After the Dream

by Stan Mason

  The venom that came forth used up all the frustration which had built up inside her and the half-hour programme ended with the journalist reluctantly retreating with his tail between his legs. When she came off stage, Diana found Dr. Martin waiting for her. The physician threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly.

  ‘Wow, Diana! she told her with awe. ‘That was some performance. I didn’t dream you had it in you. I am so proud of you!’

  Diana felt humble but the adrenalin still made her feel on top of the world causing her heart to beat faster.

  ‘I rather enjoyed it,’ she said simply.

  ‘You’re a natural,’ declared the doctor proudly. ‘You took hold of the programme and made it your own. Everyone was glued to what you were saying and the way you handled that journalist was magnificent. He won’t talk about the Red Cross like that in a hurry. You’ll have to come to the National Assembly and talk to us there.’ She paused to take Diana’s arm on impulse. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve had anything to eat. You were probably too nervous.’ Diana shook her head. ‘Good...well I’ll treat you to dinner. It’ll be my pleasure after that performance.’

  They left the studio much to the acclaim of the doctor. It had been a wonderful evening even if the programme only lasted for half an hour. ‘Speak Your Piece’ mused Diana thinking of the title of the programme. Well she had certainly done that effectively. Yes indeed....she had certainly done that!

  * * *

  Over the next few days, scores of ovations arrived at the Red Cross shop. Some of them with letters and postcards, others by the way of flowers. Diana had become a heroine for the cause overnight and she blossomed with pride at the accolades. The income raised with shop sales soared as people flocked there to see her and bought goods. She arranged a number of raffles which enhanced the funds with guessing the weight of a cake, naming a teddy bear....there was no end to the ways she increased the amount of money she made for the Red Cross. Her life had changed very much for the better and it was improved by articles in the local and national Press. Her feisty attitude, ease of argument, and the volley of information she had provided took the country by storm. She had become famous...a woman of distinction....even though such renown was not required by her.

  When her next visit came for her to see Dr. Mahmoud, she flew to Agadir and went to Ahmed’s office directly from the airport.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ she apologised profusely as she entered the room staring at him as he pored over some documents on his desk. ‘I really am. It was unforgivable. I don’t know what got into me.

  He looked up surprised at her presence. He had never expected ever to see her again after sending the second letter.

  ‘You don’t have to apologise,’ he told her excited that she had come. ‘To tell you the truth, in all this time I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.’

  ‘If you’re going to ask whether I dreamed about you the answer is no,’ she countered in advance of the question.

  ‘I wasn’t going to ask you that,’ he countered moving to the other side of the desk to change the position of the chair. ‘Please sit down. How are you?’

  ‘Fine,’ she replied smiling broadly at him. He was so handsome. No one could deny that. She couldn’t understand why she felt so unemotional towards him. Maybe it was the thought of him being so much younger than her in the past when she felt that she was more of a mother to him. But he had caught up with her in years. She was still young-looking and beautiful and he was handsome and older.

  ‘It’s been a whole year since we last met,’ he went on. ‘What have you been doing in that time?’

  ‘Nothing in particular,’ she responded modestly. ‘I do some voluntary work for the Red Cross. I’m the manageress of one of its shops.’

  ‘You actually work in a shop,’ he retorted with surprise. ‘Why do you do that?’

  ‘I don’t have to...it’s voluntary.’ She was startled by his response. He obviously thought of her as a lady of leisure, someone who didn’t have to get their hands dirty by working in a shop. ‘I do I to help people in difficulties.’

  He stared at her lovingly, his face lighting up as he changed the subject. ‘I am so pleased to see you,’ he told her, his expression suddenly changing to sadness.

  ‘How about you?’ she ventured. She stared at his face but there was no love...no chemical reaction.

  ‘It’s been a sad period for me,’ he related slowly. ‘My mother died six months ago. I’ve had to look after my brothers and sister every since.’

  ‘My condolences,’ uttered Diana sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?’

  ‘Organ failure...her kidneys.’ It was clear that the details were too painful for him to discuss.

  ‘Couldn’t Dr. Mahmoud do anything to help her?’

  ‘I went to see him,’ the lawyer told her, ‘but he was asleep most of the time. There was something wrong with him. Anyway, my mother died shortly afterwards.’

  Silence prevailed for a short while with neither of them knowing how to continue the conversation, then Diana broke the ice.

  ‘How’s the firm doing? Do you have many clients?’

  ‘It’s a little slow. People in Europe are buying up properties in all the countries there. No one has yet decided to buy any property in Morocco. Once that happens, we shall be inundated with requests from buyers to conveyance their properties.’

  ‘Maybe I should buy a place here,’ she ventured thoughtfully. I mean I come her often enough. It might be cheaper in the longer run at current prices for property.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he advised. ‘Your treatment with Dr. Mahmoud must come to an end eventually. ‘He stared at her face like a forlorn lover, his eyes fixed and glassy. ‘You are so beautiful,’ he uttered, and I’m so much in love with you. You know, you look exactly as you did all those years ago when we first met. How do you do it?’

