Stave 5 - The End of It
Yes! and the bedpost was her own. The bed was her own, the room was her own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before her was her own. Her so-called friends had left her with nothing to lose so she might as well gamble everything on one last throw of the dice.
"I don't know what day of the month it is," said Theresa. "I don't know how long I've been among the Spirits. I don't know anything. I'm quite a baby. Never mind. I don't care. I'd rather be a baby. Hallo! Whoop! Hallo here!
Theresa's husband, Philip, poked his head round the door. "That long sleep must have done you good. Hallo to you too!
"Long sleep? What's to-day?" cried Theresa.
Philip responded by holding a sprig of mistletoe above his head.
"It's Christmas Day!" said Theresa to herself while enjoying a Christmas kiss. "I haven't missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night and it's still well before dawn." Out loud "Sorry Philip, I must dash."
"You're not working today?!"
"Just a couple of hours. When you go to church, try and sit at the back, I might be able to join you."
Theresa changed into what she hoped were suitable clothes. As she swept through the London suburbs in the official car, Theresa was making some calls. If she had followed the example of Scrooge in Dickens' Christmas tale, the unfortunate Police Officer Cratchit would be receiving a large, raw turkey with insufficient time to cook it. Poor little Tim would probably end up with food poisoning. Fortunately Theresa had a more practical turn of mind.
Theresa was surprisingly nervous. She hoped it wasn't too early. She rang the bell and a rather bleary-eyed Police Officer Crachit came to the door. She stared at the Prime Minister for a moment and said, rather hesitantly "Hello. Mrs May?"
Theresa smiled "I bring glad tidings. May I come in?"
"Yes. Sure. You'll have to excuse the mess."
"It's fine. I'll come straight to the point. You've been given an award of £20,000 for your exceptional courage and dedication."
Roberta Crachit was dumbfounded. "I don't understand. What does it mean?"
"It means that you can turn the heating up and you won't have to worry about the rent for a while. The money is already in your bank account. There's only one condition."
"What's that?"
"Absolute secrecy. You can tell your husband that you've won a Government award but no one else. And don't mention me."
"I don't know what to say. Thank you. Are you sure I'm not dreaming?"
"If you doubt the evidence of your senses, get on line and check your account. Anyway - must dash."
As the sun rose unwillingly over the horizon, the white haired, bearded man bent down, harvesting his sprouts. A pair of leopard skin patterned sneakers appeared under his nose. He looked up. To say that he was surprised was an understatement.
"Er. Hello." said Jeremy Corbyn. For it was he. "Merry Christmas. This is an unexpected - Uh - pleasure."
Theresa decided to throw herself on Jeremy's mercy. "I need your help. The Brexit negotiations are a total fiasco and ..."
"And?"
"I've got an idea about how to fix it but it will only work if I can borrow some of your people."
Jeremy looked baffled. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
Theresa smiled. "Spoken like a true Brit. That would be super."
... and so negotiations opened over two battered mugs in a rather makeshift allotment shed. Theresa explained her big idea. It was so obvious, that it was totally radical. Instead of cabinet positions being used to reward or buy loyalty, they should go to the person best qualified to do the job. The ex-diplomat on her own benches would be Foreign Secretary and a clever lawyer on the Labour benches would run the Brexit negotiations. And so on, and so forth. Jeremy agreed that these power-sharing arrangements were the best way through the current impasse.
After they had sketched out a framework, Theresa got up to leave. Jeremy asked if there was anything else he could do for her. She said that there was just one more thing he could help her with.
A little while later, Theresa was sitting in church beside Philip, her handbag bulging with sprouts. For the first time in ages she could look forward to the future. She was especially looking forward to seeing the look on a certain Minister's face when she made him Transport Minister with personal responsibility for the Southern Railway system.
THE END
With apologies to the shades of Dickens and Baroness Thatcher and any living politicians that I have mentioned. I've thoroughly enjoyed playing with the ideas in Dickens' A Christmas Carol and applying them to modern times and political characters. Obviously, I've tried to steer clear of the party politics. I have no notion about how politicians spend their Christmas - so I have completely made this up apart from the words that I have stolen from Dickens' original novella.
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