Song of Bees

by Andrea Hicks

  He nods and goes to leave the room. ‘Night, then.’

  I smile at him, hoping he realises how grateful I am. ‘Night, Leopold. And thank you.’

  Chapter 16

  The kitchens designated for events are in the basement and run the full width of the house. I can’t help widening my eyes when I see them. I never imagined they would be like this. Every type of cooking is catered for, state of the art appliances, long islands in the middle of the room which serve as prep areas, and modern, glossy units As I step over the thresh-hold a young guy in whites beckons me towards him.

  ‘You’ve worked in a kitchen before, yes?’

  His accent is difficult to place, maybe Eastern European. ‘No, sorry.’

  He looks surprised. ‘Oh, okay.’ He frowns. ‘That’s unusual. We usually have experienced staff.’

  ‘I’m a fast learner. Just tell me what to do.’

  He shrugs. ‘First thing, go and change. You are on prep and service, so you’ll have to change twice, first the whites, then the black dress. You understand?’ I nod. ‘Go change, then you can make the hash browns.’ I take a breath and make a small smile. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says, flapping his hand towards me. ‘I show you.’

  It’s not difficult to make a hash brown I discover. I learn that doing something relatively creative can take your mind off your troubles and while I’m learning the recipe I don’t think about blood, Cain, Luna, Cecily, or her girlfriend. When everything is prepared, Dimitri, my co-worker sends me off to change into the black dress. I go into the pantry to change and I do it quickly because Dimitri is just the other side of door. The dress is fitted, knee-length and fits like a glove. I’ve never worn anything like this before and I’m a bit nervous to step into the kitchen. Dimitri looks impressed as I go to the pass. His eyebrows nearly hit his chef’s bandana and I see him exhale.

  ‘Er, yeah, that looks good. Be careful upstairs. There are some dykes up there. They might pinch your arse. And you’d really feel it in that dress.

  My heart jumps into my throat. ‘What? What d’you mean, dykes?’

  He pulls a face. ‘You phobic? I’m surprised. Thought all that was done.’

  I frown and shake my head, frustrated that I’m suddenly feeling out of control again. ‘No, no...of course not, I just want to know what you meant.’

  ‘They’re always there, at the Cabinet breakfasts. What’s her name?’ He clicks his fingers trying to remember. ‘She wears those glasses with heavy black frames, blonde, nose in the air. Wears a bright red suit.’ Shit, I know exactly who he’s talking about. ‘And someone I think she’s closer to than either of them let on. She’s a police commander but looks like a porn star. I don’t know their names.’

  No, but I do. ‘How do you know all this stuff?’

  He turns towards the stove and chuckles as he stirs the scrambled egg. ‘You haven’t been here long. Wait and see. This place is alive with rumour, stories, whispers. It can be very interesting although sadly not everything we hear is true. All the staff know about them. They giggle together like schoolgirls in the corridors. ’

  ‘Sounds like the Tudor Court or Dangerous Liaisons.’

  He turns back to me. ‘What?’

  I shake my head and inhale. ‘Nothing.’

  He prepares a continental breakfast for the members sitting round the cabinet table to eat while they talk; croissants, jam, coffee, marmalade, pots of tea, are all to be delivered on a trolley, and for those who want it, scrambled eggs and crispy bacon with huge silver domes covering the platters. I wheel the trolley towards the lift and Dimitri helps me in.

  ‘When you come out of the lift turn to your right then right again and keep going. The cabinet room is the end. It’s possible the meeting hasn’t started yet. We usually try to set up before the cabinet members get there, although the PM might be there. He likes to be prepared.’ I nod, praying with all my heart that when I get there if anyone’s in the cabinet office it’s only Edward Spencer. The thought of coming face to face with Cecily Cunningham is making me shudder.

  The trolley judders and jingles as I push it down the corridor towards the cabinet office. To say I’m feeling nervous is an understatement, but as I wait for the lift to get to the ground floor it gives me time to think. I sincerely hope Edward Spencer is waiting. I want to know what’s going to happen and if he’s got the balls to confront Cecily Cunningham and the police commander. That one I’m curious about after Dimitri saying she looks like a porn star which I chuckle at. I wonder what he meant. Maybe I’ll get the chance to find out. From a distance.

