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By midday Lord Williams had issued a stinging denunciation of the newspaper for using confidential documents which had been stolen from a security cabinet by forcing the lock. The newspaper immediately responded that, while the Party itself seemed to be unforgivably incompetent with safeguarding their confidential material, the newspaper was happy to fulfil its public obligations and return the folder on Samuel to its rightful owners at party headquarters - which they did later, that day in time to catch the television news and give the story yet another lease of life.
Most observers, after discussing the story at some length, dismissed it as a passing misfortune for Samuel brought about by the typical incompetence of party headquarters. But Samuel's campaign had run into a lot of misfortune since it began. It was not reassuring for someone who claimed to be on top of events, and it was definitely not the way to spend the final weekend of the leadership race.
The phone call upset Krajewski. He had been trying hard to keep a grip on his wayward emotions about Mattie, being alternately eaten away by frustration at her inconsistency and consumed with hunger for her body. He was also discovering that he simply downright missed her, and only occasionally did he succeed in forcing his thoughts about her to the back of his mind. When one of his colleagues telephoned to say that he had met Mattie and that she looked tired and unwell, he hadn't needed a second to realise how concerned he still was.
She had agreed to see him, but rejected his suggestion that he should come straight round. She didn't want him to see the apartment this way, with the dirty plates, the empty cartons which seemed to infest every available table top, and the worn clothes which had simply been dumped in the comer. The last few days had been hell. Unable to sleep, her mind and her emotions snarled up in one immense knot, her bed like a slab of ice, she was no longer sure which way to rum. The walls closed in around her, squeezing out her ability to think straight or feel anything other than growing depression.
So when Krajewski called she had shown little enthusiasm even though she knew she needed support from someone. Reluctantly she had been cajoled into meeting him at the coffee shop on the eastern edge of the Serpentine, the winding duck-strewn lake which dominates the centre of Hyde Park. He cursed as he hurried towards it. The bitter November wind was raising foam-topped waves as it sliced across the water, and as he approached the empty, lifeless coffee shop he realised that it must have closed for the winter. He found the small, forlorn figure of Mattie sheltering under the eaves, wrapped in a thin anorak which suddenly seemed too large for her. She appeared to have shrunk since they had last met. There were uncharacteristic dark rings under her eyes, and the vitality which normally lit her face was missing. She looked awful. 'What a bloody silly place for us to meet' he apologised. 'Don't worry, Johnnie. I guess I needed the fresh air' He wanted to put his arms around her and squeeze the chill out of her bones, but instead he tried to smile cheerfully.
'What's new with Britain's top female journalist?' he enquired. Immediately he wanted to bite his tongue off. He hadn't intended sarcasm, not at all, but it was a clumsy choice of words. She shivered before she replied.
'Perhaps you're right to laugh. A few days ago I thought I had the world at my feet.'
'And now?'
'Now it's all gone wrong. The job... The story.. ' - a slight pause -'... You. I thought I could do it all on my own. I was wrong. Sorry.'
This was a new Mattie, all full of self-doubt and insecurity. He didn't know what to say, so said nothing.
'When I was a young girl my grandfather used to take me out onto the Yorkshire dales. He said it was a lot like parts of Norway. The weather could get bitter and inhospitable up there but I never had any fears. Grandpa was always there with a helping hand and a smile. He always carried a flask of hot soup and I never felt better or warmer than when I was out with him, no matter how hard it blew. Then one day I thought I was grown up, didn't need Grandpa any more, so I slipped away on my own. I left the track and the o ground started getting softer. Soon I was sinking up to my ankles and then slipping deeper and deeper.' She was shivering again. 'I couldn't get out. The more I struggled the deeper I became stuck. I thought I would never get out. It was the first time in my life that I had known what real fear was. But then Grandpa found me and plucked me out, and hugged me while I cried and dried my tears and made everything better' Johnnie noted how frail and vulnerable she looked now inside the voluminous folds of her anorak, as if she was reliving the experience all over again.
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