Fortress

36

An hour later, Sam was leaning against the wall in a fourth-floor mansion flat two blocks from Victoria station, getting his breath back.

Inside it smelt faintly of mildew and instant coffee, and bore all the signs of a hurried departure: curtains drawn, a large drift of post piled against the inside of the door, an iPhone charger hanging out of a socket and half a packet of chocolate digestives on the small kitchen table. He bit into one: still crisp.

He sat down in a black leather swivel chair, running his hands up and down the chrome frame and grinning to himself. He had gone to work for them; now he was making them work for him. He stood up and explored the bedrooms. Nasima wasn’t actually his girlfriend yet — that was more at the planning stage. He hoped she’d be okay about being his date at the PM’s events. Would that kind of thing impress her?

So far, she had shown the right signs. One room had a king-size bed, the other a narrow single. He gazed at the king size and wondered how she would look on it, naked.

He called her but the number was unrecognized. He tried it several more times and got the same message. A sense of doubt welled up in him. Had he let his imagination run away with him? His mother used to tell him he was a fantasist, dreaming of all the things he wanted to do. He began to wonder if she’d been right. Why would Nasima, who seemed so capable, need his help to find somewhere to stay? There was so much about her that both excited and mystified him. He knew almost nothing about her, or her family, or how she had come to be connected with the charity in Doncaster.

Just as he was starting to give up hope an unknown number came up on his phone.

It was her. ‘I lost my phone.’

He could barely disguise his relief.

‘Were you worried?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘That’s nice of you.’

He delivered the good news about the flat. ‘Just temporary, but it has two bedrooms.’

‘See? I told you. They’re very lucky to have you, right now.’

‘Yeah, I should remember that.’

‘They must really think they need you on their side. Not many people like us would be so willing to speak up for the government, especially at a time like this.’

‘There’s something else.’ He told her about the Downing Street do: an invitation from the prime minister, no less. There was silence at the other end of the line.

‘Are you still there?’

‘That’s — well, it should be very interesting.’

Oh dear, had he gone too far? ‘You don’t have to come. I mean, it was just I thought…’

‘Sahim, that’s wonderful. I’m sorry, I was lost for words. You really are amazing.’

A warm glow of confidence flooded back. Even over the phone the force of her appreciation was unmistakable. All he had to do now was tackle his next challenge: to convert it into something tangible.