I had belief. I did not know, or for the moment care, what exactly it was I had to believe in. I only knew that belief in something was the first step away from believing in nothing, the first step away from a world which only recognised what it could count, measure, sell or buy. The people here still had that innocent power of belief: not the angry denial of other people’s belief of religious fanatics, but a quiet affirmation. That was what I sensed here, in this land and in this place, which made it so different from home. It was not the clothes, not the language, not the customs, not the sense of being in another century. It was none of these. It was the pervading presence of belief.
I believed in belief. I didn’t exactly feel as if I was on the road to Damascus, and I was aware I could not think straight because of the power of the sun, but now I knew what the Yemen salmon project was all about. It had already worked its transformation on me. It would do the same for others.
30
From:
Date:
15 July
To:
Subject:
Visit
Fred
I am coming back to London for a review meeting in the first week in August. I know this is slightly later than I originally suggested, but I had to get a date in the diary of our CEO western hemisphere, and that is never easy. I trust you will be able to accommodate this change in your own plans as I think it is most important we meet. I am concerned that you have allowed my extended absence in Geneva (which I think we agreed at the time was an essential career step for me, and one I think that, in the light of the insecurity of your present position, I was wise to take) to lead you into a state of complacency about our marriage. While I am working every hour in the day every weekday and most weekends in order to provide for our future financial security, you appear to be leading a life progressively more and more disconnected from reality. Of course you tell me very little, but from what I can gather, you have spent the spring fishing in Scotland with your sheikh and his lady friend or sunning yourself in the Yemen with the same lady, while our flat is neglected, and I am neglected too. It is very difficult for me to say it, but I am neglected.
So please be sure to be available when I arrive in London. We need to talk.
Mary
From:
Date:
16 July
To:
Subject:
Re: Visit
Mary,
While you are at the mercy of the Inter Finance CEO western hemisphere and his timetable, my own schedule is now decided by the office of the prime minister. They have decreed I must be in the Yemen on the dates you say you will be in London, and I am afraid there is nothing I can do about that. I have to be there.
I am terribly sorry. I agree we need to meet. I will be back in mid-August, if all goes well, and I suggest either I fly to Geneva or you fly to London one weekend.
Love,
Fred
From:
Mary.jones(Sjinterfinance. org
Date:
16 July
To:
Subject:
Re: Re: Visit
Fred,
I cannot for a moment imagine that the prime minister couldn’t do without you for a day or two in the Yemen. He has a whole government at his beck and call, surely he could do without one fisheries scientist for a couple of days? I can only assume you are deliberately avoiding me.
You can fly to Geneva if you like. I cannot guarantee my availability that far ahead. I have a lot of travel commitments coming up.
Mary
From:
Date:
18 July
To:
Subject:
Yemen trip
Mary,
OK.
I know you don’t believe that the PM wants me in the Yemen but I think this trip and these dates have been in his diary for some weeks now, which was why I was careful to let you know about them. I can’t help it if your boss changes his plans around.
I was trying to be accommodating but if that’s the way it is, that’s the way it is. See you some time-I shall always be glad to see you-but it takes two to arrange a meeting.
Love,
Fred
From:
Date:
18 July
To:
Fred, [email protected]
Subject:
Re: Yemen trip
Fred,
Please come back to me.
Mary
31
Now I come to one of the most difficult chapters in a political life that has never been without its challenges. I must speak of events which transcended political life. No Aristotle, no Shakespeare, no writer that I can think of has had to describe events such as I will now write of. I do not aspire to their talents. I am simply a modest journalist who has found himself drawn into the centre of events which have changed this country, perhaps the world, for ever. I must do the best I can, with my limited powers, to help my readers understand what happened.
It all started so well.
The boss was in holiday mood. It had been a bad week in the House of Commons, and when he finally got to the plane he was almost behaving like a small boy who has been let out of school early. On the flight out to Sana’a it was, nevertheless, mostly work. We had to prep for a private meeting with the Yemeni president, and there were one or two other tasks to be dealt with, but four hours into the flight Jay loosened his tie, stretched his arms and said, ‘Peter, is there some of that Oyster Bay Sauvignon in the fridge?’
I went and opened a bottle and brought back a couple of glasses.
I loved it when it was just the boss and me on a trip. It didn’t happen often. There was usually some irritating third person, like the Cabinet secretary or some other civil servant, and the boss wouldn’t be able to unwind. He never trusted those people. They were always resigning and writing their memoirs, and anything careless he said in front of them would end up in print. When he and I were alone like this, I think a lot of the real business of government was mapped out. We used to noodle around the big ideas: what to do with the National Health Service; where we stand on China; why should ASBOs have a lower age limit at all? It was creative stuff. I loved it, and the boss had many of his big ideas after these sessions with me.
On this trip it was just the two of us again. I don’t mean that literally. In the back of the plane was a carefully selected group of media people to cover the launch of the Yemen salmon project; there were the security people; there were communications people. But there were only two real players on the plane on that trip-the boss and me. We sat up at the front, in a private part of the cabin.