|
It did not help her mood that the Bank of England had pushed up interest rates sharply to protect sterling from speculators while a new Prime Minister was selected, leading the building societies that morning to threaten a rise in the mortgage rate. It made her realise that she would have no apparent means of paying for it. It was difficult enough with a salary. Without one, her affairs could very soon become impossible.
And she was also lonely. Her bed was once more an Arctic outpost fit only for penguins, and gave her no comfort from her other problems.
Yet the story kept taking over and pushing to one side any thoughts of dismay in her mind, while the Telegraph's editorial intervention had given it a totally new twist. Throughout the early evening she had watched the various television news programmes, all of which were dominated by speculation as to whether Urquhart would stand, and informing a generally unaware audience about what a Chief Whip actually does and who Urquhart was.
She needed to talk, and without wishing to question too deeply the conflicting emotions which were tangling in her mind she found herself waiting on a wooden platform which bobbed in the Thames tide alongside Charing Cross pier. Just a few minutes later she could see the approach of the Telegraph's private river taxi which shuttled employees between the newspaper's dockland plant downstream and the rather more central and civilised reaches of the capital.
As she had hoped, Krajewski was on board. He said nothing as he found her standing on the pier, but accepted her silent invitation to walk.
It was a dry and clear November night, so they wrapped up warm and without speaking strolled along the Embankment, tracing the sharp curves of the river bank and with it the floodlit vistas of the Festival Hall and the Houses of Parliament beyond, with the tower of Big Ben looking down from high above. It was some time before he broke the silence. No questions about the other night, he decided. He knew what was foremost in her mind.
'So what do you make of it all?'
She smiled shyly in gratitude for the lifeline, for not demanding an explanation of her motives which she would not - or was it could not? - give.
It's extraordinary. They're building him up like a Messiah on a white charger galloping to the rescue. Why did Grev do it?'
'I don't know. He just came in late yesterday, not a word to anyone, turned the paper inside out and produced his front page editorial from out of his pocket. No warning; no explanation. Still, seems to have caused quite a story. Perhaps he got it right after all.'
Mattie shook her head. It wasn't Grev. He's not capable of making a decision like that. It took balls to position' -she almost used the word 'commit' but stopped herself just in time - 'to position the paper in that way, and it could only have come from one place: the desk of our – your beloved proprietor, Mr Landless. Last time he interfered he was dethroning Collingridge, now he's trying to hand the crown to someone else.'
As they traced their way along the winding river bank, they kicked through the windswept piles of leaves and passed by the pale, massive bulk of the Ministry of Defence.
'But why? Why Urquhart?'
'No idea,' Mattie responded. 'Urquhart is very low profile, although he's been in the House for many years. He comes across as being vaguely aristocratic, patrician, old school tie. He's something of a loner, certainly not one of the boys, which means he's got no great fan club but also no one hates him enough to campaign against him as they are doing with Samuel. Nobody knows what his views really are, he's never had to express them as Chief Whip.'
She turned to face him. You know, he might just slip through the middle as the man the others dislike least. Landless could have picked a winner.' 'You think hell stand, then?'
'Certain of it. He told me way back in June that there was going to be a leadership race, and he flatly refused then to rule himself out. He wants it all right, and he'll stand.'
That sounds like a great feature - 'The Man Who Saw It Coming''.'
If only I had a paper to write it for,' she said with a wistful smile.
He stopped and looked at Mattie, her fair hair glowing in the lights which bounced back from the soft yellow stone of the Houses of Parliament behind her, wondering if he detected a hint of regret in her voice.
'Grev refuses to print your story and then announces the paper's support for Urquhart Defusing one bomb and then launching another. Isn't that a bit of a coincidence?'
90/134 首页 上一页 88 89 90 91 92 93 下一页 尾页
|
