Torsten put an enormous arm around my shoulder and walked with me, leading me along behind the rest of the obediently shuffling press pack. With each step his bicep beat against the back of my head like a basketball. I felt vaguely faint. Not from the concussion risk, which was very real, but from the hotness overload. I caught sight of Ludo, who had turned and was glaring at us. Was he actuallyangrywith me?
“The minister is on her way back up right now,” Torsten said. “She’ll meet us at our next stop.”
“Anothertrip for the taxpayer-funded jet? This better be good. Talk to me, Torsten.”
“The jet had to go back anyway to pick up the secretary of state for education and training.”
OK, so that gave me a pretty good steer on the content of today’s announcements, but I wanted more information. I punched out a headline in the air with my hand.
“Climate change minister’s planet-killing jet-propelled press junket,” I offered. I tried another one. “Jemima racks up the Carst-air miles.”
Torsten spun me around and gave me the kind of puppy-dog eyes that got actual puppy dogs adopted.
“Now, play fair, Sunny,” he said. I went in for the kill.
“Why is Carstairs making announcements about energy policy?”
“The minister answered this yesterday.” He flicked his teeth with his tongue.
“You know she didn’t. Is the PM about to sack Bob Wynn-Jones? Will he do it this week, or will he wait until Parliament is back next week?”
“You’re asking the wrong person,” Torsten said, tongue flicking off his front teeth again. “I’m only a special adviser. You’d be better off speaking to the chief whip.”
Torsten smiled, then held my gaze for a moment too long. The intensity of the stare would be enough to make a lesser man swoon. Fortunately, I am a consummate professional. I shifted my notepad to cover the front of my trousers. The longer the stare went on, the more I sensed he was trying to tell me something, but I had no idea what it was. He squeezed my shoulder and spun me back around, and we followed along behind the rest of the press pack. Ludo was still looking over at us, his face unreadable. Torsten’s bicep bounced against the back of my head as we walked, again. My notepad was still in front of my crotch. As we stopped at the next point of interest, I saw Ludo turn away, slowly shaking his head. Wait, was this about Torsten? Was Ludojealous?
Chapter22
Ludo
Ifelt jolly tired and, truth be told, I was getting sick to death of it blowing a gale. Torsten had brought us to a windy knoll overlooking the North Sea. The skyline was dotted with wind turbines, the blades relentlessly circling like in-crowd Soho gays around out-of-town twinks. In front of us, at the base of one of these giant machines, stood Environment Secretary Jemima Carstairs and the secretary of state for education and training, Bimpe Lasisi. Like every other gay boy in Britain, I wasobsessedwith this woman. As always, Lasisi was dressed in traditional Yoruba Nigerian attire. Her hair was wrapped in a magnificent gele of turmeric and gold, and it crowned her face like the halo of a Russian icon. Her hands were clasped in front of her, preventing her shawl from flying off into the wind to join the guillemots and kittiwakes circling overhead.
“Scotland, and particularly Shetland, is a UK leader in renewable energy,” Lasisi said. “Today, the government is announcing twenty thousand funded training places for those with relevant skills wishing to retrain and join the renewable sector, annually. We particularly want to encourage those currently working in the fossil fuel industry to retrain, so we can use their valuable skills and experience to help make a cleaner, greener Britain for tomorrow. Today, we also announce five thousand subsidised renewable energy apprenticeships, annually, to encourage young people up and down the country—from Shetland to Penzance—into careers in this exciting, world-beatingBritishenergy revolution.”
Carstairs stepped forward. I heard Sunny clear his throat. I looked over at him, on the far side of the semicircle of the press pack. His notepad was tucked under one arm. The other arm, outstretched, held his phone, catching the audio. The morning sun, peering weakly from behind a cloud, shone red through his hair. It bathed his skin in honey and amber. Why was he so beautiful? Argh!
“We’re putting Britain back to work,” Carstairs said, looking straight down the barrel of the camera. “Over the next five years, with government support, renewable energy will becomethemajor industry across Britain. This government is building a better tomorrow for our children by investing in a cleaner, greener Britain. We are creating the future our children deserve by building the today we all need.”
No speech notes. This was all off the top of her head. No wonder people were talking her up as a future prime minister. I knew what my father would say, though. It was claptrap. Non-existent apprenticeships in a non-existent industry. Big announcement, great sound bites, no substance. I was feeling quite cynical about it myself and, to be frank, uninterested in the whole shebang.
Carstairs opened the floor to questions, and the entire press pack began squawking like the birds above our heads. All except me, that is. I couldn’t think of a single question. The more I tried to think of one, the less clearly I could think at all. When I finally stumbled across a question, I couldn’t seem to keep it in my head, and it slipped away again before I was able to ask it. Ten minutes later, everyone else in the press pack had asked at least one question. Sunny had asked three and was shouting out another one.
“It’s a been big week of big, reforming announcements,” he said. “Minister, why areyoumaking them on behalf of the government, and not the prime minister?”
Carstairs kept looking down the barrel of the camera, not making eye contact.
“This is climate change policy, and I’m the minister responsible for climate change,” she said. “OK, everyone got everything they need?” She clapped her hands together, not waiting for anyone to reply. “Torsten will give you a copy of the press release. Shall we get some pictures?”
Just like that, it was over. I stood frozen on the spot, my brain trying to tick over what had just happened.
“Are you OK, Ludo?” It was Sunny. He was standing beside me, a look of concern on his face. I felt the tender tap of his fingertips against my elbow. I pulled away.
“I’m fine,” I said. The fingers returned.
“You didn’t ask any questions, and I?—”
I shook his hand off my arm. Sunny seemed taken aback.
“I’m fine,” I said.
