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‘Yes,’ Charles said his attention now on his morning papers.
‘And as I work in such a … sensitive position, I just wondered if it would be appropriate? Perhaps they should be placed elsewhere?’ Faye held her breath when she finished speaking, awaiting her employer’s response.
Charles looked up from the paper and smiled at his assistant.
‘Do you know why I chose you to have an intern this year?’
‘No, I do not.’
‘Because you are the most diligent and noble member of all my staff. And those are qualities which I want others to learn. You should be honoured by the opportunity to pass on your knowledge to someone else, Faye, not annoyed.’
‘Yes, I suppose so, sir.’
‘And if they get under your feet too much, just say and I’ll have them reassigned. Deal?’
‘Deal, yes – thank you.’
Lorna was three weeks into her placement when Charles first noticed her. It shamed him to admit it, but he paid little mind to the interns who floated in and out of the building on rotation. He wasn’t even involved in the interview process. To him, they were just nameless young faces who would soon move on somewhere else; occasionally they retained a job there but it was unlikely. During his first few months, he endeavoured to seek out new interns and employees and greet them personally, but he soon found that his incredibly tight schedule did not permit him to do this. He had to choose which new additions to his workforce he should introduce himself to, and interns were just not important enough. Moreover, he was barely around. Charles would rush into his office in a mist of phone calls and papers, lock himself in as he dealt with a variety of issues and then leave amidst just as much chaos. The interns surveyed his goings on from afar in quiet awe.
On one ordinarily busy morning, Charles came bustling towards his office, holding out an expectant hand for Faye to drop his messages into, when he noticed the unfamiliar blonde hair shining from behind his assistant’s desk. He stopped abruptly in his tracks and took in this new face.
He instantly found Lorna beautiful but quickly dismissed those thoughts, knowing that he was old enough to be her father. He felt momentarily foolish to have even noticed her striking physique.
‘Is Faye not in?’ he asked quickly.
‘No, I’m afraid she’s off sick,’ Lorna answered, her voice soft and sweet, like birdsong.
‘Oh right, oh dear. So, you are standing in for her today?’
‘Yes sir, I’m an intern here. I’m Lorna Thomas,’ Lorna said eagerly, extending her delicate hand towards him by way of introduction. Bemused, Charles went to shake her hand, which was so small and white, like that of a china doll. He was afraid that his large, manly hands might break her. Her skin was soft and cool within his palm.
‘Nice to meet you, Lorna,’ he said sincerely.
‘You too.’ She looked up at him and her smile was so pure, yet tainted with nerves. Charles realised that he had held her hand a second too long. He hurriedly released it before instructing the pretty young intern to bring in his messages in a moment. It was only when he was in his office that he realised that he normally asked Faye to just leave them on his desk; he rarely invited her in. He groaned at his clumsy handling of an encounter with a beautiful woman. It was like being an awkward teenager all over again. Despite the extra years and the successful job, Charles was still as uncomfortable around certain women as his sixteen-year-old self.
Not that Charles had much experience with the fairer sex. He had met Elaine at college and she was his first and only girlfriend. She was from a good family; ‘well-bred’ his grandfather had said, as though he were referring to a race horse. The courtship was encouraged and Charles’ family dictated his behaviour, right down to when he should propose and where he should marry.
‘Here are your messages.’ Lorna came in with a handle of post-it notes, each neatly detailing the time of the call and the contents of the conversation which had transpired. She kept her gaze to the floor when she came in, visibly nervous. She wore a knee length grey skirt and a green cardigan; the outfit was fitted enough to hint at her modest curves concealed beneath. Charles watched her, mesmerised by her movements. Her every step was elegant as she crossed his office floor with the poise of a ballet dancer.
Lorna hesitated at Charles’ desk, unsure how to proceed, before dumping the notes down and hurriedly retracing her steps.
‘Lorna,’ Charles called out to her in spite of himself. He wanted her to look at him; he wanted to see her face.
‘Yes?’ She turned and their eyes locked, and for a split second Charles felt his heart cease to beat. Lorna’s eyes were dark and absorbing, like pools of melted onyx. The world seemed to stop turning, everything pausing for this moment.
