McGuire saw him to the door. ‘Well,’ he said as he rejoined his wife in the sunshine. ‘Is this our morning for surprises? The big man enticed to Strathclyde, not to mention him and Aileen being down the road.’
‘Indeed,’ Paula laughed. ‘And maybe get yourself ready for another. When she saw that Joey Morocco last night, before the concert, and it was all going off. . mmm, that was interesting.’
Mario looked at her, intrigued, reading her meaning. ‘She looked like she wanted to eat him, did she?’
‘Oh, I think she has, in the past. In fact I know so, ’cos she told me. And I’m pretty certain she fancies another helping.’
Eight
‘God, but you’re hot stuff when you’re angry, Aileen de Marco,’ Joey Morocco gasped.
She smiled, looking down on him as she straddled him. ‘Then look forward to mediocrity, my boy, because I won’t stay mad for ever. . unless you can come up with ways of winding me up.’
‘What if I told you I’m a Tory?’
‘Hah! That might have worked once, but now I’d just feel sorry for you, ’cos you’re an endangered species in Scotland.’ She raised an eyebrow, reached behind and underneath her and took his scrotum in her right hand, massaging him, gently. ‘You’re not, are you?’ she asked.
‘Absolutely not! Absolutely not!’
‘Just as well,’ she laughed, releasing him.
‘You don’t need to stop that, though.’
‘Yes, I do. I’m knackered.’ She pushed herself to her feet, bounced on the mattress as if it was a trampoline, and jumped sideways off the bed. ‘Besides, have you seen what time it is?’
‘No; a gentleman removes his Tory Rolex, remember.’
‘And this lady keeps on her nice socialist Citizen. For your information it’s gone half past twelve.’
‘Missed breakfast, then,’ he observed, with a cheerful grin. ‘Have we still got fairies at the bottom of the garden?’
‘My unwanted guardians, you mean?’ She crossed to the window and looked outside, taking hold of a curtain and drawing it across her body. ‘Yup. They’re parked across your driveway too; that’s a clear sign to anyone that there’s something going on here. I thought the protection people were supposed to be subtle. Here,’ she added, ‘do you ever have paparazzi hanging around?’
‘Yes,’ he exclaimed, sitting upright, suddenly alarmed, ‘so get your face away from the window.’
She stayed where she was, looking back over her shoulder, and letting go of the curtain. ‘Why? Would I be bad for your image? Would your fans not approve of you with an older woman?’
‘I’m not worried about my image, Aileen,’ he protested. ‘I’m concerned about yours. You’re married to a bloody chief constable, remember, and you’re a top politician. You can’t afford scandal.’
She left the window and winked at him. ‘Not to “a chief constable”, Joey; to “The Chief Constable”. Bob’s taking over the Strathclyde job; it’s an emergency appointment. There was nobody else there anyway.’
Her reassurance was wasted on him. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, ‘so these guys outside, they report to him?’
She shrugged. ‘I suppose they do. But can you see them being brave enough to go to him and say, “By the way, sir, your wife’s shagging Joey Morocco”? Somehow I don’t. But even if they did, frankly I would not give the tiniest monkey’s. I wouldn’t lose my party job over this, for I’m divorcing Chief Constable Skinner just as fast as I can, or he’s divorcing me, if he gets in first.’ She read his concern. ‘Don’t worry, Joey. You won’t be caught in the middle. The split between Bob and me, it’s not about sex, it’s about ambitions that could not be further apart. You and me? We’re just a bit of fun, right?’
He hesitated, then nodded.
‘That’s how it was when you were starting out on that soap on BBC Scotland, fun. Now you’re in big-budget movies, moved upmarket, and I’m free and soon to be single again, but it’s still just fun, convenient uncomplicated nookie, no more than that. You’re a sexy guy and I’m a crackin’ ride, as my coarser male constituents would say, so let’s just enjoy it without either of us worrying about the other. Deal?’
His second nod was more convincing. ‘Deal.’
‘Good, now what do you do for Sunday lunch these days?’
‘Usually I go out for it. Today, maybe not; I’ll see what’s in the fridge.’
‘Do that, and I’ll get showered and dressed. No rush, though. I’d like to lie low here for the rest of the day, if I can.’
‘Of course. We might even manage breakfast tomorrow?’
‘Sounds like a plan. Thanks. You’re a sweetheart. It really is good to have somewhere to hide out just now. Actually, I’m a chancer,’ she admitted. ‘I brought enough clothes with me for two nights.’ She shuddered. ‘God, was I glad to get out of that dress, with the bloodstains. I felt like Jackie Kennedy.’
He winced at the comparison as she went into his bathroom. She had left her phone there the night before, after brushing her teeth. She switched it on, then checked her voicemail.
There were over a dozen calls. One was from her constituency secretary, one from Alf Old, the Scottish Labour Party’s chief executive, another from her deputy leader. . Probably cursing that the bastard missed me, she thought. . several from other parliamentary colleagues, not all of her party, and three from journalists who were trusted with her number. She had expected nothing from her husband.
As soon as she was showered and dressed she called the secretary, an officious older woman with a tendency to fuss. ‘Aileen, where are you?’ she demanded, as soon as she answered. ‘I’ve tried your flat, I’ve tried your house in Gullane. I got no reply from either.’
‘Never you mind where I am,’ she retorted sharply. ‘It would have been nice of you to ask how I was, but I’m okay and I’m safe. Anybody calls inquiring about me, you can tell them that. I may call into the office tomorrow, or I may not. I’ll let you know.’
No reply from Gullane? she mused as she ended the call, but had no time to dwell on the information as her phone rang immediately. She checked the screen and saw that it was the party CEO, trying again. ‘Alf,’ she said as she answered.
‘Aileen,’ he exclaimed, ‘thank God I’ve got through. How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thanks. I’m safe, and I’m with a friend. I’m sorry I didn’t call you last night, but things were crazy. The security people got me off the scene, by force, more or less. Even now I have protection officers parked outside, like it or not. The First Minister insisted.’
‘Good for him. Now. .’
‘I know what you’re going to say. Silence breeds rumours.’
‘Exactly. I’ve had several calls asking where you are, and whether you might have been wounded.’
‘Then issue a statement. Have they confirmed yet that it’s Toni Field who’s dead?’
‘Yes. Strathclyde police announced it a wee while ago.’
‘In that case we should offer condolences. . I’ll leave it to you to choose the adjectives, but praise her all the way to heaven’s gate. . then add that I’m unharmed, and that I’ve simply been taking some private time to come to terms with what’s happened. I suppose you’d better say something nice about Clive Graham as well, but not too nice, mind you, nothing that he can quote in his next election manifesto.’
‘Mmm,’ Old remarked. ‘I can tell you’re okay.’
‘I’ll be fine as long as I keep myself busy,’ she told him. ‘I’m sorry if I seem a bit brutal, but even without what happened last night there’s a lot going on in my life.’
‘Do you want to take some more time out? Everyone would understand.’
‘They might,’ she agreed, ‘but in different ways. There are plenty within the party who’d think I was showing weakness. I don’t have to tell you, Alf, as soon as a woman politician does that the jackals fall on her. I’ve handled stress before; I’m good at it.’ She paused. ‘I’ll be back in business tomorrow; I have to be. The First Minister will come out of this looking like fucking Braveheart, so we have to keep pace. We need to come out with something positive. You know that Clive and I were planning a joint announcement on unifying the Scottish police forces?’