The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher (16 page)

*   *   *

A
ND STEPPING BACK,
into No. 21, the assassin grunts with laughter.

“Shh!” I say.

“Is that your great suggestion? They shoot me a bit further along the street? Okay, we’ll give it a go. Exit along another line. A little surprise.”

Time is short now. We return to the bedroom. He has not said if I shall live or should make other plans. He motions me to the window. “Open it now. Then get back.”

He is afraid of a sudden noise that might startle someone below. But though the window is heavy, and sometimes shudders in its frame, the sash slides smoothly upward. He need not fret. The gardens are empty. But over in the hospital, beyond the fences and shrubs, there is movement. They are beginning to come out: not the official party, but a gaggle of nurses in their aprons and caps.

He takes up the widowmaker, lays her tenderly across his knees. He tips his chair forward, and because I see his hands are once more slippery with sweat I bring him a towel and he takes it without speaking, and wipes his palms. Once more I am reminded of something priestly: a sacrifice. A wasp dawdles over the sill. The scent of the gardens is watery, green. The tepid sunshine wobbles in, polishes his shabby brogues, moves shyly across the surface of the dressing table. I want to ask: When what is to happen, happens, will it be noisy? From where I sit? If I sit? Or stand? Stand where? At his shoulder? Perhaps I should kneel and pray.

And now we are seconds from the target. The terrace, the lawns, are twittering with hospital personnel. A receiving line has formed. Doctors, nurses, clerks. The chef joins it, in his whites and a toque. It is a kind of hat I have only seen in children’s picture books. Despite myself, I giggle. I am conscious of every rise and fall of the assassin’s breath. A hush falls: on the gardens, and on us.

High heels on the mossy path. Tippy-tap. Toddle on. She’s making efforts, but getting nowhere very fast. The bag on the arm, slung like a shield. The tailored suit just as I have foreseen, the pussy-cat bow, a long loop of pearls, and—a new touch—big goggle glasses. Shading her, no doubt, from the trials of the afternoon. Hand extended, she is moving along the line. Now that we are here at last, there is all the time in the world. The gunman kneels, easing into position. He sees what I see, the glittering helmet of hair. He sees it shine like a gold coin in a gutter, he sees it big as the full moon. On the sill the wasp hovers, suspends itself in still air. One easy wink of the world’s blind eye: “Rejoice,” he says. “Fucking rejoice.”

ALSO BY HILARY MANTEL

Beyond Black

Every Day Is Mother’s Day

Vacant Possession

Eight Months on Ghazzah Street

Fludd

A Place of Greater Safety

A Change of Climate

An Experiment in Love

The Giant, O’Brien

Learning to Talk

Wolf Hall

Bring Up the Bodies

NONFICTION

Giving Up the Ghost

A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR

H
ILARY
M
ANTEL
is the two-time winner of the Man Booker Prize for her bestselling novels
Wolf Hall
and its sequel,
Bring Up the Bodies
—an unprecedented achievement. The Royal Shakespeare Company recently adapted
Wolf Hall
and
Bring Up the Bodies
for the stage to colossal critical acclaim, and a BBC/
Masterpiece
six-part adaptation of the novels will broadcast in 2015.

The author of fourteen books, she is currently at work on the third installment of the Thomas Cromwell trilogy.

CREDITS

“Sorry to Disturb” was first published (as “Sorry to Disturb: A Memoir”) in the
London Review of Books
, 2009.

“Comma” was first published in the
Guardian
, 2010, and appeared in
The Best British Stories 2011
(Salt Publishing).

“The Long QT” was first published in the
Guardian
, 2012.

“Winter Break” was first published in
The Best British Stories 2011
(Salt Publishing) and appeared in the
Guardian
, 2012.

“Harley Street” was first published in
The Time Out Book of London Short Stories
(Penguin), 1993.

“Offences Against the Person” was first published in the
London Review of Books
, 2008.

“How Shall I Know You?” was first published in the
London Review of Books
, 2000.

“The Heart Fails Without Warning” was first published in the
Guardian
, 2009, and appeared in
Best European Fiction 2011
(Dalkey Archive Press).

“Terminus” was first published in the
London Review of Books
, 2004.

T
HE
A
SSASSINATION OF
M
ARGARET
T
HATCHER.
Copyright © 2014 by Hilary Mantel. All rights reserved. For information, address Henry Holt and Co., 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.henryholt.com

Jacket design by Rodrigo Corral Design; jacket photograph by Demurez/Glasshouse

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The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

Mantel, Hilary, 1952–

    [Short stories. Selections]

    The assassination of Margaret Thatcher: stories / Hilary Mantel.—First U.S. edition.

        pages cm

    “A John Macrae book.”

  ISBN 978-1-62779-210-3 (hardback)—ISBN 978-1-62779-211-0 (electronic book)

    I.  Mantel, Hilary, 1952–Sorry to Disturb.   II.  Title.

    PR6063.A438A6 2014

    823’.914—dc23                                     2014015900

Published simultaneously in the U.K. by Fourth Estate

First U.S Edition: September 2014

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.