Butterflies
Andrew Campbell-Kearsey
_ It had to be today of all days. Caught my nail on my good pair of tights. Ruined. My best long dress is at the dry cleaners in preparation for the ‘end of the noughties’ Christmas party. Ronald says 2009’s been such a disastrous year and we all need a knees-up. Reckons some of his colleagues are suicidal. Got to think. Trouser suit? I bought it several years ago. But it’s just not me. Didn’t feel feminine in it. He didn’t comment on it, didn’t have to. I simply knew. It got relegated to the back of the wardrobe. Practically Narnia.
We’ve gone over it again and again. He says I’ve nothing to worry about. A few standard questions and that’ll be it. He said, ‘Don’t worry old girl; I’ll see that you’re alright. We’re all in this together.’ Not entirely sure what he meant but it was supposed to be reassuring. So I smiled and thanked him. I wonder if I have time to nip out and get a new pair? No, these ones will have to do. Nobody’s going to be watching me anyway. I’m just a walk-on part.
He’s very considerate, sending a car around for me. It’s the ministerial one, foolish to let it go to waste. Ronald’s walking. His lawyer said that it would look better that way. Besides, his London flat is only five minutes way. The one in his wife’s name, that is.
He doesn’t know much about clothes. He just said dress a notch up from what I normally wear for the office, as if I’m going for an interview. I haven’t been to one of those in years. Worked for him for over thirty years. I was a slip of a thing then, straight out of secretarial college. Pretty good marks in the exams, but nothing outstanding. Couldn’t work out at the time why he chose me really. There were plenty better qualified. He did explain once why he’d employed me. It was at a constituency party, not long after I’d started working for him. He’d had a drink or two. You had to in those days, to be sociable. He said he thought I was mouldable. Didn’t want some over-confident woman bossing him about. He said he had enough of that at home. Then he laughed. He had a lovely smile. Still has. He’d commented on my butterfly brooch in the interview. I was all prepared to talk about my shorthand speed or take a dictation test. It never occurred to me that he would ask where my jewellery was from. I told him it was a confirmation present from my godmother. He liked the colour of the enamel wings. All the other interviewees had worn pearls. I didn’t own any, not then at least.
I’m too nervous to eat. I should force down a spoonful of cereal. I’ve tried to get Ronald to eat healthily. He calls my salads rabbit food. I bring in fruit occasionally but he hardly touches it. His wife nags him about going to the gym. That’s never going to work. Men are simple creatures. They need to think something was their idea. I wonder why they’ve stayed together all these years. That’s my phone. I’d better get it, just in case it’s Ronald.
“Hello?”
“Just calling to wish you luck.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but I’ll be fine. Ronald’s told me that…”
“Not bothered about him, it’s you I’m concerned about. I just want you to know that if anything goes wrong, I’ll stand by you. It’s times like this you need your family around you. I wish you’d let me come down to be with you in court.”
“I’ve already explained this to you, Celia. It’s a hearing. They will be making recommendations. That’s all. Ronald welcomes the opportunity to set matters straight.”
“I bet he does.”
“Sarcasm does not become you. Look, must go. The car’s just pulled up outside.”
It hadn’t of course but there was no other way of getting my sister off the line.
I love the view from my sitting room. I’m fortunate to live so centrally, but Ronald has always been a generous employer. That’s my favourite picture of him, on the mantelpiece. It’s when he was presented with his OBE. Told the press he felt very humble and that he was just doing his job for his constituents. He was a little less circumspect with me. “Not bad for a grammar school boy, eh? Next stop, the knighthood! Then we can really celebrate.” That was a few years ago now. He’d brought a bottle of champagne in with him to the office. We were drinking at 10.30 in the morning. Never seen him so happy. Ronald seemed young again.
I check my face in the mirror. It’ll do, I suppose. I might’ve overdone the lipstick. Couldn’t find my usual colour. Too late to do anything about it now, the car’s outside. The driver won’t do anything as vulgar as beep his horn. The chauffeurs are well trained. As I lock my front door the driver is already waiting on the pavement.
“Thank you, Michael.”
Michael is one of my favourites; very discreet. He knows not to bother me with small talk.
