A Strange Encounter

A warm glow of sunshine caresses the bare arms of a middle-aged woman as she completes her early morning run on a serene spring morning. A stickler for routine, she’s ran the same five-mile route for over twenty years; one and a half times around the perimeter of Richmond Park, then straight across the grasslands towards her car. Only this time, rather than head straight home, she’s asked her security detail to wait by the vehicle. They don’t of course, choosing instead to hover some seventy yards away, giving her the privacy she so obviously desires. She heads towards a park bench, pulling down her face cap a little more, before glancing back to confirm the whereabouts of her protectors. Upon reaching the bench, she pauses, then continues walking, wanting to get as far away from them as possible. The last thing she wants is for them to witness what’s about to occur. She had sensed its shadow grow darker and heavier during her run. She passes another bench, then another, as the security detail, now somewhat concerned, inch forward, forever protective of their charge. Finally, assured by the several hundred metres between them, she places herself on an old wooden bench. Already sodden, her eyes release a river of tears as her body begins to tremble. For the first time in her life, she’s at a crossroads, paralysed by a future that is no longer clear, and distraught by a past she once believed to be exemplary. 

All her life, she had lived in line with her destiny, scaled heights she knew were within her grasp, and made the kind of impact contemporaries and foes can only dream of. Ten years! Ten incredibly successful years at the very top, and more in store. And yet, here she is, bereft of what to do. Just ten hours ago, everything was exactly as it should be; another victory, more time to make even greater impact. She’d made a promise to herself to be twice as courageous, even more radical and leave no stone unturned until she fully achieved the goal she’d set herself in her second year at university. A goal that is now so close. Five more years is all it will take. Five more years of giving her life and soul to the cause…her life and soul to the cause…her life and soul. For some reason, she no longer feels at ease with the promise she made to herself all those years ago. 

Their eyes said it all; both of them. Not anger or resentment, but something far worse.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” said her husband, grabbing Miranda by the waist and pulling her close to kiss her on the lips. “Good to know that PMs are also capable of having lie-ins.”

“Hmm…I didn’t realise I was so tired. Good morning to you too, my darling hubby.” She holds him tight, returning his slurpy kiss with one of her own, and then another. 

“Can I have a kiss too, mummy?” comes the voice of their five-year-old daughter. 

“Of course, my little angel, just as soon as I…” she planted another kiss on her husband’s lips, before running to Katie to lift her off her chair, planting kisses and blowing raspberries all over her cheeks.

“Mummy stop,” said Katie, giggling with glee, “stop mummy, or I’ll…”

“Or you’ll what? Is my precious little girl threatening me so early in the day?”

“Or I’ll do this,” said Katie, grabbing her mum’s face and blowing a huge saliva fuelled raspberry, plum on her lips.  

“Uuurghh…I love you darling, but that’s gross,” laughs Miranda, pulling Katie close and gazing into her eyes. A wide and liberated smile adorns her tired face, allowing precious seconds to pass in slow motion. 

“Right, you two love birds, pancakes?”

“Yaaaaaay! Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes, pancakes, can you put strawberries on mine, mum?”

“Hey, it isn’t only your mum that can make a good pancake, you know.”

“Oh, sorry dad. Can you put strawberries on mine?”

“On one condition.”

“What?”

“That you let your mum know once and for all, that I am and will always be the pancake king. Agreed?”

“Mum, dad is the pancake king.”

“Hey you, can’t believe you’re so quick to jump sides. I thought we…”

“Sorry mum, but dad’s making it.”

“Looks like we have the makings of a future politician,” said Jim, planting a kiss on Miranda’s left cheek. 

“Mum, will you bring your video camera next week?”

“Video camera? To what?” replied Miranda, a little confused.

“To my play. It’s next Thursday, mummy.”

Katie’s class had been rehearsing their play for over three months. She’d been so excited to be given the starring role that she literally became Elsa; living, speaking and breathing Elsa on a daily basis. Miranda had witnessed a growth in confidence that she could never have imagined, and it was a joy to behold. She had ensured her private secretary noted the date in her dairy, emphasising the importance of marking it as priority. And yet, here she was, about to disappoint yet again. She’d agonised about the rescheduled dates of the G7 meetings, often wondering whether a senior member of cabinet could attend in her stead. But whenever she tried to convince herself that it was perfectly reasonable for the Deputy PM to represent her, the glaring images of the following morning’s newspaper headlines would flash before her eyes – ‘G7 Climate Summit Not Important Enough for PM To Attend’ – ‘PM Leaves Our Fate to Chance’ – ‘Does Our Leader Have Her Priorities in Order?’ – ‘Can She Be Trusted to Put Us First?’ – ‘Time For Change?’

“It’s okay, mummy. I know you’re very busy,” said Katie. Though genuine and true, the loving smile on Katie’s face as she accepted her place in her mother’s life ruptured a huge chasm in Miranda’s heart. It wasn’t okay. It should never be okay. How could it be? 

“It’s okay, love, I’m sure she understands,” said Jim, trying his best to comfort her. It would have been better if they’d both protested, yelled and screamed because of her perennial absence. But no, they had both accepted their fate; second equal in priority. It was not okay, far from it. In that moment, everything she had planned and envisaged came crashing down. 

There’s a ball on the grass, still and silent. An orange, purple and yellow ball, stationed by her right foot as though waiting for instruction. Had it been by her foot all the time? She wonders how it got there. 

