Chapter 7
Kara - Present
We finally make it onto the dance floor, which is already full of people in a range of colourful dresses and tuxedos dancing.
The chandelier above glitters and twinkles.
I’ve been in plenty of situations like this; big dinners, extravagant rooms, all with grand decorations, where bands play and people dance.
But in this moment, when Owen grabs my waist and I step closer to him, when my arm rests on his shoulder, and when he takes my other hand in his, I feel like this is my first time.
Butterflies dance in my stomach. My mouth feels like I’ve not drank anything for days, and don’t even get me started on the rapid beats of my heart.
“Do you know how to dance?” I ask him as he starts leading me around the dance floor.
“Nothing to it.”
“You always had two left feet.”
He looks down at me and grins. “I’m sure that was you, Cookie. You were always running into things or falling over your feet. Need I remind you about the pond?”
“That was the stones,”
“But look at you now. All grown up,” he says, ignoring my argument.
“As have you, Mr Cooper. When’s your speech?”
“Soon,” he answers, but doesn’t say more.
“Jules seemed to suggest it was a big night?”
“It is. I’m making an announcement tonight.”
“Which is?”
He spins me, and I follow easily, his arm letting go of my waist and grabbing hold, pulling me back close. My head tilts back up to read his expression, which is masked. He really is Mr Politician.
“You’ll see. So, tell me, what’s the plan here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I stop dancing and stare deep into his eyes. “We put on a show.” I place my hand on his chest and can feel his heart pounding as hard as mine. People are having to dance round us, as we have stopped right in the centre of the floor, directly under the chandelier.
The positioning is perfect, and after our reunion, people are intrigued by our story. Their curious stares press from all sides, anticipation crackling between us.
He looks down at me, green eyes meeting blue. His gaze unreadable, intense.
“Can you put on a show, Owen?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the music.
Hesitation flickers across his face, so fleeting I question whether it was there.
His jaw tightens, and I can almost feel the war raging inside him.
With the slightest of nods, he makes his choice.
Leaning in, his lips graze mine in the lightest of touches.
A whisper of a kiss which sends a shiver down my spine.
Then it’s gone.
Before I can react and ask for more, he pulls me close and moves us effortlessly across the dance floor.
It’s calculated. It’s controlled. It’s not enough.
A slow, wicked smile curls at my lips as I meet his gaze. “I think you may need to do better than that.”
“What, you want me to bend you over a table and fuck you?” he growls in my ear. “This was not what I had in mind when I wanted more security. Bloody hell, Lucy.”
“It’s just an act, Owen. That’s all it is.”
“But it’s you.” He pulls back enough so he can see my face. “And I can’t read you, you’re like an enigma. What is going through your head?”
“I’m being professional. I’m doing the exact thing you asked me to do.”
“I need to know what that arsehole did to you,” he growls, and I tense at his question. My eyes whip to his as anger overwhelms me, and I stop us again.
“If you want me to stay professional and do my job, you need to stop asking me that question in the middle of a room full of people. Because if I stop being professional, I may remember how angry at you I am,” I spit, my finger pointing at him.
“Okay, okay,” he placates, pulling me back to him. “I’m sorry.” His lips on my head, and I relax into him. “But we do need to talk.”
“We do, you’re right; you need to tell me everything. The file you gave us was a crock of shit, and it seems you’re exceptionally good at burying your past.”
“I’m not the only one, Kara,” he whispers my name sarcastically, the dig hurting more than I care to admit. The music stops, and it takes us both a minute to realise that we are being instructed back to the tables. “I’m up. Thank you for the dance, Miss Snow.”
He kisses the side of my mouth, then leaves me standing on the dance floor heading off towards the side of the stage. The band now busy taking their instruments off and making their way off the stage. Making room, for I assume, him and his speech.
I head slowly back to my table, my axis still out of whack, being careful to take a route where I can still see where Owen is out of the corner of my eye.
Although nothing suggests anything will happen tonight.
None of the intelligence Owen gave us or that Andrews has found says there is any threat to him at this moment.
But I’m still vigilant.
Still a professional.
This is a job, remember?
I have to keep telling myself that.
A man with greying hair in a midnight blue suit stands on the stage. He screams wealth, his deep, rich voice coming over the surround sound speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you have enjoyed your evening so far; we are pleased to see so many people supporting our wonderful charity.”
“Tonight, we have the absolute pleasure to be joined by Owen Cooper.” The room erupts in applause, and I look around, shocked, as a few whoops break out.
The man waits for it to die down with a huge smile on his face before continuing.
“Who, as you all know, if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be sitting here today.
His own story and experiences have fed into this charity.
He knows what it’s like to be abandoned and forgotten. ”
“Yeah, right,” I mutter, snorting into my drink. Jules peers over at me, her eyebrow raised in question.
“He has made waves in our little corner of the world, but I think we can all agree that Mr Cooper is making waves on a grander scale. But enough of me standing here, waffling at you all. Please, may I welcome to the stage, Owen Cooper. Executive Chairman of the Fostering Families Foundation.”
The room erupts, and I join in, my eyes tracking his movement as he jumps up onto the stage and hugs the gentleman who introduced him.
Blue Tuxedo exits, and the spotlights turn onto Owen. And there he is, the person who I realise still has so much of my heart, caught in a fucking vice, so much so that I have to swallow down the sudden lump of emotion that clogs my throat.
