by Carl Andrew
They cheered and waved as David Lawson left the stage. On the way down to the back room where his close friends and colleagues had gathered ready to start the party, his phone rang.
“David, I’d like to congratulate you on your victory and wish you all the best for your Prime Ministerial life.”
It was the now former Prime Minister, dignified as ever but David could almost sense relief.
“Thank you for your kind words,” said David. “The hard work starts now. Good luck with whatever you decide to do moving forward.”
With that and ahead of the normal formalities associated with the ascension of power, David took over the role of Prime Minister of Britain.
He allowed himself a smile and a moment to collect his thoughts before pushing open the door to whatever small amount of hedonism he would open up to this evening.
He glanced over towards Vanessa and they exchanged knowing nods.
Vanessa scanned the room and smiled to herself fully aware that life would never be the same again.
She was now Chief Advisor to the most powerful person in Britain. She knew it would take a while for that one to sink in. So, she decided to put tomorrow out of her mind and focus on enjoying the now.
She caught eyes with an attractive canvasser who she’d had in her sights for a while now. As he returned her stare, he didn’t know it yet but he was about to become her latest relief for as long as she wanted him to be.
He made his way over to her and was just about to drop whatever line he’d been planning for the last 30 paces when, true to form, the confident Vanessa beat him to it.
“I’ve got many more that look exactly the same as this,” she said as she lifted a bottle of Moët from behind her back. “The only thing I’m missing is someone to share them with,” her eyes were now speaking for her as she flirted with him with a professionalism practiced over numerous similar occasions.
“So tell me…..” she gestured pausing purposefully to focus on his name badge “Matt….. are you ready to play?” She let the last word linger in an almost song like manner.
In that brief moment, the battle was won and Matt was now her prize, someone who Vanessa would wheel out at dinner parties to quell the rumours of her and David; until she was bored in a few months and would decide to move on to her next prey.
So they drank and became friends first and then later, lovers. She knew all about him before they’d even uttered a word to one another, access to world class intelligence being one of the perks of the job.
But she allowed him to get to know what she wanted to reveal of herself. Just enough rope for him to tie himself up and be hers.
The next morning, bleary eyed but still running on adrenaline, Vanessa waltzed into David’s office with a coffee in each hand and a spring in her step.
“Thanks for the coffee. Poor guy doesn’t know what he’s up against, does he?” said David knowingly.
“I don’t know what you mean Prime Minister,” smirked Vanessa.
“Do you know you’re the first person to call me that,” he said. “I got lots of ‘well done Davids’ last night but no ‘congratulations Prime Minister’. Do you think it will take time for people to see me as that?”
“I think… I think we have lots of work to do and no time for ego,” concluded Vanessa.
“Sometimes, I think you’re the one running the country and I’m just coming along for the ride,” he retorted. “What’s first up?”
“First up, you need to form a cabinet.”
Chapter 4:
Bolton Mid-October
Leon stepped off the train and headed towards the exit leading to the centre of town. It had been a few weeks since the attack on his house and as much as he’d tried to put it out of his mind, it was difficult because it was such an unusual situation.
He was still trying to come to terms with how a specially trained member of SO1 could make such a basic error by allowing his vehicle to be visible after launching the assault on his lounge window. It was almost like the person had wanted to be seen.
The last few months had been insane as he’d been covering the election from every conceivable angle and his blog had gone from strength to strength as a result. Commercial opportunities were coming in on a daily basis but he’d always promised himself to remain as independent as he could be.
He was happy to accept advertising revenue but wasn’t into letting any brand sponsor his blog and he definitely wasn’t into providing endorsement.
This weekend, though, afforded him the opportunity to spend time with his family and to watch his beloved Bolton Wanderers play. He was excited to see the old crowd and catch up with his brothers.
It was his grandmother’s birthday and his family always made the most of a special occasion. One thing was for sure, he wouldn’t be going home hungry.
He made his way out of the station onto Trinity Street searching for a recognisable face and heard a familiar voice behind him:
“Oi you scrawny shit, don’t they feed you down south?”
“Hey, Craig, you look like you’re eating a little too well!” with that, Leon and his brother embraced.
It had been about three years since he’d last been home. His dad had been upset that Leon had, in his opinion, turned his back on the family business in pursuit of the bright lights of London.
He didn’t see a blog as being a viable career and, having worked hard all of his life, had no patience for what he considered to be ‘lazy people’.
The convention of Leon’s family was one that bore many similarities to other British families. The Father was the figurehead and the Mother was the carer. No one crossed him through fear and no one crossed her through love.
Leon had always been one to go against the grain and, being the youngest of four boys, was given a little more leeway than his elder siblings.
That had been his parent’s mistake as they had allowed independence to flourish. His father realised this and the reality it was essentially his fault made him angrier.
