Her phone buzzed again. Yusuf. En route, be there soon. Hope it goes well. I’m listening online.
She grasped her phone, thankful for Yusuf’s tenacity. He and Samir would watch this together, and Samir would believe he was going to be safe, that he didn’t need to run away again.
Great. Call you when it’s done, she fired back.
She closed her eyes, feeling her mind clear. It was all there now; the points she needed to make, the order she needed to arrange them in. She ran through the words in her head, aware that her lips were moving slightly. Not caring. She smiled and opened her eyes again, ready.
Hillman had sat down and the Speaker was calling for order. Opposite her, MPs and ministers were patting him on the back, some wholeheartedly, others less so. Catherine was talking to a neighbour, not showing any reaction. Good.
John stood up, smoothing his jacket down as he headed for the dispatch box. His hair was pointed with damp at the back of his neck, and his skin was patched red. Just the heat, she hoped. She wondered if he’d been sitting next to her doing the exact same thing as her, planning his speech.
Her phone buzzed again. Yusuf.
At the flat. Door busted. Samir’s not here.
50
September 2021. London
Jennifer stared at her phone. She couldn’t move. Her legs felt like lead and her hands were shaking.
She forced her thumb to move and flicked back to the texts Samir had sent. Mum. I’m sorry. Love you. A farewell message?
Are his things there? His rucksack? she sent back to Yusuf.
No.
She looked across at Catherine, torn. If she left now, would Catherine do this without her?
I have to stay here, she sent to Yusuf. Be as quick as I can.
OK. I’ll go looking for him.
She pictured Yusuf running along the street, searching vainly for Samir. It reminded her of the day of the Milan bomb, when Samir had run out of the house. Yusuf had waited for him, trusting him to come back. And he had.
She felt cold. On that occasion, he was reacting to an argument with her. Not to the threat of arrest, and deportation.
John had paused and the Speaker was talking, his voice hard.
“I would like to remind honourable members of the rules around the use of electronic devices in this Chamber.”
Jennifer felt herself blush and slammed her phone into her lap. No one looked at her; there were too many others committing the same crime. Phones were allowed, but only if they weren’t used ‘in breach of Parliamentary decorum’. Sending texts counted as a breach.
John looked round at her and frowned. She shrugged an apology and bent down to slip her phone into her handbag. She had to leave Yusuf to do what he needed to do, and focus on what she needed to do.
The Speaker sat down and John puffed out his chest, continuing with his ad-libbed speech. He was doing a good job; he was a natural at this, with over twenty years of experience. And he’d been briefed, by Jennifer amongst others. At least she wasn’t completely useless to him.
Dread washed over her. She was powerless, sitting here. Whatever she managed today would be for nothing if Samir disappeared.
A commotion was growing around her. Phones were buzzing, pagers bleeping. MPs fumbled in their pockets or reached into briefcases and bags. One by one they gasped and looked around the Chamber, seeking out prey.
Opposite her, Trask put his own phone on his knee and raised his eyes to meet hers. He smiled.
Someone behind whispered her name. She shot her head round. A woman stared at her, her mouth round.
The Speaker stood and barked out an admonishment. A few MPs put their phones down, but not all.
Her flesh was crawling. People were staring at her, whispering and muttering. She looked across at Catherine, who was finally meeting her eye. Her neck was a deep red. John had turned back towards his own benches and looked exasperated.
Trying to ignore the eyes on her, Jennifer leaned over and eased her phone out of her bag. She cradled it in her hands. Was there a message from John’s offices, something everyone had received? But that wouldn’t explain the Government reacting too. And it wouldn’t explain everyone staring at her.
She looked at the benches behind her. Maggie was two rows back, giving her a maternal smile. A pitying smile. It was worse than all Leonard Trask’s smirks, all John’s impatience.
She turned back to the front. The Speaker was on his feet again, urging the Chamber to quieten down. He looked confused. He was probably the only person there without a phone.
Fingers numb, she pulled open the BBC app, only succeeding on the third attempt.
She stared at it, her chest tight. The noise around her rose, and someone behind her put their hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off. “I’m so sorry,” she heard, followed by, “not surprised.”
She stared at the headline, and the photos above it. One was of her; the photo from her MP website, smiling tentatively at the camera. The other was blurred, amateur. She squinted, recognising the street outside her flat. A young man was being pushed into a police car, a hand on top of his head. It was Samir.
The headline was unmistakeable. She read it four times before the words gained their proper shape. Then she felt a chill run down her spine.
MP’s son arrested for suspected terrorist activity.
Around her the voices rose, enveloping her in a wall of noise.
51
September 2021. London
“Order!” The Speaker’s face was almost purple.
Jennifer stared at him, waiting for the instruction to leave. An official approached him and muttered something in his ear. He started then looked across at the Opposition benches, searching for her. She breathed heavily while waiting for his eye to meet hers.
He looked at her for a few moments, their eyes locked. Then he gave a tiny shake of his head and sat down, banging his gavel on the desk in front of him.
