That Has Such People In It

May 2026.

Soho, Central London.

It was a more tasteful affair than Cass expected, if she was honest, in spite of being in the ballroom of a hotel with a charitable 3-star rating on Google Maps.

An elegant banner hung at the entrance to the ballroom read “Welcome Class of 2026,” wait staff criss-crossed the room holding trays of drinks, and the space was a decent-enough size that you could breathe comfortably. But she wasn’t so keen on having any company today. It was more of a relief than a celebration, having squeaked through the general election only a few months after similarly squeaking through a by-election. But it was a cocktail reception for “newly seated” MPs, and she’d somehow been invited. Not that this was an official event, of course. It was some light-touch lobbying group called “Friends Of Britain,” some little party they organised after every general election. Maybe they figured she hadn’t yet had time to get properly compromised.

She finished downing her second glass of free Prosecco and thought ultimately, it wasn’t so bad. It beat being in her flat alone, she told herself, lying.

It was meant to be a networking thing, but she’d spent almost all of it glued to her phone, texting away. It was 8 p.m., which meant it was 6 a.m. in Sydney. She could credibly harass Rose without feeling bad about it. 6 a.m. was a time people got up, yeah?

“Cannot believe I do this just to talk to you,” came the response.

“You know I love you for it xxxx,” Cass sent back with a grin.

“Like a sister now though, yes?” replied Rose. An anxious emoji face stared up at her. Cass felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. She tried to lean cooly on a cocktail table, one of many dotted around this bit of the reception, though hers was the only one not being used to socialise.

“Of course,” she finally forced herself to type out. “But I do miss you,” she added, then quickly erased before she sent it. “Of course.”

“Good! You know I want the best for you! You fucking deserve it!”

Cass quickly swooped another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a healthy sip. “Thanks babe,” she typed, erasing “babe” before she sent it. “Thanks.”

“Hope you’re wearing something that shows off your sexy ink.”

She darted her eyes to one side, thought about it, and decided not to lie to Rose. “All covered up I’m afraid.”

“Sure, sure. It’s fine. FOR NOW. You know I dream of seeing my designs in some clip from BBC Parliament.”

Cass looked up and saw the room had really started to fill. Everyone was fashionably late, it seemed. Excellent quality for members of Parliament. She gave the crowd a desperate scan for someone she might fancy speaking with. It was desperately male, desperately bland. Was she the only non-Tory who came to this thing?

And then she saw her.

Stood alone at a table across the room. Drinking a proper cocktail, not just the free Prosecco. So tall, with the confidence to wear heels on top of that. Her dark hair buzzed on one side, hanging down almost to her shoulder on the other. Stood there so goddamn effortlessly cool in a shiny pink blouse and leather skirt. Who is she?

“Christ, I’d get lost in her shadow,” she muttered to herself. She worried she was gawking. Was she gawking? It seemed to be going unnoticed, so maybe just a bit of gawking was fine.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of the trance.

“SO? Making friends? Making more than friends?” Rose again. Cass looked around. Nobody behind her, nobody in her immediate vicinity. She brought her phone up as if she was replying, flicked to the camera and quickly snapped a photo of the mystery woman in the shiny pink blouse.

“Who is this?” She fired off the photo. Rose had many flaws, one of which was her unhealthy obsession with British politics, and British politicians. Cass was hoping, for once, that she’d kept it up since the move.

The reply came back swiftly. “That’s Elizabeth Marsh. New Tory prodigy. Nepo baby. Def. getting a junior cabinet post in next reshuffle, I guarantee.”

“Suppose I can make time for a Tory just this once. Socialising is fine right? Just no unprotected governing?”

“She’s a pretty lady” came Rose’s reply, dripping in snark.

“We’re both alone!! Everyone else already has someone to chat with.”

“I can see two lads by themselves toward the back of this same photo.”

“Look at her hair tho.” They’d never felt threatened being thirsty around each other, even when they were exclusive. But there was that feeling in Cass’s stomach again.

“Is she 9 feet tall? And you’re 4 foot yes?”

“5’4” in heels. Check her bio though actually, how tall *is* she?”