‘Thank you.’ Charles forced the words out, aware that he was staring at the poor girl who now probably believed him to be a pervert. But, as she placed her hand on the door to leave, Lorna turned to look at him, blushing. There was nothing sexual or flirtatious in her gaze, it was more tender than that. She smiled, knocking back a strand of blonde hair which had fallen loose, before leaving the office.
Charles felt inexplicably drawn to the young intern. But at the same time he knew he was being naïve. Lorna was merely being polite, she did not look at him with the same desire as he did her. And he was a married man; he was not supposed to want other women. But then, he had never wanted the woman he had, not really. Their sex life was stoic and predictable; there was no fire, no passion. Elaine had never made his heart almost stop beating.
On the journey home, Charles found himself replaying his encounter with Lorna over and over in his mind. He tormented himself, trying to force meaning out of her smile. He tried to convince himself that it was nothing; that she was just being pleasant. But that night, as his head hit the pillow, she was all he could think of.
Charles sat in his lounge and continued to recall, with a bittersweet pleasure, his first encounters with Lorna. After their initial introductions in his office, they had danced furtively around their mutual attraction for one another, cautiously exchanging lingering glances. Still, Charles berated himself for being foolish, but took a childish joy from entering into the game of flirtation. Each time she caught his eye he felt his heart race; he had never felt so alive.
Lorna’s mere presence was distracting. Instead of focusing on the financial economy for the impending year, Charles would be wondering where she was, or recollecting how enticing she had looked that morning in whatever ensemble she had thrown together. He should have been paying more attention to matters at hand and worrying about igniting the flames of idle gossip with his behaviour, but Charles was too caught up in the heady ecstasy of a crush. Lorna dominated his thoughts.
In the evenings, Charles would sit and ponder over his interactions with Lorna that day, trawling over the finest detail to try and surmise if she too wanted him as much as he wanted her. When they exchanged morning pleasantries he would analyse her tonality to the point where he was driving himself to distraction. Even Elaine commented on his unusual behaviour one night over dinner.
‘Charles, dear, you’ve seemed most distracted this past week. Are things a little intense with work?’
Charles glanced up from his roast lamb dinner and seized the opportunity of deception, knowing that his role as Deputy Prime Minister was the perfect veil to hide potential indiscretions behind.
‘Yes, work is extremely busy lately. I’m going to be staying late indefinitely.’
‘Oh, I see.’
Charles felt a pang of guilt when Elaine appeared genuinely dismayed.
Another week of coy glances and shy smiles began. Charles found himself wishing the day away, just for those precious moments when he would walk past Lorna, sat diligently working at Faye’s desk. Faye herself seemed oblivious to the flirtation and appeared to be warming towards the young intern whose presence she had originally protested.
It was an evening in early spring when the situation intensified. Charles was working late, finishing off a manifesto he was due to present the following day. Sat now in his lounge, Charles could still smell the faint aroma of warm rain, carried in from the open window in his office. It was a characteristically wet April, and there had been a sudden downpour hammering against his window, yet the wet weather was accompanied by unseasonal heat. London had felt more like a rainforest than a city.
A gentle knock rapped against his office door, disturbing him from his work.
‘Come in,’ Charles instructed.
The door creaked open and Lorna appeared, soaked to the bone. Her golden hair lay wet and matted to her head, her neat outfit, so carefully put together, now dripped onto the carpet of the Deputy Prime Minister’s office. The young woman put on a brave face and lifted her frame into a more dignified stance.
‘I got caught in the rain,’ she said. ‘I was sent to deliver some urgent mail and didn’t predict the sudden downpour. Foolish really, to have left without an umbrella. I do have one, but I left it behind at my desk …’ Lorna was rambling. Charles realised that she was nervous. He chose to believe that this was evidence for her feeling the same way about him as he did about her. He rose to his feet, not quite knowing what he was doing.
‘Anyway, I came to tell you that I am working late tonight. Faye had a family party to attend so I offered to work here until you were finished.’ Lorna looked up at him when she finished speaking and gone was the timid young girl who fluttered her eyelashes at him each morning; she had been replaced by a woman whose eyes now burnt with need and desire.
