Free Holly Lester by Andrew Rosenheim Page B

Alan doesn’t know me.’
    Holly shook her head. ‘Sooner or later Alan knows
everybody
, especially everybody who’s part of New Labour. You may be a soppy Tory, but you’re involved through me. Alan will meet you, mark my words. In fact,’ she said, looking at her watch, an elegant Cartier-style model with a thin black strap, ‘if you hang around much longer you will.’
    He started, and retrieved his boxer shorts from the chair. Holly laughed. ‘Calm down. I have to go anyway. I doubt you want to hang about and meet Mr Trachtenberg without me. The press call him our Rasputin.’
    â€˜Is he?’ Billings was already putting on his shirt, for he had no desire to meet Trachtenberg in a state of undress.
    â€˜Hardly. He’s tall, for one thing. And he doesn’t service me.’ She giggled again. ‘You do.’ She said more seriously, ‘He takes very good care of us. And he cares about the Party. Really cares. When we win, it will be as much because of him as anyone else. Except Harry,’ she added hastily.
    â€˜
When
you win? You’re that confident?’
    She nodded quickly, knowingly. ‘I’m certain, though I’d never say so publicly. After last time, it would never do to sound complacent.’
    â€˜Does Harry feel that way?’ asked Billings, suddenly excited by the fact that he was able to ask questions every reporter in the country would kill to get the chance to ask. Not true, he realized; it was the
answers
, given so transparently honestly in this borrowed love nest, that they would kill for.
    â€˜He’s fairly confident. But he never says so – he’s very careful, our Harry.’
    Billings couldn’t tell if this was affectionate or ironically knowing, or both. ‘And Rasputin?’
    â€˜He’s terrified we’ll somehow lose. Which makes him absolutely determined that we don’t. He won’t let anyone get in the way of our winning. Anyone.’
    There was a gleam in her eye which Billings found chilling. He had enough self-knowledge to know that he was not a hard man, and enough years in New York under his belt, where ruthlessness was king, to know he didn’t want to be one.
    â€˜Blast,’ said Holly, standing up to pull her black tights over her lower belly. ‘I’ll be late for the charity dinner.’
    â€˜Who’s it in aid of?’ he asked, thinking of Sudanese victims and Croatian refugees.
    â€˜It’s to raise money to send kids from the East End out to the countryside. Poor kids.’
    â€˜Poor countryside, if you ask me. How long do they go for?’
    â€˜Two weeks. We wanted to send them to Wales, but no one would have them. So they stay outside Newbury, near Richard Davis.’
    â€˜The novelist.’
    â€˜That’s right. He has a pool at the rectory. Why are you smiling like that?’
    He could think of more deserving causes for a charity dinner with the Opposition Leader’s wife in attendance, but thought it politic not to say so. ‘I’ll walk out with you.’
    To Billings’s relief, they met no one as they left; his introduction to Trachtenberg would have to wait. As Holly went round to open the Audi, Billings asked, ‘when will I see you again?’, trying to keep his tone casual and relaxed.
    â€˜Why tomorrow, of course. Same time, same place. I thought I’d told you.’
    â€˜Told me what?’
    â€˜I’ve carved out a slot in my schedule. Every night from half past five until seven. They think I’m working out with a personal trainer. I park the car, go into the gym, wait five minutes, then come out again. By then Terry the Runt’s in the pub on the corner.’ She laughed, and flashed an enormous smile at Billings over the top of the Audi. ‘I suppose in a way you
are
my personal trainer. So don’t let me get fat, or the game will be up. See you tomorrow.’

Chapter