The Mummyfesto (49 page)

It was gone eleven by the time Jackie and I got back to Halifax, having left Sam at the Huddersfield count with Rob. North Bridge leisure centre didn’t exactly look like a place to stage a political revolution. It didn’t even look like much of a place to have a game of badminton, to be
honest. But if we were going to put the Lollipop Party on the political map, it was probably quite apt that we should do so at the most unlikely of venues.

The counting was well underway when we got inside and Will was running up and down the sidelines like something demented.

‘How’s it going?’ I asked, managing to keep him still for a second.

‘It looks like you’re up there with the big guys, both of you.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. Look at those piles of votes. And look at the faces of those miserable-looking gits from the other parties.’

Jackie and I went up for a closer look. Will was right. It did indeed appear that we were in with a fighting chance.

‘Bloody hell,’ whispered Jackie. ‘I haven’t written a speech or anything.’

‘Don’t get too carried away,’ I said. ‘It’s early days, remember. They’re not expecting to declare until four in the morning.’

‘Yeah, but still.’

I knew exactly what she meant. I could feel it too. The sense that we were on the verge of something extraordinary here. There was a shout from Will. He was pointing up at the large TV screen hanging on one wall.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘The first result’s in. We got 13 per cent of the vote in Sunderland south. And that’s a Labour stronghold. The Dimbleby guy said so. It’s happening. What they
said in the exit poll is happening. You’re gonna get a massive chunk of the vote.’

I stared at Jackie. She stared at me. And we both did the really uncool thing of jumping up and down in delight.

And so it went on. Result after result with the Lollipop Party coming second or third. Our purple-clad candidates grinning from the rostrums, looking elated but slightly dazed by what they had achieved.

By the early hours of the morning, things were starting to become clearer. It looked as if there were going to be a new government, for a start. The electorate, as Jackie had so delicately put it, had given the Prime Minister a massive kick in the balls.

It wasn’t clear yet whether Labour would win enough seats to get in or whether they too would need to form some kind of coalition. But the story of the night, as David Dimbleby kept telling everyone, was the meteoric rise of a party which hadn’t even existed three months ago. Whenever they broke off to go to Emily Maitliss for a look at the big picture, her graphs and charts told the same story: the Lollipop Party were consistently polling around 15 per cent of the vote and picking up second and third places across the UK.

And still they counted in Halifax. I didn’t think that many people lived in the Calder Valley, let alone voted. The view from the deck was that Jackie appeared to be involved in a three-way fight with Labour and the Tories in Halifax, while I was in a similar situation in the Calder
Valley. The Liberal Democrats had disappeared off the electoral map.

There was a whiff of expensive perfume in the air. Laura Jenkins, the Lib Dem candidate, squeezed past behind me. Her metaphorical tail between her legs. I felt my body stiffen. Will opened his mouth to say something.

‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘It’s not worth it. We’re not going to stoop to her level. We’re going to hold our heads up high and let our votes do our talking for us.’

Will sighed. ‘You’re no fun, you are,’ he said. ‘No fun at all.’

‘Well I’m hardly going to let you pick a fight with her, am I?’

‘Permission to air-punch if she loses her deposit?’

‘OK.’ I smiled. ‘Permission granted.’

Jackie’s result came first. I stood, tapping my feet on the floor as the returning officer went through all the preliminaries. I fixed her with a stare, trying to work out from her expression what the outcome was. But she simply kept smiling down at me. The sort of smile which gave nothing away at all.

The returning officer finally got to the interesting bit. ‘The number of votes cast in Halifax are as follows: Michael Blenkinsopp, Conservative Party, 9,162; Roger Carstairs, Liberal Democrat Party, 4,069; Jackie Crabtree, Lollipop Party, 12,793.’

A roar went up from our supporters gathered in the hall, led by Will, and with me as a very able first lieutenant.
We hadn’t had the Labour vote yet, though.

The returning officer waited for a hush to descend on the hall again. ‘Duncan Fairweather, Labour Party, 14,658.’

I shut my eyes and groaned, but when I opened them a moment later Jackie was still smiling. A great big, ‘the girl done good’ grin across her face.

Barely fifteen minutes later I stood on the same rostrum, my face running through a variety of expressions in the hope of finding one which would fit. I’d always thought how weird it was that the candidates were told the results first and then had to pretend not to know. But now I was in that situation I was relieved that was how it worked. I needed the extra time to try to regain my composure and figure out how I felt about it all as the returning officer started to read out the results.

