liz truss x priti patel: the complete story

29. September 2022, part 1

It was the day of the announcement, and Priti entered the living room to find Alex watching live coverage of the leadership contest.

"Do you want me to turn it off?" He asked, but she shook her head, watching from where she stood by the stairs. This moment alone would change everything.

"The total number of valid votes given to each candidate was as follows. Rishi Sunak: 60,399. Liz Truss: 81,326. Therefore, I give notice that Liz Truss is elected the leader of the Conservative party."

The crowd erupted into applause as Liz walked to the stage, squeezing Hugh's hand as she stood. Priti's stomach churned at the sight, the subtle intimacy reminiscent of their own, and she felt a pang of jealousy. But as a happiness like nothing she'd seen before shone on Liz's face, she could only feel guilty that she wasn't there to see it.

That evening, she paced the halls of her home, resignation letter in hand. Though it was drafted months ago, before she even knew Liz was going for the leadership, it now felt personally cruel and calculated, like she was formally breaking them apart. But, with rumours she was set to be replaced anyway, what did the letter matter? At least now she could actually make a resignation speech. Pushing her insecurity aside, Priti told herself that she was overthinking, and delivered the letter to the Prime Minister's desk.

***

Torrential rain pounded against the windows as Liz was driven from the royal estate. She had just met the Queen, curtseying before her and kissing her frail hand, as she was formally invited to form a government. Her first plans would be unveiled in two days' time, and back at Downing Street, the handover of power was taking place. Long-term staff expecting to meet their new boss hurriedly packed their belongings, a curt email that morning ordering them to be out by 11, as new, inexperienced allies took their places.

Looking at the blurry view of the streets approaching her new home, Liz stopped to catch her breath. She had just taken the most important office in the UK, fulfilling her biggest dream: serving her country in defence of wokeness as a cost of living crisis tore across the nation. And yet, her mind was elsewhere. Among the many phone calls she received to congratulate her, Priti had not said a word, and Liz longed to hear her voice.

"How surreal is this?" An aide asked.

"My whole life has felt surreal." She replied.

*

The Commons was packed for Liz's first PMQs. Her previous public speaking experiences had been noteworthy in their awkwardness, and MPs buzzed with anticipation, her debut feeling like it would set the tone for what was to come.

Priti sat in the backbenches, anxious. But as Liz answered her first question, she saw the woman carry a confidence that usually waned before the cameras. Starmer appealed slightly baffled, not used to an opponent who actually answered his questions. Sceptics in the backbenchers let out a sigh of relief, the opposition a sign of agitation, as the satirists put down their pens, seeing there was nothing there to ridicule. Priti gave a proud smile, for a moment forgetting how long it had been since they'd spoken.

But the evening saw no celebration in No.10. News from Balmoral was increasingly grim. Virtual engagements from the Queen had been cancelled, and though Liz had been told the Queen was ill but nothing was imminent, she was growing doubtful. Though she knew it was selfish to think it, tomorrow she would announce a freeze on energy bills funded by borrowing, and nothing could overshadow it.

*

"It's a matter of when, not if." Liz was told, as she learned the Queen had taken a dramatic turn for the worst. After a morning spent hastily arranging for black dresses to be delivered to Downing Street, Liz headed to the Commons. Not only did she have to deliver her plans, but she had to do so as if nothing was wrong.