Charles closed his eyes and tried to forget where, and who he was. He tried to picture Lorna’s face, her delicate features ever the image of perfection. The thought of her gone was overwhelming, Charles began to feel as though he were drowning, like he couldn’t breathe. Desperately he pulled at the tie that hung around his neck like a noose, loosening it and alleviating some of his tension. There, in the privacy of his office he let his head fall in to his hands and released one solitary tear for the dead girl. It was all he could risk doing whilst at work, beneath the scrutiny of his staff. He needed to be alone; he needed time to think, to process his thoughts.

The benefit. Charles groaned as he recalled the event his wife had reminded him of earlier that very morning. Every night there was a different benefit or gala to attend, a constant parade of charities vying for his allegiance, all of them equally worthy in cause but he himself feeling like a shambled commodity. He attended so many, and with such frequency, that he wondered what integrity his presence even carried anymore. He couldn’t go. He knew that. He was in no mind to be around people, to smile politely and greet complete strangers with the same warmth he would extend to old friends. He needed to let Elaine know. She would be angry, he expected that, and ultimately she would attend without him, which meant that he could spend the evening alone, which was what he needed.

Charles had the receiver in his hand and was about to press the button which would link him to Faye’s desk when he paused. Normally, he would just ask Faye to connect him to his wife, and Faye would dutifully track her down. But Faye had left The Shadow in his office which meant that she knew about Lorna and suddenly Charles felt sheepish. He decided to bypass his assistant and called his home directly. After seven rings his wife answered, sounding clearly displeased to have done so.

‘Lloyd Residence,’ she said tersely down the line.

‘Darling, it’s me,’ Charles tried to keep his voice level and steady, attempting to mask his pain.

‘Charles! Why are you calling me? Is Faye off sick?’

‘No, no, Faye is fine just … busy,’ Charles lied.

‘Busy! Too busy to assist the Deputy Prime Minister?’ Elaine sounded genuinely outraged as she spoke. ‘That girl needs to sort her priorities out!’

‘Darling, its fine, I wanted to speak with you directly.’

‘Oh, I see, what a lovely surprise,’ Elaine’s anger momentarily thawed. ‘As much as I appreciate the call, dear, don’t you have a country to run?’ she said mockingly.

‘Oh, yes that’s right I do, thanks for the reminder!’ Charles joked back. ‘It is just a quick call darling, about the event tonight.’

‘Black tie as usual,’ Elaine answered, presuming the reasoning behind the call.

‘Actually I can’t make it.’ Charles braced himself for his wife’s response.

‘Charles, why ever not? I have promised the organisers that you will be there!’

‘I’m so sorry, darling, but something has come up.’

‘Something? What sort of something?’

‘You know that I can’t discuss those sorts of things with you.’ Charles didn’t enjoy hiding behind his job, but he had done it so many times before that the charade came naturally to him.

‘Right, well, fine. I will have to go though, to represent us,’ Elaine sighed into the receiver.

‘Thank you for understanding.’

‘Yes, well, being married to one of the most powerful men in the country can have its downsides you know, like having to deal with disappointments.’

‘As always, you conduct yourself with grace and poise my darling. I know that you will be an asset to the Lloyd dynasty tonight when you attend.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Elaine was smiling now as she spoke, Charles could tell. ‘I’d picked out the most wonderful Vera Wang dress to wear.’

‘I’m sorry but I must go, duty calls.’ As the conversation veered towards fashion Charles knew it was time to bail out.

‘Have fun tonight.’ He hung up, three last words sticking in his throat, refusing to be released. It had been years since he had signed off a phone call to his wife with the words, ‘I love you’.

Charles thought of the day which lay ahead of him, of the meetings he must attend, the smile he must fake for so many hours before he would be alone again. Until then, he had to push Lorna out of his mind but he knew that would be impossible. For months she had tormented his thoughts, lingered in all his dreams. He knew that even her death would not cease her from haunting him.

