Polls Apart Read Free Page A

what brought her and Henry together as, style-wise, they were such polar opposites, but she figured that was part of the attraction. Like Henry, Joy took a no-nonsense approach to life and called things as she saw them, which often made for lively conversation between the four of them.
    “What are the papers saying today then, Henry?” asked Richard.
    “Better than yesterday, but not much.” Henry sniffed as he spread the array of mastheads out on the coffee table between them. Joy was perched attentively in an armchair next to her husband while Richard leant forwards on the sofa opposite.
    “Anna comes in for further criticism over her career choices, and even her fashion sense is questioned in this feature,” he triumphantly waved the highlighted article in front of Richard. “An expert describes your style as ‘rebellious’ Anna. They say it’s a ‘public statement of your refusal to conform to the more traditional style demanded of a leader’s spouse”.”
    “Is that right?” Anna said scathingly as she abruptly set the coffee tray down on the table. “To think that someone actually gets paid to come up with that crap.”
    “You dress the way you’ve always dressed,” Joy chipped in, “and you’ve not always been a politician’s wife.”
    “As hard as that is to believe now,” sighed Anna.
    “Maybe they’ve got a point, Anna.” Henry fixed his target with a meaningful glare. “I know an excellent stylist who could work with your tastes but mould them into something that sits better with the press and public.”
    “You mean the press and politicians, Henry. Let’s face it.” Anna returned his glare, thrusting his cup of coffee towards him and sending the liquid sloshing into the saucer.
    “Now, now children,” smiled Richard. “Let’s not fall out over a choice of blouse. It wouldn’t do any harm for you to meet with a stylist, Anna. We’re only talking about a few weeks until the election.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with the way Anna looks,” Joy said firmly. “The public love her for who she is and the press are just looking for something to write, so let’s drop this.”
    “All right,” said Henry, a steely glint suddenly coming into his eyes. “In that case why don’t we talk about the phone-call I took last night from Damian Blunt of the Sunday Echo asking me exactly how and when you two met?”
    “What about how we met?” asked Richard, furiously stirring his coffee.
    “That’s what I can’t work out. Why would the editor of a Sunday paper suddenly start asking me about that?” Henry’s eyes darted between Richard and Anna as he searched for clues.
    “Well did you ask him?” Anna asked impatiently.
    “Yes, Anna. And he said he was considering doing a warm, cuddly feature on how this public partnership first came into being.”
    “What’s wrong with that?” asked Joy.
    “What’s wrong is that the Sunday Echo don’t do warm and cuddly. There’s something up but I haven’t figured it out yet.”
    “Don’t be so bloody dramatic, Henry,” said Joy. “They met at an awards ceremony seven years ago, it’s hardly earth-shattering is it?”
    “No,” Henry pulled at his closely shaven chin. “But when Damian Blunt starts asking unusual questions it’s time to worry.”
    “Well, you certainly know how to cheer up a rainy Saturday morning, don’t you” Anna frowned at Henry as she reached for a biscuit to dip in her coffee.
    “Just trying to stay ahead and prevent us getting eaten alive by the wolves.”
    “You’re paranoid, Henry,” Joy laughed, instantly riling her husband.
    “Oh, I know that in the la-la land of showbusiness all publicity is good publicity, Joy,” he hissed, “but in the world of politics – where the stakes are genuinely high – we tend to take muck-raking a little more seriously.”
    Anna cringed as she watched her PR ’s mouth fall open in shock at the vitriol behind her husband’s harsh remark. Joy looked over