‘Laura Jenkins, Liberal Democrat Party, 3,577.’

I saw Will do an air-punch. She may not have lost her deposit, but it was still a pretty appalling result. I was relieved David had chosen not to come to the count tonight. It would have been difficult for all of us.

‘Anna Sugden, Lollipop Party, 14,321.

It was hard to tell who whooped louder this time, Jackie or Will. A faint smile settled on my face as the returning officer continued.

‘Jerry Broadhurst, Conservative Party, 11,890; Martin Simpson, Labour Party, 12,468. I hereby declare—’

But we never did hear what he declared. My name was lost in the huge roar that rose up from floor. And I stood
there, the Lollipop Party’s first MP, still struggling to take it all in.

I stepped forward to make my speech. My legs were wobbly, my hands trembling, but my voice was firm and strong. ‘Three months ago, Sam Farnell had a dream. A dream to create a different kind of political party, one that put the most vulnerable people in our society first. One that reflected the priorities of ordinary people, that spoke for those who would not otherwise have a voice.

‘Today, across the country, millions of people have voted for that party. They have sent a message to the Westminster establishment, a message that their days are numbered. It’s time for a new kind of politics, a politics which puts children and families first. And that’s why I dedicate my victory tonight to Oscar Farnell, who lost his own brave battle for life, but who has left a lasting legacy, a promise of a better future for all our children.’

‘Jeez,’ said Will as he hugged me a few moments later. ‘My mum’s gone all Martin Luther King on me.’

‘I still can’t quite believe it,’ I said. ‘I never in a million years thought this would happen.’

‘Well, it has. You whipped their arses.’

‘And that’s the official political analysis, is it?’ I said.

‘So what happens now?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘To be honest I’m not even sure I can do it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I’ll either have to live in London five days a week
and never see you, or we’d all have to move down, and I’m not sure it’s fair to disrupt you all like that.’

Will stared at me and shook his head.

‘What?’ I said.

‘So our father’s walked out, I’m about to finish school and need to get away from this place and find a drama college and Charlotte’s being bullied at school and is desperate to make a fresh start somewhere new. And the rest of your family live in London. It’s a complete no-brainer.’

Put like that, I had to admit he had a point. ‘What about Esme?’

‘She won’t care where she is. You could drop her on Mars and she’d be happy, as long as she could find somewhere to do cartwheels.’

‘Do you know what?’ I said. ‘I still wouldn’t mind having you as my special adviser.’

‘Depends what you’re offering,’ smiled Will, ‘us actor types need a bit of easy money while we’re resting.’

Jackie finally managed to fight her way through the crowds of well-wishers and media. ‘Woo-hoo,’ she shouted, throwing her arms around me. ‘How’s it feel to be the Lollipop Party’s first MP?’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Very good indeed. I’m only sorry you didn’t beat me to it.’

‘No worries,’ she said, her eyes glistening. ‘I guess it wasn’t the right time for me anyway. I don’t think the electorate would have been very impressed if I’d gone off on maternity leave in seven months’ time.’

I stared at her.

She nodded.

‘Congratulations, that’s fantastic,’ I said hugging her. ‘Have you told Sam?’

‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘I’ll do it after her count.’

When I finally made it through to the relative quiet of the ladies I switched my phone back on and checked my direct messages on Twitter. Gavin’s was top of the list.

I smiled to myself. London was going to be just fine.

Somewhere in the midst of it all I was aware that I had come very close. That the numbers involved had been less than one hundred. That people had patted me on the back and said better luck next time.

None of it really mattered. It wasn’t about me. Had never been about me. And especially not now. Hearing Anna’s result had been all I needed. The Lollipop Party had made history tonight, confounded the critics, ensured that our voice would be heard in the corridors of power, that we had a platform from which to go forward.

I did my interviews, without really being aware of what I’d said, packed my things away, thanked all the people who needed thanking, took Rob’s hand and walked out of the hall, down the steps and across the road to the car park. The dawn already breaking; a new day about to begin.

‘Let’s go home,’ I said. ‘Zach will be waking up soon.’

We drove in silence back to Hebden Bridge. Not an angry silence, a contemplative, peaceful one. The radio was on in the background, confirming what I already knew. That something amazing was happening across the UK. Something which had been started by two little boys who hadn’t wanted a lollipop lady to lose her job.