“Says here she’s tall enough to step on you without even noticing.”

Cass looked over the top of her phone at Elizabeth, still stood there alone, powering through whatever reddish cocktail that was. “Yes, please.” She added a panting emoji for good measure.

“Down girl. As established she’s a Tory. Sometimes they’re hot, it’s how they lure you in then bam they privatise you and strip you for parts.”

“I can fix her.”

“Also definitely straight. Bi if you’re lucky but you’re not.”

“Says that on her Parliamentary bio does it then”

“I can tell. We both know you cannot. This is your worst area Cassie trust me.”

Cass frowned. Maybe she was being playful, but it just came across as mean. Maybe it was just the text. Whatever. Benefit of the doubt. She had to make things normal with Rose. Rather than engage, she simply sent back a smiley face.

“You’re going over there aren’t you,” came the response from Rose. “My beautiful disaster gay. I’m gonna get a bit more sleep, be safe.”

She clicked her phone off and dropped it in her pocket, then made a beeline for Elizabeth. Scores of besuited men bumbled about, discussing the election, how close it was, party meetings, boring, boring, boring. She picked her way through the crowd, dodging eye contact with at least two or three people she sort-of recognised. Elizabeth had just finished her cocktail when Cass arrived.

“Looks like you’re dry! Shall we off to the bar?” Elizabeth looked up surprised, then back down a bit. Cass smiled up at her. “If you put me on your shoulders I’ll be able to see where it is.”

“Ha! Yes, bit of a height difference there. Sorry, I’m a fucking giraffe.”

“No bother, you can make it up to me with a drink.” Cass let out a weird giggle and touched Elizabeth’s elbow. Elizabeth exhaled a big, performative sigh as they started their walk to the bar.

“Oh fine, this is what it’s come to is it.”

“I’m afraid it has. Unless you’ve spent the last of your money on that incredible top. I could get this round if so. You’ve done us all a favour with it.” Elizabeth looked down at her outfit and gave an awkward grin.

“Thank you! I was worried it was a bit loud. I text three different people asking if it was too ‘ahhh!’ to wear to an event like this.”

“I’m glad they approved!”

“Oh they all said absolutely don’t, but fuck it, here I am anyway.”

“Fock yes!” Cass lit up, and said that maybe a bit too loudly. A few randoms around them all looked over in unison. One rolled his eyes and turned back round. “Fock yes,” she whispered, getting a low chuckle from Elizabeth. They now stood in the queue motionless behind far too many people. A group of men in matching blue suits at the front were in a strop over the bar having run out of a particular Pinot they’d been drinking.

Cass put her hand on Elizabeth’s back, leaned up and whispered in her ear. “The lobby bar probably doesn’t have a wait.”

“Are we allowed to do that?” My god, Cass thought, this woman is adorable. She studied her face, wondering how old she was. Rose had called her a “prodigy.”

“Allowed? We’re adults.”

Elizabeth laughed nervously and scratched her neck. “I just meant, you know. I’m not sure what I meant.” Cass smiled and looked her in the eyes for a moment. Such gorgeous hazel eyes. She might never find her way back out of them. “So,” Elizabeth continued, “lobby bar then?”

“Shhhhh. Don’t spread ideas.” Cass walked Elizabeth out of the queue, hand on her back, like security escorting her out of a gig. A few minutes of smiling, nodding, bobbing and weaving later, they were on the stairs headed down. As predicted the hotel’s lobby bar stood practically empty, a couple tables occupied out of a dozen, and the bartender looking eager for something to do.

They took a table at the back, G&Ts in hand, already half gone from lingering at the bar. Cass took care to sit next to Elizabeth rather than across from her. Her energy was intoxicating. She just wanted to be near her. They just felt so compatible. So effortless. It made her realise they’d been talking, one unbroken conversation, since the moment they met. She hadn’t even introduced herself.

“I’m Cass, by the way. Cass Cooper. Popler and Limehouse.”

“Cass Cooper! What a fantastic name.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened. She let out a dramatic gasp and held her hand to her chest. “But wait, gasp, you’re Labour! Oh, no.” The corner of her lip curled as she tried not to smile. Cass leaned forward with a naked grin.

