The American Solution

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Boris was seated behind his large mahogany desk. The open shutters allowed the sun to stream through the Georgian windows, highlighting the motes dancing through the air. Liz was momentarily mesmerised by them. The first time she had entered this room she had been somewhat disappointed by it. She had always imagined the walls to be lined with first edition books on floor to ceiling mahogany shelving, dark wood panelling and well loved leather chairs. Instead the walls, though wood panelled, were painted cream, all the books were kept in the library, to which the current incumbent was expected contribute. It had a light and airy feel, though this was determinedly a working space so no well used comfy chairs were in sight

"Can't you do better than this?" Boris enquired, snapping Liz out of her trance.

"NO! The Trump administration aren't giving any ground. It's this or nothing." She snapped, too harshly but she hadn't been paying attention at that moment.

"Liz, other people were better suited to the job than you, I gave it to you because you assured me you handle it. This... this ..." Boris stands and waves a document in Liz Truss' face "does not like you are, which begs the question of whether you can?"

Liz found herself utterly speechless for a brief moment. How did he turn her getting this job into him doing her a favour? She was so flabbergasted by his assertion that she open her mouth several times to speak and immediately shut it again because no words would actually come out. She felt like a caricature of a goldfish, the way her mouth was flapping around. "Its a difficult negotiation. They know we are desperate." She eventually managed.

"We are not desperate! Of course its a difficult negotiation, they all will be but I need an agreement that will bring the EU to heal. I am trusting you to get it, Liz. This poor excuse for a trade agreement makes me look like a door mat, I'll be a laughing stock." Boris sits down behind his desk. "I need agreement where we are actually gaining something, not one where we have conceded on every point. Go back and get a better deal. Try not to have such an aura of desperation about you, this time Liz."

"How are the others coming along?"

"well aside from the ones which went liven New Years Day, Australia and New Zealand are in the bag. New Zealand is the same as the deal the EU has.

"Good thats another fuck you to Junckers and the EU commission" Boris interrupts

After a pause Liz continues "Australian food standards are similar to ours but I don't think the farmers are going to like additional competition especially with the loss of EU subsidies. If we can't improve the US deal I think this deal will.."

"You will get a better deal"

With a vague wave of his hand, in the general direction of the door, Boris turned his attention back to his computer screen. Liz had clearly been dismissed. She felt like snapping her heels together and saluting but refrained and left the office without further utterance or incidence, even though she was fuming. She was incredulous. He had given her this job because he had needed her support to his job, how dare he suggest he was doing her a favour. She wasn't entirely sure how to turn this agreement around and into a win for the British public.

Back at her office in Whitehall she organised a meeting with her team for that evening. A new strategy had to be found soon. What did the Americans want?

Later that evening, Liz poured herself a glass of wine, and sat down on the sofa, in her living room. The news at 10 was on the TV. It was just background noise really, she actually paying attention. Her mind was still on the American problem. She sigh as her husband walked in the room. "tough day?" He asked

"Challenging. Boris wants the impossible. He's putting all his eggs in the American basket, which I have to deliver. He doesn't all the good work my team have done on other trade deals because we aren't making progress with he US."

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