Almost as incredible as the fact that she would still be here tomorrow, she thought, looking at the dashing figure he cut in his suit, impatient to prove to herself how good the lovemaking would be between them again once the stress of this election was over.
‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ Georgios’s words cut through her errant thoughts and the room fell silent. ‘Good evening, and thank you for your patience.’ He craned his neck to look at the clock on the right-hand side of the wall behind him, which read just before ten p.m. ‘The turnout at the polls this year has been unprecedented, but I can now confirm that all votes have been collected, counted, and verified.’ He raised the sealed envelope in his hand. ‘People of Metameikos. Your results are in.’
It felt as if the whole room simultaneously stopped breathing and blinking; all energy was focussed on the sound of the envelope being slowly torn open, on the sight of Georgios carefully extracting the slip of paper that held the answer to everyone’s future.
He took a deep breath. ‘Taking sixty-four per cent of the vote…ladies and gentleman, you have elected a new leader: Orion Delikaris.’
The room erupted in a cheer; Stephanos gave a whoop so loud it was only surpassed by a woman’s delighted high-pitched squeal from the back of the room. Libby instantly recognised it as belonging to Eurycleia.
But before the round of applause had reached its natural conclusion there was another loud noise that sounded a lot like a blow being struck. As Libby turned her head, she realised to her astonishment that it had been a blow being struck. Spyros had placed his fist through one of the ornate panels of the eighteenth-century wall.
He swore obscenely, muttered something she couldn’t fully discern about a lower class mutiny, then pushed his way through the crowd of smirks and frowns, belatedly followed by his wife, who reluctantly shuffled after him.
But Libby only spared them a single glance, because her eyes were fixed on Rion. She liked to think that if she hadn’t already known, then at that moment she would have guessed his motivation for running in this election was noble. Because he didn’t lord it over Spyros, even though he had every right to do so. His chest wasn’t puffed out; he was not self-righteous in his success and newly won power.
No, he looked…supremely humble. Victorious, yes, but as if his victory transcended personal success and belonged to everyone in the room. And, whilst she had seen the tension in every sinew of his body ease slightly as Georgios had read out his name, she also saw a man who was aware that he might have been handed the crown, but it was what he did from this moment onwards which would determine whether he deserved to wear it.
The way all politicians ought to look, Libby philosophised, thinking how unfortunate it was that they rarely did. Yet it made her even prouder to be standing there beside him.
‘Congratulations,’ she whispered, squeezing his hand. ‘The people of Metameikos made the right choice.’
For a second Rion felt such an acute sense of fulfilment at her words that it even surpassed the moment Georgios had read out his name. But then he remembered. All she meant was that the other candidate had been a corrupt pig, and in the absence of anyone else the people of the old town had been best off choosing one of their own. Abruptly he let go of her hand.
‘I would like to invite the new leader of Metameikos to the podium, please.’ Georgios beamed, gesturing for Rion to step forward as the disturbance died down. ‘A man who—’ he looked at the empty space Spyros had left behind ‘—I’m in no doubt whatsoever is the best man for the job.’
Libby felt the uneasiness she’d experienced last night rise again as Rion dropped her hand without a backward glance. But as she watched him make his way to the microphone she gave herself a stern talking-to. He was about to deliver the most important speech of his life, and all she could worry about was that he hadn’t squeezed her hand and smiled at her in return? Good God! She should be ashamed of herself. If they were going to build a successful marriage out of the flotsam and jetsam of their old one, then she really ought to start practising what she preached: move forward and show him some support.
Her thoughts bore a striking resemblance to the theme of Rion’s modest, inspiring and perfectly polished address. He spoke openly about the hard work that lay ahead, without dwelling on what had happened in the past, and shared his vision for the change that was possible, if everyone was willing, for a brighter and more equal future.
As his words turned into actions in the weeks that followed, Libby could well believe he’d been talking about more than just politics. Because after that night things within their marriage undoubtedly changed too. She understood the demands on his time, and why both his work and his political career meant so much to him. In return, to her delight, he began to invite her to accompany him in his duties—to the laying of the first brick for the new hospital, to the occasional meeting with his team. He even asked her to speak at one of them about how she felt the new set of guidelines aimed at restricting planning permission for luxury holiday homes would impact on the tourist industry.