Nonetheless, time and distance had built a seemingly symbolic road to recompense and it had been Leon’s father who had made the first move to reconciliation. The truth was that the older Mr Bryant missed his mischievous youngest son.
He saw a lot of himself in Leon, the passion, commitment and drive to do what he wanted to do.
That’s how they found themselves in the more affluent areas of Bolton after all. Otherwise they would still be in the crime ridden poorer parts of the city.
So, it took about six months and numerous uncomfortable but welcome phone calls to get the family back together. Leon’s job had been accepted by his stubborn dad and now that it was becoming very successful, his mother and father had both grown proud of how their son was ‘holding the power mongers to account’.
There was an underlying reason that Leon’s dad had kept from his son as well as the rest of his family.
He wanted to cherish these family occasions because his diabetes was getting worse.
He was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes about twenty years ago but had been able to keep it largely under control through medication and a good diet.
But it was starting to get worse and he feared he wouldn’t be able to function as well in a few years.
The doctors and specialists he saw echoed that fear.
The illness was something that seemed to run in the Bryant family and he was convinced was hereditary until he had his two eldest boys checked out. Both came back negative.
For him, that was proof that there was no legacy passed down through his family. It was just a coincidence that he, his father and grandfather all developed type 1 diabetes.
As far as he was concerned, his sons had not.
“So, where to first,” Leon questioned his brother.
“Aah, first we go and do the ‘family’ thing. Then later on we can go and watch the game. All the old crowd are coming along and they’re eager to see you. Mainly because they want to take the piss out of you for being
a soft southern shite,” said Craig.
“You can take the boy out of the north, you know that. But my roots will always be here.”
The Bryant brothers headed to the car and made their way through Bolton’s busy streets to the family home.
As the family business had become more successful over time, it took longer to get to the Bryant residence from the train station with the family upgrading steadily to the richer areas or as Leon’s father mockingly referred to them as ‘the white collar suburbs of Bolton’.
They arrived at a proud four bedroom detached residence that Leon had known only briefly. He’d spent six months there before embarking on his quest for fame and fortune in the Nation’s Capital.
It looked bigger now than he’d remembered but he put that down to his own meagre dwelling putting things into perspective.
The shiny wooden front door opened before Leon had stepped foot out of the car. Beaming smiles appeared as the occupants of the house all competed to be first out of what quickly became a door fit to burst.
Within seconds Leon was embraced multiple times, smothered with kisses and told how well he looked.
A loud voice boomed over the ensuing crowd, “Typical, the auspicious welcome for the return of the prodigal son. If only we were all so carefree, if this would be the reception we’d get when we finally bothered to come home to the family.”
Leon knew without looking that the voice belonged to his oldest brother, the eldest, and also the most hard done by as a result. For all of Leon’s freedoms, Ally received guidelines, boundaries and burdens.
Although there was honesty in what Ally was saying, the bond he had with Leon was perhaps the strongest and his frustrated comment was also tinged with a little sarcasm.
“Well, you should be pleased to see me back, so you have something to complain about. The weather’s good, Bolton are playing well and the family business is growing rapidly so it must be a difficult time for you with everything going so positively,” Leon responded joking about his brother’s negative outlook on life.
There was a brief pause as the crowd awaited the response. What felt like minutes was in reality seconds before a beaming smile appeared on Ally’s face before he embraced his younger brother.
“We’ll have to work hard to turn you back into a northerner again!”
The family went inside the house and spent the next few hours regaling over Grandma Bryant. Leon spent the rest of the day watching Bolton play and catching up with his old group of friends.
When he finally boarded the train bound for London, the last one that day, he wondered how long it would be before he would be back there among his family.
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10 Downing Street, London
The morning presented a crisp, freshness as David Lawson and Vanessa Lim were going through options for the make-up of the Cabinet. While some newly elected Prime Ministers liked to take their time before announcing a Cabinet, David wanted to get to work quickly.
They needed to decide whether to retain the shadow Cabinet that had been in place in the run up to the election or make changes.
There was a lot to do to make the country ‘Great’ again and lots of campaign promises to fulfil. They weren’t going to manage this all by themselves. They needed the right team in place, a mixture of talent and experience coupled with diligence and loyalty.
“So, at the very least we should decide on Chancellor, Home Secretary and Foreign Minister. The rest we can figure out over the next week but I need to get things in place for these departments,” David said.
“Well, I think the obvious candidate for Home Secretary is Russell Brooks. He’s got pedigree having risen through the ranks, is a staunch supporter of yours and has a zero tolerance policy on crime. With the fight against anti-social behaviour paramount, he’s the only option,” Vanessa replied with authority.
“Yep, agreed, we’ll go with that. One down, two to go. Get Russell on the phone and let’s get this one locked in,” ordered David.
