The Mummyfesto (32 page)

She smiled affably and I turned and shuffled away from her. There was nothing for it, I was going to have to ask the chair of the Tory Party for a tampon. She was at least a woman. And I was pretty sure she wasn’t much older than me.

I tapped her on the shoulder and whispered into her ear. She looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt.

‘Let me have a look,’ she said. A moment later she produced something from her bag and slipped it discreetly into my hand.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Thank you so much and I’m very sorry to have had to ask.’ I was about to tell her I took back everything I’d ever said about the Tories, but I decided not to get myself into any more trouble. I dashed back to the toilets. She used a different brand to mine. For a second I wondered if the warning about toxic shock syndrome on all the leaflets might actually turn out to be Tory shock syndrome in my case and my body might reject it, as if it were an organ donated by an alien species. I took a deep breath and inserted it. We were it seemed, all the same on the inside after all.

Patrick Stewart had arrived by the time I got back and we were all hurried through on to the set. The audience clapped, more for him than anyone else I suspected.

I was going through the questions over and over in my head. My answers sounded fine to me, but I couldn’t help thinking that once they left my mouth they would turn
into utter drivel. I tried not to think about Anna and Sam watching at home, sure that they would both have made a better job of this than me. I did up and undid the button on my jacket twice before deciding to leave it open in case it looked as if it were pulling a bit. There was nothing worse than a woman stuffed into something a size too small for her. I was glad it was top half only and they couldn’t see how tight my trousers were. Although it was a shame they were missing out on my shoes. They were bloody nice shoes.

I was pretty uncontroversial on the first couple of questions, which were about the economy and the euro. And then we got on to the one I’d been waiting for. The one about the youth unemployment figures.

‘Jackie Crabtree,’ said Dimbleby. ‘How can we give our young people hope of finding a job in the current economic climate?’

‘Well, the Lollipop Party would offer full employment to the under-twenty-fives,’ I said. ‘We’d create thousands of jobs by investing in public transport, manufacturing, green industries, more NHS staff, more social workers and more teachers. And for those who still didn’t have a job we’d offer paid employment as community workers on the living wage rather than job seeker’s allowance.

‘It is a national scandal that so many people are essentially written off in the job market at such a young age and this government should be ashamed of its record.’

There was a loud round of applause from the audience. Even a few whoops. I tried not to look at Baroness Warsi,
scared she might ask for her tampon back for insulting her party. She didn’t. I relaxed a little, though not so much that my trouser button would pop.

I felt myself growing in confidence with each question. I even managed to forget about my face a little. At least until there was a question about domestic violence.

‘I think I should make it clear at this point that my facial injuries were caused by an overenthusiastic game of Buckaroo last night. But for many people watching this, that will not be the case. Domestic violence has long been treated as a minority issue. Politicians pay lip-service to it, but nothing changes. The Lollipop Party will fund women’s refuges throughout the country. We will also fund a national charity, based in the Calder Valley constituency, called the White Ribbon Campaign, which is working with boys and young men to bring about an end to male violence against women. We will pay for anti-domestic violence education at every school in the UK and we will not stop until it is eradicated. No other political party can match that because no other political party puts women and children first.’

My earrings were still swinging wildly as I finished speaking. There was a massive round of applause from the audience. When it finally died down Patrick Stewart reached across the table to shake my hand.

‘I’ve waited for a long time to hear a politician say that,’ he said. ‘I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m voting Lollipop.’

‘May the force be with you.’ I grinned. And regretted
it immediately when I realised it was from the wrong film.

‘I told you not to mention
Star Trek
,’ said Sam, when she phoned me on my mobile on the way home in the taxi.

‘I know, but you said nothing about
Star Wars.
’

‘Did you know about his background? That he was a supporter of Refuge and that? I had no idea.’

‘Nor did I till I did some research.’

‘Wow, so you actually did some homework?’

‘Teachers do the best kind of homework. The “read Wikipedia in two minutes to know everything you need to know” variety. Anyway, I didn’t say it just to get him onside. I said it because it’s what we believe in.’

‘Well the good news is the “I’m voting Lollipop” hashtag started trending on Twitter within a couple of minutes. Followed shortly afterwards by ‘
Star Trek
v.
Star Wars.
’

‘So even Anna’s pleased with me, then?’

‘Of course she is. Although she’s probably wondering how the hell she’s going to follow that on Radio 4.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell her she can boldly go where no woman has been before.’

‘So you do know the right line.’

‘Yep. Brain just wasn’t functioning properly. I blame Baroness Warsi’s tampon. I think it may have been drugged.’

‘What on earth are you on about?’

‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you in the playground tomorrow. Beam me up, Scottie.’

I thought it must be an April fool. The first poll since the general election was called had us in third place, above the Lib Dems, at 15 per cent. I put the copy of the
Independent
down, my hands still shaking, and logged on to my laptop.

If it was an April fool the BBC news website was doing the same one. As was the
Guardian
.

