Andrew unworthy and a gold digger, Alexia ruthlessly drove him away. Teddy, loving but weak in the face of his wife’s determination, had failed to stand up to her. When Andrew returned to Australia, Roxie’s heart shattered. In despair, she jumped from her bedroom window at Kingsmere, a sixty-foot drop that ought to have killed her. Instead, with bitter irony, Roxie survived the fall, only to be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life, doomed to remain her parents’ dependent. She would never escape her mother, but would live out the remainder of her days a cripple under Alexia’s roof.
There was nothing left for her mother to envy now. Alexia De Vere was once again the fairest of them all.
Roxie’s accident was never referred to openly at Kingsmere, mostly because Teddy couldn’t bear it. Of a different, older generation, Teddy De Vere buried his grief deep, preferring denial to the harsh light of truth.
Roxie could live with that. She loved her father. What she couldn’t live with was the fact that her mother had never been punished for what happened. Never suffered, as she should have. Alexia De Vere was still happily married, still professionally successful, still famed for her beauty as well as her brains and, since Roxie’s fall, for her resilience in the face of adversity. Actions should have consequences. But instead of suffering, Alexia De Vere sat back while yet more laurels were heaped upon her head. Her surprise appointment as home secretary was just the latest in a long line of unearned glories. It made Roxie sick.
“Cheers.” She clinked her glass grimly against Teddy’s.
“And to you, my darling. I know you’re not looking forward to this evening. But try to keep things civil, for my sake, if not for your mother’s. Being asked to be home secretary is a big deal, you know.”
“Of course it is, Daddy.”
Mummy’s triumphs always are.
GILBERT DRAKE FELL TO HIS KNEES in the front pew of the tiny country church and made the sign of the cross.
He was frightened, despite the righteousness of his cause. How could he, one man, a lowly, insignificant taxi driver, deliver just retribution to the most powerful woman in England?
He prayed for courage, and a verse from Deuteronomy came to him, a gift from the Lord.
“Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble, for the LORD your God is the one who goes with you. He will not fail you or forsake you.”
Sanjay Patel had been failed and forsaken. By his friends, by the courts, but most of all by that evil she-devil Alexia De Vere.
Gilbert Drake stayed in the church, praying, until darkness fell. Then he zipped up his hooded jacket and walked into the night.
“FOR WHAT WE ARE ABOUT TO receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen.”
Alexia De Vere listened silently as her husband said grace.
When they had first married, Teddy’s insistence on this arcane ritual used to irritate Alexia intensely. Neither of them was particularly religious, so why the pompous, public show of piety? But over time Alexia, like Roxie, had come to take comfort in Teddy’s unchanging eccentricities. When the storms of her own life had raged, Alexia De Vere’s husband had proved to be the rock she needed, the one, true, solid thing she could cling to. Very few politicians were so lucky.
“Well.” Alexia smiled magnanimously around the table. “This all looks lovely. Anna has surpassed herself as usual.”
“As have you, my darling.” Leaning across the mouthwatering spread of roast beef, fresh tomato-and-basil salad, and home-baked bread, Teddy De Vere kissed his wife proudly on the cheek. “Home secretary! My goodness. I expect this means we’ll see even less of you.”
“Hopefully,” Roxie muttered under her breath.
“You know, brown’s really not your shade, darling,” Alexia shot back, looking at Roxie’s drab Next dress. No one was going to ruin this triumph for her, especially not her spoiled, self-centered daughter. “It makes you look like even more of a wet weekend than you usually do. Try a spot of color, next time. It might brighten you up. God knows you could use it.”
Roxie flushed with anger and embarrassment but said nothing.
Eager to avoid further confrontation, Michael De Vere raised his glass.
“Congratulations, Home Secretary!”
Leaning forward, Michael helped himself to a mountain of beef. Bad news should never be broken on an empty stomach.
“Thank you, darling.” Alexia beamed at her son. “You are sweet.”
“Were you surprised they appointed you? I mean, it did come rather out of the blue.”
“Nonsense,” Teddy said loyally. “Your mother was the obvious choice for the job. After all her sterling work with the prison reforms.”
“You’re sweet, darling, but Michael’s quite right. It was a complete shock. I mean, the PM and I do get along well on a personal level …”
“Yes, yes. As you’ve told us a thousand times,” sniped Roxie, earning herself twin pleading looks from Teddy and Michael.
“But I never expected a promotion on this scale,” Alexia went on regardless. “I don’t think anybody else did either. It’s ruffled quite a few feathers in the party, I can tell you. But then why be boring and play things by the book? You’ve got to take life’s opportunities where you find them. Grab the bull by the horns and all that. And of course, if I can be of service to the country, then so much the better.”
This was too much for Roxie. She knew she’d promised her father, but really. Service?
“Oh, please, Mother. At least have the decency to admit that this isn’t about service. It’s ambition that got you the job. Personal ambition. We’re not journalists, we’re your family. You don’t have to lie to us, just because you lie to everybody else.”
Teddy said reprovingly, “Roxie, love, steady on.”
Alexia’s chest tightened into a familiar ball of anger. Steady on? Was that all Teddy had to say? Why did he never stick up for her properly? Why did he kowtow to Roxie’s victim complex by treading on eggshells all the damn time? The girl used that damn wheelchair like a weapon, and Alexia for one was sick of it.
“Speaking of taking opportunities and grabbing bulls and … things,” Michael began uncertainly. “I, er … I have some news.”
“Don’t tell us you’ve finally found a nice girl and are going to get married?” Teddy teased. “I thought we’d agreed. No weddings until you’ve finished Oxford.”
“Don’t worry,” said Michael. “No weddings. At least none where I’m the groom. But I, er … well, that’s the news. Part of it, anyway. I have finished Oxford.”
Complete silence. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.
Alexia spoke first.
“What do you mean you’ve finished, Michael? You’ve only just started.”
Michael
