House of Cards (53 page)

They still clapped and applauded enthusiastically when he was finished, but it didn't help. The mayor had almost to drag him into the pit of the hall to satisfy the clamour of the crowd for one last handshake and the chance personally to wish their favourite son well. As they shouted at him and kissed his cheeks and pummelled him on the back, he was drawn ever closer to the youthful eyes staring benevolently at him, as if he were being dragged towards the gates of Hell itself.

But Simon caused no scene, did nothing but shake his hand warmly and smile prettily, one hand toying nervously with the gold medallion which swung ostentatiously around his neck. Then he was gone, just another face left behind in the crowd, and Earle was in his car speeding back towards London and safety. -

When he arrived back at home, two men were standing outside in the cold street waiting for him.

'Evening, Mr Earle. Simmonds and Peters from the
Minor.
Interesting rally you had. We've got the press handout, the words, but we need a bit of colour for our readers. like how the audience reacted. Got anything to say about your audience, Mr Earle?'

He rushed inside without saying anything, slamming the door behind him. He watched through a curtained window as they shrugged their shoulders and retreated to the estate car parked on the other side of the street. They pulled out a book and a thermos flask, and settled in for the long night ahead.

SUNDAY 21
st
NOVEMBER

They were still there the following morning just after dawn when Earle looked out. One was asleep, napping under a trilby hat pulled down over his eyes. The other was reading the Sunday newspapers, which bore little resemblance to the previous week's editions. A leadership campaign which then had been dead in the water had now, with Urquhart's intervention and McKenzie's catastrophe, sprung to life. And the pollsters were beginning to wear down the MPs' resistance to their probing.

'All square!' declared the
Observer,
announcing that the 60 per cent of the Parliamentary Party they had managed to cajole into giving a view were now evenly split between the three leading candidates - Samuel, Earle and Woolton, with Urquhart close behind and McKenzie now clearly out of it. The small lead to which Samuel had previously clung had entirely disappeared.

But the news gave no joy to Earle. He had spent a ruinous and totally sleepless night, pacing the floors but being able to find no solace. Everywhere he had looked for comfort, he could see only Simon's face. The presence of the two journalists had kept nagging at him. How much did they know? Why were they squatting on his doorstep? The long wait through the night until the first fingers of dawn spread cold and grey in the November sky had drained him of hope and resistance. He had to know for certain.

Peters nudged Simmonds awake as the unshaven figure of Earle, his silk dressing gown dragged tightly around him, appeared at the front door of the house and made towards them.

'Works like a dream every time,' Peters said. 'They simply can't resist trying to investigate, like a mouse after cheese. Let's see what he has to say for himself, Alf - and turn that bloody tape machine on
’

'Good morning, Mr Earle,' Peters,
shouted as Earle approached. ‘D
on't stand out there in the cold, sit inside. Care for a cup of coffee?'

'What do you want? Why are you spying on me?'

'Spying, Mr Earle? Don't be silly, we're just looking for a bit of colour. You're a leading candidate in an important election campaign. Seen the newspapers yet? People are bound to take more interest in you - about your hobbies, what you do, who your friends are.'

‘I
have nothing to say!'

'Could we interview your wife, perhaps?' asked Simmonds. 'Silly me, you're not married, of course, are you Mr Earle?'

'What are you implying?' Earle demanded in a contorted, high pitched voice.

'My goodness me nothing at all, sir. By the way, have you seen the photos of your rally yesterday? They're very good, really clear. We're thinking of using one on our front page tomorrow. Here, have a look.'

A hand thrust a large glossy photograph out of the window and waved it under Earle's nose. He grabbed it, and gasped. It clearly showed him gripping the hand and looking straight into the eyes of a smiling Simon. The details were awesomely clear, perhaps too clear. It almost looked as if some hidden hand had added a trace of eyeliner around Simon's large
eyes, and his fleshy, petulant li
ps appeared to have been made darker, more prominent. As his manicured fingers played with the gold medallion around his neck, he looked very, very effeminate.

'Know him well, do you, sir?'

Earle threw the photograph back through the car window.

'What are you trying to do? I deny everything. I shall report your harassment to your editor!'

Earle rushed back towards his front door.

'Editor, sir? Why, bless me, it was him what sent us
’
Simmonds shouted at the Minister's retreating back.

As the door slammed shut behind the fleeing figure, Peters turned to his colleague. There goes one very worried man, Alf.'

They settled back to their newspapers.

MONDAY 22
nd
NOVEMBER

Kendrick had accepted Mattie's request for a chat with alacrity. He wasn't sure he had been so keen simply because as an Opposition backbencher he was flattered to be in demand, or simply because his eyes flared and his knees tingled every time he saw her. In any event, it didn't really matter to Kendrick what his real motives were, he was delighted to meet with her. He was making their tea himself in his single room office in Norman Shaw North, the red brick building made famous in countless ageing black and white films as New Scotland Yard, the headquarters of the Metropolitan Police. The forces of law and order had long since moved to a more modem and efficient base in Victoria Street, but the parliamentary authorities had been delighted to snap up the vacant, albeit dilapidated, space just across the road from the Houses of Parliament to provide much needed additional working room for the horrendously overcrowded Members of Parliament.

As he gazed out over the Thames towards the South Bank arts complex, Kendrick poured tea and opened his heart.

‘I
have to say I never really expected all this,' he said.
‘
But I've grown to like it very much indeed.'

