Chapter 10: Charles
Ms. Dawes said her good byes and we got into the car with Terry. I asked him to drive to the flat, but she leaned forward, asking;
"Could we pass a drive-in and get some fast-food to bring with us?"
"You're hungry?" I was surprised as she just had been through a dinner.
"Yes, starving", she smiled.
"Burger King? There's one nearby."
"That will do."
When we stopped, she placed her order in the microphone, then turned to me and asked if I wanted anything. I was actually starving too, since I had not eaten since before we went to her flat to get prepared, so after a second's hesitation I made an order. I was not sure if she would want me to keep her company eating, or if she expected me to eat it on my way home but I thought that I would know soon enough, and I needed to eat something either way.
When we got up to the flat, she put her paper bags down on the coffee table by the sofa and nodded to me to do the same, so then I reckoned she expected me to stay.
"I hadn't figured you as someone who eats junk-food, so far I have thought of you as the healthy-salad-kind-of-person."
"This is going back to my roots. I was raised on junk-food but less exclusive than Burger King", she smirked.
"Really? Anyway, I'm impressed by your appetite, especially as you're quite small" I glanced at her bags, she had ordered at least as much as I. "After all, you have eaten a three-course meal tonight."
"That's where you're mistaken. I ate almost nothing during dinner", she laughed. "I had this idea that it would make me look pregnant in this dress. I mean, I love it, but it shows everything. There's no way to hide a swollen stomach here."
She looked down on her own body and so did I, and could only silently agree to that, yes, the dress really showed every curve of her slender body.
"I need to get changed before I eat", she concluded. I thought that would be a relief, so she would wear something less tantalising – but then she turned her back to me, enhancing my predicament instead of putting an end to it.
"Will you help me with the zipper? Sorry to ask, but I'm not sure I can manage on my own without destroying the dress."
She did not say it in a seductive, husky voice, just her normal one, so I felt completely certain that all there was to it was that she needed help. Still, I had to focus on my fingers to make sure they did not tremble slightly as I unzipped her. I did it slowly, partly because I did not want to risk getting stuck in the delicate fabric and destroy the dress, but I must admit that I also did it slowly because I could not help enjoying the moment. I made sure not to touch her skin, I did not want to be creepy and scare her off – she had enough of that with Rob and I would never want to be that guy. I just pulled the zipper down slowly, touching the fabric softly and saw her bare back appear, probably skipped a breath when I noticed that my guess earlier had been correct and she was indeed not wearing any bra. I would have loved in that moment to let my fingers caress her soft skin, to push the dress off from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, but instead I took a step back and said with surprisingly steady voice;
"There you go."
"Thanks, I'll be right back."
When she returned a few minutes later, she had wiped off the red lipstick and taken away the clasp in her hair, so it now fell loose over both her shoulders. She was wearing a pair of joggers and the West Ham t-shirt I had seen hanging over a chair before. She was about four inches shorter as she now was barefoot. She still looked amazing but in a more approachable way.
"Princess time is over", she joked.
I was not so sure about that.
"Now you'll have to tell me the story about that t-shirt."
She looked down, like she had not thought about what she put on.
"The Dawes family are all West Ham supporters. Well, my dad is, and he wouldn't let anyone under his roof cheer for any other team."
"What are they like, your family?" I had been curious for long and hoped I was not over-stepping by asking, but she did not seem to mind. She had opened her bags and started dipping chips in ketchup, simultaneously unboxing some chili cheese and now talked between chews.
"Poor. When I grew up we were really poor, and too many. Too many to make ends meet, too many for our small house. Mum, dad, Nan and the youngest ones still live in the same house but it's far better now because some of us have moved out so it's not so crowded and because I give them money, so they can have a decent life."
"You didn't when you grew up then? Have a decent life?"
"Barely. But you know, we were in good company, so I didn't think much of it until I changed school sometime during secondary school. Most of my friends had dads who were unemployed, drank too much, or both – if there was a dad present at all. Most of them had mums who had their first kid when they were almost kids still themselves. It was the Newham normal. It was rough, but we knew how to get by, if only just."
"What happened then, how did you end up here? It's quite a journey… and I'm not thinking geographically."
She had now attacked her burger and I had to laugh at her.
"You really weren't kidding when you said you were hungry, or that you like junk-food."
"Oi, you cheeky bastard! It's been ages since I had a proper burger and I so deserve it after starving through an entire party and having Rob drooling over me on top of that."
She laughed too and for a second I could picture her in a Newham street, talking back to someone there instead of me.
"Sorry for interrupting you, you were about to tell me how you ended up here."
"Well, I was good in school and I had a teacher who encouraged me, helped me to get a scholarship and to get my parents to accept it. Christ, they didn't get the point of studying at all, so that was a big leap for them, to let me go off to a private school in another part of the city. I think they felt that they lost me."
"And did they?"
"Partly, I think they did. It opened my eyes to another world, made me realise that I didn't have to settle for that life, that I could achieve more with mine – and in the end, that I might make a difference for others. That maybe I could make life better for other Newham kids and their likes."
"And now? Do you see your family?"
"I do, but not as often as I'd like to. My relationship with dad has always been complicated because he was an alcoholic, but it's better now. But mum, my sister and I have always been close. They come visit me, but they're never comfortable here. I'm not allowed to go there for security reasons."
