Polls Apart (19 page)

“Don’t be silly, Anna. You go straight home tomorrow. I’ll have plenty company at the count and you can save your energy for Downing Street. Just pray that we get there.”

His eyes widened with what Anna recognised as a mix of fear and excitement.

“You’re going to do it,” she said, suddenly sombre. “I can feel it.”

“And will you be happy?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

“I’ll try,” was the best she could muster.

Richard swallowed hard as he grasped her hand and hoped this wasn’t going to turn out to be a no-win situation.

On the ground floor of the hospital two ambulance staff wheeled a new patient through the entrance to the Accident and Emergency Department. “Her name is Marie Simpson,” one of them announced to the waiting medical team. “She appears to have taken a paracetamol overdose. Neighbours heard her collapse in her bathroom thirty minutes ago and she’s been out cold since…”

Kelvin paced his Downing Street office while Joy and Reggie sat helplessly, just waiting to be verbally savaged. It was after nine in the evening and Kelvin should have been on his way to his Buckinghamshire constituency, but he had delayed his schedule by twenty minutes to talk with Joy and Reggie. Over the course of the day, it had become clear that one or both of them was to be blamed for the Democrats’ unexpected publicity coup – Anna’s collapse – and they were now being called to account. To prove his point, Kelvin was forcing them to watch a very animated Esther Yarleth on AllNews
24
who was grilling two studio guests about the latest twist in the campaign.

“What is it about Anna Lloyd that is resonating so much with the British public?” she asked excitedly. “We have received literally thousands of messages of support for her from concerned well-wishers today, all saying how refreshing it was to see someone from the world of politics actually speaking their mind, and how awful it was that she had been under so much pressure. To what do you think she owes her popularity, Marcia?”

“Well,” replied the Women’s Alliance founder, Marcia Haynes, “Anna Lloyd has come to represent the struggle of many women; whether they are suffering in their careers, from domestic abuse, or in a rocky marriage, there is something in her life that they will be able to relate to. And, of course, she has become something of a voice for women both young and old.”

“Patricia Drake,” Esther said, turning to her second guest, the haughty chairwoman of Women for Families, representing those who believed the world of work should be for men only.

“I certainly think Anna Lloyd has come to represent a great many things over this campaign,” Patricia smirked. “Not all of them positive. But I do admire the way she spoke out today and refused to be bullied by the press. I am also pleased to see how, over the course of this campaign, she has stepped back from her own work commitments to support her husband, and I certainly wish her a speedy recovery.”

“Good God,” Kelvin boomed. “When even Patricia Drake is eulogising about that woman, we know we’ve got problems. We are talking about a former call girl here for fuck’s sake.”

“Former escort,” Joy instinctively corrected him, then immediately regretted it.

Kelvin glared at her in both anger and disgust.

“You’ve got the cheek to sit there and pick me up on something like that, when you’ve spent the last two weeks mooning around doing bugger all except ruining my chances of being re-elected.”

Joy braced herself for the remainder of what was to come and tried not to notice the flush of red that was quickly making its way from Kelvin’s neck to his forehead.

“I am seriously beginning to wonder, Joy, if you were actually deliberately planted within my party to screw up the Alliance campaign.”

“I’ve wondered the very same thing,” Reggie said smugly, clearly relieved that it was Joy who was taking the heat and not him.

“Just to remind you,” Joy replied calmly. “It was you who approached me to work for this party. I believe I have acted professionally at all times, and always in the best interests of the Alliance. I told you when I agreed to take the job that I have no particular political allegiances, but that I didn’t want to see the Social Democrats win this election. However, having gotten to know you over the last two or three weeks, I can categorically say that is no longer the case.”

“Get the fuck out of this building,” Kelvin said, leaning menacingly into her face. “You’re a disloyal bitch. You’d better get on the first flight back to New York in the morning because I’ll make sure your name is mud in this country.”

Joy collected her bag from under her feet and slowly stood up.