  As I get to the end of the corridor I can hear someone shuffling papers through the open door of the cabinet office. I take a deep breath and wheel the trolley over the thresh-hold. Edward Spencer looks up and smiles when he sees it’s me.

  ‘Well,’ he says, leaning back in his chair. ‘You scrub up well.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s going to be a career.’

  ‘Oh? Why?’

  I decant the crockery, coffee and breakfast items from the trolley to the oval table. When I’ve finished I meet his eyes. ‘What’s going to happen to me?’

  He returns my steady look with one of his own. ‘I don’t know, Nina. Yet.’

  ‘I hear you’re meeting with Cecily and the police commander this morning.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Please don’t tell them I’m here.’

  He lifts his eyebrows and pulls a tight-lipped smile. ‘I won’t.’

  ‘But what...?

  He holds his hand up. ‘Leave it to me,’ he says softly. ‘I know you’re scared but you have to trust someone. It might as well be me.’

  ‘Why should I? Aren’t you one of them?’

  He pulls a face. ‘One of...them? Them being who?’

  ‘Come on, Mr Spencer. You’re part of the establishment. You’ll do what you have to do to protect yourself, your party, and then the country.

  ‘That’s a strange order in the list of things you’ve decided are important to me. You missed off my kids.’

  ‘I’m someone’s kid.’

  ‘I’m taking that into consideration.’

  ‘Have you also taken into consideration that the head of MI5 thinks I’m a threat to national security, and that she and Simone Deveraux are out for my blood? Perhaps literally. How are you going to get them to stop hounding me? And what about the Chamber of Eugenics? You’re the Prime Minister. Surely, you can’t let that go?’

  ‘Clearly, Nina, you don’t play cards. It’s a wisdom to keep your cards close to your chest, and not show that hand too soon. To get the information I want I must tread carefully. Cecily Cunningham and Simone Deveraux are two intelligent women, and if I plant my size elevens in their territory they’ll want to know why.’

  ‘But...you’re the Prime Minister.’ I know I sound desperate. It’s because I am. ‘You...you have the final say, don’t you? You can tell them what to do.’

  He stands and knocks the bottom of the sheaf of paper in his hands on the table to straighten up the papers. ‘If you want to stay safe you need to go, Ms Gourriel. My cabinet will be here in about two minutes. He looks at his watch. ‘And they’re always punctual, particularly the women.’

  I clench my fists, willing myself to close my mouth. He’s told me nothing. I don’t know what he’s going to do, and he more or less admitted this wasn’t going to be over any time soon. I swallow hard, then grab hold of the trolley handle and push it out of the door. As I make my way towards the lift I hear voices, female. It’s Cecily Cunningham and I imagine, Simone Deveraux. They’ve just come out of the lift and there’s my luck. I’m about to come face to face with them. As I continue down the corridor I notice a pair of doors to my left. I push against them. Someone somewhere is looking after me. Thankfully, they’re unlocked. I lift my eyes skywards and say a silent prayer of thanks as I drag the trolley into the room and stay there until t
he voices go past. Dimitri was right about the giggling. They sound like they’re on a girl’s night out, never mind going into a meeting with the Prime Minister of the UK. Is that because they think no one can touch them?

  I gradually poke my head out of the room. The Prime Minister is holding the door of the cabinet room open, waiting for me to appear, it seems. He smiles then lifts his chin and closes the door. I push the trolley down the corridor to the lift, willing it to hurry so I can get back down to the kitchen. I can’t help wondering what Edward Spencer is going to say to them, whether I can trust him to do the right thing. I can’t think of a single reason why he should be on my side, why he should believe me. And why he should go against members of his own government because of me. It’s unlikely. Very unlikely.

  Dimitri is waiting for me in the kitchen.