‘Close the door,’ Charles told her, still unsure what he was doing, instead running purely on instinct rather than logic. Lorna obliged as Charles crossed the short threshold of his office and came and stood beside her. He cupped her damp face in one hand, and with the other produced a key from his pocket and locked his office door. His heart was racing and his blood sped through his veins with such intensity that he felt as though his skin were covered in flames. He wanted this fire within him to consume Lorna; for them both to be devoured by his heat and leave only ashes behind.
Charles gazed at Lorna; he had never been so close to her before. She smelt of fresh rain, but beneath that he could smell roses. He wanted to say something to her, something wonderfully romantic and poetic to capture the moment, but he knew that he did not possess the words. Instead, he let his actions communicate his feelings.
Leaning forward, Charles pressed his lips against Lorna’s and kissed her. She melted into the passionate embrace and as they stood, kissing, time seemed to melt into obscurity. Lorna pulled herself away from him for long enough to release the noose around his neck and to unbutton the suit he’d had tailor made. Her wet clothes were soon scattered around the floor of the office. Charles carried her over to his desk and there made love to her for the first time. It was the most exciting moment of his life. He was no longer Charles Lloyd, married Deputy Prime Minister of England, he was just a man, and Lorna was just a woman. Having sex with her felt so natural and so right that he could not believe for even a second that what he was doing was wrong.
And so the affair began. Charles tried to be as discreet as possible, leaving hotel bookings to Lorna so as not to rouse suspicion in Faye, always under the provision of working late. They would arrive at the hotel at different times and leave separately. But there, within the luxury of whatever room was the setting of their current love nest, they could be together and shut the rest of the world out.
At first it was the sex which blew Charles away. Lorna knew things, did things, which he had never encountered. She was vastly experienced for her age, and this dismayed him somewhat when he realised that he was falling for her. The thought of her being with another man began to make him feel wretched, which he knew made him a hypocrite as he himself was married to another woman.
It was the moments after the fire and the passion, when Lorna would lie in his arms and they would talk, that the affair began to take on a deeper meaning. She shared his love of classic Hollywood movies, and so together they would watch Casablanca and Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Lorna would fall asleep in his arms; his own angel. During the first flushes of romance, Charles thought of nothing but Lorna. He would arrange for bouquets of roses to be delivered to her London flat, anonymously of course. He had never done anything like that before. He was in love and the sensation took him by surprise.
The couple tried to limit anything occurring at Downing Street again for fear of being caught. Hotels were their favourite location for romance but Charles found it increasingly difficult to be near Lorna in a professional sense and not be able to have her. He stole countless kisses behind closed doors, always feeling like it wasn’t enough. Charles Lloyd began to live in the present, something he had never been able to do. He was used to always planning ahead, always looking to his future. But with Lorna, the future was so uncertain; he had to exist in the here and now with her.
‘Eggs Benedict,’ Charles said the words aloud to his empty living room. It was Lorna’s favourite breakfast and she would order it each and every morning after they had spent the night together. She had tried it for the first time when they stayed at The Ritz and instantly loved it and would eat nothing else. Charles loved to watch her delight over the meal, savouring each bite. Lorna had a genuine love for life, from the food she ate to the movies she watched and the music she listened to. She was so passionate about everything and it was contagious. Charles was the happiest he had ever been, simply from having her in his life. But the reality of his situation was beginning to encroach upon their fantasy. One rare morning when he was at home, his wife got up and served him eggs Benedict, which promptly made Charles retch. The horror of who he was, of what he had become, was too much to bear. But Lorna was like a drug which he just could not get enough of. Away from her, he pined and longed for her; with her in his arms, he felt complete, content. He felt like he was home.
It was Faye who noticed. How could she not, with the affair being conducted right beneath her nose? She had remained silent for the best part of six months, turning the other cheek when Charles would request that Lorna work late for the fifth time that week. But as the months passed, she grew increasingly worried that her boss’ extra-curricular activities would cost him dearly if they were exposed, and that ultimately she too would be scalded when news of the affair boiled over. Her own reputation would become tarnished for having stood so close to a scandal. Faye couldn’t afford for that to happen; she had worked too hard for a rampant young intern to ruin things for her.
