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“There’s absolutely no way I can let you see her, Mrs. De Vere.”
“But I’m her mother.”
“I know that.”
“She thinks I’ve done something terrible. That’s what’s caused all this. But she’s wrong. She needs to know the truth.”
“Roxanne is extremely unwell, Mrs. De Vere. She’s experienced what we call a psychotic break. Above all else she needs re
st and calm, and to avoid all stress triggers.”
“And that’s what I am, is it? That’s what I’ve been reduced to. A ‘stress trigger’?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And the truth be damned, is that it?”
She was angry, but not with the doctor. It was her own lies that had brought her and her family here, well intentioned or not.
Back in the car she turned her frustrations on Edward. “Any word on Teddy?”
“No, Home Secretary. Not yet.”
“Then take me back to London.”
“Of course, Home Secretary.”
“And stop calling me that! I’ve already told you I’m going to resign. In fact, give me the phone. I’ll do it right now.”
Sir Edward Manning looked alarmed. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Just do as I ask!”
“No disrespect, Home Sec . . . Alexia. But you’re very emotional. Wouldn’t it be better if you spoke to the prime minister in a calmer frame of mind?”
“I am not emotional,” Alexia shouted. And without warning, she burst into tears.
For the next twenty-four hours, Sir Edward Manning took over everything. Rather than take her home to Cheyne Walk, where scores of reporters were bound to be waiting, he checked Alexia into Blakes Hotel in South Kensington and put her to bed with a strong sleeping pill. When she awoke, disorientated but deeply rested, it was almost noon.
“The prime minister was very understanding,” Sir Edward told her over a late breakfast of croissants and strong black coffee. “He’s expecting your call this afternoon. I’ve drawn up a formal resignation letter, whenever you’re ready to take a look at it.”
“Thank you.” Alexia took the proffered sheet of paper gratefully. “I’m sorry if I was rude to you yesterday, Edward.”
“Think nothing of it, Home Secretary. I quite understand.”
“And Teddy? Is he back at Kingsmere? Does he know where I am?”
“Ah, yes. Unfortunately he’s still being held by Thames Valley police.”
Alexia’s eyes widened. “They kept him overnight?”
“It appears so.”
“On what grounds?”
“Further questioning, I assume. I’ve arranged a meeting for you with Angus Grey at two-thirty P.M. It’s at his offices in Gray’s Inn Road. I tried to do it here but Mr. Gray has court at four P.M., then drives straight back to Oxford to see Teddy, so it wasn’t possible.”
“That’s wonderful, Edward, thank you so much.” Alexia took all this in. She felt immensely relieved to be seeing Angus. Angus would know what to do. “And the hospital?” she asked Sir Edward Manning. “I don’t suppose you had a chance . . .”
