Oh no, please God, no, thought Tyler.
He breathed a sigh of relief when Doughnut unzipped his pants without dropping them.
“What’s this about an itinerary, Tyler?” Doughnut asked.
“I gave it to you, Mr President, don’t you remember? It was that morning you were going out to play golf with the Speaker of the House of Representatives.”
Doughnut cast his mind back to that day. He remembered Tyler giving him a piece of paper. As he’d been in a rush, he’d thrust it in his pocket without reading it.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “That itinerary.”
He turned around to face Tyler.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was important?” He growled.
“I thought you knew. I—”
Doughnut pushed past him and washed his hands in a basin on the wall.
“Next time make sure you tell me,” he snarled. “Now give me another one, so that I know what’s going on around here.”
Tyler gave the President another copy and they returned to the lounge.
“We’ve got a bit of a bash arranged for you in London tonight,” said the PM as they entered. “But what you’ll really want to see is Huddersfield. We’ll be heading up there first thing tomorrow, but first things first. You fellows have just had a long journey and you haven’t had the chance to freshen up. Would you like me to get one of my chaps to bring in your bags, and you can both take a shower and relax before we go to the first event on the itinerary?”
“That sounds good to me,” said Doughnut, who was still sweaty from his wrestling match with the PM in the doorway of number 10.
“Very good. Johnson, do the honours for the President, will you? There’s a good chap.”
Johnson went outside and got Tyler’s bag and one of Doughnut’s bags from the limo and brought them inside, and put them on the upstairs landing. When the PM heard him, he nodded approvingly.
“Just go to the top of the stairs. You’ll find your bags waiting for you, and you’ll easily work out where the bathrooms are.”
Doughnut and Tyler looked at each other and left the room, passing Johnson as he came back in.
The PM put his hand to his ear and listened to their movements carefully. When he heard the bathroom doors close, and he was sure the President and his Aide couldn’t hear what he was saying, he turned to Johnson.
“They’ve brought over that bloody big motorcade to make us look like the poor relations Johnson,” he said. “We’ve got to do something that’ll make us look better than them. What can we do? Give me some ideas.”
“How about something ceremonial Prime Minister? We’re good at that.”
“What do you mean?”
“We could have the horse guards out on parade, the ones with the shiny boots and helmets.”
“Capital idea, Johnson. The Yanks don’t have anything like that, do they? We could get that other lot out too, the ones with the big furry hats.”
“Bearskins, Prime Minister.”
“There’s no need to show off Johnson.”
CHAPTER 34
The following morning the President’s motorcade had to drive very slowly through the streets of London, flanked as it was by soldiers and officers of the Royal Horse Guards in full ceremonial dress. The President himself was called upon to inspect lines of soldiers in their ceremonial clothes at the front of Buckingham Palace while the world’s press looked on. He didn’t have a clue what to do, but he did his best not to look foolish. The PM observed the proceedings with a satisfied smile.
“Adolf thought he’d got one over on us Johnson,” he said. “He was mistaken. We’re the ones who’ve got one over on him.”
CHAPTER 35
Due to the many road-works on the M1, one lane of the motorway had to be cleared of all traffic to enable the President’s motorcade to make the journey to Huddersfield in reasonable time. The PM also had a motorcade, although the two Rover cars it consisted of looked battered and ancient next to the presidential Cadillacs. All along the roads leading to the motorway there were miles and miles of log-jammed motorists who were unable to reach their destinations, or even move at all, because they were side-lined by the two motorcades. These motorists were all fuming. The PM smiled at them when he saw them lined up on the slip-roads.
As they passed Newport Pagnell services, Johnson held out his tablet.
“I think you should take a look at this Prime Minister,” he said.
There was a news bulletin on the screen.
‘Revealed: the real reason for the President’s visit to England. Anonymous sources have confirmed that Prime Minister Camembert is so worried by his flagging popularity that he has invited over President Doughnut in the hope of improving his ratings. If this doesn’t work, he could be gone before the next election, ousted from office by his own party, many of whom are expressing rumblings of discontent….’
“What a load of tosh,” said Camemblert. “Where did that come from?”
“Don’t you know, Prime Minister?”
“No I bloody well don’t, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you, would I?”
“I’m pretty sure it came from someone briefed by the White House, Prime Minister.”
For an instant the PM looked puzzled; then he reddened.
“That back-stabbing Yank bastard,” he said.
CHAPTER 36
Meanwhile, in Birkby, Huddersfield, Floyd Rampant was browsing through the books on Trotter’s bookshelves. His eye fell on something familiar — a cookbook by none other than himself. It was one he’d written in his heyday: ‘Rampant in Italy.’
He pulled the book from its place amongst the rest of Trotter’s cookbooks and looked at the photo of himself on the cover, standing on a fishing vessel, grinning to camera, with a plate of seafood pasta on a table in front of him, and a coastal scene with a blue sky to his rear. He remembered something about the book and opened it at a particular page. Yes, he’d remembered correctly. There was a colour photograph of him and his wife together on that page. He had his arm around her waist, and it was obvious that they were in love. They’d never had children, and the fact that they only had each other had somehow, over the years, brought them closer together.
He’d been bereft when she’d contracted cancer and died, leaving him only with memories of her. It had been a hard blow which he’d taken years to get over. If he could have somehow brought her back as a zombie, he would have done, or he’d at least have tried it. But there was no prospect of that. His late wife had been cremated.
Rampant tore the photograph from the book, folded it up, and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket next to his heart. Then a thought occurred to him and he checked his watch. Next he looked in the mirror and adjusted his bow-tie which he wore around his bare neck, with the collar of his white shirt open to accommodate it. This unusual dress code was, or had been in days gone by, his gimmick as a celebrity chef.
He walked through to the lounge where he found Kat watching the TV with Fletcher.
“Right,” he said. “Time to get your clogs on, everybody. I’m looking forward to this.”
CHAPTER 37
The motorcade entered the outskirts of Huddersfield. The President looked on in wonder at the tiny houses and the cobbled streets. The cars proceeded along Wakefield Road to the ring road then entered the town centre. Here, the President was amazed by the sight of bombed-out buildings which looked somehow familiar. He vaguely remembered seeing documentary footage of Berlin at the end of World War II. Yes, that’s what this scene reminded him of.