It had taken until tonight to really realise that all this was insane. The day had felt something like a fever dream, and even now he felt the nerves and the anticipation and the exhaustion, and there were still hours before they would actually know.

A touch to the shoulder made him look sidelong. Kieran. If Jude was on edge about it all, Kieran had had it worse – he’d made it clear enough how he hated this – but still he’d showed up every day. So Jude nodded, grateful to him and a little grateful for the excuse. (He’d begun to wonder if anyone would ever leave.)

“Let me just say goodnight,” Jude agreed and, catching a few people’s eyes, told Esteban and the others in turn that he was going to get some sleep. There was no way he would sleep until the election was officially called, but they let him go with some wishes of luck and well dones, and Jude met Kieran just outside the door.

“Can we go to yours?” he asked, hopeful. There was too much from the campaign still littering his house, and too many thoughts in his head, and if anyone wanted to find him there even in the early hours, they would. A change of scene, a brief reprieve, might do him good.

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