Echoes of Love (14 page)

‘A
NNA?
I
N HERE!
N
OW!
’

Anna had been about to leave for school the following Monday morning when her father flung open his study door and called to her.

‘You’re in the paper!’ he cried, thrusting it under her nose. ‘Not that it’s a particularly flattering picture.’

Anna dropped her bag on to the floor and seized the paper. Her father had folded it back to the In The Know diary section where a picture of Cassandra, arms waving, and Felix looking moody and
scowling, took the centre of the page. And at the edge of the picture was Anna, a nervous expression on her face, her tongue protruding slightly the way it always did when she was anxious.

UNDER FIRE – PROSPECTIVE MP HURLS A BROADSIDE AT THE MARINES

Anna’s eyes scanned the page.

Cassandra Wentworth, who is standing as an Independent in the forthcoming Muckleborough and Bythorn by-election, has never made a secret of her pacifist viewpoint. A regular at the Greenham
Common Women’s Peace Camp in the early eighties and one of the motivating forces behind countless protests about research laboratories across the country, she has more recently been at the
forefront of many peace campaigns. Clearly the decision by her son, Felix, to join the Royal Marines does not sit well with her. At an Open Day for families of new recruits, held at the Commando
Training Centre in Lympstone on Saturday, she was extremely vocal about her views on the military . . .

‘You didn’t mention any of this,’ her father challenged her. ‘I mean, this is powerful stuff.’

Anna frowned as she read the next paragraph.

I asked her how she felt when her nineteen-year-old son announced his intention of joining the Marines.

‘Felix is his own man,’ she said. ‘He may not share my moral values, and I’m certainly not comfortable seeing all this show of force, but I’m his mum first and
foremost. It pains me to see what he is doing, but all I can hope is that he will see sense and realise that he could spend his time so much more profitably.’

‘It’s this bit that matters,’ her father said, prodding a paragraph that he had already marked with a yellow highlighter pen.

Ms Wentworth, who is standing as an Independent in protest at what she calls ‘the inefficacy of party politics’, went on to say that his girlfriend, Anna Eliot (pictured above
left with Ms Wentworth and son Felix), the daughter of the well-known television personality and host of
Walt on Wednesday
and
Walt at the Weekend,
shared her views and was equally
distressed by her son’s decision and wished he had chosen a different career path.

‘I didn’t say that,’ Anna muttured.

‘Wonderful plug for the show there,’ Walter enthused, ignoring her completely. ‘And for me, of course.’ He pointed at the small inset head and shoulders picture of
himself to the left of the text.

‘We must get her on the show as soon as possible. Could make for great viewing.’ He smiled at Anna. ‘Much as I don’t approve of you hanging out with this Felix guy, at
least something good has come out of it, and it’s not as if it’ll go anywhere.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Anna, be sensible. Working-class black guy and a mother who is clearly totally off the wall . . . No common ground between you at all. And as for the mother . . .’

‘Actually, she’s rather nice. And I feel quite sorry for her.’

‘Why?’

‘She’s having a tough time, what with her husband in a home and . . .’

‘A home? Go on.’

By the time she had filled her father in on the details, she was relieved to see his attitude had changed from one of eager anticipation of controversy to a concerned and compassionate desire to
allow Cassandra air time to push for changes to government policy. Within minutes, he was on the phone deep in conversation with his producer.

‘Now that,’ she heard him say as she collected her things and headed for the door, ‘is something worth pursuing. Alzheimer’s . . . yes, exactly! Get the researchers on to
it!’

Good,
she thought.
He’ll be gentle on her, Felix will see that she really is concerned about his dad and raising Alzheimer’s awareness, and Dad’ll realise that Felix
isn’t as bad as he thinks
.

It was to be only a few days before she realised that where her father was concerned, it was foolish to make such assumptions.

‘Oh no,’ Anna groaned. ‘Who else knows?’

‘Knows what?’ Shannon frowned. ‘That Saturday was the big lurve-in? Mia, Lauren, and anyone else within earshot of you all last week!’

‘So you didn’t see the paper?’

Shannon frowned. ‘What paper?’

‘Never mind,’ Anna said hastily, as out of the corner of her eye she spotted Mia and Lauren heading her way.

‘So how was it with the love of your life?’ Lauren asked. ‘Did you have a big romantic farewell?’

‘Don’t get her started,’ Mia chipped in. ‘We’ve got more important things to sort right now – like the music for the band.’

Anna felt a surge of relief. If anything could take her mind off Felix, it was music. Wild Chicks had been her brainwave during her first term at Fleckford College, and it had cemented the new
friendship between her, Shannon, Mia who played drums, and Lauren – the best double bass player Anna had ever heard. They were doing well; Mr Longhurst, the head of music, had encouraged them
to enter the Fleckford Music Festival, and when they won second place in their class playing Anna and Shannon’s new composition, ‘Rattlesnake Stomp’, he had told them that he was
throwing a party for his parents’ Golden Wedding in June and, if by then they were up to scratch, they could play in the hallway of his house as a surprise to greet his mum and dad on their
arrival.