  ‘It’s the cosmetics I use,’ she lied blatantly unwilling to reveal her secret.

  ‘You’re the one I want to marry,’ he proceeded to tell her. ‘You are definitely the one.’

  ‘But I’m still married to someone ‘else,’ she laughed.

  ‘Divorce him. Set yourself free,’ he countered irately. ‘One day, you shall be mine....I know it.

  She burst out laughing at his ardour which he didn’t appreciate and, after drinking coffee together, she bad her farewell and left. Such meetings were doing neither of them any good. He was in love with her but she regarded him solely as a friend.

  After leaving Ahmed’s office she went directly to the office of dr. Mahmoud who seemed to look a lot younger.

  ‘Are you taking tablets other than Beotag and ferradil-x?’ she asked him point-blank.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘You’re looking so much younger. The last time I saw you, you’d lost a lot of weight and could hardly keep your eyes open. What happened?’

  ‘I’m experimenting with another extract which I’ve decided to call Apollo-y. It also comes form North Borneo but it’s extremely scarce. I’ve been taking it over the past three months and I do seem to be getting younger. If you wish to join me in the experiment I can let you have some of the tablet.’

  Diana shook her head. ‘I really don’t want to look any younger,’ she retorted quickly. ‘If I stay as I am for the next twenty years I’ll be more than satisfied.’

  He pulled on his goatee beard fiercely. ‘I should think you’ll live far longer than that,’ he expressed. ‘Let me know if you change your mind.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ she returned slowly with no intention of agreeing to do so. ‘How are the rest of the animals? No more deaths I hope,’

  ‘No more deaths,’ he echoed calmly. ‘They’re all alive and well.’ He pulled again on his goatee beard becoming serious. ‘There’s
something I want to talk to you about,’ he advanced solemnly. ‘People have been clearing the rain forest in North Borneo to establish farming land and it been getting harder to find the plant from which I extract ferradil-x. I have enough supplied for the next ten years and I’m working on a chemical substitute but I thought you ought to know of the situation.’

  ‘What will happen to me if I ran out of them.’ she asked with a tinge of concern in her voice.

  ‘That’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question,’ he replied. ‘It is possible that your body has built up its own immunity from ageing over the past years but I don’t really know if that’s true. It’s early stages in the experiment as yet. Let’s hope that the plant remains available before we concern ourselves too much. As I said, I may be able to find a chemical substitute before the supplies run out.’

  He handed her another supply of tablets before she left the office. She was only a little concerned about the situation but Dr. Mahmoud still had years of supply and was working on a substitute. The Wizard of Agadir would probably come up trumps in due course. She felt certain of that. She took a taxi to the airport and boarded the aircraft without delay. There were important matters to deal with in the Red Cross shop. She may have been a lady of leisure but all that was behind her now. She had burdened herself with responsibilities and they came before anything else.

  Chapter Eighteen

  One bright morning some two months later, Diana arrived outside the Red Cross shop with the front door key in her hand to open that large glass doors when she felt the presence of someone hovering behind her. She turned to find Carol Hemsley, a young woman with long blonde hair, dressed in a smart grey suit, holding an executive briefcase.

  ‘Can I help you?’ asked Diana believing that the woman had seen something in the shop window and wanted to purchase it.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs. Templeton,’ greeted Carol casually. ‘I’d like a word with you if you don’t mind. It won’t take long.’

  Diana frowned as she opened the glass doors, moving one of them inwards before securing it with a bolt in the floor. She entered the shop and turned on the lights before going behind the counter. She faced the caller wondering why she wanted to talk with her so urgently in the early hours of the morning.

  ‘I’m Carol Hemsley,’ began the woman in earnest. ‘I want to talk to you about something which might interest you.’

  ‘If it’s to do with insurance, the Red Cross takes care of it,’ stated Diana plainly. ‘It’s not in our remit.’

  A smile appeared on the other woman’s face. ‘It has nothing todo with insurance.. It’s to do with your future.’

  ‘My future? What do you mean?’ The remark was so intriguing that it gained the manageress’s full attention.

  The caller stared at her directly before she spoke again. ‘Have you ever considered standing as a Member of Parliament?’

  The words seemed to echo around the room interrupted by a horse-laugh.

  ‘Parliament?’ No one was more surprised than Diana. Was this some sort of confidence trick or what? ‘I think you’re talking to the wrong person,’ she uttered in disbelief. ‘I know nothing about politics. Mrs. Robertson, one of my staff...’

  ‘It’s not Mrs. Robertson I want...it’s you!’ interrupted Carol moving to a chair at the side of the counter and sitting down on it. ‘I don’t know what you’re political persuasion is but I’m counting that you vote for the Conservatives.’