‘Your coffee.’ Faye placed the black coffee with a side of daily newspapers down and Charles looked up at her, surprised. Faye never entered his office uninvited, even to perform her usual duties.
‘I presume that Lorna will be working late for you this evening.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Charles answered, frowning in bemusement at the statement.
‘You work her very hard.’
‘Mmm, yes.’ Charles’ interest had already begun to wane as he started to peel back the front page of a newspaper.
‘Or is it the other way around, and she is the one who works you hard?’ It was a tacky comment, Faye was aware of that, and her crass approach was the culmination of months spent biting her tongue. Charles’ eyes grew wide with horrified understanding.
‘Thank you Faye, that is all,’ he said coldly, eager to dismiss his assistant.
Alone he contemplated the reality of his situation. People knew of his indiscretions, or if they didn’t they soon would. He could potentially lose everything, and more than that, he had let so many people down; Elaine to whom he had vowed to forsake all others and Lorna, who deserved more than a man who was already married. She was beautiful and vivacious; she should be treated like a princess not hidden in dark corners like a dirty whore.
Charles felt shame wash over his expensive suit and sink down to his skin. He felt filthy with it. He wanted to shower, to purge himself of his sins but he knew they would never wash away. He had been so consumed by his infatuation with Lorna that he had forgotten who he was. Charles Lloyd was the Deputy Prime Minister and he was married. The relationship with Lorna had to end, else the two things that defined him would be gone. He sighed in despair and felt his heart ache within his chest. Running his hands across his desk, he recalled how he had held Lorna there, naked and damp in his arms; how his entire body had pulsated with desire. He remembered the words his father had once uttered to him; ‘passion has no place in politics’. How right he had been.
The evening unfolded as it always did. Charles would steal away to a suite at a fancy London hotel; shortly after Lorna would join him, always girlish and giggling, enjoying the way their rendezvous felt akin to espionage. Normally, his lust would overwhelm him and they would be making love even before the door had fully closed, but not this night. Charles stood, watching his beautiful temptress with sad eyes. Lorna regarded his unusual behaviour with confusion, before her own angelic features dropped. She’d had this conversation before; she knew how it went.
‘Your internship is almost up,’ Charles noted solemnly.
‘Yes, yes it is.’ Lorna hovered near the door, still wearing her black trench coat, unsure whether or not she should make herself more comfortable.
‘And you’ll be moving on to new things.’ Charles had to force his words as his throat attempted to seal them in.
‘Yes.’
‘So I think …’ The Deputy Prime Minister failed to finish his sentence, probably because he didn’t want to. His feelings for Lorna had not changed, he cared for her now more than ever.
‘You don’t have to say it, I understand.’ Lorna’s eyes grew heavy as she spoke, as past pain began to surface. Charles realised how little he knew about the woman who had successfully stolen his heart. He wanted to take his words back; he didn’t like seeing Lorna like this, so subdued. She wanted her as she was; bubbly and effervescent.
‘I have a wife,’ Charles choked on his words now and pinched his eyes closed, willing his tears not to fall. He was anguished by his betrayal to Elaine but also to the handcuffs which his marriage had placed upon him. As a single man, he could have taken Lorna out to meals, to the theatre. They could have dated properly and one day … who knew? Instead, their courtship was resigned to hotel rooms and had worn an expiry date ever since their first kiss.
‘It really is okay.’ Lorna took a deep breath before placing a delicate hand on the door handle behind her, preparing to leave.
‘We both knew what this was, that we wouldn’t be walking off in to the sunset together.’ She hesitated before suddenly walking over to Charles and gently placing a kiss upon his cheek.
‘It’s been a great six months,’ she smiled at him sadly.
‘The best.’ Charles watched her leave the room, his cheek still warm from the touch of her soft lips.