‘My father’s a jazz fanatic,’ he had told them. ‘Chicago style, Bebop, fusion – you name it, he goes wild for it.’

The concept of anyone old enough to be the grey-haired Mr Longhurst’s father going wild had reduced Lauren to a fit of the giggles but, when he had offered them hard cash if they would
agree to play, they had become seriously enthusiastic.

‘Mia’s right. If we mess up we don’t get paid,’ Anna reminded them now. ‘How about we meet up after school every day this week and give it all we’ve
got?’

‘Every day?’ Lauren groaned.

Anna smiled. She knew that concentrating on playing was the only thing that would keep her mind off Felix and the seemingly interminable weeks she had to wait before seeing him again.

‘You hit the headlines in a rather spectacular manner this week,’
Walter began, his legs crossed as he smiled amiably in what Anna knew was an attempt to lull his guest into a
false sense of security.
‘Your views on the military are well known . . . you are anti-war, am I right?’

‘I am against violence and conflict of all sorts,’
she said.

Walter nodded sagely and suddenly switched topics and asked her to talk about her campaign for more help for carers and easier access to drugs that could treat Alzheimer’s. Cassandra grew
more and more enthusiastic, speaking energetically about her distress over her husband’s decline and looking directly at the camera. She spoke of the need for far more research into the
illness, and insisted that the Government should do all in its power to increase the funds available. The studio audience were clearly rooting for her, and her remarks were peppered by bursts of
applause.

And that was when Walter’s tone changed.

‘For the sake of our no doubt bemused viewers, let me get this perfectly straight. You are against violence and conflict —’

‘I am against violence and conflict of any sort . . . Yes.’

‘And yet you have in the past been prepared to use physical violence in an attempt to prevent research work of which you are now suddenly in favour? Correct me if I’m
wrong.’

Cassandra’s mouth dropped open and for a moment she was speechless.

‘Let me put it simply for you,’
Walter went on, adopting the tone of one speaking to a rather confused and distracted child.
‘Not long ago, you were at the forefront
of the protests on animal testing – indeed you appeared in court having vandalised a laboratory, I believe?’

There was an audible gasp from the studio audience.

‘I fail to see the relevance . . .’
Cassandra stammered.

‘The laboratories which you and your fellow protestors targeted four years ago, are the very ones that were testing the drug you now say must be made available to everyone. A strange
change of heart, is it not?’

‘Tee hee,’ Marina chuckled. ‘I do love high definition TV – it shows off their blushes so well!’

‘Join us after the break . . .’
Walter smiled to the camera.
‘. . . when I will be asking Ms Wentworth to share with us any elements in her manifesto that do actually
hold water.’

Anna picked up the remote control and zapped the sound while the adverts were on. She was used to the way her father pulled his studio guests to pieces and had always thought it rather clever,
in a sadistic sort of way. This time she wanted to wring his neck.

Six-thirty a.m. Felix! It could only be Felix. She leaped out of bed, sped down the stairs and grabbed the handset, thinking that she must have forgotten to charge her mobile.

‘Hello?’

‘May I speak to Walter Eliot please?’ a woman’s voice with a slight Scottish burr demanded.

Anna’s heart sank like a stone. ‘He’s asleep,’ she said. ‘He did a show last night and . . .’

‘I’m only too well aware of that,’ said the voice at the other end. ‘That’s the reason I’m ringing. It’s Valerie, the show’s producer. It’s
urgent, so please will you get him?’

‘He won’t like it,’ Anna ventured to suggest.

‘Too flaming right he won’t,’ Valerie snapped. ‘But he’ll like it even less if he doesn’t speak to me at once while I have the chance to save his
skin.’

The air in the kitchen was blue with expletives when, twenty minutes later, Anna came down to breakfast. Marina, who had spent the night at the house having decided that driving home after a
large glass of wine was hardly sensible, was leaning against the breakfast bar, sipping coffee and looking none too pleased at being woken before eight-thirty.

‘What’s wrong?’ Anna asked.

‘What’s wrong? Someone – well, clearly it’s that wretched Wentworth woman – has lodged some pathetic little complaint about me,’ Walter blustered.
‘Valerie says it’s too sensitive to go into details on the telephone. What a load of utter rubbish!’

‘Dad, calm down, it’s probably nothing major,’ Anna said. ‘People have complained before and you’ve sorted it.’

‘And sorting Ms Wentworth will give me the greatest pleasure,’ her father declared. ‘I knew the moment I saw her that she was trouble. Well, she’ll soon learn that you
don’t mess with Walter Eliot.’

CHAPTER 9

‘H
I, IT'S
S
HANNON!
I
SAW THE PROGRAMME LAST NIGHT
– oh my God!’

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Anna sighed. ‘All hell’s been let loose since then. Apparently . . . hang on a minute!’