John shuffled backwards and sat down next to her.
“Have you finished?” she breathed.
“No. But I don’t want to follow that.” He nodded at her phone.
She stiffened, wishing he could be more supportive. “I need your help, John. Samir’s done nothing wrong.”
He shook his head, sighing. Then he grasped her hand, pulling away almost immediately. “I know.”
It was an admission of confidence, but not a promise of help. She looked across at Catherine, whose gaze flicked away from hers. She balled her fists on her knees and willed herself to breathe steadily.
“I have to go,” she told John.
“I understand.”
She rose to leave. Catherine was watching her. She looked shocked, and scared. Jennifer looked at her, wishing they could talk. Was a text too risky? She surveyed the MPs around Catherine. Yes, it was.
She sat down again. “I’ll wait. Hopefully he’ll call me next,” she said, motioning towards the Speaker. John nodded.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. Yusuf again.
He’s been arrested.
I know, she sent back.
Wait there. I’m coming to you.
No. You need to find him.
We do this together. Wait for me. Xx.
She slid down in her seat, her eyes going back to Catherine. She was flicking through papers, muttering under her breath. She pulled a pen from an inside pocket and started writing on the sheet she held in her hand, making sweeping marks and scribbling furiously. Jennifer stared, her mouth falling open. Was she changing her speech?
John nudged her. “Are you OK?” he whispered. “You look pale.”
She widened her eyes, trying to focus. “I’m fine.”
“Sure? You should leave. Find him.”
“Yusuf’s coming. I’ll go then.”
John’s gaze shifted up to the Strangers’ Gallery. It had started to empty. Jennifer watched as journalists hurried out, desperate to follow up the story. Was this debate even going to continue?
/> The Speaker was calling for order again. Jennifer sighed and rubbed her forehead. It was as damp as John’s.
“I call the Prime Minister.”
She looked up. Trask?
In front of her, Trask drew himself up and slid to the dispatch box. His MPs watched in silence. Hillman looked annoyed. Catherine stared at him, her skin grey. Jennifer pulled herself upright.
Trask looked around the Chamber then fixed his gaze on Jennifer, saying nothing. He then turned away from her, looking towards the Speaker.
“Mr Speaker,” he said. “I think this House should know that certain Members are directly affected by the measures which we are debating today.”
There was a collective intake of breath. Jennifer felt John stiffen beside her. A hand landed heavily on the back of her bench. She tensed.
Still Trask didn’t look at her. He swept his gaze across the Opposition benches, keeping it raised above the front bench. “These powers which we are discussing today are a vital measure to protect us from people who would do this country harm. People whom it can be difficult for the authorities to identify, and apprehend.”
She stared at Trask, unblinking. John glanced at her, his face expressionless.
Trask licked his lips, turning to look at his own backbenchers. “I know we agree in my party that all those who engage in terrorist activity, or who are terrorist sympathisers, need to have the full force of the law brought to bear on them.”
He spun round and looked directly at Jennifer. “No matter how exalted their family or other connections.”
She clenched her fists. Behind her, the shouting began. Cries of “Shame!” and “Innocent till proven guilty!” She breathed in, relieved that her colleagues were supporting her. Then she heard a “hear, hear” behind her.
Trask looked back at the Speaker. “I apologise, Mr Speaker. I digress a little and I don’t mean to breach Parliamentary protocol.”
The Speaker eyed him but said nothing.
“But,” Trask continued, “I do believe it is important for us all to note that the sooner we apprehend the unsavoury characters in our society, the ones who want to threaten our communities and our security, the sooner we will be able to keep everyone in this country safe.”
It wasn’t his best rhetoric. But it was well aimed. Jennifer glared at him, then glanced at Catherine, who was frowning.
The Speaker stood up and the shouts died down.
“The Right Honourable gentleman should apologise for his remarks. I am hesitant to accuse him of a breach of etiquette, but would urge him to consider his words carefully.”
Trask gave a small bow and stood up again. He looked at Jennifer, and then at John. “I apologise for my remarks. I did not mean to insult any individual member of this House,” he said. He sat down, ignoring the pats on the back from his colleagues and smiling at Jennifer.
The Chamber was quiet. John stared ahead, not meeting Jennifer’s eye. What was he thinking? Was he remembering her treachery, two years ago? I had a fair bit of respect for the stand you took, he’d told her, afterwards. Safely afterwards. She glared at him. He really wasn’t the same man Yusuf had worked for. The man who’d sat at the kitchen table of her and Yusuf’s first house, cracking jokes and sharing political anger.
After what felt like an age, hands started to go up. Jennifer watched Catherine, waiting for her to raise hers. Instead, she was watching Trask. She looked ill.
Come on Catherine, thought Jennifer. You can do it.
The Speaker called an MP from the government backbenches and Jennifer’s phone buzzed.
I’m in the gallery. Look up.
She looked up at the Strangers’ Gallery; Yusuf was at one end, next to the entrance. He looked flushed and his coat was askew. He gave her a small wave but didn’t smile.
