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'There are some things I don't have the words for' he said, burying his face in her blonde hair and rejoicing at its freshness.
She turned round in his arms to face him and look directly into his eyes.
'You talk too much' she said, and kissed him passionately. She was glad he had made the first move; she was not competing tonight, she wanted to be free, uncomplicated, just a woman.
She made no sound of protest as he slipped her silk blouse over her shoulders and it fell away, revealing a smooth and unblemished skin which could have been a model's. Her breasts were immaculate, small but very feminine and sensitive. She gasped as his fingers gently ran over her nipples, which responded instantly. She undid her own belt and let her trousers fall straight to the floor, stepping out of them and out of her shoes in one graceful movement. She stood tall and unashamed against the glittering lights of London behind her.
He marvelled for a moment at what he saw. He couldn't remember when he last had felt like this, so excited and so much a man.
'Mattie, you look lovely.'
'I hope you are not just going to look, Johnnie' she said.
He took her to the fireplace where the flames flickered invitingly, held her close against him and prayed that the moment would last for ever.
When they were spent, for some while they lay silently on the rug, lost in their thoughts and each other's arms. It was Mattie who broke the spell.
Is it all coincidence, Johnnie?'
'Let's try again and see.'
'Not this, you fool,' she laughed. 'It's time to talk now!'
'Oh, I wondered how long it would take you to get back to that,' he said with an air of resignation. He got them both blankets to wrap themselves in.
'We find a plan, effort, plot - call it what you will in which our paper is involved, to chop the legs off Collingridge. For all we know it has been going on for months. Now Collingridge resigns. Is it all part of the same operation?'
'How can it be, Mattie? In the end Collingridge hasn't been forced out by his opponents but by his brother's apparent fiddling of share purchases. You're surely not suggesting all that was part of the plan.'
'You have to admit it's a hell of a coincidence, Johnnie. I've met Charles Collingridge, spent several hours drinking and chatting with him at the party conference, as it happens. He struck me as being a pleasant and straightforward drunk, who certainly didn't seem as if he had two hundred pounds to put together, let alone being able to raise tens of thousands of pounds to start speculating in shares.'
Her face was screwed up in concentration as she grappled with her still confused thoughts. It may seem silly, I know he's an alcoholic and they often aren't responsible for their actions, but I don't believe he would have jeopardised his brother's whole career for a few thousand pounds' profit on the Stock Market. And do you really think it's likely that Henry Collingridge, the Prime Minister of this country, was feeding his drunk brother insider share tips to finance his boozing?'
Is it any more credible to believe there is some form of high-level plot involving senior party figures, the publisher of our newspaper and God knows who else to kill off the Prime Minister? Surely the easiest explanation is the simple one - that Charles Collingridge is a drunk who is not responsible for his actions and who has done something so overwhelmingly stupid that his brother's had to resign.'
'There's only one person who can tell us, I suppose. Charles Collingridge.'
'But he's locked away in some clinic or other, isn't he? I thought his whereabouts were a closely guarded family secret.'
True, but he's the only one who could help us get to the bottom of this.'
'And how does our Reporter of the Year propose to do that?'
he teased.
She was concentrating too intently to rise to the bait. Instead, she sat on the hearth rug wrapped deep in thought and an enormous yellow blanket while he refreshed their drinks. As he returned with two glasses, she spun round to face him.
'When was the last time anyone saw Charles Collingridge?' she demanded.
'Why, er ... When he was driven away from his home over a week ago.'
'Who was he with?'
'Sarah Collingridge.'
'And...?'
'A driver.'
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