“Dialling him now…” Vanessa said punching the digits on the speaker phone as she uttered the words.
After a couple of rings, a familiar voice appeared on the other end of the line.
“Hello, Russell Brooks here.”
“Russell, hope you’re well. I’m with Vanessa and I wondered if you’d like to help me run the country?” It was the sort of question that only had one answer and before Russell had a chance to respond, David continued….
“We’ve pegged you for Home Secretary. Interested?”
“You try and stop me,” said Russell eagerly. He had an idea that his name would be in the frame for a Cabinet post because of the support he’d provided through the election campaign but until that moment, he was never sure they would replace the current shadow Home Secretary. He certainly wasn’t expecting such a high profile role.
“David, I won’t let you down. Thanks for putting your faith in me.”
“I know you won’t Russell. That’s why we’ve chosen you. Meeting tomorrow my office at 10am?” Although it sounded like a question, it was more rhetorical than anything else.
“Sure. See you then Prime Minister,” Russell added the last part in to the sentence more to show allegiance than for any other reason but he knew David would warm to such a comment.
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Richmond, Surrey
After hanging up the phone, Russell Brooks turned to his wife and said:
“We’ve got a hell of a lot of work to do. I’m in, Home Secretary.”
Margaret Brooks smiled, more at the thought of the parties and events they’d be going to than the opportunity her husband had just been given.
“Well done dear. You deserve it,” she acknowledged.
Russell, being the ever diligent one, got straight to work mapping out how he’d shape his team and what policies he’d be looking to bring into motion. He wanted to appear prepared ahead of the morning’s meeting and wanted to impress on day one.
A sleepless night ensued, more from excitement than fear of the scale of the task ahead.
Russell Brooks came from a military family having been born in India about ten years after the end of colonial rule to an Army General father and a classic housewife mother. An army career awaited him and he served tours in the Middle East as part of the European presence during the Iraq and Iran war as well as during the conflicts in Uganda and Angola in the 1980s.
Following his forced retirement from the army on medical grounds due to shrapnel wounds, he took political office, maintaining his stringent military upbringing and developing a reputation for having rigidity on law and order. His was a no excuses methodology to crime, very much in the Giuliani mould.
The other key trait he took with him from his years of service to his country was loyalty and this was what had endeared him to David Lawson when they’d first met.
Russell was ten years David’s senior but had a firm understanding of his place and was happy to play his particular role in the team, whatever role that happened to be.
They had worked closely together on David’s campaign and Russell had a large hand in pushing the new Prime Minister through the political ranks while in opposition. He was always going to hold a senior role in David’s Government as a result.
The next morning, a front door in a quiet but affluent suburb in Surrey opened and out stepped the new Home Secretary decked out in a power suit and the mandatory red tie.
He had to be prepared in case media was something he’d be dealing with on his first day in office and the red tie was media training 101 for television interviews.
A little while later as Russell Brooks’ car turned into Downing Street, he could already see the circus of paparazzi waiting in anticipation to see who would visit 10 Downing Street first.
Cabinet fever was sweeping the news-making fraternity and they all wanted to be the ones to catch t
he first glimpse and interview with the new senior ministers of the Lawson Government.
The security attachment opened the door for Russell and he paused taking in the situation and forcing through a deep breath before stepping out into what would be a completely new life for him.
As he made his way out of the car he turned to the theatre of lenses and waved. He was playing them and they were lapping it up. A volley of questions came from all sides:
“Why are you here?”
“Are you meeting with the Prime Minister?”
“Have you made it into the Cabinet?”
“Which position did you get?”
One ingenious question that stopped Russell in his tracks and invited a response was:
“Are you supposed to go next door to number 11?” suggesting that Russell Brooks was becoming Chancellor of the Exchequer to which he responded with:
“I’m catching up with the new Prime Minister. We’re comparing notes on our favourite tea.”
Chuckles along with groans echoed around as Russell made his way into the most powerful house in the country.
About the same time, Leon’s phone buzzed and a simple text message from a private number read:
“Brooks to be Home Secretary, make it big. You’ve got 2 hours before we announce.”
As ‘The Day Today’ had increased its presence, anonymous tip offs were quickly becoming par for the course. Leon wasn’t sure if they were from the same person or from a range of people. One thing was for sure, the Lawson Government wanted media exposure and he wasn’t going to turn down the chance of a scoop.
Leon opened his laptop and began typing the first story of the day.
Brooks Bites Back at Bad Behaviour
The Day Today can exclusively reveal that Russell Brooks MP, a close supporter of Prime Minister David Lawson and key advocate during the recent election campaign, will be announced as Home Secretary later today.
Following a career in the military, which ended on medical grounds, Minister Brooks took political office a little over five years ago winning the seat of Richmond Park.
