or pretend there was a sudden crisis at home. Yet his own reluctance to attend made him feel wracked with guilt. He did not like to let people down, even those who were strangers to him. It was this sense of commitment which made him so capable within his role of Deputy Prime Minister. His innate need to please others, no doubt born out of his childhood struggle to seek his father’s approval, meant that he worked every hour that he could to do the best job possible. His efforts, though in vain, instilled in him an incessant need for praise. He didn’t like to think of the interns being disappointed when he failed to materialize at the meeting, but then, he did not want to present a fractured image of himself. He wanted them to see the warm and smiling Charles Lloyd which they knew from the television, not the broken man he was behind closed doors.
‘Sir?’ Faye knocked lightly and entered the office, having sensed her employer’s apprehension about the impending meeting.
‘Yes, Faye?’ Charles asked, pleased for her presence as it offered a distraction from his ever-darkening thoughts.
‘I thought perhaps you might want to run through the agenda for the meet and greet?’
‘No, it’s alright,’ Charles said, aware that he visibly tensed at the mention of the interns.
‘I think it would be a good idea …’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’ It was unlike Charles to interrupt her but his anxiety was making him tense and impatient.
Faye turned to leave and hesitated. She had silently judged him throughout the affair, assuming he was another middle-aged man preying on a younger, weaker woman. She had found herself in a similar situation whilst a student at university with one of her professors, and it had ended badly for her. She had fallen in lov – he had chosen his wife. It was the age-old tale of silly young girl being used by older, bored man. But then Faye knew Charles, or at least she thought she did, and he wasn’t that malicious or calculating. And then he had been so crushed by the news of Lorna’s death. It had been months and yet still he appeared to mourn her. Faye did not believe that he deserved to suffer like this.
‘It’s not your fault,’ she said quietly. Charles looked at her in surprise, confused as to what she might be referring to.
‘Lorna,’ Faye explained softly, referring to the giant elephant which had taken up permanent residence in the office. ‘Her dying was not your fault.’
Taken aback, Charles could not find any words to form a response. The pain he carried from Lorna’s death was a burden he hauled alone. He had never talked to anyone about her passing, or about how it made him feel, and it felt surreal to have someone else refer to her. In his mind he had an entire world which had existed with Lorna which felt cut off from anything else, but hearing Faye speak of her reminded him that his reality and Lorna had once been interlinked.
‘I’m not comfortable …’ Charles did not want to talk about Lorna. Thinking about her was hard enough, talking would just be too much. He couldn’t finish his sentence; his throat was beginning to choke up as he struggled to discreetly suppress a sob.
‘I think that it will do you good to go and address the interns,’ Faye said sternly, feeling equally uncomfortable to see her boss crumble before her like a house made from paper.
‘How?’ Charles demanded.
‘Because she is dead and you are not. The dead die whilst we must go on living. You are not to blame. She killed herself. You cannot punish others, who are so eager to meet you, for your mistakes. You are better than that.’ Faye’s tone softened with fondness at the end. ‘I am sorry to speak out of turn like this, but for months I have watched you mope around and you are clearly beating yourself up about it all when you shouldn’t be.’
Again, Charles was lost for words, surprised to have been given a dressing down by his own assistant. It was unnerving just how similar Elaine and Faye’s behaviour towards him was; loving yet berating at the same time, a complete juxtaposition of emotions.
‘Faye, you are quite right, thank you. I shall prepare myself for the meeting,’ Charles suddenly came to his senses. Here, in his office, he was the Deputy Prime Minister. At home he could once more become Charles Lloyd and dwell on the loss of Lorna, but whilst at work he had to maintain the image he had worked so hard to build. ‘I appreciate the offer of some … perspective,’ Charles said a little uneasily.
‘Anytime, sir.’ Faye smiled and left the office. The moment had passed and she had succeeded in her quest to raise the Deputy Prime Minister’s mood, but knew better than to linger and risk pushing the boundaries between them further. She had already spoken to him inappropriately; she had no desire to make a habit of it.
Charles again practiced his smile and tried to completely banish Lorna from his mind. Obligingly, her memory retreated to the shadows of his thoughts, allowing him to resume his role of Deputy Prime Minister, if only temporarily. He knew she would return again that night as soon as he dared to close his eyes and lose himself to the darkness. She was always there waiting in his dreams, refusing to let him forget.
The main meeting room within Downing Street was the venue for the meet and greet with the interns. This suited Charles as it meant that his office, which had become his bolthole, was close by.
He gave a brief speech to the room full of fresh, eager faces, without lingering on any of them for too long, preferring to speak into empty space. Charles gave them the usual spiel of what a great opportunity this was and how it would hold them in good stead for their future career, and his ethos of work hard if you want to succeed. That was probably the best quality his own father had succeeded in instilling in him – his work ethic. Charles had been a devoutly conscientious student and was even more dedicated when he entered the working world. Arguably, it was born of his desire to please, but it was still an admirable quality which had earned him the respect of his peers.
Charles drew his speech to a close, willing the meeting to end, although he had to admit that it had been easier than he had thought it would be. When Faye suggested he take twenty minutes to mingle with some of the interns, he agreed – his old, social self beginning to resurface.
The interns who he spoke to were polite and hung on his every word, which always made Charles a little uncomfortable. Quiet awe he could tolerate but sycophants he could not. He was beginning to find the banter almost bearable. An intern would introduce themselves and he would show a cursory interest in them, asking where they were from and so forth.
He was mid-way through a conversation with a young man with short dark hair and trendy rimless glasses when he spotted a halo of blonde hair bobbing amongst the sea of interns just beyond his eye line.
Instantly his heart skipped a beat, his thoughts instinctively thinking of Lorna.
Discreetly, Charles glanced past the man he was engaged in conversation with. There again, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair which belonged to a petite young woman but her back was to him. Charles chastised himself for being ridiculous. Lorna was creeping back into his thoughts and playing tricks with his mind. There are millions of women with long blonde hair and small, slender frames, he thought to himself; he needed to gain some perspective.
But Charles could not tear his attention away from the blonde who was now talking to another intern on the other side of the room. If only she would turn around – if he could see her face, he could relax. Charles could feel his heart rate quickening with anticipation, the girl turned and … it was some nameless stranger. Charles felt his spirit sink but then realised just how foolish he was being. Lorna was gone, he needed to accept that.
Yet,
