The House

by Tom Watson

  Another touch on his arm and Georgina gets up to leave, just as the Minister steps forward, thanks the members for their contributions and promises another review. Owen watches her go.

  Chapter 52

  Monday 21 March 2022

  Chloe Lefiami is working from home today. Her office on the first floor is tiny, a box room really. Her desk faces the window, which gives her a view over South London, and the two long walls give her the shelf space she needs for her files and reference works. She mostly uses the online versions now when she needs to look something up, but their physical presence makes her feel grounded by the memories of sweating over them at college, and the posters on the back wall from the Chronic Love Foundation remind her that she didn’t just study.

  She is finishing her report, so it’s only when she goes downstairs to make another coffee and escape her ergonomic chair for a minute that she flicks on the radio.

  ‘Fresh shockwaves hit Westminster today after The Times published a story asking if the Secretary of State for Health corruptly colluded with lobbyists in a blackmail scheme which cost the life of one businessman and brought about a massive setback in the attempt to protect data held by the NHS on millions of UK citizens.’

  Chloe picks up her phone and opens Twitter. Clips from Sky News and BBC show Christine Armstrong and Charlotte Cook alongside a young woman with long dark hair, lit by the repeated camera flashes. Chloe makes coffee then turns on the TV for the top of the hour. An earnest-looking young man stands on the green outside parliament talking into his microphone and fiddling with his earpiece. He doesn’t appear to be saying anything he couldn’t say in a studio, but Chloe supposes the gothic sweep of the Palace of Westminster behind him makes for a good shot.

  He is saying that the sensational stories which emerged in the Chronicle only last week were, in fact, the result of an attempt to silence the MP for Warwick South, Owen McKenna. The anchor in the studio asks about ‘communications from the Secretary of State putting an end to the project having been paid off by clients of Maundrill Consulting … ’ The young man says very seriously that there are serious questions which need serious answers. They are calling it ‘cryptogate’.

  The screen fills with speaking fees various MPs have accrued over the last couple of years, all while millions of people are struggling to find work, and food gets more expensive every day.

  They cut back to the man outside parliament. He has Georgina Hyde with him now.

  ‘This issue is vital to all of us,’ she says. ‘Data on our health should never be traded in the marketplace as it is now. This scandal is about the right we have to live in a free and fair society and the need to protect and support the work of remarkable, brave members of parliament like Owen McKenna and former MP Christine Armstrong, whom I hope we will see back in the Chamber very soon; it is about fighting corruption and cronyism wherever we find it – and most of all this is a fight for justice.’

  Chloe puts down her coffee cup and stares at Georgina. When she interviewed her in her Lambeth house she had thought Georgina sincere. Sincere when she had said, sadly, that yes, Owen did have a temper, that yes, Owen had resented his housemates, Jay in particular. Chloe had been convinced, but she’s spent time with Debra Brooks since then and she’s read Jay’s private emails. Her report includes extracts from a few of them where he speaks fondly of Owen and berates himself for ever suspecting McKenna of being out to get him. She’s spoken to Jay’s counsellor too. He told her the same story as his emails: that Jay blew off steam about his housemate being out to get him over Christmas, but had decided he’d got that wrong by March or April. He was also very angry that extracts from his notes made it into a newspaper.

  She takes her coffee upstairs, reads the report one more time, then presses send.

  Owen tells the media pack outside Portcullis House that he had spoken to the police about the attempt to blackmail him and has no further comment at this time. His WhatsApp begins to silt up with congratulations and bomb emojis.

  When he gets to his office he emails Marion and the chair of his local party promising an update. He emails Liam too. Then he asks Pam to come in and he tells her the whole story, or most of it. There’s no mention of Phil or Sara. He carefully credits Charlotte with finding the evidence about the involvement of the current Secretary of State for Health.

  Pam’s a professional. She knows he’s never going to tell her everything that’s going on, but he can see she is torn between hurt at what he’s been hiding and excitement.

  ‘It’s a massive blow to the government, though, isn’t it?’ she says. ‘And I know that The Times is wielding the sword, but Charlotte seems to be making sure you and Christine get the credit you deserve.’

