Heads You Win Read online

  “Mr. Sasha Karpenko,” called Mr. Speaker Thomas. The House fell silent, as is the tradition when a member delivers his or her maiden speech.

  “Mr. Speaker, may I begin by saying what an honor it is for this Russian immigrant to become a member of the British House of Commons. If you had told me, just twelve years ago when I was a schoolboy in Leningrad, that I would be sitting on these benches before my thirtieth birthday, only my mother would have believed it, especially as I had already told my closest school friend that I was going to be the first democratically elected president of Russia.”

  This statement was greeted by loud cheers from both sides of the House.

  “Mr. Speaker, I have the privilege of representing the constituents of Merrifield in the county of Kent, who in their wisdom decided to replace a Conservative woman with a Labour man.” He looked across the floor at the Prime Minister seated on the front bench opposite, and said, “That’s something my party intends to repeat at the next general election.”

  Margaret Thatcher gave a slight bow, while those seated on the opposition benches roared their approval.

  “My opponent, Ms. Fiona Hunter, served in this House for three years, and will be sadly missed in Merrifield—by the Conservatives. I have no doubt she will eventually return to the benches opposite, but not in my constituency.” Hear, hears erupted from those around him, and when Sasha looked up from his notes, there wasn’t any doubt that he had captured the attention of the whole House.

  “Some members on both sides of the House must wonder where my true allegiance lies. Westminster? Leningrad? Merrifield? Or Moscow? I’ll tell you where it lies. It lies with any citizen of any country who believes that the power of democracy is sacred and the right to live in a free society universal.

  “Mr. Speaker, I have no time for political labels such as ‘left’ or ‘right.’ I am an admirer of both Winston Churchill and Clement Attlee, and the heroes of my university days were Aneurin Bevan and Iain Macleod. With them in mind, I will always attempt to judge every argument on its merits, and every member on the sincerity of his or her views, even when I profoundly disagree with them. I may occasionally shout from the highest mountain, but I hope I will have the good grace to occasionally dwell in the valleys and listen.

  “The chief whip’s first words to me when I arrived in this place made me feel like Shakespeare’s whining schoolboy, with his satchel and shining morning face, creeping like snail unwilling to school.” Laughter arose from both sides of the House. “Ah, I can see I’m not the first,” he said. This was received by cheers, with only the Labour chief whip remaining silent. “He advised me to speak only on subjects about which I know a great deal … so you won’t be hearing from me much in the future.”

  Sasha waited for the laughter to die down before he began his peroration.

  “What a compliment it is to the citizens of Merrifield that they could elect a Russian immigrant to sit on these hallowed benches, where he is able to express his opinions on any subject without fear or favor. Does anyone in this chamber believe that an Englishman could take his place in the Kremlin on equal terms? No, of course they don’t. But I only hope I live long enough to see you all proved wrong.”

  He sat down to resounding cheers from both sides of the House. To everyone’s surprise, a bespectacled man with a shock of white hair rose from his place on the front bench.

  “The leader of the opposition,” said the Speaker.

  “Mr. Speaker, I rise to congratulate the honorable member for Merrifield on a remarkable maiden speech.” Hear, hears echoed around the chamber. “However, I feel I should point out to him that many of those sitting on the benches opposite already think I am the member for Moscow.” Cheers and jeers filled the air. “Nevertheless, I’m sure I speak for the whole House when I say we all look forward to the honorable member’s next contribution.”

  Sasha looked up at the visitors’ gallery to see Charlie, his mother, Alf, and the countess, all looking down at him with unabashed pride. But it was not until he read The Times’ leader the following morning that the impact he had made in those few short minutes began to sink in.

  It would have been better if Mr. Sasha Karpenko MP had never left the Soviet Union, as he might have played an important role in helping that country embrace the values of democracy.

  * * *

  “I’m to blame,” said Sasha. “I should have realized it was a step too far.”

  “No one’s to blame,” said Elena. “We took a vote and only the countess expressed her reservations.”

  “I just thought it might be a little too much for Elena to cope with,” said the countess.

  “And you were proved right,” said Sasha, “because, I must warn you, the latest figures don’t make pleasant reading.”

  The rest of the board braced themselves.

  “Elena Three has made a loss for the seventh quarter in a row. Even though I’m a born optimist, this is a trend I can’t see us reversing.”

  “What is the financial impact on the business?” asked the countess.

  “If you put together the purchase price of the lease, the original set-up costs, and the losses we’ve sustained so far”—Sasha paused as he added up the figures—“we’re down a little over one hundred eighty-three thousand pounds.”

  Charlie was the first to speak. “Can we survive such a setback?”

  “I believe we can,” said Sasha, “but it will be a close-run thing.”

  “What’s the bank’s attitude?” asked Elena.

  “They’re still willing to back us if we agree to close Elena’s Three immediately, and concentrate our attention on Elena’s One and Two. Although they’re both still making a profit, they’re also suffering from some of the consequences of my decision.”

  “Well, let’s look on the bright side,” said Elena. “At least you’ve got your parliamentary salary to fall back on.”

  “Not for much longer, I fear,” said Sasha, “because if Margaret Thatcher retains her lead in the polls, it will be very hard for me to hold on to Merrifield at the next election.”

  “Isn’t there a personal vote, if your constituents feel you’ve done a good job?” asked the countess.

  “Rarely worth more than a few hundred votes, and usually reserved for rebels who’ve voted against their own party. And if the company were to go bankrupt, I’d have to resign and leave Fiona to march back onto the field in triumph.”

  “One should never forget,” said the countess, “you have to climb a ladder to success, but failure is a lift going down.”

  “Then we’ll just have to start climbing again,” said Elena.

  * * *

  Sasha realized that if Elena’s was to survive, his biggest problem would be the taxman. Should the Inland Revenue demand their pound of flesh, the company would have to go into receivership, and dispose of its assets. And if Elena’s One and Two were to suddenly come on the market, everyone in business would know it was a fire sale.

  Sasha knew if that was the outcome, he would have to abandon his political career and look for a job. What a complete fool he’d made of himself, just when he thought nothing could derail him.

  There was no one else to blame, so he decided to face the problem head-on. He phoned the Inland Revenue and made an appointment to see his case officer, Mr. Dark. Even the name filled him with foreboding. He could already visualize the damn man. Short, bald, overweight, coming to the end of an undistinguished career of pen-pushing, who enjoyed nothing more than depositing lives into an out-tray. He probably voted Conservative, and wouldn’t be able to resist saying how sorry he was, but he had a job to do, and there couldn’t be any exceptions.

  * * *

  Sasha parked his Mini in Tynsdale Street, fifteen minutes before the appointed hour, crossed the road, and entered a soulless-looking red-brick building. The royal crest hung above the entrance, and might as well have read, ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE. He gave his name to the lady on the reception desk.