‘I remember that guilty look,’ she said, amusement in her voice. ‘Are you smoking what I think you’re smoking? You must be mad. What if the police had found it on you?’
‘I didn’t have it earlier,’ Nick explained. ‘Joe got me to hold if for him when he drove to the hospital. Want some?’
‘I hardly touch the stuff these days,’ Sarah said. Nevertheless, she took the spliff and had a couple of small hits before passing it back to him. ‘I’d better not be seen doing this.’
‘You’d better not,’ Nick agreed, and stubbed the spliff out on the wall.
Sarah giggled. ‘I feel twenty-one again.’
‘You look great,’ Nick told her. ‘Better than ever.’
‘So do you.’ When he didn’t try to kiss her straight away, Sarah took a step towards him. ‘Give us a smokey kiss, then.’
He did as he was told. The kiss lasted a long time. Nick held Sarah tightly, until he heard someone behind them and broke away. It was one of the youngest campaign workers. Oblivious to Sarah and Nick, he threw up into a bush. Sarah got out her mobile and handed it to Nick.
‘Call us one of your taxis. Take me home.’
‘I don’t want to take advantage,’ he said.
‘I’m not that drunk,’ she said, her voice slurring slightly. ‘I’m celebrating. So let me take advantage of you. Please.’
He made the call. ‘Five minutes. I said you’d be waiting at the front.’
‘I’ll go and take my leave. I’d rather you didn’t . . .’
‘I understand. I’ll wait for you at the end of the road.’
Fifteen minutes later, they were in a cab.
‘Where to?’ The driver asked.
Nick, instead of doing up his seat belt, slid an arm round Sarah’s shoulder, the hand carelessly brushing her right breast.
She gave him the address. Dawn was only an hour away. Nick wanted to kiss Sarah but she’d flinched slightly when he put his arm round her and he sensed that was because they weren’t alone. Nick didn’t know the driver, Rodney. A request to be discreet might have the opposite effect, so he kept quiet. Then the silence began to feel awkward, so he talked to Sarah in a low murmur, up close, the way he used to talk to her in bed.
‘I can’t believe you’re still single.’
‘I’ve always been choosy, you should know that.’
He chuckled. ‘I should never have let you go.’
‘As I recall, I didn’t give you a lot of choice.’ She squeezed his thigh.
‘Here we are,’ said Rodney.
Sarah tried to insist on paying, but Nick wouldn’t let her. Rodney nodded when Nick told him to keep the change. He didn’t acknowledge that he recognised Nick or knew who Sarah was. He’d keep schtum, Nick reckoned. Sarah stumbled out of the car and Nick helped her to the door. Inside the well-lit hall, she fumbled with the burglar alarm, taking two goes to turn it off. When she’d succeeded, he kissed her, propping her up with his arms as he did so. She was done in.
‘Let’s get you to bed,’ he said.
‘Bed,’ she repeated after him. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Which way?’
‘Follow me,’ she said, and began to sing, to the tune of a hit from when they were both toddlers, ‘Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep’: ‘One thousand, nine hundred and eighty-nine votes, tha-aa-at’s the size of my majority. One thousand, nine hundred and eighty-nine votes . . .’
She let go of his hand to open the bedroom door, turned on the light and, as soon as they were inside, began to tear off her crumpled clothes, not stopping at the underwear.
‘C’mere.’ Naked, her figure was fuller than before, which only made her all the more alluring. Sarah’s long hair fell across her chest, setting off her taut, perfect breasts. Nick found himself staring at the small purple birthmark above her cleft of pubic hair, then stopped himself. He had forgotten the way one of her knees seemed to point away from the other. First love, best love. This might be the last time he slept with a woman for three years. He wanted to remember every moment.
‘Do I have to undress you, too?’ she asked, reaching to unbutton his fly.
‘No. Get into bed. I’m going to find us both a glass of water.’
‘Hurry,’ she said, obeying his instructions. ‘I’ve been dreaming about this for as long as I can remember. I want you inside me, now.’
When he returned from the kitchen, two minutes later, she was fast asleep.
32
Nick got out of the shower and returned to the bedroom with a large towel wrapped around his waist. Sarah lay in the bed where he had slept, chastely, alongside her. Hearing Nick, she blinked awake.
‘You’re in good shape,’ she said, as he removed the towel.
‘I got a lot of exercise, the last few years.’
‘What happened last night?’
‘You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.’
‘And before that?’
‘You won an election.’
‘I did, didn’t I?’
He let the towel drop and came over, kissed her on the forehead.
‘Congratulations again. Why don’t I make you some tea?’
‘That’d be nice.’ Sarah got out of bed and rattled open the blinds. It was a glorious, sunny day.
‘New Labour, new weather,’ she observed. ‘I think I’ll take a shower myself.’
Nick made tea and considered making breakfast, too, but could only find two slices of bread that were at least three days old. No eggs or butter, just marge, half an inch of Old English marmalade and a small jar of Marmite. At least she had milk, skimmed. He checked the hall but she didn’t have a paper delivered.
When he returned to the bedroom, Sarah was still in the shower. He got back into bed and turned on her portable radio. Labour’s majority was 179. Sarah would be one of 419 Labour MPs. John Major had resigned the Tory party leadership. He summed up these details when Sarah returned from the shower, wearing a white towelling dressing gown.
‘This is like old times.’ She hadn’t washed her hair but it was damp at the edges so looked shorter. Sarah swigged her tea, then reached into her night table and put on a pair of glasses with round lenses, like the ones she always used to wear.
‘You look even better now that I can see you properly.’
Sarah lifted up the bed sheets and kissed his flaccid penis, which uncurled at her touch. There was a clicking noise from the hall.
‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘Just the answering machine. I set it to “no rings”. There’ll be a ton of messages. But I’m still in bed.’ She kissed him on the lips.
‘How’s the head?’ he asked, sliding his hand up between her thighs, which were still a little clammy from the shower.
‘I took a couple of paracetamols. I’ll be fine.’ She kissed him again. ‘Now let’s do what we didn’t get round to last night.’
There was a knock on the front door.
Nick waited in the bedroom until the journalist had gone. Then he got dressed. The day was too busy for sex. Sarah toasted stale bread and made coffee. Radio Four announced the appointment of the new Home Secretary.
‘Will you get any kind of job?’ Nick asked, feeling grubby in his clothes from the night before.
‘Me? I’m just one of the masses. I wasn’t expected to get back in, so I won’t figure in anybody’s calculations.’
‘When will you go back to London?’
‘Monday. I was expecting to have to clear my office in a hurry. No need now.’ She cursed. ‘Forgot. I was meant to be meeting this guy for dinner tomorrow – about a job – I’ll get out of it.’
Before Nick could ask who the someone was, the doorbell rang. Sarah returned with a huge bunch of lilies. She read the card.
‘That’s sweet of him. I’ll get a vase.’