  She’s drinking a latte today, her drink of cautious optimism. ‘I don’t deserve much credit.’

  Pam’s smooth brow is furrowed. ‘So the Chronicle story, this Maundrill Consulting toady Greg planted it to discredit you?’ He nods. She puts her head on one side. ‘Backfired a bit, didn’t it?’

  He laughs for what feels like the first time in weeks.

  ‘Yes. It did. To be fair, he didn’t expect me to grow a conscience. If I hadn’t been to see Jay, I might have kept quiet.’

  The dance of events. Unintended consequences.

  Pam ‘tsks’ into her coffee. ‘Maybe his mistake was being a soulless, blackmailing sell-out bastard.’

  ‘Yeah, that too.’

  She smiles over the lid of her mug. ‘He’s had the press at his door too, you know. Another shamed-bloke-loading-his-stuff-into-a-car-and-buggering-off clip for the archives. And Georgina is really harrying the government on the TV shows. She’s so natural on TV.’

  She smiles fondly as she says it.

  He thinks about Debra, about how Georgina spoke to him in the Chamber.

  ‘Georgina is a remarkable politician, but, speaking as someone who has known her a very long time … Don’t trust her, Pam.’ He thinks it through. ‘If she or her staff offer you guidance, or mentoring in the future, take your opportunities but never, never let yourself be in a position where she has power over you. Never tell her or her staff anything you wouldn’t say under your own name on Twitter. And if she or her staff do or say anything that gives you a moment of unease, talk to me. Wherever I am, even if we aren’t working together anymore.’

  She looks confused and upset. ‘Owen, you make her sound like Satan incarnate! And why wouldn’t we be working together anymore?’

  ‘You’re going to end up running the country someday. I’ll keep you as long as I can, but talk to me about where you want to be in five years and let’s see what we can do to get you there. What do you want to do in government?’

  ‘Green New Deal. How to improve the economy without destroying the planet. Economic policy and growing innovation.’

  ‘Right. Let’s talk about that then.’

  Her phone pings. ‘Lefiami has submitted her report. Blimey, the Leader’s Office have published it already.’

  Fresh headlines roll in over lunch. TRAGIC JAY’S STOLEN RECORDS. LABOUR REPORT CONTAINS WARNINGS, BUT LARGELY EXONERATES MP OWEN MCKENNA. JOURNALIST AT CENTRE OF BLACKMAIL SCANDAL INSISTS HE WAS INNOCENT DUPE. A dupe maybe, Owen thinks, but hardly innocent. He watches clips of Professor Graves talking about crypto security, Christine talking about how she came to know the Collins family and get involved in the case, and a reporter doing a piece to camera from Marsden Grotto while the screen flashes the number of the Samaritans hotline.

  He hasn’t heard from Phil, not directly, but Sara sends him an emoji of a shark.

  The government takes until late afternoon to circle the wagons. The Prime Minister makes a statement from the Number 10 briefing room promising an immediate investigation, in a performance of outrage, sorrow and concern. He manages to thank Charlotte Cook and her colleagues for bringing the matter to light, staring into the camera with his best shocked and serious expression.

  The Secretary of State for Health
resigns in time for the six o’clock news. He is photographed leaving Number 10 with his head down and issues a short statement insisting on his innocence of any attempts to thwart any initiative which could safeguard public health.

  The call comes late that evening. Phil has stayed in town and is trying to clear his desk without making it look like he really expects anything. His parents still have the kids and Sara has come to the office to wait with him. She sits in one of his armchairs, working at some complicated piece of needlework and occasionally taking calls from New York to discuss the hedge fund’s positions.

  Ian puts the call through while they are watching the resignation letter being read out by the news anchor. The anchor’s voice as he reads sounds sceptical.

  Sara pauses in her work and watches her husband as he answers. ‘Yes, yes, Prime Minister. I would be honoured.’

  He hangs up. ‘Seems I have to make a quick stop at Downing Street before we go back to the hotel.’