  ‘I’m not particular interested in politics,’ retorted Diana smartly, taking the float from a cupboard and putting the coins into the cash register. ‘My husband’s Deputy to the Minister of Health for Labour. If you’re Conservative you really need to know that.’

  ‘I know,’ admitted the visitor calmly opening her briefcase an removing some papers.

  ‘Why have you picked on me?’ demanded Diana slightly annoyed at being interrupted in her work.

  ‘We were influenced by your performance on the television in the Speak Your Piece programme,’ the woman informed her. ‘You were outstanding. You spoke your mind and you did it so well. We’re always on the lookout for female candidates with fire and spirit and who speak clearly and solidly. You’re definitely made to measure for a role in Parliament, there’s no doubt about that.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ rattled Diana, flattered at the accolade placed upon her.

  ‘Well I have to tell you that there’s good news and bad news,’ she went on regardless. ‘The good news is that although you’ve been vetted in your absence by the Conservative Area Board to become a candidate, there’s every reason you’ll be voted in. They’ve had the advantage of seeing the video of the television programme before they interview you finally. The bad news is that, as a brand new candidate to the Parliamentary scene, the consistency allotted to you will be a Labour stronghold. There’s practically no chance of you winning the seat.’

  ‘Then what’s the point of me having to go through all that rigmarole if I’ve no chance of winning?’ declared Diana bluntly.

  ‘Politics is a strange affair and these days there are more floating voters than ever before. They swing one way and then the other according to whim, television programmes and the Press. But we all know that you’re a fighter. I’ve watched that television programme video half a dozen times and I wouldn’t like to be your opponent. I’ve spoken to Dr. Martin on the Red Cross board and she tells me you’re full of ideas. That’s the sort of person we want on our side.’

  Diana sat back on her stool behind the counter with her head in a whirl. She had been simply a housewife for such a long time, bringing up two children, until becoming influence to manage a Red Cross shop. Now someone was offering her a different opportunity in a much tougher league. Destiny was striking again with full force and she could do little to resist it. She knew in her heart that if went into this battle she would certainly lose. No one, certainly not a novice in Parliamentary procedure, could ever win the seat for the Conservatives in a Labour stronghold. She would simply be wasting her time and effort.

  But it was clear....the plan of her life was rolling out before her. Did she really want to change the course again? She was currently satisfied with the way things were going.

  ‘How do you feel about the prospect?’ asked Carol lightly. ‘I have some instructions for you if you agree. Places, times and information about the Area Board as well as answers to a few questions they’d like to ask you.’

  Diana blew out her cheeks to exhale as she thought about the offer. ‘Will one of the questions be why should she want to stand as a candidate for the Conservatives when my husband’s the Deputy to the Labour Health Minister?’

  ‘Yes...questions like that I presume,’ came the reply hoping to be able to influence the manageress. ‘We need more women in Parliament. You could be one of them.’

  ‘Except that I wouldn’t win the seat,’ returned Diana swiftly. ‘I’d never win for you Party in a Labour stronghold.’

  ‘That might be the case this time round but at the next election you’d get a better prospect. A marginal seat that you could win.’

  ‘That means I’d have to wait for another five years. When will the next General Election take place?’

  ‘Not for about four months or so,’ Carol informed her briefly. ‘The polls are very much in our favour at present but the Government will be forced to hold the election when their term is up.

  Diana caught her breath as she viewed the prospect in a calm light. She was determined not to put her life on the line without thinking long and hard and in that moment decided to turn down the offer.

  ‘Thank you for coming to see me, Miss Hemsley, but I’ll be honest with you. I’m not politically-minded. I can’t see myself standing up in the House of Commons and talking. It’s out of the question.’

  ‘Of course you could,’ countered Carol smartly.
‘Watch your video on teevee. You carried that programme all by yourself. Think about it.’

  Diana had made up her mind. Politics were for people like her husband...dull, dry workaholics with the gift of the gab, Worst still they never answered a question directly. It was always a political response avoiding anything asked. They always wormed themselves out of salutations with semantics. No...the role was definitely not for her.

  Carol Hemsley left the shop disappointedly. Despite her best efforts she was unable to influence the manageress. She felt very sad herself that politics was not her forte and that she was well out of it. That evening, she had just finished dinner when the telephone rang.

  ‘My name’s Horace Weaver,’ announced the caller, ‘and I’m talking to you from the House of Commons.’

  ‘Horace Weaver,’ repeated Diana dumbly. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m the Deputy Shadow leader of the Conservative Party. I understand Carol Hemsley called on you this morning suggesting that you stand as one of our candidates at the next General Election.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ she managed to say in awe of the person at the other end of the line. She had seen him on television a few times attacking the Government on one point or another.

  ‘It may be an old cliché, Mrs. Templeton,’ he went on in a sonorous voice, ‘but your country needs you. It needs you badly. I know that you have no chance of winning a seat this time round but it will be good preparation for the next time. You’ll be helping us out even if you aren’t successful.’