“Thank You, Pete Sanderson. Here he is, bigging me up, when it’s all his money that got this thing off the ground.” He grins and the audience lets out a small chuckle.
“It’s an honour to be here with you all tonight. This charity wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for all your support. So, I want to thank and applause you all.”
He drops his mic onto a small table and claps at the audience, and they all join in.
“Some of you know my past, but there are many faces around the room that don’t. You’ve only heard mutterings, so tonight I’m going to share with you my story. Well, I’d be lying. Actually, it’s our story. Mine and a little girl called Lucy.”
My body turns to ice at the mention of my name, and I wish they hadn’t moved my butter knife as I’d love to use it on him right now.
“You would have seen our reunion tonight. There’s no missing Lucy, and many of you have asked how we know each other.
” He grins and looks down, searching for his words.
“Lucy and I grew up together, and I think it’s safe to say that we both experienced firsthand the darker side of the foster system.
We saw what happens when the foster parents aren’t given the right support, or that the wrong people are chosen to be foster parents.
What checks are done? How do the local authorities keep track of them, like truly keep track?
We have known for years that the social care system in this country is buckling.
Decades of cutbacks from the government have left the system imploding.
There isn’t the right number of staff, there isn’t enough training, there isn’t enough support. There just isn’t enough.”
He pauses and walks across the stage. The audience is entranced with him, listening to his every word. Including me.
“The thing that pisses me off about it all is that it isn’t them who suffer.
It’s us. It’s a little girl called Lucy, and a little boy called Owen.
While the government continues to be so far removed from the real issues of this country.
Too busy lining their own pockets and their corrupt friends, all whilst people are suffering.
Children are suffering, and I, for one, am sick of it.
” I glance round the room, and people are nodding.
Jesus, even I’m nodding.
“When I look at my peers, when I go to Westminster, I see a government so unbelievably removed from representing our people. The majority are white, middle-aged men who are well educated and have lived their life to become a politician. They haven’t lived the struggles that exist for the people in this country.
They haven’t gone through and experienced the broken social care systems, the very systems that are in place to support and keep people safe.
The very same social care system that their cuts have crippled.
They are arrogant, selfish, and corrupt.
And things have got to change. A little girl once told me that there were monsters. ”
He seeks me out in the crowd, and our eyes lock.
“And those monsters do terrible things to little children. I used to tell her monsters weren’t real, and I would always protect her. But I let her down, in the worst possible of ways.”
I bow my head, not willing to see his expression, not willing to let him see mine. My body’s hot and clammy, emotions clawing their way through my chest and into my throat.
“I let the monsters in, and I am so truly sorry. And now monsters live in the politicians that are there to protect, who are there to improve things for people like me, people like you, our children, our children’s children.”
My body is so still, but inside I’m vibrating with rage. How dare he use our story, my story, to help his political position. I want to stand up and walk out, but I’m glued to the spot, refusing to move.
Refusing to look at the beautiful Owen King, who is now launching his political career to the next level, using me.
Using us.
Was this what Andrews had in his plan?
No, it couldn’t have been. There was no way. Cooper’s reaction was completely natural. He was surprised to see me. Except maybe he is just as much of a lying bastard as the rest of them.
“I’m so fed up with it all. How broken it is.
How the politics in this country is so dominated by left and right winged out of touch political parties.
So, ladies and gentlemen, that brings me to my announcement.
They say I’m making waves because I challenge.
I don’t think I’m naturally challenging.
But I do hold people accountable, and we’ve lost that in this country.
Every interview these people do, they don’t answer questions.
They hide behind nonsense, and they point the finger at each other.
They comment on what the other party is doing, to misdirect us.
Everything, everyone, has an agenda. And to be honest, I’m no different. I have an agenda.”
Of course he fucking does.
“Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, I want to tell you that I am, as of next week going to start a new political party. With the core set of values of integrity, honesty and transparency. I want to remove the politics and go back to basics. I want to do what’s right for the people of this great nation and do it in the right way.
It’s going to be hard, it’s going to take blood, sweat and tears, but I am going to continue to make those waves. And Number Ten, I’m a fucking tsunami.”
The crowd roars its appreciation, and Owen literally drops the mic. The clang of it when it hits the stage echoes through the sound system.
Around the room, people are standing, and shouting, and clapping. Owen shakes the man’s hand and shakes hands with people who are in his way as he slowly makes his way back to the table.
I’m watching his every move, how he interacts, how he smiles, how he looks proud and pleased with himself.
Me? Well, I still want to murder him with a fucking butter knife.
“Wow! He did it.” Jules scoots next to me. “He’s going to be our next Prime Minister one day.”
“Hmm,” I say, tapping my lips, watching him.
“Was this the first time you’ve heard him give a speech?”
“Yes. I don’t follow politics. Like Owen says, they are all corrupt, lying arseholes.”
Jules smiles kindly and nods. “Well, he is going to make a change.”
Of course, he bloody is. He’s sitting on a huge bloody conspiracy, and in my eyes, he is as bad as those currently in power. He’s used the information he has, he’s used our childhood, and he’s taken the opportunity that is in front of him to launch his new political party.
They all start off with the best intention in mind. How they will be the change, but the sad truth, is give him a year he will be just as corrupted. And that, I think, makes me sad.
Just how bloody na?ve he is.