As afternoon became evening, she kept answering the phone, turning down invitations to drinks, parties, meals, earnestly discussing the make-up of the new government. Every so often someone asked about her prospects of a government job.
‘Not a chance, but I have to stay near a phone just in case,’ was her standard reply. ‘Me and every other bugger who got re-elected.’
Nick phoned the hospital. Caroline had already been sent home. In Sherwood, his brother answered the phone.
‘It’s mad here,’ he said. ‘When are you coming round?’
‘Tomorrow, I guess. I’m with somebody.’
‘You pulled last night? Lucky bugger.’
‘Did you straighten things out with Caroline?’
‘In a manner of speaking. I’ve had to agree to let Nas go. Turns out she’s known about it for months.’
‘She doesn’t miss much, Caroline.’
‘Baby’s crying. Come to lunch tomorrow. Gotta run.’
Perhaps fatherhood would make a new man of Joe, though Nick doubted it. While Sarah made more calls, Nick prepared her dinner: cold chicken with potato salad, vine tomatoes and crusty French bread, washed down with Sauvignon Blanc. They ate with gusto.
‘What am I going to do with you?’ Sarah asked, as she finished her meal and poured each of them a third glass of wine. ‘I can’t be seen with you here. Everybody knows you’re fresh out of prison.’
‘Take me to London with you,’ Nick suggested.
‘And find you a job, with a serious criminal record? Not easy.’
‘I could be a house-husband,’ Nick said, not entirely joking, ‘taking care of your every need.’
‘I’ve got a tiny one-bedroom flat in London. There’s barely room for one, never mind two. And you’re hardly the house-husband type. Even if you were, we can’t go leaping into that kind of a relationship.’
‘I could,’ Nick said.
‘You’ve got less to lose than I have,’ Sarah said, softly, apologetically.
‘I’ve got nothing to lose,’ Nick told her.
‘Except your freedom. Again.’
‘Oh. That.’
33
Somehow it got to be midnight on the second of May and Nick was still there. Sarah knew he expected to spend the night with her, as he had the one before. When the phone calls finally fizzled out, and the TV coverage finished, Sarah found herself exhausted. The campaign had caught up with her. She would prefer to sleep alone, but couldn’t throw Nick out. He’d think it was a rejection. Easier to make love to him.
Yet they couldn’t stay together. The papers would have a field day – RISING BACKBENCHER DATES CONVICTED DRUG DEALER. For Sarah to be with Nick, she’d have to steer clear of law and order issues, or the media would attribute her liberal leanings on penal policy to her relationship rather than her principles. Nick must realize this.
As she stared at the weather forecast, he got out his brother’s tobacco pouch.
‘A smoke to help you sleep?’ he offered.
‘I don’t think I’ll need much help. But don’t let me stop you.’
He put it away. ‘Do you want me to go?’ he asked, tenderly.
‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’
‘Glad I’ve got such a decisive MP.’ Nick stood up. ‘I’d best leave.’
Sarah reached over and squeezed his hand. ‘It’s just that I don’t know whether I should sleep with you.’
‘Has something changed since last night?’
‘I’m sober. I won an election I wasn’t expecting to win. I know I said I could see you if I won, but I was fooling myself.’
‘I could be your back-door man,’ Nick argued, trying to inject some humour into his voice. ‘Your secret bit of stuff in the constituency. In time, I’ll become more respectable. I’m not quite sure how, but I will.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ Sarah said. ‘But that doesn’t change now. The tabloids would tear me apart.’
‘I shouldn’t be here,’ Nick said. ‘I’ll go home.’
‘Not like this.’
‘There are no journalists camped outside.’
‘We can’t leave it like this,’ Sarah said. ‘And there’s still something we both want to work out.’
‘Is there? I’m nearly past caring who killed Terry and Liv Shanks.’
‘Can we talk it through one more time?’ she asked.
‘Okay,’ Nick told her. ‘Maybe I will have that joint after all. Weed helps me think.’
Maybe a joint would help her think, too. They smoked on the balcony of her flat, overlooking the gardens of the Park and, beyond, the outskirts of the city: County Hall, Colwick Park, the football grounds.
‘Suppose,’ Sarah said, ‘Polly was playing an elaborate bluff. She was with Ed all along and only came protesting to me because she felt it would look bad if she didn’t?’
‘If she was with Ed all along, why did she start seeing me?’ Nick asked.
‘Because you’re irresistible,’ Sarah said, stroking his face. ‘What bothers me is why you started seeing her.’
‘An attractive woman was offering commitment-free sex,’ Nick said, adding, ‘at the time, she was the best I could do.’
‘I find that hard to believe. What’s she like in bed?’ Sarah asked.
‘You what?’ Nick said. ‘You must be stoned, to ask me that.’
He was right. This stuff was much stronger than the hash they used to smoke together. Nick answered regardless.
‘We didn’t do it much in bed. Carpet, sofa, standing up, leant over the cooker, you name it. She likes to be treated rough. She scratches, and hits, and kisses like a vacuum cleaner. It never lasts long.’
He paused, as though realizing that he was using the present tense.
Nick’s description of the relationship was the same as the one Polly had given her, albeit with changed nuance. Polly might be over Nick, but he still had some feelings for her. He was even jealous of Ed. Sarah stubbed the joint out on the terrace railing then threw the roach onto the soil below. Smoking dope had always made her randy, never more so than tonight. The stuff made her brain rush too.
‘I can’t believe Polly was acting when she protested about Ed, when she started seeing you. Something happened to change her mind. Ed must have given Polly a really compelling reason to stop seeing you and take up with him again. She wouldn’t explain it to me, beyond saying that Ed had told her who really killed Terry and it wasn’t him.’
‘I thought that everybody else who had a motive for revenge was inside at the time?’
‘Contract killing?’ Sarah suggested.
‘If so, why wait until Ed was released?’
‘Maybe . . .?’ Sarah was on the verge of grasping something, then a wave of tiredness overcame her. ‘I think I’d better go to bed.’
‘You look exhausted,’ Nick said. ‘I’ll go. Can I see you tomorrow?’
‘Yes, please.’
He kissed her on the cheek, then left, like the gentleman he had always been.
34
There was a message on Nick’s answering machine. His probation officer. He’d missed a meeting. Tough. Sarah hadn’t said anything about having plans for Saturday evening. Nick decided to cook. Maybe they could rent a video. There were tons of films from the last five years that he hadn’t seen and he’d bet an MP didn’t get to the movies often. He and Sarah used to go to the cinema each week. They’d spend ages discussing the latest Lynch or Altman in the pub afterwards. There was a place that rented videos just off the top end of the Park, on Derby Road, a shop that used to be an off-license. He and Sarah used it often when they were students.