“Kelvin,” she said, calmly fixing him in the eye. “After tomorrow, I’m quite sure no one will ever listen to a damn word you say again.”

W
ednesday, 6
th May,
2009
, UK Newswire – Voters go to the polls today in the general election which will decide whether Social Democrat leader Richard Williams can end eight years of Alliance government to become the youngest Prime Minister in over a century.

After a month trailing the length and breadth of the country in the quest for votes, the three main party leaders know their fate now lies in the hands of the electorate.

Following a final day of campaigning, Prime Minister Kelvin Davis, Richard Williams and Liberal leader, Giles Henderson, will this morning cast their own votes in their constituencies.

Polling stations around the country open at seven a.m. and close at ten p.m. – with the first results expected around eleven thirty p.m.

The Democrats have led the opinion polls for the majority of the campaign, but dropped several points in recent days following claims that, in his early parliamentary career, Williams was involved with the Alliance
MP
Lizzie Ancroft who was, at that time, addicted to cocaine.

Williams was yesterday forced to abandon campaigning for two hours to visit his wife, the actress Anna Lloyd, who was rushed to hospital after collapsing outside a residential school whilst making a public statement in support of her husband.

It was revealed by Lloyd’s sister that the actress is in the early stages of pregnancy. Hospital officials said last night that she was suffering from exhaustion, but both mother and unborn child were expected to make a full recovery after a period of rest.

Both the main parties are said to privately believe today’s vote could be close, with the
SDP
facing a tough fight to win many of the key marginal seats where the election will be decided.

In the end, turnout could be crucial. The last general election in
2005
saw a turnout of
59
% and there are concerns that there could be a similarly depressed vote this time around, following what was considered to be a campaign marred by dirty tricks and smears.

There are further fears among Democrat strategists that supporters who became disaffected after a series of claims about the personal lives of Richard Williams and his wife, Anna Lloyd, could simply stay at home or cast a protest vote for the Liberals.

The uncertainty over the result has been heightened by the large numbers of undecided voters, with the final opinion polls suggesting more than two in four may have yet to make up their minds.

Faced with the long wait at his Bristol constituency home, Richard had decided it would be best to walk to the polling station and he had risen early so he could be among the first to arrive. His mood was apprehensive as he braced himself for both the results and Anna’s response. Her reluctance and unease at the prospect of becoming a Prime Minister’s wife deeply unsettled him.

He decided to distract himself by offering to make coffee for Henry and Sandra and the array of Special Branch officers camped around the house. Henry had leapt in to help him whilst Sandra sat watching the breakfast news.

“Any word on Anna?” Henry asked Richard quietly.

“I’ve not called her yet. She’ll still be sleeping,” Richard replied. “I thought I’d speak to her after voting.”

“Good idea,” Henry agreed, whilst loading a few coffee-filled mugs onto a tray. “I had noticed she’d been a bit quiet these last few days but I didn’t realise she was so tired. I feel a bit guilty for urging her out on the campaign trail with us.”

“Me too,” Richard said flatly. “The last few weeks have been really tough on her, it would have been a struggle anyway but adding the pregnancy on top has really flattened her. I just hope she’s going to be okay.”

“Course she will,” Henry smiled encouragingly. “Anna’s a trouper. Here,” he held the tray out to Richard. “You take these to the cops outside. It’ll make for a good picture.”

“Okay,” Richard took the tray and headed through the hallway towards the front door. He balanced the tray against the wall and used his right hand to free the snib. As soon as the door was open the flashbulbs snapped into action and the photographers chortled loudly as they watched Richard struggle to rebalance the tray, the contents of the coffee cups beginning to slosh around.

“Sorry guys,” he said sheepishly, as two male officers rushed forwards to help him.

“Not a problem, sir,” the older of the two said. “That’s a lovely thought. We could all use a nice cup of coffee at this time in the morning.”

“Precisely,” said Richard.