In the confinements of his lounge, Charles raised his hand and touched the cheek where Lorna had placed her last kiss to him which was now wet from his own tears. Their goodbye had been bittersweet. Lorna was accepting and dignified, he had no reason to believe that she was hurting. Could his ending their affair have driven her to take her own life? Charles wouldn’t believe it. Lorna Thomas was a happy, stable young woman. Whatever made her so desperate that so no longer wanted to go on living, it couldn’t have been him.
Charles finished his glass of scotch and felt it drop down into the hole which had formed inside him. A hole so cavernous and empty that he knew he would never be able to fill it. He now lived in a world where Lorna did not exist and he felt inside that a part of himself had died with her.
Chapter Three (#ulink_30adcad7-03f0-5ad4-bd72-050f8cec8013)
And these wounds won’t seem to heal
Charles awoke as he always did, hot and panting, staring sightlessly in to the empty darkness of his bedroom. The sheets around him were soaked from his sweat.
With his heart pounding frantically in his chest, he tried to remind himself that it was all just a nightmare, that everything was fine. But in his dreams he saw her, falling away from him and no matter how hard he tried, how far he stretched, he couldn’t catch her.
Six months had passed since Lorna’s tragic death. Charles Lloyd had watched the seasons change twice over with an indifferent eye. He felt detached from the world around him, lost. Not that anyone could notice; outwardly he appeared his usual charismatic self, smiling for the cameras, shaking hands and continuing to represent his country as best he could. Internally, he was a mess.
Physically, Lorna was gone, but she haunted Charles’ dreams as she had done since he decided to end their affair. However, she now plagued his sleep with more ferocity, meaning that Charles was robbed of the little rest he managed to get. The moment he closed his eyes and felt blissfully transported from the reality where he felt constant pain, she would come to him through the darkness. It was always the same dream; Charles forever trapped in the moment when she kissed him goodbye on the cheek in a hotel room. However, in his dream she then doubles over in pain and collapses to the floor, dying right before his eyes. Unable to witness her demise, he tries to force himself to wake. Just before Lorna gasps her last breath he awakens in his bed, the sheets sodden from his sweat.
Elaine had grown so tired of his ‘night terrors’ that she had relocated him to the spare bedroom, which suited Charles just fine. He felt like a fraud around his wife, mourning for another woman and struggling to even look her in the eye when they talked.
Charles assumed that his nightmares were just his way of exorcising any guilt he was harbouring about Lorna’s suicide. Surreptitiously, he had gotten hold of the police report from Lorna’s crash. She had driven her car into a tree and died immediately on impact. Charles wanted to believe that it was an accident, but the words were there for him to see in stark black and white, cold and devoid of emotion in their summary of the situation; verdict, death by deliberate means. Suicide. As Deputy Prime Minister, Charles wielded certain powers; he could alter the law, distribute the national budget as he and his Cabinet deemed fit, but he lacked the power he truly needed – the ability to turn back time. He wanted to return to that moment in the hotel room and not hide behind his cowardice. He wished he’d had the strength to be truthful with Lorna and to tell her that he loved her.
What troubled Charles more than Lorna’s passing was the fact that he had never uttered those three immortal words to her. Their love for one another was assumed but never vocalised and regret hung heavy around the Deputy Prime Minister’s neck. He felt as though he wore the missed opportunity like a scarlet letter and Lorna continued to visit him at night, reminding him, tormenting him, about what could have been.
‘Another bad night?’ Elaine asked over breakfast one typical Sunday morning. Despite the early hour, her hair was already tidied into a bun, a fresh coating of lipstick on her lips. Her question was delivered tersely from behind her artificially crimson lips.
‘Yes,’ Charles said wearily, rubbing his eyes with his hand.
‘We really need to do something about it, it simply can’t go on. Look at you, you look a fright! You need to be projecting a certain image and haggard isn’t it!’ Elaine berated him as she would a naughty child; there was no concern in her voice.
‘Perhaps I’ll call in a doctor.’ Charles didn’t even look up as he spoke, instead stabbing half-heartedly at the boiled egg his wife had prepared for him.
