‘I’m impressed you’ve come to Nottingham to see me,’ she told him, as they sat side-by-side in the bar of the Lace Market Hotel. ‘I was looking you up on the web. Your name pops up all over the place, but not in the East Midlands, as far as I could tell.’
‘It’s good to have an excuse to come back,’ Andrew told her. ‘I don’t think I’ve been in the city since 1991. Were you here then?’
‘No, I was in London. I only moved back after the by-election.’
‘Did having been union president help with getting the nomination?’
‘A little. But I fought an unwinnable seat in 1992. I paid my dues.’
‘They say Nottingham West can’t be won this time.’ Andrew pointed this out in a tone that was rather too droll for Sarah’s liking.
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’
‘You’re confident? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’
‘No, I’m sorry for snapping at you,’ Sarah said, quietly. ‘The chances aren’t good. But during the campaign, you have to rev yourself up, convince yourself that you have a fighting chance.’
‘Have you thought about what you’ll do if you lose?’
‘Take a holiday. Then go back to London, get a job.’
‘Anything lined up?’
‘It’d look awful if I was touting for jobs. That’s what Tories do when they’re about to lose. We’re about to gain power, unless something goes massively wrong in the next thirteen days.’
‘Which makes you a valuable commodity, with very good contacts.’
‘I suppose.’ Sarah began to see where this was leading. The waiter came with their glasses of Moët et Chandon. Andrew leant forward.
‘If the worst does happen, I’d like you to come and work for me.’
‘As what?’
‘Lobbyist, public relations, policy adviser . . . name your own title. I can take you on full-time, part-time or as a freelance consultant.’
‘Why do you need me? Don’t tell me it’s a favour for a friend.’
Andrew replied with his Cheshire cat grin. ‘We aren’t real friends, not yet anyway. Never were. We had a mutual friend, that was all.’
‘Do you ever see Nick?’
‘Not since . . .’ Andrew thought. ‘I don’t know when. You?’
‘I haven’t spoken to him in twelve years.’ Something stopped her telling Andrew that he’d tried to phone her. ‘I think he might be in Nottingham though. I saw someone who looked like him, driving a cab.’
‘He could be helping out his brother. Doesn’t Joe have a cab firm?’
‘How do you know that?’ Sarah asked.
‘I hear things. Will you consider working for me?’
‘I will,’ Sarah said. ‘But you haven’t really answered my question. As what? What aspects of your business do you need help with?’
‘I have emerging interests. Stuff I can’t tell you about until you’ve signed a job contract and a confidentiality agreement. I don’t mean to insult you. That’s the way business is these days.’
‘I see,’ Sarah said. ‘For the sake of argument, if I agreed to work for you, say, three days a week, what kind of deal are we talking about?’
Andrew told her. It was far more than her MP’s salary.
‘There’d be fringe benefits, too. A very large expense account.’
‘You must be doing well,’ Sarah told him.
‘I’m doing extremely well,’ Andrew said, and there was a lascivious edge to his smile that made Sarah wonder whether this job offer wasn’t just an attempt to get into her knickers. Andy had tried it on fifteen years ago, even though he was supposed to be a big mate of Nick’s. She’d made it clear then that she didn’t fancy him. But Andrew was rich now, and Sarah was still single. Hardly surprising if he assumed she’d lowered her standards.
She ate duck and Andrew had veal. While they ate, they gossiped, neither of them dwelling on the past. Andrew told her stories about people he’d worked with in New York, dropping famous and familiar names in a casual but well-rehearsed manner, making it very clear that he’d stepped up in the world. Sarah fed him some juicy morsels of political tittle-tattle. They parted on a warm note.
‘I’ll think about it very seriously,’ she said, before agreeing to have lunch with him the week after the election.
15
There were still mornings when Nick woke and was surprised not to find himself inside. Late night working had cured him of waking early, but he doubted he’d ever get rid of the prison dreams. Today, he didn’t hear the doorbell ring, but did hear the voice shouting his name. He thought it was a cellmate and he had overslept. Then he remembered where he was.
‘Hold on!’ Nick pulled on a sweatshirt and tracksuit bottoms before opening the door. He expected a meter reader, but found a familiar face.
‘Are you going to invite me in or just stand there like a dummy?’
Nick had given his old friend the new address, but never expected him to visit. Andrew stood at the window while Nick put the kettle on.
‘Alfreton Road,’ Andrew said with a sigh. ‘We used to come here for pizza when we were flush. What was the place called? Gino’s?’
‘Reno’s,’ Nick said. ‘Next door to the Red Lion.’
‘That was it.’ He looked round the sparsely furnished flat. ‘I paid for this, did I?’
‘In a manner of speaking.’
‘Sorry I didn’t have more when you called. I brought you the rest.’
Andrew pulled a brown envelope from the inside pocket of his Armani jacket.
‘Thanks, Andy.’ Nick used the old name uncomfortably. He opened the envelope. There was around three grand in it.
‘It’s starting-up-somewhere-else money,’ Andrew said. ‘You can’t hang around here for ever, not when everyone knows you’ve been inside.’
‘Where else do I go?’ Nick asked. ‘Are you offering me a job?’
‘I would if I could,’ Andrew said. ‘But it’s a delicate time. I need to be whiter than white. I can’t take on ex-cons.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ Nick tried to keep sarcasm out of his voice. His friend had given him five grand, after all. ‘Maybe I should move to Wales, set up another hydroponics operation.’
‘That game’s moved on while you were away. A lot of dangerous, greedy bastards are in on it. You might find it’s more trouble than it’s worth.’
‘I wasn’t serious,’ Nick said. ‘I’ve got form. I have to stick around here, report to probation, keep my nose clean. But the money’ll help.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, but I’d still move if I were you. You can’t make a new start in a place where you’ve got so much history. What are you working as, a cab driver?’
‘Where did you hear that?’ Nick asked.
‘I hear lots.’
‘I’ve done a bit for Joe. But I’m trying to set up a private tuition business. Schoolkids wanting help with GCSEs, that kind of thing.’
‘Not much money there. You ought to get yourself a nice cushy job in some boarding school. Most of those places don’t do criminal record checks. If you’re stuck for references, I know people who know people.’
‘Thanks,’ Nick said, then changed the subject. ‘Have you seen the posters for Sarah all over the place? How weird is that?’
‘I hadn’t noticed,’ Andrew said. ‘You haven’t got in touch, have you? That’s the last thing she needs.’
‘You told me that last time we met.’
Andrew didn’t reply. Nick handed him a mug of tea.
‘Sugar?’
‘Stopped taking that a long time ago.’
Nick needed to do something to break the ice.
‘Excuse me a mo.’ He went outside. The Golden Virginia tin where he kept his kit was stashed behind a loose brick above the fire escape.