He read the tiny excerpt once more. Suicide. The word jumped out from the page, wretched and cruel. Charles failed to understand why a young woman so vivacious and brimming with youth and an insatiable lust for life could suddenly decide that she wanted to die. What could drive her to do something so drastic? Guilt suddenly pinched at the base of Charles’ neck. His own actions could have been responsible for this. He looked down at his hands and wondered if they were potentially drenched in her young blood?

A brisk knock upon his office door disturbed Charles’ thoughts. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the image of Lorna which had settled within his minds’ eye, and cleared his throat.

‘Come in.’

Faye entered his office. She always appeared alert and eager, like a kitten, constantly glancing around for something to do, seeking out any task or errand which needed her attention. But when she saw her boss her features saddened.

‘You saw the paper then,’ she said, bowing her head slightly in respect for the deceased.

‘Yes, thank you for bringing that to my attention.’ Charles tried to appear composed but inside he was starting to fall apart.

Faye Smith had worked for Charles Lloyd since he had first begun his political campaign. She had helped him progress to his current position and felt that she knew him well. She saw now that he was in pain, which was what she had expected would happen.

‘I’ve arranged for flowers to be sent to the family.’ she told him gently.

‘Thank you.’

Charles suddenly wished that he was a nobody. That way he could attend Lorna’s funeral and no one would care, his attendance would go unnoticed. But being somebody meant that if he went there, he would cause a sensation, and detract from the tragic girl within the coffin which would not be his intention at all.

‘Would you like another coffee?’ Faye asked. Charles merely shook his head, his eyes downcast, lost in thought.

Faye hesitated for a moment. She knew what she wanted to say, what Charles needed to hear, she was just unsure if in saying it she crossed a line which she should never stray over as his employee. But she saw his pain, and knew she had to ease it any way she could. Charles Lloyd was a good, kind man, which she knew from first-hand experience. She would not have him feeling any other way.

‘It’s not your fault, you know.’

Charles looked up at his assistant, grateful for her words even if he did not believe them himself.

‘The Ambassador has already arrived. Would you like me to stall the meeting?’ The moment between them had passed and Faye had resumed her role as assistant, effortlessly breaking away from counsellor and confidante.

‘No, no, I’ll be fine,’ Charles said, knowing that, outwardly at least, he would be presentable for his meeting.

‘Alright then.’ Faye removed herself from the office, wondering if she had made the right decision in placing the newspaper on his desk. Perhaps she could have softened the blow for him, but then she had no idea of protocol in these sorts of situations.

Charles closed the copy of The Shadow, sealing away the news of Lorna’s death. It pained him to see how little the media cared, the pittance of a piece she had been given. If they knew the truth, her suicide would have been sensationalized, so perhaps it was best that to them she was still a nobody. Now, only he and Faye knew the truth; that for six months, Lorna Thomas had been having an affair with the Deputy Prime Minister of England.

Chapter Two

An affair to remember

The day flew by in a blur of insincere handshakes with intermissions of coffee. Charles felt like a zombie as he attended his morning meetings, going through the motions but feeling detached from the events which were unfolding before him. He was grateful when he bid the American delegates goodbye and could retreat back to the comforting solitude of his office.

As promised, Faye had cancelled all his meetings that afternoon, leaving him with time, which Charles had discovered to be the most precious commodity. He wanted to sit in his antiquated bat cave and think of Lorna, but he didn’t dare to. To remember her there would make the pain too fresh, too raw. He would wait until he was home alone, choosing to spend the remainder of the day trawling through the mountain of emails which had built up for him since that morning.

Charles sat and hammered away at his keyboard, hoping that keeping up with his correspondence would help dull the throb of despair which was pulsating at the back of his mind. But with each word he typed he sank further into a mire of misery. He wanted to go home but he knew he could not face Elaine. He had no choice but to wait until a later hour when she would be at the gala event. It was either that or book into a hotel but he felt like he needed to be in familiar surroundings. A foreign place, especially a hotel room, would only pour salt onto an already gaping open wound.

As the sun began to set, Charles decided to take his leave. Faye had kept a respectful distance since that morning.

‘See you tomorrow, sir,’ she nodded at him as he passed by her desk, his Bentley waiting patiently outside for him.