“I won’t bite. Without consent, of course.” Elizabeth threw her head back and cackled.

“Oh, you’re funny! I like you. And christ, yes! I’m Elizabeth Marsh.”

“MP for Cambridge,” Cass interjected. “Tory MP, even! Sorry. I might’ve looked you up before I walked over. Welcome to the class of 2026.”

“You looked me up! You cheat. Unbelievable. Still came over even though I’m Tory scum, though.”

“What can I say? It was the hair.” She raised her glass. “I never stood a chance.”

“Oh, you like it?” Elizabeth looked up, like she was trying to see her own head. “I think I’m having a quarter-life crisis.”

“I cannot possibly convey how much I like it.”

“It feels so weird.” Elizabeth ran her fingers over the shaved bit. “I’m so not used to it. Wanna feel?” Cass very much did, and she very much went for it.

“It’s sharp! I’m gonna cut my fingers on your hair here, Lizzie. Can I call you Lizzie? If so, and only if, you can call me Cassie.”

“Lizzie and Cassie it is.” She flashed a smile. Then her face fell a bit. “God, what are we doing? I spent ages prepping for this, thinking we were going to be talking policy, procedure, what to expect. I worry we should be?” Cass couldn’t contain a huge belly laugh.

“Bless you. It’s a drinks mixer. Everyone just gets drinks. If I’m honest half of Parliament is drunk half the time, anyway.” That bit of wisdom from Cass seemed to make Elizabeth’s face fall even more. She slumped back into her chair.

“I do worry, you know. Whether this was the right choice for me.” She finished her drink and set the glass down, sighing. “Everyone I talk to that’s, you know, outside all this. It’s just oh, you can’t make a difference. It’s all the same. ‘Politics is rubbish,’” she said in a low mocking voice. “I don’t know. Sorry. All gin and no food make Liz something something.”

“We all go through this,” Cass said. “Politics was certainly not where I saw myself. I came to London to be an actor! And then I made the mistake of reading too much about unions one night, and wound up more passionate about that than the acting.” She stared at her glass. “Never did manage to get into Equity, though. Was in a play once. The Tempest. I was Miranda. They didn’t pay me.”

Elizabeth cracked up laughing. “Miranda! Really!”

“Oh, wonder!” Cass said, hamming it up. “How many goodly creatures there are here!”

“I would never have guessed.”

“Well. I pride myself on that, I suppose. There’s a lot about me I keep hidden. Especially that.”

“Huh,” Elizabeth said. “Interesting.”

“What about you?”

“What do I keep hidden?”

“Why did you go into politics?”

“Oh. Talking of keeping things hidden. I’d rather not.”

Cass smirked and straightened up. “Okay, Beth. No. I want to get real. This is now a real talk zone.” She drew a big imaginary box around them with her hands, Elizabeth following with her eyes, finally letting out a giggle. “Elizabeth Marsh, what motivated you to stand and represent the good people of, … where did you stand again?”

“Cambridge!”

“Right, sorry. I don’t go outside the M25. Don’t much care for it out there.”

“Oi!” She slapped Cass on the shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry, real talk zone. Please.”

Elizabeth inhaled and looked up at the ceiling. “It’s embarrassing. It’s so frowned upon. Eventually I’ll be crucified for it on TikTok, if I ever put my head above the parapet.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Mmm, no. Nope.”

“Come on! Respect the zone!”

“Fine! Fine. It’s the family business, I’m afraid. My father was Donald Marsh.”

“Why do I know that name?”

“Donald Marsh? He was the MP for Cambridge for about a thousand years.” Elizabeth looked down, away, a bit red-faced.

“Oh! I knew this, sort of. Someone told me. You’re a bloody nepo baby! And now you’re… the MP for Cambridge.”

“Stop! It’s true. Nepo baby.” She grimaced. “God, that was practically Labour’s entire campaign against me.”

“It doesn’t seem to have worked. Pity!”

“It’s not as if I’m just some pretty face with a famous surname, you know. I do have issues I care about, that Cambridge cares about.”

“The estate tax?”

