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The one o'clock news offered a clear contrast between Urquhart, in a dignified and elder party statesman role declining to run, and the youthful and apparently eager Samuel, holding an impromptu press conference on the street and launching himself as the first official candidate, nearly a month before the first ballot was to be held.
As Urquhart watched the proceedings with considerable satisfaction, the telephone rang. A gruff voice which he recognised instantly as Landless said simply, 'Moses parted the Red Sea. We shall see whether Michael can catch the tide.'
They both laughed before the voice rang off.
SATURDAY 30th OCTOBER
The following Saturday, Mattie had a clear day. She climbed into her BMW, filled it with petrol, and pointed it in the direction of Dover. Having barged her way through the shopping crowds of Greenwich, she emerged with great relief onto the A2, the old Roman road which for nearly two thousand years had pointed the way from London into the heart of Kent. It took her past the cathedral town of Canterbury, and a few miles beyond she turned off at the picturesque little village of Barham. Her road map was not very helpful in finding the even smaller village of Norbington nearby, but with the help of several locals she found herself some while later outside a large Victorian house, bearing a. subdued sign in the shrubbery which announced, 'Fellowship Treatment Centre'.
There were several cars in the driveway and the front door was open. She was surprised to see people wandering around with apparent freedom, and no sign of the formidable white-coated nurses she had expected to find patrolling the grounds for potential escapees. She parked her car on the road and walked cautiously up the drive towards the door.
A large, tweed-suited gentleman with a white military moustache approached and her heart sank. This was surely the security patrol, and she had clearly been spotted as an intruder.
'Excuse me, my dear,' he said in a clipped accent as he intercepted her by the front door. 'Have you seen any member of staff about? They like to keep out of the way on family visiting days, but you can never find one when you want them.'
Mattie offered her apologies and smiled warmly in relief. She realised that by good fortune she had struck the best possible day to look around, and could lose herself amidst the other visitors.
She picked up one of the brochures which were piled on the hall table, and found a quiet chair on which to sit while she inspected it. A brief glance at the literature told her that the treatment centre was run on very different lines than she had imagined. No straitjackets, no locks on the doors, just twenty-three well-trained people waiting to give guidance, encouragement and their medical experience to addicts who sought help in an atmosphere resembling more a fashionable country retreat than an institution. Even more encouragingly for Mattie, the brochure had a plan of the thirty-two-bed house, which Mattie used to guide herself around the premises in search of her quarry.
She found him outside on a garden bench, enjoying the view across the valley and the last of the October sun. She wasn't going to enjoy the deception, but that is what she had come for.
'Why, Charles!' she exclaimed. 'What a surprise to find you here.'
He looked at her with a total lack of comprehension.
'I... I'm sorry,' he ventured. 'I don't recognise...'
'Mattie Storin. Don't you remember? We spent a most enjoyable evening together in Bournemouth a couple of weeks ago.'
'Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Storin. I don't remember. You see, I'm an alcoholic, that's why I'm here, and I'm afraid I was in no condition a few weeks ago to remember very much at all.'
She was taken aback by his frankness, and he smiled serenely.
'Please don't be embarrassed. The biggest single step I've had to make in curing myself of addiction is to admit that I am an addict. I had a million ways of hiding it, particularly from myself, and it was only when I was able to face myself that I began being able to face the outside world again. That's what this treatment centre is all about.'
Mattie suddenly blushed deeply. She realised that she had intruded into the private world of a sick man, and she felt ashamed.
'Charles, if you don't remember who I am, then you will not remember that I am a journalist.'
The smile disappeared, to be replaced by a look of resignation.
'I suppose it had to happen at some time, although Henry was hoping that I could be left alone here quietly...'
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