You
've also managed to make your mark very quickly,' Mattie smiled her most winning of smiles and recrossed her legs. She had been careful to discard her favoured trousers for a fashionable blouse and skirt which showed off her legs and slender ankles to their best effect. She needed some information, and would buy it with a little flirting if needs be.

I'm doing a feature piece on the decline and fall of the Prime Minister, trying to get behind the basic news stories and talk to those who played a part in it, whether they had intended to or not. It won't be an unsympathetic piece, I'm not trying to moralise or lay blame. I'm trying rather to offer an insight into how Parliament works and how politics can be so full of surprises. And when it comes to surprises, yours was one of the biggest.'

Kendrick chuckled. Tm still amazed at how my parliamentary reputation was built on such a - well, what would you call it? Stroke of luck? Throw of the dice? Guess work?'

'Are you saying you didn't actually know that the hospital scheme had been she
lved, that you were guessing?' P
ut it this way. I wasn't absolutely certain. I took a risk.' 'So what did you know?'

'Well, Mattie, I've never really told the full story before to anyone
...'
He glanced down to where Mattie was rubbing her ankles, as if to relieve sore shins. 'But I suppose there's no harm in telling you a little of the background.'

He pondered a second to decide how far he should go.
‘I
discovered that the Government - or rather their party headquarters - had planned a massive publicity campaign to promote the new plan for expanding hospitals. They had worked hard at it, spent a lot of money on the preparations, yet at the last minute they cancelled the whole thing. Just pulled the plug on it. I thought about this for a long while, and the only explanation I could reach was that they were actually pulling the plug, not just on the publicity campaign but on the policy itself. So I challenged the Prime Minister - and he fell for it! I couldn't have been more surprised myself.'

‘I
don't remember any discussion at the time about a publicity campaign. It must have been kept very quiet.'

'Of course, they wanted to keep the element of surprise. I believe all the planning of it was highly confidential.'

'You obviously have excellent confidential sources.'

'Yes. And they are staying confidential, even from you, I'm afraid!'

Mattie knew that she would need to offer much more than a
flashing
pair of ankles to get that sort of information out of him, and she was unwilling to pay so high a price.

'Of course, Stephen. I know how valuable sources are. But can you give me a little guidance? The leak could only have come from one of two sources, Party or Government, yes
...
?'

He nodded.

'And there has been a tremendous amount of publicity about the rift between party headquarters and Downing Street in recent months. Particularly as it was to be a party publicity drive, it would be logical to suspect that the information came out of party headquarters.'

She raised an enqui
ring eyebrow, and puckered her li
ps.

'You're very good, very good, Mattie. But you didn't get that from me, OK? And I'm not saying any more about my source. You're too hot by half!'

He was beginning to chuckle merrily when Mattie played her own hunch.

'No need to worry. I want to write a feature piece, not conduct an inquisition. Roger's secret is safe with me.'

Kendrick spat out the mouthful of tea he was trying to drink and started choking.

‘I
never
...
said anything about
...
Roger!' he spluttered. But he knew he had betrayed his familiarity with O'Neill, and the calm face he was trying to restore simply eluded him. He decided to surrender.

'Jesus. How did you know? Look, Mattie. Big favour time. I didn't say anything about Roger. We're old friends and I don't want to land him in any sort of hot water. He's got enough at Smith Square as it is, eh?'

Mattie laughed loudly, teasing the politician for his discomfort.

‘
Your sordid secret is safe with me,' she assured him. 'But when you have risen to become a senior member of Government some time in the future, perhaps even Prime Minister, I hope you will remember you owe me!'

They both laughed loudly at the banter but, inside, Mattie's stomach churned
.
Another piece of the jigsaw had just fallen into place.

They were there at lunchtime and still there in the evening, just reading, picking their teeth, and watching. Like avenging angels they had waited for Earle in their sordid little car from over forty-eight hours, witnessing every flicker of the curtain, photographing everyone who called including the postman and the milkman.

'What do they want with me?' he screamed to himself inside his head. 'Why are they persecuting me like this?'

He had no one to turn to, no one with whom to share his misery and offer consolation. He was a lonely figure, a sincere and even devout man who had made one mistake, and he knew sooner or later he must pay for it. His mother had always drilled into him the need to pay for one's sins or be consumed by hell fire, and he felt the flames licking at him now with growing ferocity. .

He had been home half an hour on Monday evening when they knocked on the door.

'Sorry to bother you, Mr Earle. Simmonds and Peters again. Just a quick question our editor wanted us to ask. How long have you known him?'

Into his face was thrust another photograph, still of Simon, but this time taken not at a public rally but in a photographer's studio, and dressed from head to foot in black leather slashed by zip fasteners. The jacket was open to the waist, exposing a slender, tapering body, while from his right hand there trailed a long bullwhip.

'Go away. Go away. Please - go away!' he screamed, so loudly that neighbours came to the window to investigate.

If it's inconvenient, we'll come back some other time, sir.'

Silently they filed back to their car, and resumed the watch.

TUESDAY 23
rd
NOVEMBER

They were still there the following morning. After yet another sleepless night, Earle knew he had no emotional resources left. With red eyes and husky voice, he sat weeping gently in an armchair in the study. He had worked so hard, deserved so much, yet it had all come to this. He had tried so desperately to deserve his mother's love and commendation, to achieve something with which to illuminate her final years, but once again he had failed her, as she always said he would.