‘That sounds like a good idea; I’ll call and arrange for them to visit you first thing tomorrow.’
Charles’ relationship with Elaine reminded him of his relationship with Faye. Both were formal and restricted. His conversations with Elaine resembled those he had with his assistant at work, detailing things that needed to be done, events which required his attendance. They didn’t discuss their feelings as though it were forbidden to do so. Both Charles and Elaine came from families who frowned upon displays of affection as ‘frivolous’. To them, a marriage was very much a business partnership and should be approached as such. You did not marry for love, you married to better yourself, or so Charles had always been led to believe.
For many years, he assumed that love existed only in Hollywood movies. When an actor would declare to his on-screen love that he couldn’t live without her, Charles would look on, bemused by such passionate feelings. He had never felt like that towards Elaine. He cared for her, certainly, but not to such extremes that his very existence would end if she were to leave him. He had a platonic marriage, as his father and his father before him had. It was considered normal and Charles had never questioned it. Until Lorna.
‘Charles!’ Elaine exclaimed in shock when her husband suddenly smashed the egg upon his plate with his fist.
Charles looked at her, his face contorted with anger and droplets of yellow yolk falling from his hand which was still clenched in a fist.
‘I’m sorry darling,’ he suddenly shook his head as if clearing away the demon which had briefly consumed him, and began wiping his hand clean with a nearby napkin. He went through the motions, apologising, claiming that he didn’t know what had come over him, attributing it to his lack of sleep. But Charles knew what was wrong.
Charles Lloyd was angry. He was angry and he was hurt. The great love of his life was gone. Like the Shakespearian tragedies which existed in his school books, he had found true love and it had ended in tragedy. Left alone in a world without Lorna, he felt trapped and disillusioned.
‘Look at the mess,’ Elaine berated her husband and his sudden impulse to destroy his breakfast. ‘Honestly, Charles, these past few months I don’t know what has come over you but I do not like it.’
‘I’m sorry, darling, really I am. The stresses of the job, they can be most trying.’
‘I’m aware that with great power comes great responsibility. You forget that I was bred from a family where all the women marry great men. Though none as great as mine,’ Elaine smiled fondly at her husband, who, even with bags hanging beneath his eyes, was still handsome. She loved how when she hung on his arm at events she was the envy of most women and she enjoyed gloating to anyone who would listen about his job and all the trappings that came with it. His job became her calling card, to the point where most of her sentences began with, ‘Oh my husband, the Deputy Prime Minister.’ It was with a mixture of pride and arrogance that she so often divulged information about his position. But she hid behind his job, as did Charles.
‘No, we don’t have time for children,’ she would tell family and friends. ‘Charles is simply too busy, he’s the Deputy Prime Minister after all. And when he’s done ruling the country it will be too late to start a family of our own. It’s a price I’ve had to pay for being married to a man at the top.’ People would roll their eyes, not knowing that Elaine was actually barren and could not bare children. The revelation had nearly destroyed her at the start of her marriage to Charles. But, ever the gentleman, he told her that they would be enough for each other, that children did not matter. And they didn’t. Elaine was more than happy to be the godmother, the aunt, but she had a constant niggling feeling at the back of her mind which rose up every time she drank or spent too many moments alone that she had failed Charles. Her end of the bargain was to give him children whilst he went out into the world and made the money. Beside her famous husband Elaine felt like dead weight. Charles and his career were all she had.
‘I’ll be fine, I’m sure. Perhaps I’ll try those sleeping pills again,’ Charles said as he rose from the table.
‘Whatever is troubling you, I’m sure that we will get to the bottom of it,’ Elaine smiled reassuringly.
‘Indeed, dear.’ Charles took his plate and the remains of his egg into the kitchen and Elaine sat contemplating her husband’s odd behaviour, as she had taken to doing most mornings. Whatever the matter was with him, she vowed to discover the cause of his distress and solve the problem. She mentally ran through a list of people she knew who might help, from sleep therapists to tarot card readers. Elaine couldn’t stand seeing her husband so miserable. If sleep was what he needed, that it was her job to ensure that he slept. She would do anything she could to help him.