“We’ll take the other three to the officers round the back for you,” the policeman said as he scooped up the remaining cups and laid them out on the window-ledge, ready to be distributed. “And I hope your wife makes a speedy recovery, sir,” he added.

“Thanks. That’s kind,” said Richard before heading back inside the house, his thoughts turning to Anna again. Surely her fears for the future were simply down to exhaustion and a natural apprehension about what lay ahead, he reassured himself. But he wished they’d had more time to prepare themselves for this new life they could be about to embark on. They had, he knew, much to discuss when all this was over. He just hoped she would still be by his side, whatever the result.

Anna switched off the
TV
news and turned back on her side again in the hope of catching some more sleep before another nurse came in to take her pulse and disturb the very thing she needed most. She had watched Richard casting his vote and felt saddened that she couldn’t be there to support him. But she was also relieved. Shut away in the hospital room, hidden from cameras and probing reporters, she felt more at ease than she had done in months, perhaps even years. With such security she wondered how she was ever going to face leaving and desperately hoped the doctors would encourage her to stay another night so she wouldn’t have to face the pandemonium of the election result. She knew it was wrong. She knew that, in many ways, her exhaustion was a bit of a betrayal. Why couldn’t she just take it all in her stride? And what had happened to her over the course of just a few weeks to prompt such a change of heart on fame – the very thing she had fought so hard, for so long to achieve? She should be desperate to have her moment in the global spotlight. In the end she guessed she had reached her saturation point. The revelations about her past had left her exposed and vulnerable. Then came the terrible and destructive rift with Richard, followed by the utter madness of the intense public scrutiny and becoming an overnight “People’s Princess”. And through this process she had come to realise that the only thing that mattered was the security of family life and the company of those you really love. Those ideals were pretty far removed from the insanity that would be life in Downing Street. How on earth would she be able to take her baby for a walk? A peaceful stroll down to a local café to meet with friends would surely be impossible. Life’s simple pleasures were about to be wiped out in an instant leaving her and Richard as nothing but a pair of public figures going through the motions and never stopping to enjoy the most precious gift of family life. If Richard really loved her he would understand why it was so important to her to protect their child from a chaotic existence – more privileged but, perhaps, just as bewildering as the one she herself had experienced.

Back at the house in Bristol, Richard paced the living room floor while Sandra and Henry huddled together at the dining table, their mobile phones constantly pressed to their ears as they gave orders down the phone. When they were not talking on their mobiles or to each other, they were glued to the television screens searching for clues as to the possible result or bickering between themselves over which marginals they thought the Social Democrats would win or lose.

Richard stopped for a moment to take in the scene. History in the making, he wondered? Either way, he was bound to write about this moment in an autobiography one of these days. He noticed how at ease Sandra and Henry were in each other’s company and wondered if either of them had yet considered the possibility that they might become an item in future. He remembered how he and Anna had shared that same familiar ease with each other, before the pressures of public life had threatened to turn them into strangers.

At four o’clock, Dan arrived with the children who had been allowed to leave school early and take the following day off in light of the significant occasion for their family. They were supposed to have been joined by Libby but she had stayed in London so she could visit Anna. Richard’s father and mother had also arrived from Cornwall.

Shortly after five, Dan volunteered to brave the press pack outside and went off to buy fish and chips for everyone. He arrived back twenty minutes later, loaded down with a large box containing their dinners and looking like he’d been pursued by wolves; his hair all tousled and his jacket hanging down over his shoulders because he’d been unable to stop and pull it back on.

“Bloomin’ ’eck,” he shouted as he slammed the front door behind him. “I wouldn’t fancy being a Hollywood star if that’s what life is like. They practically tripped me up on the path trying to get a shot of what I was carrying. They kept yelling ‘What’s in the box?’ and ‘Who are you?’ Terrifying.” Dan shook his head as he laid the box down on the table and allowed everyone to help themselves to their orders before taking their seats. The kids sat on the floor in front of the television in the adjoining lounge, trying to seem interested in AllNews
24
’s election coverage because they knew it was the reason they were off school.

