.

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