“It’s not actually a football,” comes a voice. 

“Huh?” She looks up to see a young girl standing a few feet away. There’s a faint breeze now, plucking gently at the mousy blonde hair of the child in front of her. Miranda glances from left to right and then back again, wondering why a child similar in age to her daughter is playing on her own in the park at 6.30 in the morning. “Where on earth did you come from?” enquires Miranda, “and why are you all alone?” She gives a warm smile, so as not to upset her. The girl smiles back, placing her eyes on Miranda’s and leaving them there for several seconds. Miranda shifts a little and glances from left to right, before facing her again. 

“Is your mum or dad…”

“You look very sad. Did something bad happen?” says the girl.

“Well…I guess…yes, something did happen.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Miranda once more glances around the perimeter. The least she can do is speak with her, make her feel safe. No harm telling her why she’s feeling sad. 

“I promised my daughter that I would go to her drama play, but…something came up…I won’t be able to go after all.”

“Why do you feel bad?”

“Because she’s my daughter, and I love her very much. But… you see, it’s a work thing, so I have to…I have to be at work.”

The girl makes her way towards Miranda, stopping just inches from her before picking up her technicoloured ball. She smiles, and turns to walk away, but after a few paces, turns back again.

“Daddy says we should always follow our heart and do what’s most important. I’m going now. Bye.”

“Wait…where are your…” But it’s too late, the girl is already scampering off into the distance with ball in hand. Miranda gets to her feet and begins a frantic walk in the direction of the security detail, breaking into a run after some seconds.

“Tom!”

“Yes, madam?”

“I want you and Derek to follow that girl. Heaven only knows why such a young child is on her own in the park, and so early in the morning. Can’t be safe.”

“Sorry, Madam, what girl?” says Tom.

“The one over there with the bright ball in her hand,” she says, pointing in the direction of the girl.

“Sorry, Madam, I can’t see anything, there’s nobody there.”

Miranda turns around and sees nothing but an empty ocean of green grass. “But…”

“Is everything okay, madam?”

“Yes…yes, of course. Everything is fine. What time is it?”

“8.15 madam. We’d best be heading back, you’re on in two hours.” 

She climbs into her car, further de-stabilised by the morning’s event. Thoughts about the little girl in the park are soon replaced by the route of her anguish – ‘It’s okay mum, I know you’re very busy’ – ‘I’m sure she understands’…understands what? That she’s not as important as all the other stuff? Their faces are all she sees during the drive back. Forgiving. Kind. Longsuffering. 

Katie and Jim have already departed for the Excel centre by the time she arrives. She’d asked for them to be ferried in a separate vehicle for the sake of their safety; something she’d always insisted on from day one. She wishes they were still at home. She would reassure them about how much they mean to her; that they have and will always take precedent over all other things. Maybe they didn’t before, but they do now. Like scales falling from her eyes, she begins to realise how far back in the queue she had placed them.

They are all she thinks about during the drive to the excel centre. She had planned this morning’s event to the letter. She’d wanted a venue that could accommodate party members, donors, members of the public and of course her erstwhile members of cabinet. It will be an event no like no other. One that will further galvanise a unity of purpose between the government and the electorate. Her legacy – trust, unity, unparalleled progress. But somehow, it doesn’t seem as all important as it did before.

“Mira, Mira, Mira, Mira, Mira.” On and on they chant her name, as she stands on the podium. She’s been waiting for over seven minutes, but rather than ease off, the chants are getting louder. Every so often, she points at someone she recognises, then waves at her audience again. They are excited and ready for more. It is just as she planned. Katie and Jim are on the front row, smiling, clapping and chanting like everyone else, except in Katie’s case it’s ‘mummy, mummy, mummy, mummy, mummy.’ She wishes they were with her, standing beside her, holding her hands. They are all she wants. All that… She quickly gathers her senses, resisting the urge to yield on the final lap.  The auditorium is filled to the brim.  A young girl is so excited that she’s bouncing a bright coloured ball up and down the aisle. All of a sudden, she stops, and looks towards Miranda. Their eyes meet, and she smiles as time momentarily stands still. Miranda is comforted in the knowledge that she’s safe and well. She’s grateful for her presence, as it enables her to accept what she now knows she must do. 

The frenzied chants finally give way to silent anticipation. This is the moment she’d waited over two years for. They are ready for the next phase of the journey. As she takes her time to slowly glance around the auditorium before commencing her speech, she catches her daughter’s eyes, causing her heart to leap with an altogether different kind of joy. 

“Thank you. Thank you all so much.

Wow! It’s been one heck of a journey. 

I can’t thank you enough. What progress we have made. What progress this nation has made – Employment, Economy, Diversity, Unity, Housing, Peace….and so much more…I love this nation… I love you… All of you! I am so grateful and honoured to serve you. 

But…but I am first and foremost a mother…And this young lady sitting before me must now be my priority. I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your love and support. And please…please be in absolutely no doubt that I leave you in good hands.”

The stunned audience is silent for several seconds, unsure of whether or not they’re in a dream. But one by one, they rise to applaud in appreciation for her sacrifice and service. Relieved by their warm response, Miranda heads to her husband and daughter, to finally enact what she has been aching to do for several hours. She picks up Katie and puts an arm around her husband, holding them tight. In the midst of it all, she scans the auditorium in search of the little girl, but she is nowhere to be seen.