First Among Equals Read online

  “But wouldn’t you get lonely?”

  “Of course I will,” said Raymond, trying to sound convincing. “But almost every member north of Birmingham is parted from his wife during the week. In any case, you’ve always wanted to settle in Yorkshire, and this might be our best chance. If my practice continues to grow we can buy a second house in London at a later date.”

  Joyce looked apprehensive.

  “One added bonus,” said Raymond, “your being in Leeds will ensure I never lose the seat.”

  She smiled, as she always felt reassured whenever Raymond showed the slightest sign of needing her.

  On Monday morning Raymond put in a bid for the house in Chapel Allerton before returning to London. After a little bargaining over the phone during the week, he and the owner settled on a price. By Thursday Raymond had put his Lansdowne Road house on the market and was surprised by the amount the estate agent thought it would fetch.

  All Raymond had to do now was find himself a flat.

  Simon sent a note to Ronnie expressing his thanks for keeping him so well informed about what was happening at Nethercote and Company. It had been eight months since he had resigned from the board because of his appointment as a minister, but Ronnie saw that the minutes of each meeting were posted to him to study in his own time. “His own time”: Simon had to laugh at the thought.

  His overdraft at the bank now stood at a little over £72,000, but as Ronnie intended the shares should be offered at five pounds each when they went public Simon felt sure there was still a fair leeway, as his personal holding should realize £300,000. Elizabeth warned him not to spend a penny of the profit until the money was safely in the bank. He was thankful she didn’t know the full extent of his borrowing.

  Over one of their occasional lunches at the Ritz, Ronnie spelled out to Simon his plans for the future of the company.

  “Now that the Tories are in I think I’ll go public in eighteen months’ time. This year’s profits are up again and next year’s look even better. So 1973 looks a perfect bet.”

  Simon looked apprehensive and Ronnie responded quickly. “If you’re having any problem, Simon, I’ll be happy to take the shares off your hands at their market value. At least that way you’d show a small profit.”

  “No, no,” said Simon. “I’ll hang in there now that I’ve waited this long.”

  “Suit yourself,” said Ronnie. “Now tell me—how are you enjoying the Home Office?”

  Simon put down his knife and fork. “Of the three great offices of state, it’s the one most involved with people, so there’s a new challenge at a personal level every day, although it can be depressing too. Locking people up in prisons, banning immigrants and deporting harmless aliens isn’t my idea of fun. The Home Office never seems to want anyone to enjoy too much freedom.”

  “And what about Ireland?”

  “What about Ireland?” said Simon, shrugging his shoulders.

  “I’d give the north back to Eire,” said Ronnie, “or let them go independent and give them a large cash incentive to do so. At the moment the whole exercise is money down the drain.”

  “We’re discussing people,” said Simon, “not money.”

  “Ninety percent of the voters would back me,” said Ronnie, lighting a cigar.

  “Everyone imagines ninety percent of the people support their views, until they stand for election,” said Simon. “The issue of Ireland is far too important to be glib about. I repeat, we’re discussing people, eight million people, all of whom have the same right to justice as you and I. And as long as I work in the Home Office I intend to see that they get it.”

  Ronnie remained silent.

  “I’m sorry, Ronnie,” continued Simon. “Too many people have an easy solution to Ireland. If there was an easy solution the problem wouldn’t have lasted over two hundred years.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” said Ronnie. “I’m so stupid, I’ve only just worked out for the first time why you’re in public office.”

  “You’re a typical self-made Fascist,” said Simon, teasing his companion once again.

  “You may be right, but you won’t change my mind on hanging. Your lot should bring back the rope; the streets aren’t safe any longer.”

  “For property developers like you, hoping for a quick killing?”

  Both men laughed.

  “Andrew, do you want lunch?”

  “In a moment, in a moment.”

  “That’s what you said half an hour ago.”

  “I know, but he’s nearly got it. Just give me a few more minutes.” Louise waited and watched, but Robert collapsed in a heap again.

  “No doubt you’re expecting him to play soccer for England by the time he’s two.”

  “No, certainly not,” said Andrew, carrying his son back into the house. “Rugby for Scotland.”

  Louise was touched by the amount of time Andrew spent with Robert. She told her disbelieving friends that he regularly fed and bathed the baby and even changed his nappy.

  “Don’t you think he’s good-looking?” asked Andrew, strapping his son carefully into his chair.

  “Yes,” said Louise, laughing.

  “That’s because he looks like me,” said Andrew, putting his arms round his wife.

  “He most certainly does not,” said Louise firmly.

  Crash. A bowlful of porridge had been deposited on the floor, leaving just a lump left in the spoon, which Robert was now smearing across his face and hair.

  “He looks as if he has just stepped out of a concrete mixer,” said Andrew.

  Louise stared at her son. “Perhaps you’re right. There are times when he looks like you.”

  “How do you feel about rape?” asked Raymond.

  “I can’t see that it’s relevant,” Stephanie Arnold replied.

  “I think they’ll go for me on it,” said Raymond.

  “But why?”

  “They’ll be able to pin me in a corner, damage my character.”

  “But where does it get them? They can’t prove lack of consent.”

  “Maybe, but they will offer it as background to prove the rest of the case.”

  “Because you raped someone doesn’t prove you murdered them.”

  Raymond and Stephanie Arnold, who was new to chambers, continued discussing their first case together on the way to the Old Bailey, and she left Raymond in no doubt that she was delighted to be led by him. They were to appear together to defend a laborer accused of the rape and murder of his stepdaughter.

  “Open and shut case unfortunately,” said Raymond, “but we’re going to make the Crown prove their argument beyond anyone’s doubt.”

  When the case stretched into a second week Raymond began to believe that the jury were so gullible they might even get their client off. Stephanie was sure they would.

  The day before the judge’s summing up Raymond invited Stephanie to dinner at the House of Commons. That’ll make them turn their heads, he thought to himself. They won’t have seen anything in a white shirt and black stockings that looks like that for some time, certainly not Mr. Speaker.

  Stephanie seemed flattered by the invitation and sat through the stodgy meal served in the Strangers’ Dining Room, obviously impressed as former Cabinet ministers flitted in and out, all of them acknowledging him.

  “How’s the new flat?” asked Stephanie.

  “Worked out well,” replied Raymond. “The Barbican is so convenient for Parliament and the law courts.”

  “Does your wife like it?” she asked, lighting a cigarette but not looking at him directly.

  “She’s not in town that much nowadays. She spends most of her time in Leeds—doesn’t care much for London.”

  The awkward pause that followed was interrupted by a sudden clanging of bells.

  “Are we on fire?” said Stephanie, quickly stubbing out her cigarette.

  “No,” said Raymond, laughing. “Just the ten o’clock division. I have to leave you and vote. I’ll be back in about