  ‘Secretary of State for Health?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She snips a thread. ‘Don’t let him catch you examining the drapes.’

  He looks up and is about to deny any aspirations for a higher position than he already enjoys, then decides it’s probably wiser not be caught in a lie within three minutes of taking the new job, and says nothing.

  He gets up and is putting on his jacket when Ian practically falls into his office.

  ‘He’s off to see the PM now,’ Sara tells him. ‘Make sure he doesn’t beam at the cameras. Sober leadership, that’s the impression we are after.’

  Ian cries with delight and disappears into the outer office. Almost immediately they hear whoops of delight from the rest of the team.

  Sara gets up and brushes the front of his lapels.

  ‘Well played, darling.’

  ‘Thank you. You too.’

  Chapter 53

  Emily makes Gabriel drive Georgina home. She goes with them, just for the time in the car. Gabriel complains about having three advanced degrees and being treated like an Uber driver, but he only does that in front of Emily. Not when Georgina is within earshot.

  Georgina has been on the media round all day. She shimmers with a mixture of exhaustion and febrile energy. The outer office silted up with roses, gifts of comfort, condolence, support – the thanks of victims and advocates, their understanding and faith in floral form. Emily has kept the cards, and one bunch for the coffee table in Georgina’s office. The rest she sent with Georgina’s compliments to the nearest nursing home.

  They go through the media schedule for the next day. The Leader will ask the questions in parliament, but Georgina will be sent out in front of the cameras tomorrow, grinding the government’s face in the scandal. Georgina is pleased.

  ‘And Charlotte Cook called,’ Emily adds. ‘She would like a word. She said you aren’t responding to her messages today … understands it’s a busy time, but is keen to hear from you.’

  ‘No time. Let her concentrate on the reporting. If she calls again, fob her off.’

  Emily glances at the front seat. Gabriel is listening to a pod-cast and arguing with the presenters as he negotiates the traffic. ‘Is that wise?’

  Georgina raises an eyebrow. A danger signal. ‘Why do you say that? She’s just another journalist.’

  We all sometimes make decisions about what we choose to know, and choose to ignore, thinks Emily, but she has noticed the times that a drink with Georgina is followed by a scoop from Charlotte. She suspects she is not the only one. And the controversy around what Georgina did and did not know about her husband is bound to bubble up again at times. Emily wonders exactly what Charlotte knows about that. ‘Yes, but … ’

  Danger signal flashing orange. ‘But what?’

  Emily speaks very calmly. ‘I’ve been wondering, Georgina, that perhaps, thinking longer term, it might be a good idea to address some of the issues that may keep resurfacing about Kieron in long form.’

  Georgina turns in her seat, and Emily feels the power of her attention. ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘We are in the thick of it now. The Collins case, the whole Kieron situation, the divorce, how you are managing to balance the demands on your time as a senior member of the opposition and as the mother of two distressed children. Just looking ahead, perhaps a book laying out your experiences would be a good idea? And of course, you’ll be far too busy to write it yourself, but Charlotte could be an ideal co-writer, don’t you think? A respected reporter, but someone who knows you very well.’

  Georgina turns away to study the lights of London. ‘Yes. We could both do well out of that. You will go far, Emily.’

  Emily exhales. She wants to go far, she is just not sure she ever wants to go as far as Georgina.

  Owen walks home as usual, ducking through one of the lesser-known exits from parliament to avoid the press outside Portcullis House. He walks across Westminster Bridge and along the river and feels, for once, that he has done something of use.

  He turns off the Albert Embankment under the railway arch into the deep dark and then out into the refracted glow of the streetlights beyond.

  ‘Nearly home at last, you fucking arsehole.’

  Owen turns round. A man leaning on the brick wall where the pavement widens staggers upright and follows him out of the shadows.

  ‘Greg. I thought you’d be run out of town.’

  ‘Couldn’t possibly leave without seeing my dear old friend, Owen.’

  He lurches forward and Owen steps back. Greg starts to laugh.

  ‘I’m not going to attack you, Owen. No need to be frightened!’

  ‘You’re drunk, Greg. Go home.’

