“There’s no chance of the Prime Minister modifying one sentence of the Trade Union Bill,” said the Chief Whip, draining his gin and tonic. “He promised it in his speech at the party conference, and he intends to deliver by the time he goes to Blackpool at the end of this year. I can also tell you he isn’t going to like your conclusions on Pimkin, Charles. He cares almost as passionately about trade union reform as he does about Europe.” Charles was about to protest. “I’m not complaining, you’ve done damn well so far. Just keep working on the fifty waverers. Threaten, cajole, bully, bribe. Try anything, but get them in the right lobby come the night, Pimkin included.”
“How about sex?” asked Charles.
“You’ve been seeing too many American films,” said the Chief Whip, laughing. “In any case I don’t think we’ve got anyone other than Miss Norse to offer them.”
Charles returned to his office and went over the list once again. His forefinger stopped at the letter “P.” Charles strolled out into the corridor and looked around; his quarry wasn’t there. He checked the Chamber: no sign of him. He passed the library. No need to look in there, he thought, and moved on to the smoking room where he found his man, about to order another gin.
“Alec,” said Charles expansively.
The rotund figure of Pimkin looked round.
May as well try bribery first, thought Charles. “Let me get you a drink.”
“That’s good of you, old fellow,” said Pimkin, nervously fingering his bow tie.
“Now, Alec, what’s this about your voting against the European Bill?”
Simon was horrified when he read the initial document. Its implications were all too evident.
The report of the new Boundary Commission had been left in the red box for him to study over the weekend. He had agreed at a meeting of Home Office officials that he would steer it through the House as quickly as possible so that it would make the basis for the seats to be contested at the next election. As the Secretary of State reminded him: there must be no hold-ups.
Simon had read the document carefully. In essence the changes made sense and, because of the movement of families from urban to rural areas, it would undoubtedly create more winnable seats for the Conservatives overall. No wonder the party wanted no hold-ups. But what could he do about the decision the Commission had come to on his own constituency, Coventry Central? His hands were tied. If he suggested any change from the Boundary Commission’s recommendations he would rightly be accused of gerrymandering.
Because of the city’s dwindling population the Commission had recommended that the four constituencies of Coventry become three. Coventry Central was to be the one to disappear, its voters distributed among Coventry West, Coventry East, and Coventry North. Simon realized this would leave one safe seat for his sitting colleague and two safe Labour seats. It had never been far from his mind how marginal a constituency he represented. Now he was on the verge of being without one at all. He would have to traipse around the country all over again looking for a new seat to fight at the next election, while at the same time taking care of his constituents in the moribund one; and at the stroke of a pen — bis pen — they would pass on their loyalties to someone else. If only he had remained in Housing and Local Government he could have put up a case for keeping all four seats.
Elizabeth was sympathetic when he explained the problem but told him not to concern himself too much until he had spoken to the vice-chairman of the party, who advised candidates which constituencies were likely to become available.
“It may even work out to your advantage,” she added.
“What do you mean?” said Simon.
“You could get a safer seat nearer London.”
“With my luck I’ll end up with a marginal in Newcastle.”
Elizabeth prepared his favorite meal and spent the evening trying to keep up his spirits. After three portions of shepherd’s pie Simon fell asleep almost as soon as he put his head on the pillow. But she stayed awake long into the night.
The casual conversation with the head of Gynecology at St. Mary’s kept running through her mind. Although she hadn’t confided in Simon, she could recall her supervisor’s every word.
“I notice from the roster that you’ve had far more days off than you are entitled to, Dr. Kerslake. You must make up your mind if you want to be a doctor or the wife of an MP.”
Elizabeth stirred restlessly as she considered the problem, but came to no conclusion except not to bother Simon while he had so much on his mind.
“Do these boundary changes affect you?” Louise asked, looking up from her copy of The Times.
Andrew was bouncing a small rubber ball on Robert’s head.
“You’ll give him brain damage,” said Louise.
“I know, but think of the goals he’ll score — and it won’t be long before I can start him on rugby.”
Robert started to cry when his father stopped to answer his mother’s question. “No, Edinburgh isn’t affected. There’s such a small movement in the population that the seven city seats will remain intact. The only real changes in Scotland will be in Glasgow and the Highlands.”
“That’s a relief,” said Louise. “I should hate to have to look for another constituency.”
“Poor old Simon Kerslake is losing his seat altogether and he daren’t do anything about it.”
“Why not?” asked Louise.
“Because he’s the minister in charge of the bill, and if he tried anything clever we would crucify him.”
“So what will he do?”
“Have to shop around for a new seat, or convince an older colleague to stand down in his favor.”
“But surely ministers find it easy to pick up a plum seat?”
“Not necessarily,” said Andrew. “Many constituencies don’t like to have someone foisted on them and want to choose their own man. And some actually prefer a local man who will never be a minister, because they feel he can devote more time to them.”
“Andrew, can you revert to being some use in Opposition?”
“What are you suggesting?” asked Andrew.
“Just keep throwing that ball at your stupid son’s head or he’ll be crying all day.”
“Take no notice of her, Robert. She’ll feel differently when you score your first goal against England.”
Chapter thirteen
At exactly the time Raymond was ready to stop the affair Stephanie began leaving a set of court clothes in the flat. Although the two had gone their separate ways at the conclusion of the case they continued to see one another a couple of evenings a week. Raymond had had a spare key made so that Stephanie didn’t have to spend her life checking when he had a three-line whip.
At first he began simply to avoid her, but she would then seek him out. When he did manage to give her the slip he would often find her back in his flat when he returned from the Commons. When he suggested they should be a little more discreet she began to make threats, subtle at first, but after a time more direct.
During the period of their affair Raymond conducted three major cases for the Crown, all of which had successful conclusions and which added to his reputation. On each occasion his clerk made certain Stephanie was not assigned to be with him. Now that his residency problem had been sorted out Raymond’s only worry was how to end their relationship. He quickly discovered that getting rid of Stephanie Arnold was going to prove considerably more difficult than picking her up.