“To be the figurehead for your country is a huge possibility and I can’t lie and say it isn’t a scary one, but I’m delighted to have your support.” Ideas flash in my head of what could be achieved; what could be changed, and there’s the flicker of ambition that’s always been dormant.
“You have it.” Roger pats me on the back. “We’d like to meet at two tomorrow, when we can discuss this further. I know you’ve been involved in this process as William Goldsmith Junior’s advisor, but it’s different when you’re the one they’re all looking at.”
I smile and nod, say the right things to the right people and that bud of elation is there.
They nicknamed me the kingmaker: I supported William and the Prime Minister before him, helped them succeed in being chosen as the leader of our party, and then at election time. I watched their successes and their failures and now I know which choices I’d make, how I’d pick my battles and when I’d know to concede, negotiate.
It’s there. The ideas are there and it’s tempting.
I’m not going to say no.
The room starts to clear, leaving me sitting at the conference table, almost alone, apart from the presence of just one person, someone I didn’t expect.
Blair’s wearing a blue suit, trousers and jacket, a pale blue shirt underneath and her hair is tied up in some complicated twist that I know from experience has a million pins and takes half an hour to undo.
“I hear you’re planning on becoming Prime Minister.” She waits until everyone is out of the room before she speaks, lingering in the shadows so she goes unnoticed, or as unnoticed as possible.
“It seems that way.”
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t come any closer. I can feel ice creeping from her across the room and I know she’s going to freeze me, just out of what I don’t know.
“At what point were you going to tell me.”
Schoolboy error. I can see that now.
“I don’t know. I…”
“For fuck’s sake, Isaac.”
Her hands go to her hips and I know from my mother and Ivy, this isn’t a good sign.
“It’s come up this week. After William lost the vote of no confidence…”
“I heard from Elise. She told me that he was stepping down from the role and that you were the favourite to be Prime Minister. Is this what it’s all been about? Me? All of this kindness, loyalty – is this so I’m a fucking selling point so you can show your dad you’ve finally made it?” Her voice is controlled, the volume quiet, but the sparks flying from her are real and they burn.
I feel my jaw clench and the words I have bubble up in my throat. My mother taught us not to shout in anger, because what you say you can never take back. With William I’ve used my fists; with the children in the yard at school when they called Ivy, I let actions speak a lot louder than words.
Now I stand up from the table and back away, letting my back rest against the wall and try to gain some control over my thoughts, fight through the red mist that’s congealed in my head.
“Is this it? You’ve been using me? Because I’ll be honest, Isaac, if you are, you’ve done a fucking fantastic job. I never saw this coming. Not without telling or giving me the head’s up. Because guess what, this is what the speculation will be, that I’ve just been naïve and used by someone I thought loved me…”
The red descends and this time I can’t see through it. My fists stay weighted to my sides because I’m not my brother and I don’t hurt women with my hands, but my words erupt, molten lava.
“I have never fucking used you. The first time I saw you, I wanted to be with you. I didn’t give a shit whether you were the cleaner’s daughter or the queen, I just wanted you…”
“You knew who I was at the castle last year…”
“I saw you first in the maze when you were about sixteen. I didn’t really know who you were. Or who Ben was.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the leadership? Why would you keep that from me? We speak every night; I tell you fucking everything, Isaac…”
And it’s then I know she isn’t telling me something and the pain I feel is akin to having my heart ripped out and chewed.
“It wasn’t a huge deal. This is just work. And I needed to keep it separate. I don’t know if I can do this and I didn’t want to discuss it.”
“It can’t just be work. It has to be your passion. You have to want to do it.”
She speaks from experience and I know; I feel her pain.