Come with me, he texted. Got to find him.
She took a deep breath, staring across at Catherine. The backbencher had sat down and the Speaker was searching for the next.
I have to wait. Have to speak.
She won’t do it. You have to leave.
She swallowed. He was right. She muttered an apology to John as she rose in her seat.
Then she heard it. The Speaker was calling Catherine.
She looked across the Chamber. Catherine was rising slowly. Jennifer slammed down into her seat, her heart pounding.
52
September 2021. London
Catherine glanced at Jennifer then quickly looked away, her gaze travelling to Trask. He was whispering with the Home Secretary next to him, oblivious of what was – or wasn’t – about to happen.
There were a few quiet mutters, some shushing and then the Chamber was quiet. Catherine looked down at her notes then bent to put them on the seat behind her. She clasped her hands in front of her and held her head high.
John turned to Jennifer, raising his eyebrows. She gave him a nod and allowed herself a smile.
Catherine drew breath.
“Thank you, Mr Speaker. I’m pleased to be able to speak in this debate today, and to share my own experience, which I believe is relevant to the subject we are discussing.”
Jennifer remembered the tales Catherine had told her, the horror stories. This was how they’d agreed she would begin her speech. She watched Catherine, waiting for their eyes to meet again so she could give her an encouraging nod.
“My department receives regular information about people who have breached the anti-terror laws. Now I’m sure this House will understand that I’m unable to share the details of this, but I would like to give you a feel for what I’ve seen, what I’ve read, and what I’ve heard.”
There were murmurs behind Jennifer. John nodded and gripped his knee. Trask stopped whispering and turned, craning his neck to look at Catherine. She continued.
“I am regularly shocked by the type of person who comes under scrutiny. The demographics of the people who our security services are investigating can be quite an eye-opener.”
Catherine paused and looked across at the Opposition benches. Her gaze landed on John, who was talking to Deborah. She didn’t look at Jennifer.
“There are young men and women who have become involved in groups and organisations that seek to do damage to this country and to put our citizens at risk. These young people – some just teenagers – are naive and impressionable and don’t always know what they’re getting into.”
Trask had turned back to the front, frowning. Jennifer allowed herself a shiver of anticipation.
“It can be incredibly hard, sometimes impossible, to trace these people. There are probably many more out there than we are aware of. Maybe ten times as many, maybe more. Hundreds if not thousands of impressionable young people being recruited by terror organisations.”
Jennifer felt her breathing slow.
“This legislation which we are debating today will make it easier to identify these people, and others like them, of all ages. The authorities struggle to gain information about the activity of our potential attackers, which limits the number of people apprehended. This new power of citizen’s arrest will mean that family, friends and community members, people who have access to information and knowledge of activities that we can’t possible trace, will be able to identify and apprehend these people before their activities become a real threat.”
There were a couple of shouts from Jennifer’s side, but quiet opposite. Trask began to smile.
“I believe,” Catherine continued, her eyes on the Speaker, “that anyone who has expressed an interest in and sympathy towards prohibited groups has the potential to present a very real threat to public safety at a later date.”
Jennifer stiffened, remembering everything Catherine had said when planning her speech. What about those young, impressionable minds, those teenagers who didn’t know what they were getting into? Who would be unjustly criminalised if apprehended and arrested under these new laws?
She could feel eyes flitting between Catherine and herself. Samir was exactly
the person Catherine was talking about, and they all knew it.
“I therefore welcome the proposed legislation,” Catherine continued. “It will enable us to identify and apprehend potential terrorists much earlier on, and nip their activity in the bud.”
Catherine sat down to applause from her own benches. Behind Jennifer, MPs were on their feet, waving papers and yelling. She closed her eyes, hating the fact that Yusuf was watching this.
She stood up, and stepped forward, over the red line in front of the Opposition benches. MPs weren’t allowed to cross this line during debates. The Chamber quietened.
The Speaker rose. “Can I ask the Right Honourable member to return to her seat please.”
She ignored him and stared at Catherine, her nostrils flaring. Finally Catherine met her eye. Her gaze was steady.
Jennifer raised an arm. The Speaker said something she couldn’t make out amid renewed shouting.
She took another step forward; she was almost at the middle of the Chamber now, well outside the permitted zone.
She stared at Catherine, shaking her head. Catherine reddened. Trask looked round at her, raising a bemused eyebrow. The Speaker stood up.
Fire licked at her limbs. She looked up at Yusuf, who was standing, watching her as he backed towards the door.
She shook her head. The shouting intensified.
“The Right Honourable member needs to withdraw to her own benches!” cried the Speaker.
She looked back at John; he glared at her.
She turned to the Speaker. “I apologise,” she said, and turned for the door.
53
September 2021. London
Jennifer looked up at the Strangers’ Gallery, where Yusuf was making for the stairs. He was right; Catherine wasn’t her friend. She was a Tory, and would always be loyal to her own party.
The Division Bell Trilogy Page 25
