She thrust a folder into his hands. ‘We’ve prepared a little road trip for you. We want you to make some strategic visits to key constituencies. Sit with the MPs at their surgeries, let them be seen with you. Take your girlfriend along. It’s good they see you as part of a modern couple. People warm to that sort of thing.’ She gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had a bit of a baptism of fire with us, and the different messaging that’s been going to and fro. But the PM’s hoping that the fruits of his summit with the President will send the right message to the country about the economy – which, after all, is what people really care about, isn’t it?’

Sam tried to think of something to say that made him sound as if he was paying attention. ‘No question that job insecurity and unemployment are an accelerant to civic strife.’

She clapped. ‘That’s the spirit. You really do have a talent for these one-liners. You’re going to go far, you know.’

He smiled at this. ‘Thanks, I intend to.’

He looked at the folder. Various letters of invitation and tickets to party events were paper-clipped together: Brighton, Bristol, Birmingham, Crewe, Sheffield, York – an itinerary covering half the country.

‘And, as promised, tickets for the summit events over the next few days. Don’t miss any of them. The PM thinks you’re just his sort of guy.’ She studied him, almost with a frown. ‘May I say, Sahim, you look much happier?’

He smiled serenely. ‘You’re right. I am. Much happier.’

Chapter 84

84

Victoria

When he got back to the flat, Nasima was in the bathroom.

He went into the large bedroom, where they had spent such a wonderful night. Her small case was open on the floor as before. And on the bedside table was the locket she always wore round her neck.

He sat down and glanced into the case. There were a few clothes, a spare pair of shoes, a small bag of makeup. He didn’t want to intrude, let alone snoop, but there was so much he didn’t know.

Last night he had tried quizzing her again. And again she had told him that her family story was not a particularly happy one, and that she didn’t want to spoil the mood by going over it. ‘I try to keep facing forward, living in the moment.’

That, he had agreed, was well worth doing, especially when the moment was as good as this.

He glanced again at the locket on the table. Surely looking at that wouldn’t be wrong. He picked it up, his pulse racing. He opened the clasp. Inside was a tiny oval photograph: a picture of a man in his sixties with a full beard.