He holds the door open for me when we arrive. I’m almost blinded by the flash photography. Who would have thought that this business could have stirred up so much interest? If this is fame then you can keep it. Heaven knows what it’ll be like when the main attraction gets here. I’m unsure which way to go and for a few seconds I stand looking for a familiar face. A couple of microphones are thrust in front of my face. I say ‘No comment’ about five or six times. This was Ronald’s advice. Perhaps once would have been sufficient. I do tend to smile when I’m embarrassed. I’m eventually escorted into the main building. Several people stop and stare. No manners. A lady shows me into a side room. She is very kind. I turn down her offer of a glass of water. I’d hoped to see Ronald before it all started. He must have got held up.
After what seems an age, but in reality only twelve minutes, the kind woman comes and collects me.
“If you ask me, they’ve got the wrong one. Hold your head up high and don’t let them think they’re getting to you.”
Before I can ask her to explain, she opens the door to what I thought would be a small committee room. She leads me into a packed hall. Complete strangers are pointing at me from the gallery as if they know me. I sit down behind a table next to the friendly man who came to see me last week. He seems a lot more serious today. He shakes my hand and is rather businesslike. I want to ask him lots of questions. The most pressing one is concerning Ronald’s whereabouts.
The session begins and the chairman of the panel explains its purpose which is to investigate fraudulent expense claims made by members of parliament and their staff. Their findings will be passed on to the Criminal Prosecution Service. Ronald’s lawyer is seated behind a different table. Strange, he usually shares a joke with me whenever he comes into the office to visit Ronald. He can’t have seen me. He stands up and explains that his client is suffering from mental exhaustion and is unable to attend today’s proceedings. Ronald’s doctor has apparently recommended total rest for him. There are a few sniggers. Some people can be so uncharitable. That’s why he didn’t call me this morning. I knew there’d be a good reason. I often warn Ronald about overworking. I hate to be proved right on this occasion.
I look down at the brooch on the lapel of my jacket. I’d been heartbroken when I realised that I must have lost my original one on the Tube. The following birthday, Ronald presented me with a replacement – not quite as attractive as the other one but a nice thought. I found the red costume jewellery antennae a little garish for my taste but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
The next two hours were an absolute nightmare for me. I was shown pieces of paper; the men on the panel called them exhibits. I was questioned continuously about Ronald’s accounts. I explained, patiently at first, that I knew very little about his financial dealings. Nobody would take my word for it. I kept being pressed. They showed me copies of cheques which I’d signed. Apparently there were some offshore accounts in my name. I kept saying that he was my boss and whatever he asked me to sign, I signed. One of the panel asked me, with a sneer, whether I would do anything that Ronald asked. There was a ripple of laughter after this insinuation. In the end, I lost my temper with them. I raised my voice and told them over and over again that I was innocent and this had all been a misunderstanding. But they just wouldn’t listen. They were relentless. At the end of the session I was thanked for my cooperation and informed that the next stage would depend upon their report. I just wanted to get home.
There was no car. I had to walk half a mile to get a taxi, all the time pursued by reporters and photographers. Of course it had started raining and I was without an umbrella. There were reporters on my doorstep, even a television crew. I was shocked when one of the journalists asked me how long my affair with Ronald had been going on. I know I shouldn’t have, but I swore at her. It’s so unlike me and very out of character.
I desperately wanted to speak to Ronald. The answering machine was full of messages but none from him. I went through to my bedroom, undressed and buried myself under the duvet.
*****
I must have slept for hours. It was dark. Somebody as knocking at my front door. They wouldn’t stop. I could hear my name and recognised my sister’s voice. As I walked down the hallway to open the door I could see her peering through the letterbox.
“Let me in for Godsake. It’s like a bloody circus out here.”
Celia slammed the door behind her.
“What on earth have you done?”
“I don’t know what’s happening, Celia. I just need Ronald to come and explain everything.”
“You need him like a hole in the head. Can’t you see? He’s hung you out to dry. Overclaiming on his expenses and allowances for years. All the money is in accounts in your name. Ronald’s lawyer says his client denies all knowledge of these accounts and the finger’s pointing at you.”
“How could he?”
“Quite easily apparently. We need to get you a good lawyer. What were you thinking of, turning up in court wearing laddered tights, bright red lipstick and that hideous brooch? The papers are having a field day.”
Celia pulled out an evening paper from her handbag. My grinning face was on the front cover under the headline, ‘Madame Butterfly in the dock!’ detailing how I loved the limelight and the trappings of power, especially the chauffeured limousine.
“Well you’ve managed to knock moats and duck houses off the front pages. They’re going to crucify you about that wretched butterfly.”
“I wore it for luck. Ronald bought it for me to replace the one I’d lost. It was only a cheap thing but it was an act of kindness.”