David came into the kitchen. I hoped he wouldn’t think I had left the paper deliberately on his table mat like that. I saw him glance at the headline then do a double-take and go back and look at it again more carefully.

‘I thought it was an April fool myself,’ I said. ‘It seems not.’

I was careful not to smile as I said it, or to give any indication of the multi-million-pound firework display which was going off inside me.

‘Happened to Clegg last time,’ he said. ‘Massive peak after the first leadership debate. Then the tabloids started getting at him. That’s as good as it gets, I’m afraid. It’s downhill all the way from here.’

I nodded, deciding not to rise to the bait. Although inside I was sure this wasn’t some flash in the pan. We had the momentum now. And if the response on Twitter of the past few days was anything to go by, we could only get bigger.

‘I was thinking of going out about eleven, once the kids are up,’ I said, as I filled the kettle. ‘With the leaflets I mean.’

David shrugged. ‘Sure, that’s fine by me. I’ve got plenty to be getting on with.’ I put the kettle down heavily on its stand.

‘You’re not coming with us?’

David laughed. ‘Of course not. Why would I do that?’

‘Er, because I’m your wife, perhaps?’

‘I think you’re forgetting that I’m also a Liberal Democrat councillor.’

‘And that’s more important, is it?’

‘I can hardly campaign for the opposition, can I? There are rules against that sort of thing. They’d throw me out. Surely you realised that?’

I turned back to the kettle, the colour rising in my cheeks. Of course he couldn’t. I should have realised. It didn’t stop it hurting though.

‘Yes, of course. I don’t think the kids will understand that, though. They were looking forward to us all going out together.’

‘Well I’m sure you can explain it to them. It will be a good exercise in democracy, won’t it? The fact that every person has the right to their own opinion. To vote the way they see fit. Regardless of what those around them are saying or doing.’

Put like that he made it sound as if I were the one who was being unreasonable. Maybe I was. Maybe I had a bloody cheek to expect my husband to offer any kind of support when I was standing against the party he’d supported and worked hard for all his adult life. And when I was adding insult to injury by achieving more in a few weeks than he had in twenty-odd years.

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ I said. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

‘I still can’t believe Dad’s not coming,’ said Will, as we set off down the road armed with rucksacks full of leaflets.

‘I told you, it’s against party rules.’

‘What about family rules?’

‘There aren’t any,’ I replied.

‘Yes there are,’ said Esme. ‘Lights off at eight o’clock, no talking with your mouth full. There are lots of them.’

‘I wasn’t talking about those sorts of rules, love. I was simply explaining that just because Daddy isn’t coming leafleting with us, it doesn’t mean he isn’t supporting us.’

Even as I said it I realised it sounded pathetic. Will gave me his best ‘Yeah right, whatever’ look. Clearly he thought so too.

‘So is he campaigning against you?’ asked Charlotte,
who until that point had appeared to be engrossed in whatever was on her iPod and not paying any attention at all.

‘Not this afternoon he isn’t, no.’

‘But on other days is he? Is he leafleting for Laura whatever her name is?’

‘Jenkins. I suppose so. I don’t know for sure. I haven’t asked.’

It was Charlotte’s turn to give me a look. One that involved raised eyebrows. Any other time I’d have been happy to have sparked a response in her, seen a bit of an appetite for a fight. Unfortunately, I hadn’t really wanted it to be against her father.

‘Right,’ I said, as we reached the bottom of the road. ‘We’ll start here. Will, if you and Charlotte do the other side of the road, I’ll do this side with Esme. One leaflet in each letterbox. If anyone comes out to ask a question give me a shout and I’ll come over.’

‘Why can’t we knock on the doors?’ Esme asked.

‘Because people don’t like being bothered by politicians, especially not on a bank holiday Monday.’

‘But I want to tell them to vote for you.’

‘We don’t tell them, sweetheart. We ask them. And if anyone comes out to talk to us, that’s what we’ll do.’

Esme nodded. She looked resplendent in her purple jacket, which she now called her lollipop jacket, and her Lollipop Party sticker. Will and Charlotte had been more reluctant to wear theirs. Until I’d mentioned the extra pocket money for doing a good job, that was.

The first house on our side had a ‘beware of the dog’ sign, so I told Esme to wait at the gate. The offending creature tore the leaflet from me as soon as I poked it through the letter box. I imagined it lying in shreds on the mat. I supposed it was a political rite of passage, up there with kissing babies, although I was quite sure I would draw the line at that.

‘We can’t do that one, Mummy,’ said Esme, pointing to the next house. ‘They’ve got a different colour poster up.’ I eyed the ‘Vote Lib Dem’ poster in the window, wondering if it was someone David knew.

‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘We can still put our leaflet through. That’s how you get people to change their mind, or at least see another point of view.’

‘They might like our colours better too,’ said Esme, taking a leaflet from me and popping it through the letterbox. ‘I don’t like the yellowy one. It looks a bit like cat sick.’

I smiled quietly to myself.