“Cass! It’s AI, actually. Automation. Bloody terrified of AI. Terrified of it.”

Cass nodded hard. “We’re all bloody terrified of AI, bab. I was shitting myself last month.” Even mentioning it brought memories of it straight to the surface. A fully-automated NATO mission, first in history, had deployed as part of an ongoing skirmish near the Lebanon border. Hezbollah were using similar, having put together their own weaponised automatons from the same off-the-shelf components, the same technology, from the same American company. A dozen city blocks were wiped out across two days, with almost no human casualties on either side. Just utter, senseless destruction. “It was so awful,” she finally added. “Part of a city levelled, with nobody in it from either side, just two automated armies that would still fight this war with each other even if we were all dead.”

Elizabeth brushed her thumb gently over Cass’s cheek. A tear had apparently rolled down it. Cass quickly wiped both eyes.

“Christ, sorry. I got lost in it there.”

Elizabeth looked her in the eyes, pain on her face. “I honestly worry about society. I obsessively worry. I worry what the point of all this is. Automating war, is awful. It’s awful to think about. But⁠—”

“—How bloody pointless. It’s pointless. Did anyone stop to think what the outcome of that was actually supposed to be?”

“Right, okay, but. I worry about what’s happening right here. The Streamlined Sentencing Act. Jailing people without a trial if we can algorithmically determine they’d be found guilty? How did that possibly pass?”

Cass squinted while she searched her memory for that one. “I did not vote for that.”

“Okay, sure. The new benefits cap? Why? Too many people unemployed already. And all the consolidation? AI companies combining and combining and combining.” Elizabeth was animated now, her voice raising and raising, her arms flapping around, her eyes wild. “All the automation? No more baristas at Costa! That happened awfully fast. Thousands unemployed instantly. Shrug, it’s cheaper. No more train drivers. Thousands unemployed instantly. Shrug, it’s safer. It’s just the start! We have no plan! I just don’t know what we think the point of society is, I really don’t. What is the point? What are we all supposed to do next? What will we do after we’ve made capitalism so efficient it doesn’t even need us anymore?”

Cass stared at Elizabeth. Enraptured, obsessed, in love. “You’re bloody terrifying me, bab.” They both burst out into giggles. “You are! But you’re right. You’re so goddamn right. I mean, I hadn’t thought about it from this angle.”

“It is! It is terrifying. I’m sorry, it was good bants and then I went Oppenheimer on us. I have Oppenheimer’d our bants.” Elizabeth scrunched up her face and swirled the ice around in her empty glass.

“Shut up. I absolutely want to talk about this. Focking hell, do not think for a moment you are as dreadful as you think you are.” She stood up and slid her hands up and down Elizabeth’s arms, then patted her shoulders, her hands lingering a bit. “I’ll get us a couple more. You’re brilliant by the way.” Elizabeth looked up at her and smiled brightly. It sent a wave of warmth through Cass’s whole body, which she expressed by waggling her eyebrows and sauntering away with their empty glasses.

The secret was out on their hidden bar, so she stood in the queue anxiously. She really wanted to get back. But she thought she might use this time to give ‘AI threats’ a cheeky search, and maybe stand a chance of keeping up with the meatier bit of the conversation. When she looked at her phone she saw a few missed texts from Rose.

“I’m awake again. How’d it go? Hope you show her your tatts, that’ll bring her over the line if anything will. Last seen 2 hours ago, well done.”

Cass sent a little “halo” emoji and tucked her phone back in her pocket. She hadn’t thought about it, or about Rose, this entire time. Elizabeth Marsh, you’re a revelation.

A couple more gin & tonics served up, this time pink, because sometimes you have to live a little. As she approached the table she was thrown. There was a newcomer, some guy, bearded, with a ribbed tan jumper on. “Hello, tan jumper! Do we know tan jumper?” Her voice had a bit of a sharp edge.

“Yes!” Elizabeth shouted. “Oh my gosh, I had a million texts, I absolutely abandoned Mike upstairs when we snuck down here. Mike, this is my new friend, Cass Cooper. Cass, this is my partner Mike.”

Mike smiled politely and nodded toward Cass. “Nice to meet you.”