“That ‘act of kindness’ could land you in jail. His solicitor at a press conference this afternoon denied that his client had purchased that ‘cheap thing’. He produced a receipt from a West End jeweller. That ruby encrusted monstrosity cost fifteen thousand pounds and your signature is on the cheque.”
I felt sick.
We’ve gone over it again and again. He says I’ve nothing to worry about. A few standard questions and that’ll be it. He said, ‘Don’t worry old girl; I’ll see that you’re alright. We’re all in this together.’ Not entirely sure what he meant but it was supposed to be reassuring. So I smiled and thanked him. I wonder if I have time to nip out and get a new pair? No, these ones will have to do. Nobody’s going to be watching me anyway. I’m just a walk-on part.
He’s very considerate, sending a car around for me. It’s the ministerial one, foolish to let it go to waste. Ronald’s walking. His lawyer said that it would look better that way. Besides, his London flat is only five minutes way. The one in his wife’s name, that is.
He doesn’t know much about clothes. He just said dress a notch up from what I normally wear for the office, as if I’m going for an interview. I haven’t been to one of those in years. Worked for him for over thirty years. I was a slip of a thing then, straight out of secretarial college. Pretty good marks in the exams, but nothing outstanding. Couldn’t work out at the time why he chose me really. There were plenty better qualified. He did explain once why he’d employed me. It was at a constituency party, not long after I’d started working for him. He’d had a drink or two. You had to in those days, to be sociable. He said he thought I was mouldable. Didn’t want some over-confident woman bossing him about. He said he had enough of that at home. Then he laughed. He had a lovely smile. Still has. He’d commented on my butterfly brooch in the interview. I was all prepared to talk about my shorthand speed or take a dictation test. It never occurred to me that he would ask where my jewellery was from. I told him it was a confirmation present from my godmother. He liked the colour of the enamel wings. All the other interviewees had worn pearls. I didn’t own any, not then at least.
I’m too nervous to eat. I should force down a spoonful of cereal. I’ve tried to get Ronald to eat healthily. He calls my salads rabbit food. I bring in fruit occasionally but he hardly touches it. His wife nags him about going to the gym. That’s never going to work. Men are simple creatures. They need to think something was their idea. I wonder why they’ve stayed together all these years. That’s my phone. I’d better get it, just in case it’s Ronald.
“Hello?”
“Just calling to wish you luck.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but I’ll be fine. Ronald’s told me that…”
“Not bothered about him, it’s you I’m concerned about. I just want you to know that if anything goes wrong, I’ll stand by you. It’s times like this you need your family around you. I wish you’d let me come down to be with you in court.”
“I’ve already explained this to you, Celia. It’s a hearing. They will be making recommendations. That’s all. Ronald welcomes the opportunity to set matters straight.”
“I bet he does.”
“Sarcasm does not become you. Look, must go. The car’s just pulled up outside.”
It hadn’t of course but there was no other way of getting my sister off the line.
I love the view from my sitting room. I’m fortunate to live so centrally, but Ronald has always been a generous employer. That’s my favourite picture of him, on the mantelpiece. It’s when he was presented with his OBE. Told the press he felt very humble and that he was just doing his job for his constituents. He was a little less circumspect with me. “Not bad for a grammar school boy, eh? Next stop, the knighthood! Then we can really celebrate.” That was a few years ago now. He’d brought a bottle of champagne in with him to the office. We were drinking at 10.30 in the morning. Never seen him so happy. Ronald seemed young again.
I check my face in the mirror. It’ll do, I suppose. I might’ve overdone the lipstick. Couldn’t find my usual colour. Too late to do anything about it now, the car’s outside. The driver won’t do anything as vulgar as beep his horn. The chauffeurs are well trained. As I lock my front door the driver is already waiting on the pavement.
“Thank you, Michael.”
Michael is one of my favourites; very discreet. He knows not to bother me with small talk.
He holds the door open for me when we arrive. I’m almost blinded by the flash photography. Who would have thought that this business could have stirred up so much interest? If this is fame then you can keep it. Heaven knows what it’ll be like when the main attraction gets here. I’m unsure which way to go and for a few seconds I stand looking for a familiar face. A couple of microphones are thrust in front of my face. I say ‘No comment’ about five or six times. This was Ronald’s advice. Perhaps once would have been sufficient. I do tend to smile when I’m embarrassed. I’m eventually escorted into the main building. Several people stop and stare. No manners. A lady shows me into a side room. She is very kind. I turn down her offer of a glass of water. I’d hoped to see Ronald before it all started. He must have got held up.
