Page 87 of The Unlikely Pair

And I find myself powerless to prevent my own grin from stealing onto my face as I gaze down at him.

Yesterday was…fun. There is no other word that quite captures the essence of the day. Toby instructing me in the art of whistling, fishing in the sun, and then what came afterward. Our buoyant mood had persisted into the evening when we’d reclined around the crackling campfire, our stomachs full of fish, our conversation veering from speculating about what washappening back in London to debating the intricacies of defense spending reform.

The chill of the morning air prompts me to move briskly to gather wood to make a fire, my breath frosting the air.

The biting cold serves as a stark reminder that each morning brings a slightly more frigid temperature and a marginally shorter day. Fear gnaws at my stomach.

What was it Toby said yesterday? Live for the moment. I resolutely banish all thoughts of how woefully unprepared we are for the weather to get colder and instead focus on inhaling the crisp, untainted air and arranging the sticks and logs into neat, even piles.

“Why are you starting the fire?” Toby inquires, propping himself up on one elbow and fixing me with a curious gaze.

“I thought if we got the fire going first, then allow it to die down, we could attempt cooking the fish over the embers, which might yield a more consistent cooking result.”

“Are you trying to impress me with your fish-cooking prowess?” Toby asks as he yawns and stretches. He lumbers to his feet, donning his jacket, then approaches me with my own coat, which I accept and put on with gratitude.

Then we both start collecting wood.

According to my watch, today is Wednesday. I’m supposed to be in Parliament today for Prime Minister’s Questions, aiming sharp jibes at the prime minister, hopefully conjuring up effective soundbites to help convince voters about the ineffectiveness of the Labour government and how my party would do a far superior job of running the country.

Instead, I find myself here, building a fire alongside one of my political adversaries.

I crouch and begin to arrange the paracord and pine needles. Toby kneels beside me and starts breaking a longer branch into smaller twig-sized pieces.

“It’s simple out here, isn’t it?” Toby muses, breaking the silence between us.

I glance up at him. “What do you mean by ‘simple,’ exactly?”

“Well, there’s only two of us, so it’s easy to divide the resources between us evenly. Both of us do our fair share of the work, both of us contribute towards the end goal of staying alive.”

“Are you saying we’re operating some sort of communist commune?” I say skeptically as I strike the rod. The paracord catches fire on the first attempt.

Toby throws me a cheeky grin. “I can imagine your Tory blood is freezing at the idea.”

“I’d say it’s more likely curdling,” I reply.

Toby huffs a laugh. He bends to blow gently on the paracord and then carefully adds pine needles to the tiny flame.

“Why did you venture into politics?” I ask.

Toby shrugs, “It’s not that sophisticated. My father passed away when I was young, and I grew up with a single mother who struggled to make ends meet. I spent my twenties as an analyst helping to make rich people richer, and I started to feel…I don’t know, unfulfilled.

“Then, I helped Oliver with his first campaign, and I saw how politics provide an opportunity to change things for the better.”

“What happened to your father?” I ask as I add more pine needles to the fire.

“He died in a car accident.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Toby shrugs again, leaning forward to add the first twig. “It is what it is. My mother tried her hardest to ensure I never went without, but it was difficult. That’s what I’m trying to achieve in politics—to make it easier for people like her.”

“I had a quite different upbringing compared to yours,” I comment.

Toby stares at the fire, his mouth firming into a line. “I imagine you did,” he says finally.

There are so many contrasts between Toby and me, not least the difference in the economic circumstances into which we were born and raised. I don’t know if there is anything I can say at this moment to bridge that gap.

We continue to add more twigs to our growing fire.