Page 32 of The Politician

Kendra plucked one from the plate and ate it.

Sarah took her hand and squeezed it. “Thanks for looking after me.”

Kendra took another cookie. “You look a little less like the colour of these walls,” she said.

“There’s nothing wrong with magnolia,” Sarah said.

“As a paint, it’s fine. As a skin colour, not so much.” Kendra stared at Sarah. “Feeling any better?”

“Just weak and achy.”

“You’ve got a couple of hours before you can have more pills.”

Sarah’s phone rang. She studied the screen. “It’s Jeremy. I’d better answer him, or he’ll get on a bloody train to get to me.”

Kendra laughed and left the room.

“Jeremy.”

“What the fuck’s going on, Sarah?”

Sarah leaned her head back in the chair. “I’m sick. Why, what’s the problem?”

“A photograph of Kendra has landed on my desk. She’s closing the curtains to the bloody bedroom in your family home. And there’s a rumour that you’ve been tucked up there together for the weekend. How do you think this looks?”

Sarah sighed. “Christ, Jeremy. I’ve got fucking COVID. I didn’t even know what day it was today. If it wasn’t for Kendra—”

“Quit the drama, Sarah. It doesn’t matter what the reality is. You know that. What matters is how it’s perceived. And the opposition will have no problem weaving a story that suits them.”

“I don’t give a fuck how it’s perceived. I’ll be working from here with Kendra until next week.” Sarah ended the call, her pulse racing and the ache in her bones having gone up a notch. She threw her phone into the seat, and it bounced onto the floor. She did give a fuck about how it was perceived, because no matter what spin the press put on the story to slander her name and quash her career, they would be missing the point. Kendra mattered to her almost as much as her family.

14.

KENDRA TURNED THE KEYin the lock of her new flat and opened the door to a slightly musty smell, but that didn’t stop her smile growing as she stepped across the threshold. She opened the windows as she moved from room to room and noted the slight rumble of the four forty train heading into London. The space was clean and empty, and she had very little to put in it, but it was her own place. She would have privacy, she could invite her friends around if she’d had any of note, and she could lie in at the weekend without her sister bleating in her ear.

“Where do you want this?” her dad asked, carrying a cardboard box.

“Just leave it there.” There weren’t many rooms to choose from. She had a living space with a fitted kitchen and area for a small couch, a bedroom that could just about fit a double bed and a wardrobe and not much else, and a small bathroom with a shower over a bath and a cabinet. She’d need to get a new shower curtain, and no doubt the head would need descaling. It was tiny but for six hundred and fifty a month, it was perfect.

She went outside and helped her dad offload her bed, a large beanbag, and a television from the rented van. She put her two suitcases in the bedroom. She’d pick up the rest of her clothes and shoes once she’d bought a wardrobe to put them in. The place would look like home in no time at all.Feelinglike home might take a bit longer.

“I’ve put some bits in the fridge, along with a couple of meals from your mum. There’s a six pack of beer and a couple of bottles of wine to keep you going. And I put a bottle of whisky in the cupboard too, since you now have a taste for it, in case you fancy a little celebration.”

Kendra knew who she would like to celebrate with, but that wasn’t going to happen this side of whenever. Sarah had been run off her feet playing catchup on meetings with ministers and chiefs of whatever. Calling just to chat wasn’t an option, since the recent press phone-tapping scandal highlighted how easily their privacy could be invaded, and that would be a stupid risk to take. It had been tough not being able to pick up the phone just to hear Sarah’s voice. Kendra had missed her. The minimal contact they’d had at the office had been formal and professional, and Jeremy had been virtually breathing down her neck on every task. She was relieved to have the day off to move into the flat and grateful for the weekend ahead, just to get a break from him.

She put on some music. “Fancy a toast now?” she asked.

Her dad clapped his hands. “I could do a small one. I’ve got to take the van back.”

Kendra poured them each a drink, and they raised their glasses.

“I’m so proud of you.” Her dad wrapped his arm around Kendra’s shoulders. “I knew you’d get yourself a decent job. You’ll soon be able to afford a mortgage.”

Kendra enjoyed the warmth of the whisky as it slid down her throat. Maybe she’d buy her own place one day, but she’d need something more secure than maternity cover before taking on that kind of commitment.

“Want some help making up the bed?” he asked.

“Nah. I’ve got screwdrivers. It’ll give me something to do for an hour or so later.”

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