After what seems an age, but in reality only twelve minutes, the kind woman comes and collects me.
“If you ask me, they’ve got the wrong one. Hold your head up high and don’t let them think they’re getting to you.”
Before I can ask her to explain, she opens the door to what I thought would be a small committee room. She leads me into a packed hall. Complete strangers are pointing at me from the gallery as if they know me. I sit down behind a table next to the friendly man who came to see me last week. He seems a lot more serious today. He shakes my hand and is rather businesslike. I want to ask him lots of questions. The most pressing one is concerning Ronald’s whereabouts.
The session begins and the chairman of the panel explains its purpose which is to investigate fraudulent expense claims made by members of parliament and their staff. Their findings will be passed on to the Criminal Prosecution Service. Ronald’s lawyer is seated behind a different table. Strange, he usually shares a joke with me whenever he comes into the office to visit Ronald. He can’t have seen me. He stands up and explains that his client is suffering from mental exhaustion and is unable to attend today’s proceedings. Ronald’s doctor has apparently recommended total rest for him. There are a few sniggers. Some people can be so uncharitable. That’s why he didn’t call me this morning. I knew there’d be a good reason. I often warn Ronald about overworking. I hate to be proved right on this occasion.
I look down at the brooch on the lapel of my jacket. I’d been heartbroken when I realised that I must have lost my original one on the Tube. The following birthday, Ronald presented me with a replacement – not quite as attractive as the other one but a nice thought. I found the red costume jewellery antennae a little garish for my taste but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
The next two hours were an absolute nightmare for me. I was shown pieces of paper; the men on the panel called them exhibits. I was questioned continuously about Ronald’s accounts. I explained, patiently at first, that I knew very little about his financial dealings. Nobody would take my word for it. I kept being pressed. They showed me copies of cheques which I’d signed. Apparently there were some offshore accounts in my name. I kept saying that he was my boss and whatever he asked me to sign, I signed. One of the panel asked me, with a sneer, whether I would do anything that Ronald asked. There was a ripple of laughter after this insinuation. In the end, I lost my temper with them. I raised my voice and told them over and over again that I was innocent and this had all been a misunderstanding. But they just wouldn’t listen. They were relentless. At the end of the session I was thanked for my cooperation and informed that the next stage would depend upon their report. I just wanted to get home.
There was no car. I had to walk half a mile to get a taxi, all the time pursued by reporters and photographers. Of course it had started raining and I was without an umbrella. There were reporters on my doorstep, even a television crew. I was shocked when one of the journalists asked me how long my affair with Ronald had been going on. I know I shouldn’t have, but I swore at her. It’s so unlike me and very out of character.
I desperately wanted to speak to Ronald. The answering machine was full of messages but none from him. I went through to my bedroom, undressed and buried myself under the duvet.
*****
I must have slept for hours. It was dark. Somebody as knocking at my front door. They wouldn’t stop. I could hear my name and recognised my sister’s voice. As I walked down the hallway to open the door I could see her peering through the letterbox.
“Let me in for Godsake. It’s like a bloody circus out here.”
Celia slammed the door behind her.
“What on earth have you done?”
“I don’t know what’s happening, Celia. I just need Ronald to come and explain everything.”
“You need him like a hole in the head. Can’t you see? He’s hung you out to dry. Overclaiming on his expenses and allowances for years. All the money is in accounts in your name. Ronald’s lawyer says his client denies all knowledge of these accounts and the finger’s pointing at you.”
“How could he?”
“Quite easily apparently. We need to get you a good lawyer. What were you thinking of, turning up in court wearing laddered tights, bright red lipstick and that hideous brooch? The papers are having a field day.”
Celia pulled out an evening paper from her handbag. My grinning face was on the front cover under the headline, ‘Madame Butterfly in the dock!’ detailing how I loved the limelight and the trappings of power, especially the chauffeured limousine.
“Well you’ve managed to knock moats and duck houses off the front pages. They’re going to crucify you about that wretched butterfly.”
“I wore it for luck. Ronald bought it for me to replace the one I’d lost. It was only a cheap thing but it was an act of kindness.”
“That ‘act of kindness’ could land you in jail. His solicitor at a press conference this afternoon denied that his client had purchased that ‘cheap thing’. He produced a receipt from a West End jeweller. That ruby encrusted monstrosity cost fifteen thousand pounds and your signature is on the cheque.”
I felt sick.