  ‘We must get this up to the dining room,’ he says, indicating the covered dishes on the pass. ‘They will have a break and they’ll want to be fed properly. The cabinet are not like some of the other guests who come here. Calorie counting means nothing to them. They wouldn’t look twice at a lettuce leaf.’ I’m suddenly overwhelmed with panic. I’m literally trapped here, not knowing which way to turn. Dimitri frowns. ‘Louise? Are you okay?’

  ‘Where’s Leo?’

  His eyes widen. ‘Who?’

  ‘Leo, er, Baxter? The PM’s right-hand man.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Day off.’

  ‘You’re kidding. Shit.’

  ‘Why, what’s so important you want to see Baxter?’

  ‘I need to talk to him. How can I get hold of him?’

  He shrugs. ‘How should I know?’

  ‘Dimitri, please, I need your help.’

  ‘I don’t know how to get hold of him. Why should I know?’

  ‘Someone must know where he lives.’

  ‘You didn’t say you wanted to know where he lives. You said you wanted to get hold of him. We don’t share phone numbers unless we work together. I don’t work with him, but I know where he lives.’

  My heart leaps. ‘Where?’

  ‘In the staff house.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Number 12.’

  ‘Number 12...?’

  ‘Downing Street.’

  ‘The staff house are in the same street?

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘How do I get there?’

  He looks worried. ‘You can’t go out the front. No one is allowed to go the front way. There would be hell to pay.’

  ‘Okay, so how do I get there?’

  ‘The garden doors. Just knock on them. Someone will let you in.’ He frowns at me. ‘You can’t leave me to do this on my own. How can I do it? And he might not be there. He’s allowed to go out.’

  ‘Where’s the dining room?’

  ‘On the same floor as the cabinet room.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘Okay. We’ll load the stuff onto the trollies and get it there fast, then I have to go, Dimitri. If Baxter isn’t there I’ll come back, I promise.’ He nods. He’s not happy, but what’s he going to do, sack me?

  We load everything onto the trollies and take them up in the lift. The cabinet room doors are still closed, and the sound of low voices can be heard. Dimitri and I unload the covered dishes onto the huge oval dining table. Just as the last one is placed on the table, a woman comes into the room. She is dressed the same as me and she instantly takes charge.

  ‘Dimitri, you know how he likes things to be. You should show the new girl how to do it right first time or she’ll never learn.’

  I instantly bristle. I’ve had enough of this shit from people to last me a lifetime. ‘I know how to put a dish on a table,’ I say. Dimitri’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head. ‘It’s hardly scientific.’

  The woman tosses her long blonde hair over her shoulder and her trout pout becomes even more poutier. She’s mad. ‘I think you’ll find it is. The Prime Minister likes things to be a certain way. This isn’t it. You’re new here and you don’t know everything. Who do you think you are? And while we’re on the subject, don’t answer me back.’

  I stroll towards her and get right up in her face. ‘Go fuck yourself.’ Her forehead is so frozen she can barely move her face, but her body stiffens and she’s rooted to the spot. I step around her, beckoning Dimitri to come with me. He sidles out of the room and follows me to the lift.

  ‘Oh, my God. I don’t think you should have spoken to her like that. She’s head of catering and an absolute bitch. She’ll have you out of here in a heartbeat.’

  I press the button to the basement. ‘I couldn’t care less. And while we’re on the subject.’ I grin at him. ‘You need to man up.’

  I retrace the steps I took last night. I know more or less where the garden door is, on the ground floor at the back. Every so often someone passes me but they ignore me because I’m wearing what is clearly a kind of uniform for the catering staff. When I try the door it’s locked.

  ‘Shit.’ Then I remember the dog.

  I go back the way I came. There’s a security officer standing by the stairs. I approach him and he smiles. ‘I’ve been asked to take the dog out into the garden, but the door’s locked. Can you open it, please?’

  He looks surprised. ‘That’s usually Matt’s job. The catering staff don’t usually go near the dogs.’

  I realise I’ve been rumbled. Now I do something I promised I’d never do. I think it’s called feminine wiles. I smile up at him. ‘Sorry, I don’t know your name,’ I purr.