She looked down when she said this and when she looked up again her eyes were damp.
"You miss them."
"I do! Sometimes I don't know if it's the right choice to be here, to have this job, to live in this flat, not be able to go home to mum when I want to. I have had to change so much – part of it I wanted, but part of it just came with the career… I'm talking too much, I shouldn't bother you with my personal issues", she interrupted herself.
"I don't mind, it's interesting."
"I doubt that. Tell me about you instead. How did you grow up?"
I told her about my childhood in Bath. How I had grown up as an only child to wealthy parents, always wishing I had a large family like hers, which made her roll her eyes like I did not know what I had been wishing for. Told her about how I had been sent off to boarding school, missed home, had friends and done well but never felt completely at ease, and it was the same during my university years. Inspired by an uncle who was a major, I had decided to apply to Sandhurst and there I finally felt like I was on the right path. When I eventually became a captain in charge of a platoon and was deployed, I was sure I was in my right element.
"I liked it almost to the end, but by the end of my final tour I was suffering from PTSD. I had been through too much, lost people who were important to me without dealing with it. It became worse, or at least more apparent when I got back home. In hindsight, it seems strange that I didn't realise it and accepted help much sooner, but I guess that's part of the illness. You don't think straight, don't make the best decisions or even feel like you normally would in a situation. I was a completely different personality for a while. It had been bad between me and my wife for quite some time, but during a period she was frightened of me – rightfully so, I can admit now. So, she filed for divorce and I lost custody of Sam."
"I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. It made me wake up, finally seek help. Now that I'm fine I see him quite often. He stays with me every other weekend and we meet in between too, even if he's staying with Rebecka most of the time. It works better that way with my working hours."
"But you miss him when you're not with him?"
"Yeah, miss him like hell. Like you with your family I suppose, but I'm just glad that I can be a good dad to him at all, that I managed to turn things around."
"How is he after the school attack?"
"Fine, as he was not there thanks to you. Annoyed because he can't go to school and has to live in a safe house, away from his stuff. Rebecka and I were more shaken because we realise we could have lost him."
"I wish I had kids too", she surprised me by confessing.
"You were married too... What happened?"
"Oh, Roger… That was a mistake from beginning to end. Not that I didn't have feelings for him in the beginning. He wooed me, with roses, romantic gestures, dates of a kind I had never been to and I was so overwhelmed that a man like him showed interest in me. I had not gotten used to my own role as a "shooting star in politics" and I was star struck by him. His looks, his confidence, his power – and that he seemed to have feelings for me, it was all so exciting."
She looked sad at the memory.
"I fell in love with him, but I didn't really know him and after a while as married, I realised that he didn't truly love me. He loved the idea of us as a power-couple. To him it was more like marriages in old days, you know when it was business transactions which both parties benefited from, but there was little or no love. He did not want me for me, he wanted me by his side because he thought we could both make splendid careers. That was the only thing he was interested in, not me, us... and children were definitely not on the agenda. They would have gotten in the way of our careers, he made that clear. It was a hard lesson to learn, a painful one. I was in a relationship which was not what I wanted so I had to end it. I wanted… love plain and simple, without any ulterior motives. Is that pathetic? I filed for divorce, which of course didn't look good so now he hates my guts, as you could see when we met."
I was touched by her story. I did not think her wish pathetic, I thought she deserved so much more. If things had been different I would have loved to be that man for her, the one who loved her for her but I knew the circumstances under which we had met prevented that.
"I wondered how you ever could have fallen for him. He seemed like such an asshole, and you seem so nice. I hope you don't mind me saying that?"
She laughed.
"No, no I don't mind."
She had finished her meal and leaned back in the sofa, suddenly looked a bit tired but still happy.
"It's strange… You're actually a posh twat with a background similar to his, but in difference to how it was with him, I feel like I can be myself with you."
"I take that as a compliment even if you're calling me a twat. I suppose that's one notch up from monkey, thanks."
"You should, take it as a compliment I mean. I almost never feel like myself. God, I don't even talk like myself anymore, for better and for worse."
"You would speak cockney, I assume? How did you learn not to?"
"Speech therapist did the trick. At the end of our marriage I used to talk cockney at home, especially when we argued, just to annoy Roger because he hated it. It made him feel like he had married a white trash girl he told me. Now I only use it if I see my family, or if I'm really, really mad so I forget myself."
"I would love to see that."
"Me being that mad? You should hope you never piss me off that way."
"Nah, just the cockney part."
"I'll think about it", she smiled.
Time had passed quickly, I'm not sure how long we had been sitting talking in the sofa. Now we were interrupted by the night team calling on me, asking if I had fallen asleep on the couch, and I told them no and that we could make the exchange.
We gathered the paper bags, empty boxes and mugs and put them in the bin. A strange normal thing to do together with the Home Secretary.
"Thank you", she said.
"For what?"
"For a really nice time. For letting me be myself for a while without having the feeling that someone will stab me as soon as I turn my back to them."
"The pleasure was mine."
It was. I had enjoyed this evening far too much and was in more trouble than ever. And if things were not complicated already, it got worse three days later when my boss, together with Anne Sampson asked me, no, ordered me, to spy on Ms. Dawes.