‘Hope you sleep well,’ Faye added as an earnest afterthought, aware of her employer’s ongoing battle with insomnia.

‘Thank you,’ Charles smiled, knowing that if sleep had evaded him before, that now with this extra woe, it would surely forever be beyond his grasp. He felt tired just thinking about it all.

In the back seat of the Bentley, Charles could feel his emotions scrambling to the surface, excited by the prospect of at last being released.

‘Did my wife get to the benefit alright?’ Charles leant forward and asked Henry, wanting to ensure that his house was going to be empty when he arrived home.

‘Yes, sir, she did.’ Henry answered politely.

‘Good.’ Charles felt relieved. Alone, he could grieve.

Dusk had set in when Charles Lloyd arrived back in suburbia. He left his car and walked up to his front door, his free hand proffering the household key. He waited until the door was firmly shut behind him before leaning against it and sliding to the ground, his arms locked around himself in a solo embrace. Now was when he wanted the tears to come, the tears which he had fought against all day long, but there was nothing. He wailed out in the emptiness; a cry of anguish and pain. The house was silent in reply and he wailed again, louder this time.

‘She can’t be dead,’ he whispered to himself. ‘She just can’t be.’

Charles remained on the floor by his front door for what felt like hours before eventually hauling himself to his feet and walking in to his now darkened home. He put the lights on sparingly, preferring an atmosphere of gloom than one of radiant light. He wandered upstairs and removed his suit – the uniform he was forced to wear – and put on something more comfortable; some jeans and a pullover sweatshirt. It felt liberating to be wearing something so casual.

‘Lorna.’ He muttered the dead girl’s name, his lips forming the familiar letters with tenderness.

He leaned back, closing his eyes and allowed himself to think of Lorna. Not of her gone, but of when they first collided into one another’s lives. He forced the memory to the surface, welcoming the pain it would undoubtedly bring, because he wanted to remember her; he wanted to relive the excitement of when he first saw her. In his mind he could keep her with him, their love never ending.

Lorna Thomas had recently graduated from Cardiff University with a first-class honours degree in political history. She was a fiercely intelligent girl, her impressive mind matched only by her unwavering ambition. On leaving higher education, she quickly acquired a placement as an intern within Downing Street. For a girl who one day dreamed of being the second female Prime Minister, it was an ideal job.

Charles Lloyd had just completed his first year in the role of Deputy Prime Minister. He felt that he was beginning to find his feet and establish his authority over the Cabinet and the rest of the country. He’d implemented some major changes which, whilst met with a lukewarm reception initially, were now revealing positive outcomes. His political career had reached the biggest peak he had ever known.

Traditionally, interns within Downing Street would be assigned a junior member of staff to shadow for their time there, the goal being to learn as much from them about the role as possible and then to take their newly acquired talents on with them. Charles was a firm believer in the intern system as he felt that it gave an invaluable opportunity to those who were young and eager to learn. He wanted to play a part in helping to shape the minds of future leaders. The positions were highly sought after, with applicants having to go through numerous rounds of testing and interviews before the elite few were chosen to take up the internships for the next cycle.

Lorna Thomas was delighted when she was offered an internship, especially as it was to shadow Faye Smith, the Deputy Prime Minister’s personal assistant. Faye was not quite so thrilled by the prospect, feeling that an intern would merely be a hindrance to her work. She carefully broached the subject with Charles the morning before Lorna was due to commence her internship. Handing the Deputy Prime Minister his coffee, Faye cleared her throat and nervously made her feelings known.

‘As you know, I will have an intern working with me for the next six months.’

‘Yes,’ Charles said his attention now on his morning papers.

‘And as I work in such a … sensitive position, I just wondered if it would be appropriate? Perhaps they should be placed elsewhere?’ Faye held her breath when she finished speaking, awaiting her employer’s response.

Charles looked up from the paper and smiled at his assistant.

‘Do you know why I chose you to have an intern this year?’

‘No, I do not.’

‘Because you are the most diligent and noble member of all my staff. And those are qualities which I want others to learn. You should be honoured by the opportunity to pass on your knowledge to someone else, Faye, not annoyed.’

