she continued walking towards her meeting and I had the feeling I had been given an odd compliment after all. Once again, she had surprised me, and I considered myself a man who was not easily surprised.
That evening, when I had accompanied her to the flat and cleared it and was about to leave, she asked me to hold on a moment and went into the other room. When she got back she had my shirt with her, in a plastic bag indicating it had been to the dry cleaner.
"Your shirt. Thank you."
She gave me a smile that seemed almost shy, a really beautiful smile. I think it could have melted a stone. Again, it surprised me that she had bothered.
"No problem, Ma… Dawes."
"You're nearly getting there, remembering not to call me Ma'am."
"It just feels more natural."
"Does it? I beg to differ, it doesn't feel natural to me."
In the silence that followed, a question which I had been wondering about, popped into my head.
"Did you always want to be a politician? I'm sorry, I hope you didn't mind me asking you that."
"I don't mind. No, I had intended to be a criminal barrister…it was more a coincidence that I got into politics, engagements during my university years. And when the opportunity came, I thought I could make real difference, you know. Like you thought about Afghanistan. I'm not as sure anymore, not sure about what I manage to achieve... I'm about doing the right thing, making the hard choices – but that's not always appreciated from above. We want to keep the voters pleased, even if that might not always mean the best for all. And if I keep voters too pleased, it may be threatening to those I thought were supposed to be on the same team. That sometimes mean you're not allowed to be yourself, express the views that are really mine or do what I personally think is best. I try to, but it's hard."
"I think you are winning me over."
She cocked an eyebrow, questioning, smirking.
"Don't tell me - with my incredible charm and magnetism?"
"With your honesty. With your wish to make a difference rather than aiming for power. I think I would put my vote on you."
She looked me straight into my eyes and I noticed that hers were green, a special light green colour.
"I don't need you to vote for me, only to protect me."
It could have been an insult said in a different tone of voice, but she said it softly and with a smile and I knew I would do anything in my power to protect her.
"Rest assured Ma'am, I'll do what's required."
"I won't keep you longer. Good night PS James."
"Good night, Dawes."
The thing was, I did not mind that she was keeping me. I had nothing waiting for me and when I left I missed her company.
