He followed her instructions until they pulled up outside a small dingy hotel. “I’ll get out first, then you,” she said. “Just walk straight through reception and follow me up the stairs.” As she got out of the car he nearly drove off and might have done so if his eye hadn’t caught the sway of her hips as she walked back toward the hotel.
He obeyed her instructions and climbed several flights of narrow stairs until he reached the top floor. As he approached the landing, a large bosomy blonde passed him on the way down.
“Hi, Mandy,” she shouted back at her friend.
“Hi, Sylv. Is the room free?”
“Just,” said the blonde sourly.
Mandy pushed open the door and Raymond followed her in. The room was small and narrow. In one corner stood a tiny bed and a threadbare carpet. The faded yellow wallpaper was peeling in several places. There was a washbasin attached to the wall; a dripping tap had left a brown stain on the enamel.
Mandy put her hand out, and waited.
“Ah, yes, of course,” said Raymond, taking out his wallet to find he only had nine pounds on him.
She scowled. “Not going to get overtime tonight, am I, darling?” she said, tucking the money carefully away in the corner of her bag before matter-of-factly taking off all her clothes.
Although the act of undressing had been totally sexless he was still amazed by the beauty of her body. Raymond felt somehow detached from the real world. He watched, eager to feel the texture of her skin, but made no move. She lay down on the bed.
“Let’s get on with it, darling. I’ve got a living to earn.”
The minister undressed quickly, keeping his back to the bed. He folded his clothes in a neat pile on the floor as there was no chair. Then he lay down on top of her. It was all over in a few minutes.
“Come quickly, don’t you, darling?” said Mandy, grinning.
Raymond turned away from her and started washing himself as best he could in the little basin. He dressed hurriedly, realizing he must get out of the place as rapidly as possible.
“Can you drop me back at the petrol station?” Mandy asked.
“It’s exactly the opposite direction for me,” he said, trying not to sound anxious as he made a bolt for the door. He passed Sylv on the stairs accompanied by a man. She stared at him more closely the second time. Raymond was back in his car a few moments later. He drove home quickly but not before unwinding the windows in an attempt to get rid of the smell of stale tobacco and cheap perfume.
Back in Lansdowne Road he had a long shower before creeping into bed next to Joyce; she stirred only slightly.
Chapter seven
Charles drove his wife down to Ascot early to be sure to avoid the bumper-to-bumper traffic that always developed later in the day. With his height and bearing, Charles Seymour was made for tails and a topper and Fiona wore a hat which on anyone less self-assured would have looked ridiculous. They had been invited to join the McFarlands for the afternoon and when they arrived they found Sir Robert awaiting them in his private box.
“You must have left home early,” said Charles.
“About thirty minutes ago,” he said, laughing. Fiona looked politely incredulous.
“I always come here by helicopter,” he explained.
They lunched on lobster and strawberries accompanied by a fine vintage champagne which the waiter kept pouring and pouring. Charles might not have drunk quite as much had he not picked the winners of the first three races. He spent the fifth race slumped in a chair in the corner of the box and only the noise of the crowd kept him from nodding off.
If they hadn’t waited for a farewell drink after the last race Charles might have gotten away with it. He had forgotten that his host was returning by helicopter.
The long tail of cars across Windsor Great Park all the way back to the M4 made Charles very short-tempered. When he eventually reached the motorway he put his Daimler into fourth gear. He didn’t notice the police car until the siren sounded and he was directed to pull over.
“Do be sensible, Charles,” whispered Fiona.
“Don’t worry, old girl, I know exactly how to deal with the law,” he said, and wound down the window to address the policeman who stood by the car. “Do you realize who I am, officer?”
“No, sir, but I would like you to accompany me—”
“Certainly not, officer, I am a Member of...”
“Do be quiet,” said Fiona, “and stop making such a fool of yourself.”
“... Parliament and I will not be treated...”
“Have you any idea how pompous you sound, Charles?”
“Perhaps you will be kind enough to accompany me to the station, sir?”
“I want to speak to my solicitor.”
“Of course, sir. As soon as we reach the station.”
When Charles arrived at the constabulary he proved quite incapable of walking in a straight line and refused to provide a blood sample.
“I am the Conservative MP for Sussex Downs.”
Which will not help you, Fiona thought, but he was past listening and only demanded that she phone the family solicitor at Speechly, Bircham and Soames.
After lan Kimmins had spoken first gently, then firmly to Charles his client eventually cooperated with the police.
Once Charles had completed his written statement Fiona drove him home, praying that his stupidity would pass unnoticed by the press the following day.
Andrew even bought a football but hid it from Louise.
As the months passed Louise’s slight frame expanded alarmingly. Andrew would rest his head on the bulge and listen for the heartbeat. “It’s a scrum-half,” he declared.
“Perhaps she’s a center forward,” Louise suggested, “and will want to emulate the distaff side of the family.”
“If he has to be a center forward he will play for Hearts,” Andrew assured her.
“Male chauvinist pig,” she called to his back as he headed off to the Commons that morning. Andrew toyed with the names of Jamie, Robert, Hector, and lain and had settled on Robert before he had reached Westminster. On arrival at New Palace Yard he hailed the policeman on the gate and was surprised to see the familiar figure immediately rush toward him.
Andrew wound down the window. “What’s the problem, officer?”
“Your wife’s been taken to St. Mary’s, Paddington, sir. Emergency wing.”
Andrew would have broken the speed limit all the way to Marble Arch if it hadn’t been for the traffic. He kept praying he would be there in time, but he couldn’t help remembering that Louise was only six months pregnant. When he arrived the doctor on duty would not allow him to see her.
“How is Louise?” were Andrew’s first words.
The young doctor hesitated, then said, “Your wife’s fine, but I’m afraid she’s lost the baby.”
Andrew felt his whole body go limp. “Thank God she’s all right,” he said.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you see her until she has come out of sedation.”
“Of course, Doctor,” said Andrew, glancing at the lapel badge on her white coat.
“But I can see no reason why you shouldn’t have more children in the future,” she added gently, before he had the chance to ask the question.
Andrew smiled with relief and began pacing up and down the corridor, unaware of the passing of time, until the doctor returned and said it would now be all right for him to see his wife.
“I hope you’re not too disappointed?” were Louise’s first words when eventually he was allowed to see her.