‘Yes, I suppose so, sir.’

‘And if they get under your feet too much, just say and I’ll have them reassigned. Deal?’

‘Deal, yes – thank you.’

Lorna was three weeks into her placement when Charles first noticed her. It shamed him to admit it, but he paid little mind to the interns who floated in and out of the building on rotation. He wasn’t even involved in the interview process. To him, they were just nameless young faces who would soon move on somewhere else; occasionally they retained a job there but it was unlikely. During his first few months, he endeavoured to seek out new interns and employees and greet them personally, but he soon found that his incredibly tight schedule did not permit him to do this. He had to choose which new additions to his workforce he should introduce himself to, and interns were just not important enough. Moreover, he was barely around. Charles would rush into his office in a mist of phone calls and papers, lock himself in as he dealt with a variety of issues and then leave amidst just as much chaos. The interns surveyed his goings on from afar in quiet awe.

On one ordinarily busy morning, Charles came bustling towards his office, holding out an expectant hand for Faye to drop his messages into, when he noticed the unfamiliar blonde hair shining from behind his assistant’s desk. He stopped abruptly in his tracks and took in this new face.

He instantly found Lorna beautiful but quickly dismissed those thoughts, knowing that he was old enough to be her father. He felt momentarily foolish to have even noticed her striking physique.

‘Is Faye not in?’ he asked quickly.

‘No, I’m afraid she’s off sick,’ Lorna answered, her voice soft and sweet, like birdsong.

‘Oh right, oh dear. So, you are standing in for her today?’

‘Yes sir, I’m an intern here. I’m Lorna Thomas,’ Lorna said eagerly, extending her delicate hand towards him by way of introduction. Bemused, Charles went to shake her hand, which was so small and white, like that of a china doll. He was afraid that his large, manly hands might break her. Her skin was soft and cool within his palm.

‘Nice to meet you, Lorna,’ he said sincerely.

‘You too.’ She looked up at him and her smile was so pure, yet tainted with nerves. Charles realised that he had held her hand a second too long. He hurriedly released it before instructing the pretty young intern to bring in his messages in a moment. It was only when he was in his office that he realised that he normally asked Faye to just leave them on his desk; he rarely invited her in. He groaned at his clumsy handling of an encounter with a beautiful woman. It was like being an awkward teenager all over again. Despite the extra years and the successful job, Charles was still as uncomfortable around certain women as his sixteen-year-old self.

Not that Charles had much experience with the fairer sex. He had met Elaine at college and she was his first and only girlfriend. She was from a good family; ‘well-bred’ his grandfather had said, as though he were referring to a race horse. The courtship was encouraged and Charles’ family dictated his behaviour, right down to when he should propose and where he should marry.

‘Here are your messages.’ Lorna came in with a handle of post-it notes, each neatly detailing the time of the call and the contents of the conversation which had transpired. She kept her gaze to the floor when she came in, visibly nervous. She wore a knee length grey skirt and a green cardigan; the outfit was fitted enough to hint at her modest curves concealed beneath. Charles watched her, mesmerised by her movements. Her every step was elegant as she crossed his office floor with the poise of a ballet dancer.

Lorna hesitated at Charles’ desk, unsure how to proceed, before dumping the notes down and hurriedly retracing her steps.

‘Lorna,’ Charles called out to her in spite of himself. He wanted her to look at him; he wanted to see her face.

‘Yes?’ She turned and their eyes locked, and for a split second Charles felt his heart cease to beat. Lorna’s eyes were dark and absorbing, like pools of melted onyx. The world seemed to stop turning, everything pausing for this moment.

‘Thank you.’ Charles forced the words out, aware that he was staring at the poor girl who now probably believed him to be a pervert. But, as she placed her hand on the door to leave, Lorna turned to look at him, blushing. There was nothing sexual or flirtatious in her gaze, it was more tender than that. She smiled, knocking back a strand of blonde hair which had fallen loose, before leaving the office.

