He gave me a doubtful look but did manage to choke it back at a faster rate.
“Why choose politics anyway? I mean, if attention stresses you out. Isn’t there something less . . . high profile you could do?”
Barclay stopped chewing and settled back into the beanbag. He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. It seemed as if battling his migraine had lowered his defences, and I had a feeling that Barclay with his guard down was a rare sight.
“It was just a natural progression really. I studied Politics at Bristol, Law at Cambridge, moved to a firm in London and, well . . . I fell into it. Right so, listen–”
“You did notfall into it,you lying toad,” I cut him off. “C’mon, the least you can do is give me an honest answer.” He sighed again and rubbed the back of his neck before shifting uncomfortably on the beanbag.
“They were fucking it up, okay?” he said in a rush. I blinked.
“Who was?”
“All of them. All the governments, from whichever side. They always buggered it up. I couldn’t just stand by and watch anymore. I . . .” He looked at me then, those blue eyes with all their intensity focused on mine and my breath caught in my throat. Then he grinned, and I felt the impact of just how handsome he was slam into my chest. “I may be atiniestbit of a control freak,” he said through his grin. I smiled back at him.
“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.”
He chuckled. “Anyway, I thought I could do a better job. Make people’s lives better whilst maybe helping to stop us destroying the planet . . . you know, all that sort of sanctimonious bullshit.” Two slashes of colour had appeared high on his cheekbones now. He was embarrassed that his real reason for going into politics was to make the world a better place – such a bloody Tory.
“It’s not sanctimonious bullshit and you know it,” I said, leaning forward on my beanbag. “I admire you for what you’ve done, what you’re trying to do.”
He shifted uncomfortably again and his colour deepened before he cleared his throat.
“Thanks,” he mumbled into his Coke. And even though he wasn’t looking at me, even though it was said in such a low voice I could barely make it out, I could hear the sincerity in his tone. It meant something to him that he had my approval.
“Listen,” he said after a long moment. “We’re getting off track here. I came to apologise and, well . . .” He took a sip of his Coke and his left eye twitched. “I need to ask a favour.”
“Okay,” I replied slowly.
“I . . .” He’d finished his bap now and was balling up the bag in his hand. I’d never seen him anything less than supremely confident. It was a little bizarre. He let out a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “You may have noticed that the press have taken an interest in you after that little stunt you pulled at the house.”
“Hey!” I objected. “How was I supposed to know you’d be Mr Centre of the Universe that day? All I did was step out of the front door.” I winked and gave him a cheeky grin.
Another deep breath. Another clench of his jaw. He was clearly holding onto his cool façade by a thread.
“Yes, well, whilst you were juststepping out the front door, obviously with your head down and as fast as possible to avoid attention.”
“Obviously.”
He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, as if seeking patience. When he looked back at me, his eye twitch was back with a vengeance. “Despite howdiscreetyou were, they are still taking an interest in you. They want to know why you were at my house. Henry hasn’t . . . I mean he won’t even tell his old friends about his diagnosis. If the press knew you were at the house to see him, as his doctor . . .’
“I wasn’t there as his doctor. I was there as his friend.”
“Okay, okay, but so far the press only know you’re a doctor. They just haven’t worked out whattypeof doctor you are.”
“Asexdoctor,” I breathed, fluttering my eyelashes and grinning again, triggering yet another sigh and another contemplation of the chipped plasterwork on my ceiling.
“When they do, I don’t want them connecting the dots. If Henry were exposed in the media like that, I’m not sure how he’d get through it.” There was the worry back in Barclay’s eyes for his brother. I wondered how much of that worry was contributing to the headaches as well.
“Medical records are confidential,” I said. “There’s no way anyone is finding out unless Henry wants them to.”
“I’m not taking the risk.” His mouth pulled into a thin line.
“So you want me to disappear? Swim with the fishes? Wait! Can you, like, erase a person or something with super-secret government ways? I knew it! Iknewyou guys could do that sort of crap. I’m halfway impressed and halfway proper shitting myself.”
“Give me strength,” he said under his breath as he scraped his hands down his face. “No. We do noterasepeople. You’ve been watching too many episodes ofSpooks. All I want is for us to give the pressanotherreason for you leaving in the morning. One that doesn’t involve Henry. At all.” He cleared his throat and shifted on his beanbag. To my surprise, once again the tan complexion of his face pinked up a little. “My press team came up with it. They actually think that you might be good for my approval ratings. Apparently, the public view me as too controlled. Nothumanenough.”
“Like a robot with a stick up its arse?” I asked with a grin. His lips flattened.