At one point little Rupert made the mistake of asking Sandra if he could switch on to
CITV
, only to be shot down with an immediate “Not today, no.” Though she did ruffle his hair afterwards in a peace-making gesture.

At five thirty, a new strapline flashed up onto the
TV
screen: “AllNews
24
Poll Gives Democrats Twelve-Point Lead”.

“Uncle Richard. Uncle Richard,” Jasmine was shouting. “Look at that.” She stood pointing to the television, as the assembled grown-ups turned to see what all the fuss was about.

“Bloody hell,” Henry laughed, almost hysterically, “that’s incredible.”

“Let’s not get too carried away, everyone,” Richard quickly chipped in, fearing they would only be dropped from an even greater height if the actual vote went against them. “But that’s looking good,” he allowed himself to concede.

He yearned for Anna at this moment – for the feel of her hand in his, calming him, balancing him. He was achingly close to his dream now, yet felt so distant from the one person he most wanted to share it with. Tomorrow would be different, he reassured himself. Tomorrow she would be back and the celebration could really begin.

Marie opened her eyes and blinked rapidly as the light penetrated her skull like lasers. Her mouth was very dry and she felt extremely drowsy. She turned to her right to see the unfamiliar site of a metal frame around her bed, with a small pine cabinet just in front of her. It was then she realised she was in hospital and she groaned with fatigue and confusion. Had she got drunk and fallen over somewhere? Had she been attacked? Marie turned to her left and found her father sitting quietly, studying her.

“It’s all right, dear,” her mother appeared by his side and patted her hand. “You’re in hospital. You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

Marie tried to open her mouth to ask why, but her lips were so dry they were sticking together. Instead, she put her hands down on the mattress and attempted to push herself into a sitting position. Her father stood to help pull her further up the pillows, while her mother held a glass of water for her to sip.

As she supped the liquid back slowly, a crushing memory flashing in front of her. She saw the box of paracetamol, she remembered the drinking.
Oh shit,
she thought.
I tried to top myself.

She looked into the tired, concerned faces of her parents and started to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to do it. I just got myself into a state.”

“Please don’t worry, Marie,” her mother said, leaning forwards to stroke her hand again. “We love you very much.”

“I feel terrible, dear,” her father added. “You called me wanting to talk and I was rushing out to the supermarket to get chicken stock for your mother. She needed it quickly. I only wish I had stopped to talk to you. I’m so, so, sorry.”

Now it was her father’s turn to cry, and he was quickly joined by her mother.

“What made you feel so low, Marie?” her mother begged.

“I’d been feeling down for a while, I guess,” she sighed. “I felt so bad about my work, and all the rubbish I’ve been writing over the election campaign. All the people I’d lied about and hurt.”

“Who did you lie about?” Her father asked. “I thought you had to stand these stories up? Make sure they were accurate.”

“I did, Dad, before I joined the
Echo
. But Damian got greedy and desperate to the point he just didn’t care what we printed. He kept saying “It’s not like they’re going to sue, is it?” Because he thinks if Richard Williams is voted Prime Minister he won’t want to get into a legal battle over his personal life. And he was probably right. It doesn’t make me feel any better about it though. I feel really, really disgusted with myself.”

Marie began sobbing again, her head now pounding with all the effort.

“I can’t believe I swallowed a packet of paracetamol and I’ve still ended up with a headache,” she joked between sobs.

“That’s my girl,” her father smiled. “You can’t be so hard on yourself. You were just doing your job. And if you’re concerned that you’ve lied, then you still have a chance to put that right.”

“How?” Anna asked.

“By saying sorry,” he replied.

By ten o’clock the relaxed, jovial atmosphere in the house had turned to palpable tension as the reality of what was about to be decided sunk in. Henry was downstairs in the living room monitoring the
BBC
news for the exit poll, while Sandra was upstairs watching
ITV
. The bulletins started simultaneously.