The train started to move. Sarah sat stock still for several minutes. The PA system announced that the buffet car was open. There was a trolley service in first class that most passengers used. Her presence in second class might strike some as strange, if they knew MPs could travel first class for free, but she set off anyway. None of the seats Sarah passed had the reservation slips sticking out of the top. Nick would be in one of the reserved seats. It wasn’t enough that the railway made you travel on particular trains in order to get a cheap ticket. They also made you sit with all the other cheap ticket holders.
There was a large queue at the counter in the buffet car. She stood in it for a few moments in case Nick might come by. But he didn’t. Now she was faced with the choice of returning to her seat or walking through the remaining four or five carriages, looking for him. She would be recognised. Constituents might try to draw her into conversation. Even were she to join Nick, find a free seat next to him, there was every chance that somebody would eavesdrop on what was bound to be a delicate conversation. No, she decided. She would leave it for now. After the election, when she was a free woman, then she would find him.
The train got in at quarter past six, twenty minutes late. Nick watched as the suits hurried to get to the front of the taxi queue. Andrew had given him a couple of grand, in cash. Enough to be going on with, not enough to flash on cabs or a hotel in London. He’d felt uncomfortable in London. Nottingham was home. And he’d soon be out from under Joe and Caroline’s hair. Provided he could sort out a couple of references to convince the letting agency, Nick now had the deposit for a small flat on Alfreton Road. Probation would wonder how he got a decent place without a job, but Nick had a couple of lies prepared for them, too.
After eating, he drove for a couple of hours, then stopped off in New Basford. The kids were in bed and, soon, so were he and Polly. They could hear arguing in the next room.
‘Do they do this often?’ he asked Polly, when she came up for air.
‘One can’t sleep, so they wake up the other, who’s bad tempered. Then they start to fight. They only do it if they think I’m asleep. I’d go in there, except I sometimes bring one of them back to this room and . . .’
‘It’s okay.’ It wasn’t okay. The only way he could focus on sex was by making it more intense.
‘Turn over, would you?’
She did as he asked. He entered Polly from behind, one hand propping up his body so that he didn’t crush her.
‘Harder!’ She panted, and grabbed his spare hand, guiding it to her clit. The rougher he was, the more she seemed to like it. Polly had to bite the pillow to keep from making a noise. Both came quickly.
In the next room, the bickering seemed to be over.
‘Think they heard anything?’ he whispered as they lay together in the dark.
‘I don’t care any more,’ she said.
‘How long ago did you say it was?’ he asked, because if he didn’t ask soon, it would sound like he wasn’t interested. ‘The murder?’
‘It was five years ago today.’
Ouch.
‘What happened?’ he asked, when she’d been silent for a while.
‘Their dad, my brother Terry, he was in the police. This bloke Terry put away got out. Soon as he got out, he took his revenge. At least, that’s what the court said at the time. This bloke, Ed Clark, got out on appeal. That’s what I was seeing the MP about, the time you picked me up.’
‘And Ed Clark was found guilty of killing them both?’
She spoke quietly, on the edge of tears. ‘Shot them. Raped her first, the prosecution said, but the evidence was always slim. Look, I don’t . . .’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .’ There were no words, so he held her tight. ‘How much do the kids know?’
‘They were too young to really understand. But one day . . .’ She began to cry. He kissed away her tears. Then he made love to her again.
‘I needed that,’ she said afterwards. ‘Stay the night if you want.’
He kissed her tenderly on the side of her lips. ‘Too complicated, love. I’ll be off soon.’
She kissed him back. ‘I like it when you call me love. Go on then, get back to your wife.’
He ignored the taunt. Easiest to let her think there was a wife.
He left ten minutes later and drove for a while. When he got back, Caroline was up, drinking cocoa in the living room. She had been sleeping badly for a couple of weeks now.
‘Long night?’ she asked. ‘Make much?’
‘Enough to get by. I should be out of your hair soon. Seeing a flat tomorrow. Then I can make a bit of space in the attic and give you the spare room back.’
Caroline gave him a tired smile. ‘I like having you here some of the time, Nick. But now that I’m on leave . . . Joe and I want this baby all to ourselves when it comes. I’m sure you understand.’
‘I do. I need my own space too. I’m going to go outside for a quick smoke before I turn in. Helps me sleep.’
‘I’ll join you.’
He found the joint he’d left half finished two nights before. The three-inch tube was dry and flared when he lit it, illuminating the night. A half moon hid behind metallic grey clouds. He took care to blow the smoke away from Caroline.
‘When you came out,’ she said, ‘I thought you’d go on an enormous binge and take Joe with you. But you soon calmed down.’
‘I know what I was like before. I’m not going to make those mistakes again.’
‘We’re all condemned to repeat our mistakes, aren’t we?’
Nick didn’t answer.
After Sarah had opened the envelope, there hadn’t been time to see Brian Hicks from the Evening Post. She’d had a long session with the Nottingham West party executive to plan the local strategy. The meeting made clear that, for Sarah to have a real chance, she needed to give herself an extra edge. Jasper March had already provided it. She couldn’t tell the exec members that. Not tonight. Probably not ever.
She wasn’t able to catch up with Brian until midnight. Two hours ago. The contents of Jasper March’s brown envelope lay spread across Sarah’s kitchen table.
‘Quite a start to the campaign.’ Brian Hicks drained his third glass of malt. He was over the limit, but that was his problem, not Sarah’s.
‘You aren’t going to tell me where you got this, are you?’
‘Not likely. Am I wrong to use it?’
‘Good God, no. Though better that it doesn’t seem to come from you. Let me try another tack: where do you suggest I say I got the story?’
‘I thought journalists protected their sources.’
‘Only when the source has something to hide.’
Brian picked up his laptop. He had the story almost written, thanks to Sarah’s assistance, but it wouldn’t appear for another day. The final edition of the paper went to bed at eight in the morning. Brian needed to pass Legal and get a quote from Barrett Jones. He would talk to Jones at the last possible moment, not giving away how much he already knew. By then, he also hoped to have spoken to the girl’s father.
‘Are we even now?’ Sarah asked.
‘Oh yes. But you stand to make a lot more out of this than I do.’
‘I’ve given myself half a chance, that’s all.’
‘I always thought you were ruthless, when it came down to it. I like that in a woman.’
Sarah smiled, and sidestepped the kiss she could tell Brian was about to plant on her.
‘Looks like I’ll be keeping you up all night, Brian,’ she said, giving him a friendly wink.
‘A man can dream,’ he said, then saw himself out.
11