Charles felt inexplicably drawn to the young intern. But at the same time he knew he was being naïve. Lorna was merely being polite, she did not look at him with the same desire as he did her. And he was a married man; he was not supposed to want other women. But then, he had never wanted the woman he had, not really. Their sex life was stoic and predictable; there was no fire, no passion. Elaine had never made his heart almost stop beating.

On the journey home, Charles found himself replaying his encounter with Lorna over and over in his mind. He tormented himself, trying to force meaning out of her smile. He tried to convince himself that it was nothing; that she was just being pleasant. But that night, as his head hit the pillow, she was all he could think of.

Charles sat in his lounge and continued to recall, with a bittersweet pleasure, his first encounters with Lorna. After their initial introductions in his office, they had danced furtively around their mutual attraction for one another, cautiously exchanging lingering glances. Still, Charles berated himself for being foolish, but took a childish joy from entering into the game of flirtation. Each time she caught his eye he felt his heart race; he had never felt so alive.

Lorna’s mere presence was distracting. Instead of focusing on the financial economy for the impending year, Charles would be wondering where she was, or recollecting how enticing she had looked that morning in whatever ensemble she had thrown together. He should have been paying more attention to matters at hand and worrying about igniting the flames of idle gossip with his behaviour, but Charles was too caught up in the heady ecstasy of a crush. Lorna dominated his thoughts.

In the evenings, Charles would sit and ponder over his interactions with Lorna that day, trawling over the finest detail to try and surmise if she too wanted him as much as he wanted her. When they exchanged morning pleasantries he would analyse her tonality to the point where he was driving himself to distraction. Even Elaine commented on his unusual behaviour one night over dinner.

‘Charles, dear, you’ve seemed most distracted this past week. Are things a little intense with work?’

Charles glanced up from his roast lamb dinner and seized the opportunity of deception, knowing that his role as Deputy Prime Minister was the perfect veil to hide potential indiscretions behind.

‘Yes, work is extremely busy lately. I’m going to be staying late indefinitely.’

‘Oh, I see.’

Charles felt a pang of guilt when Elaine appeared genuinely dismayed.

Another week of coy glances and shy smiles began. Charles found himself wishing the day away, just for those precious moments when he would walk past Lorna, sat diligently working at Faye’s desk. Faye herself seemed oblivious to the flirtation and appeared to be warming towards the young intern whose presence she had originally protested.

It was an evening in early spring when the situation intensified. Charles was working late, finishing off a manifesto he was due to present the following day. Sat now in his lounge, Charles could still smell the faint aroma of warm rain, carried in from the open window in his office. It was a characteristically wet April, and there had been a sudden downpour hammering against his window, yet the wet weather was accompanied by unseasonal heat. London had felt more like a rainforest than a city.

A gentle knock rapped against his office door, disturbing him from his work.

‘Come in,’ Charles instructed.

The door creaked open and Lorna appeared, soaked to the bone. Her golden hair lay wet and matted to her head, her neat outfit, so carefully put together, now dripped onto the carpet of the Deputy Prime Minister’s office. The young woman put on a brave face and lifted her frame into a more dignified stance.

‘I got caught in the rain,’ she said. ‘I was sent to deliver some urgent mail and didn’t predict the sudden downpour. Foolish really, to have left without an umbrella. I do have one, but I left it behind at my desk …’ Lorna was rambling. Charles realised that she was nervous. He chose to believe that this was evidence for her feeling the same way about him as he did about her. He rose to his feet, not quite knowing what he was doing.

‘Anyway, I came to tell you that I am working late tonight. Faye had a family party to attend so I offered to work here until you were finished.’ Lorna looked up at him when she finished speaking and gone was the timid young girl who fluttered her eyelashes at him each morning; she had been replaced by a woman whose eyes now burnt with need and desire.

‘Close the door,’ Charles told her, still unsure what he was doing, instead running purely on instinct rather than logic. Lorna obliged as Charles crossed the short threshold of his office and came and stood beside her. He cupped her damp face in one hand, and with the other produced a key from his pocket and locked his office door. His heart was racing and his blood sped through his veins with such intensity that he felt as though his skin were covered in flames. He wanted this fire within him to consume Lorna; for them both to be devoured by his heat and leave only ashes behind.