  Greg has his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat. Owen thinks about the fights he’s been in, the victims he’s spoken to, and readies himself in case Greg is crazed enough to be carrying a knife in the pocket of his expensive coat, or a razor. No doubt it would be a superior brand. ‘I’m not leaving without giving you my farewell message. Guess what it is?’

  ‘You going to swear revenge?’

  Greg steps forward again, puts his arm around the base of the streetlight and Owen relaxes a fraction. ‘You know, I actually was! Clever boy. Not just poor little me, though. You’ve made a lot of enemies this week, Owen. Lots and lots and lots of very rich, very powerful enemies. Not good. They have long memories.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Owen says. ‘Just piss off, Greg. I’ll deal with your rich angry friends when I have to.’

  Greg jabs a finger in his direction. ’Oh, you’ll have to one day. Trust me on that, and they won’t try and help you at first like I did, won’t try to be friendly.’ He stumbles forward. Owen braces himself again – no matter what, he’s not going to run from this arsehole – but Greg halts as they are face to face. Owen can smell the rot and drink on his breath. ‘They will come right for your fucking throat.’

  The threat shimmers in the dark between them and the shadows are full of shifting, whispering monsters. Owen watches, waiting him out, and finally Greg reels away and grabs onto the high metal railings that edge this stretch of pavement. The monsters retreat.

  ‘But you know what the really funny thing is, Owen? And this is really fucking funny. You still don’t know who was bullying Jay, do you?’ He waits a second. ‘Not a clue. You have no idea which malicious shit in the painted and primped cesspool of Westminster slandered him till he couldn’t think straight and then leaked those minutes, brought down the wrath of Kieron Hyde … ’ He laughs now, brief and bitter. ‘Do you even care, you self-righteous prick? As long as you are in the clear!’

  Owen feels that faint horror of truth again.

  ‘But I read Lefiami’s report this afternoon, you see.’ Greg taps the side of his nose. ‘You didn’t read the medical file properly, did you? I did. I bet Chloe Lefiami would have done, but you didn’t give it to her. I could tell. Moron. Bitch.’ He’s almost talking to himself now. ‘Though I think almost killing the poor bastard was going a b
it far.’ He lifts his hand, miming the press of an asthma inhaler plunger. ‘Pfft, pfft!’

  ‘You’re fucking insane, Greg,’ Owen says and walks away.

  Chapter 54

  Jay’s medical file is back in Owen’s shirt drawer. Owen has no intention of looking at it because of the ramblings of a ruined criminal drunk like Greg – until he finds he is standing in the bedroom and holding it in his hands.

  For the police. That’s why he’s taken it out. The police have asked him to drop it by when he has the chance and he’s told himself that he hasn’t had a moment to do so as yet, but now, after that mad ramble of Greg’s, he’s wondering if he’s hanging onto it for some other reason – if something in there has been snagging on his consciousness.

  He takes it through to the main room and sets it on the side table where Greg first left it a fortnight ago. He’s read the counsellor’s notes a dozen times now and they’ve been picked over in the press since then. It’s not that.

  He is still looking at it when his phone rings. Chloe Lefiami. He answers.

  ‘Evening, Owen.’

  ‘Chloe, good to hear from you. I haven’t read the report of your investigation yet, but I hear you are very even-handed.’

  He hears her shushing a child in the background. ‘Of course, and those emails from Jay’s gmail were pretty conclusive. But it’s all a bit redundant now.’

  Owen holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he fetches a beer from the fridge and opens it. ‘Your investigation mattered a great deal to me. And it did mean Kieron Hyde has to answer for what he has done, even if we got there in a slightly roundabout way. Why redundant?’

  He hears something muffled about biscuits and a child’s cry of victory, then her voice becomes clear again. ‘I don’t think the newspapers will cover this, what with everything that’s going on, but Kieron Hyde has just sent the Leader’s Office a statement through his lawyers stating he was responsible for the whole bullying campaign against Jay – the whispers about his sex life, spreading stories at the conference, leaking the report to Charlotte Cook; the whole thing.’