Heads You Win Read online

  “It’s not natural for a woman to be Prime Minister,” said Elena.

  “Don’t let Fiona Hunter hear you saying that,” said Sasha, “unless you want to be banished to the Tower.”

  “If that woman ever became Prime Minister, I’d seriously consider returning to Russia,” said Elena. “Meanwhile, some of us ought to be getting back to work, especially if we’re going to have a Member of Parliament in the family. I’m told they’re not very well paid.”

  “And they don’t get any tips either,” said Charlie.

  “Other than everyone telling them how to govern the country,” said Sasha as he ran a finger down the evening bookings, coming to a halt when he noticed a familiar name.

  “I didn’t know Alf Rycroft was booked in for tonight.”

  “Yes,” said Elena. “He rang this morning, said he hoped both of you would be able to join him for dinner, as there’s something important he needs to discuss with you.”

  “He’s probably hoping you’ll agree to contest Merrifield again at the general election,” said Charlie. “But of course he doesn’t know that you’re about to be selected for a safe seat.”

  “He’ll be delighted when he hears the news,” said Elena, “and so proud that his protégé will soon be a Member of Parliament. How’s that Hunter woman getting on?”

  “Rather well, actually,” said Sasha. “After only a couple of years of sitting on the green benches, she’s already been appointed as Parliamentary Private Secretary to the Shadow Minister for Rural Affairs.”

  “How important is that?” asked Charlie.

  “It’s the first step on the ladder for MPs who are thought to have a promising career ahead of them.”

  “It will be interesting to see which one of you gets into the Cabinet first,” said Elena.

  “Don’t let’s get ahead of ourselves,” said Charlie.

  “Agreed,” said Sasha. “I’ve still got to make sure I’m selected for Wandsworth Central, and as I’ll have to prepare a completely new speech for the final round you won’t be seeing much of me before next Thursday. By the way, Mother, have you given any more thought to whether you want to run a third restaurant?”

  “Yes, I have,” said Elena, before disappearing into the kitchen.

  * * *

  Sasha opened a bottle of champagne and poured Charlie and himself a glass. “I’ll have to pick the right moment,” he said. “Preferably before Alf even has a chance to raise the subject of Merrifield.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?”

  “I shall behave like an Englishman for a change. Talk about anything else, even the weather, before touching on the one subject that needs to be discussed.”

  “He’s just coming through the door,” whispered Charlie.

  Sasha jumped down from his stool at the bar and walked quickly across the restaurant to greet his former constituency chairman.

  “Do come and join us, Alf. I’ve opened a bottle of champagne in your honor.”

  “Are we celebrating anything in particular?”

  “I’m about to become a father.”

  “And I think I’m the mother,” said Charlie, grinning.

  “Wonderful news,” said Alf, kissing her on both cheeks.

  “Thank you,” said Charlie as a waiter handed them menus.

  “What do you recommend?” asked Alf, not even opening his menu.

  “Elena’s moussaka is the house special,” said Sasha. “Customers travel for miles just to sample it, to quote the Spectator.”

  “Not a magazine I read regularly,” admitted Alf, “but I’ll take their word for it. In any case, I’m a huge fan of your mother, a remarkable woman.”

  “I’m surrounded by remarkable women,” said Sasha, “and I look forward to a child who will worship me.”

  “I suspect it will be the other way around,” said Alf.

  After they had ordered, and Sasha had poured three more glasses of champagne, they discussed the televising of Parliament, the problems in Northern Ireland, and finally the weather, before Sasha suggested they go through to dinner.

  “I can’t wait to hear what Fiona’s been up to,” said Sasha after they had taken their seats.

  “All in good time,” said Alf. “But first, I want to know how you’re getting on at the Courtauld, Charlie.”

  “You are sitting next to Dr. Karpenko,” said Sasha, giving his wife a nod.

  “Many congratulations. You must be very proud.”

  “Not as proud as I am of Sasha, who may well be an MP after the next election,” said Charlie, coming in bang on cue.

  Alf couldn’t hide his disappointment. It was some time before he managed, “So you’ve been selected for another seat?”

  “Not quite yet,” said Charlie, as Gino served their first course. “But he’s on the shortlist for Wandsworth Central, and as he came top in the first round by a fair margin, we’re feeling fairly confident.”

  “Congratulations once again,” said Alf. “I can’t pretend I’m surprised, because I meant it when I said I hoped to live long enough to see you take your place in the Cabinet, though I confess I’d rather hoped it might be as the member for Merrifield.”

  “But you told me you wouldn’t expect me to stand for Merrifield again. And in any case, now that Fiona has begun to establish herself in the House, we can assume it will go back to being a safe Tory seat at the next general election.”

  “I would normally agree with you,” said Alf, “if it weren’t for the recommendations of the boundary commission, which have just been published.”

  “Am I missing something here?” asked Charlie. “I feel like Alice at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.”

  “That’s not surprising, because not many people outside the Westminster hothouse have even heard of the boundary commission. It’s an independent body that comes together as and when required to review the parliamentary landscape, so that any anomalies that have arisen over the years can be ironed out. In their wisdom, the Commission has decided that Merrifield’s boundaries should be redrawn to include Blandford, a few miles up the road, and form a new constituency that will retain the name of Merrifield.”

  “Does that mean Merrifield will become a safe Labour seat?” asked Sasha.

  “No, I can’t pretend it does,” said Alf, “but we’ve done the calculations, and it will certainly be a key marginal. In fact the Guardian has listed it as among the seats that will decide who wins the next election.”

  The waiters cleared away the first course, although Sasha’s soup had gone cold. “And how has Fiona reacted to this bombshell?” he asked.

  “She appealed, of course, and fought the commission’s decision tooth and nail, but she lost, and had to decide whether to look for a safer seat, or stay put and contest Merrifield. I’m told that the chairman of the Conservative Party left Fiona in no doubt what was expected of her, so she’s just announced that she’ll be defending the seat.”

  Although the main courses had been served, Sasha’s knife and fork remained in place.

  “In view of the changed circumstances,” said Alf, “I called a meeting of the committee last night and they unanimously agreed that if you’d be willing to stand as our candidate, we wouldn’t look elsewhere.”

  “How long has he got to make up his mind?” asked Charlie.

  “I’ve promised to report back to the committee by the end of the week.”

  “Before Wandsworth Central select their candidate?” said Sasha.

  “You know perfectly well, Sasha, that whoever Wandsworth Central select will win by a landslide, whereas I’m convinced that you’re our best hope to capture Merrifield, and therefore give the Labour Party a chance of clinging on to power.”

  “That sounds to me like a not very subtle attempt at arm-twisting,” said Charlie.

  “Sometimes known as backroom politics,” said Alf, as Elena came bursting out of the kitchen.

  Alf immediately stood up. “The moussaka was mouthwatering, my d