  He shuffles his feet, glancing from side to side, looking uncomfortable. ‘It’s James.’

  ‘Look, James, I’m Louise, and I just want some air. I’m new here and I understand I’m not allowed to leave the building by the front entrance. If I don’t get some air I think I’m going to faint. It’s so hot in the kitchen. Sorry about the dog thing.’

  ‘Okay. You only had to ask. I can open it for you. You’ve got five minutes and then it’ll lock automatically, so I suggest you get the air quickly.’

  I frown. ‘Is that a new thing? Automatic locking?’

  ‘Yeah. Some idiot left the door open and a person of unknown identity got into the building.’

  ‘Wow. How awful.’

  ‘Yeah. The PM was less than pleased. You want to go now?’ I nod and follow him back down the corridor towards the garden doors. He uses an electronic key and I step out into the garden. It’s cool outside but I’m so relieved I feel like cheering.

  Dimitri told me that number twelve’s garden is to the left of number ten’s, past number eleven, so I go by the PM’s office window, ducking underneath the windowsill in case there’s someone in there, and run, bent double towards the double doors by the huge hedge on the left. The gardens behind the houses are all joined, shared by the three houses. I straighten up when I get to number twelve’s doors, peer in through the glass, than knock. To my relief, Baxter opens the doors. He’s dressed casually, like he was planning to slob all day, joggers, a tee, and bare feet. I can’t believe my luck. It’s the first real luck I’ve had for months.

  ‘Louise?’

  I push my way past him into the corridor. ‘I need to talk to you. And my name’s not Louise.’

  ‘What? Why, what’s going on?’ He beckons me into the room to the right, the PM’s office in number ten, and shuts the door. It’s like a common room, with a huge television mounted on the wall, stacks of books and magazines on the low-level coffee table, and a juke-box standing in the corner. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were meant to be working in the kitchen.’

  ‘Yeah, I helped this morning but something doesn’t feel right.’

  He sighs and crosses his arms. ‘I thought the PM took you on because you needed a job.’

  I sit on one of the squashy sofas and put my head in my hands. ‘I don’t know what to do, Leopold. Part of me wants to stay here because it’s the most comfortable I’ve been for months, but I’ve just got this horrible feeling that I’m about
to be delivered to the enemy on a plate.’

  ‘The enemy?’ He pulls a face. ‘Is this a joke.’

  I tell him to sit. He does so reluctantly, with a huge sigh and a roll of his eyes. ‘I want you to listen to me. Don’t interrupt, just listen to everything I tell you and then you can decide if you think it’s a joke.’

  Half an hour later, Leopold is staring at me, wide-eyed, astonished, I would say disbelieving, but I’m pretty sure he does believe me.

  ‘Why?’ he asks.

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why is your blood like that?’

  ‘If I knew that I’d know what to do. I’d know who I should be talking to. Right now I’m lost. I don’t know who to trust or where I can go.’

  He puts his hand across his mouth. ‘You’re the girl on the news. The one they say is a threat to national security.’

  ‘That’s me.’

  He bursts out laughing. ‘Now that is a joke.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Realisation dawns. ‘Was it you who broke into number ten? The reason why every door in the place has been fitted with an electronic locking system.’

  ‘Apparently.’

  He stands and starts to pace the room. ‘I’m not sure how I can help, whatever your name is. What is it?’

  ‘Nina.’

  He lifts his chin and nods, looking at me carefully. ‘I’m close to the PM. He’s told you he’ll fix it. If he’s told you that, he will.’

  ‘Do you trust him?’

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘He’s a politician. As far as politician’s go...yeah, I trust him. But his priorities are different to ours. His job is to put the country first, and if he thinks you’ll be a threat...’ He shrugs.

  ‘What would you do if you were me?’

  He sits again and rubs his hands together. ‘Get as far away as possible. Abroad, maybe, if you can get abroad, but I would imagine that’s virtually impossible for you now. What about the couple who were helping you before you came here?’

  ‘They want me to kill Cecily Cunningham and they won’t help me until I’ve done the deed. They gave me a gun.’