Charles gazed at Lorna; he had never been so close to her before. She smelt of fresh rain, but beneath that he could smell roses. He wanted to say something to her, something wonderfully romantic and poetic to capture the moment, but he knew that he did not possess the words. Instead, he let his actions communicate his feelings.

Leaning forward, Charles pressed his lips against Lorna’s and kissed her. She melted into the passionate embrace and as they stood, kissing, time seemed to melt into obscurity. Lorna pulled herself away from him for long enough to release the noose around his neck and to unbutton the suit he’d had tailor made. Her wet clothes were soon scattered around the floor of the office. Charles carried her over to his desk and there made love to her for the first time. It was the most exciting moment of his life. He was no longer Charles Lloyd, married Deputy Prime Minister of England, he was just a man, and Lorna was just a woman. Having sex with her felt so natural and so right that he could not believe for even a second that what he was doing was wrong.

And so the affair began. Charles tried to be as discreet as possible, leaving hotel bookings to Lorna so as not to rouse suspicion in Faye, always under the provision of working late. They would arrive at the hotel at different times and leave separately. But there, within the luxury of whatever room was the setting of their current love nest, they could be together and shut the rest of the world out.

At first it was the sex which blew Charles away. Lorna knew things, did things, which he had never encountered. She was vastly experienced for her age, and this dismayed him somewhat when he realised that he was falling for her. The thought of her being with another man began to make him feel wretched, which he knew made him a hypocrite as he himself was married to another woman.

It was the moments after the fire and the passion, when Lorna would lie in his arms and they would talk, that the affair began to take on a deeper meaning. She shared his love of classic Hollywood movies, and so together they would watch Casablanca and Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Lorna would fall asleep in his arms; his own angel. During the first flushes of romance, Charles thought of nothing but Lorna. He would arrange for bouquets of roses to be delivered to her London flat, anonymously of course. He had never done anything like that before. He was in love and the sensation took him by surprise.

The couple tried to limit anything occurring at Downing Street again for fear of being caught. Hotels were their favourite location for romance but Charles found it increasingly difficult to be near Lorna in a professional sense and not be able to have her. He stole countless kisses behind closed doors, always feeling like it wasn’t enough. Charles Lloyd began to live in the present, something he had never been able to do. He was used to always planning ahead, always looking to his future. But with Lorna, the future was so uncertain; he had to exist in the here and now with her.

‘Eggs Benedict,’ Charles said the words aloud to his empty living room. It was Lorna’s favourite breakfast and she would order it each and every morning after they had spent the night together. She had tried it for the first time when they stayed at The Ritz and instantly loved it and would eat nothing else. Charles loved to watch her delight over the meal, savouring each bite. Lorna had a genuine love for life, from the food she ate to the movies she watched and the music she listened to. She was so passionate about everything and it was contagious. Charles was the happiest he had ever been, simply from having her in his life. But the reality of his situation was beginning to encroach upon their fantasy. One rare morning when he was at home, his wife got up and served him eggs Benedict, which promptly made Charles retch. The horror of who he was, of what he had become, was too much to bear. But Lorna was like a drug which he just could not get enough of. Away from her, he pined and longed for her; with her in his arms, he felt complete, content. He felt like he was home.

It was Faye who noticed. How could she not, with the affair being conducted right beneath her nose? She had remained silent for the best part of six months, turning the other cheek when Charles would request that Lorna work late for the fifth time that week. But as the months passed, she grew increasingly worried that her boss’ extra-curricular activities would cost him dearly if they were exposed, and that ultimately she too would be scalded when news of the affair boiled over. Her own reputation would become tarnished for having stood so close to a scandal. Faye couldn’t afford for that to happen; she had worked too hard for a rampant young intern to ruin things for her.

‘Your coffee.’ Faye placed the black coffee with a side of daily newspapers down and Charles looked up at her, surprised. Faye never entered his office uninvited, even to perform her usual duties.

‘I presume that Lorna will be working late for you this evening.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Charles answered, frowning in bemusement at the statement.