In High Places

Harvey Warrender for what he had done.

'You'd have done better to marry a businessman,' he told Margaret. 'Second vice presidents have more cash for spending.'

'I suppose there've been other compensations.' Margaret smiled. Thank God, he thought, we have had a good marriage.'

Political life could bleed you of so many things in return for power – sentiment, illusions, integrity even – and without the warmth of a woman close to him a man could become a hollow shell. He brushed aside the thought of Milly Freedeman, though with a sense of nervousness he had experienced earlier on.

'I was thinking the other day,' he said, 'about that time your father found us. Do you remember?'

'Of course. Women always remember those things. I thought it was you who'd forgotten.'

It had been forty-two years before in the western foothills city of Medicine Hat, himself twenty-two – the product of an orphanage school and now a new-hatched lawyer without clients or immediate prospects. Margaret had been eighteen, the eldest of seven girls, all daughters of a cattle auctioneer who, outside his work, was a dour, uncommunicative man. By the standards of those days Margaret's family had been well-to-do, compared with James Howden's penury at the end of his schooling.

On a Sunday evening before church the two of them had somehow secured the parlour to themselves. They were embracing with mounting passion, and Margaret partly in dishabille when her father had entered in search of his prayer book. He had made no comment at the time beyond a muttered 'Excuse me', but later in the evening, at the head of the family supper table, had looked sternly down its length and addressed James Howden.

'Young man,' he had said, his large placid wife and the other daughters watching interestedly, 'in my line of work when a man spreads his fingers around an udder, it indicates a more than passing interest in the cow.'

'Sir,' James Howden had said, with the aplomb which was to serve him well in later years, 'I would like to marry your eldest daughter.'

The auctioneer's hand had slammed upon the loaded supper table. 'Gone!' Then, with unusual verbosity and glancing down the table, 'One down, by the Lord Harry! and six to go.'

They had been married several weeks later. Afterwards it had been the auctioneer, now long dead, who had helped his son-in-law first to establish a law practice and later to enter politics.

There had been children, though he and Margaret rarely saw them nowadays, with the two girls married and in England, and their youngest, James McCallum Howden, Jr, heading an oil-drilling team in the Far East. But the influence of having had children lasted, and that was important.

The fire had burned low and he threw on a fresh birch log. The bark caught with a crackle and burst into flame. Sitting beside Margaret he watched the flames engulf the log.

Margaret asked quietly, 'What will you and the President be talking about?'

'There'll be an announcement in the morning. It'll say talks on trade and fiscal policy.'

'But is it really about that?' 'No,' he said, 'it isn't', 'What, then?'

He had trusted Margaret before with information about government business. A man – any man – had to have someone he could confide in.

'It'll be mostly about defence. There's a new world crisis coming and before it does, the United States may be taking over a lot of things which, until now, we've done for ourselves.'

'Military things?' He nodded.

Margaret said slowly, 'Then they'd be in control of our Army… all the rest?'

'Yes, dear,' he said, 'it looks as if they may.'

His wife's forehead creased in concentration. 'H it happened, Canada couldn't have its own foreign policy any more, could we?'

'Not very effectively, I'm afraid.' He sighed. 'We've been moving towards this – for a long time.'

There was a silence, then Margaret asked: 'Will it mean the end of us, Jamie – as an independent country?'

'Not while I'm Prime Minister,' he answered firmly. 'And not if I can plan the way I want.' His voice sharpened as conviction took hold. 'If our negotiations with Washington are handled properly; if the right decisions are made over the next year or two; if we're strong ourselves, but realistic; if there's foresight and integrity on both sides; if there's all of that, then it can be a new beginning. In the end we can be stronger, not weaker. We can amount to more in the world, not less.' He felt Margaret's hand on his arm and laughed. 'I'm sorry; was I making a speech?'

'You were beginning to. Do eat another sandwich, Jamie. More coffee?' He nodded.

Pouring, Margaret said quietly, 'Do you really think there's going to be a war?'

Before answering he stretched his long body, eased more comfortably in the chair, and crossed his feet on the footstool. 'Yes,' he said quietly, 'I'm sure there will be. But I think there's a good chance it can be delayed a little longer – a year, two years, perhaps even three.'

'Why does it have to be that way?' For the first time there was emotion in his wife's voice. 'Especially now, when everyone knows it means annihilation for the whole world.'

'No,' James Howden said, speaking slowly, 'it doesn't have to mean annihilation. That's current fallacy.'

There was a silence between them, then he went on, choosing his words with care. 'You understand, dear, that outside this room, if I were asked the question you just put to me, my answer would have to be no? I would have to say that war is not inevitable, because each time you admit the inevitability it's like adding an extra little squeeze to a trigger that's already cocked.',- '

Margaret had put the coffee cup in front of him. Now she said, 'Then surely it's better not to admit it – even to yourself. Isn't it best to keep on hoping?'

'If I were just an ordinary citizen,' her husband answered, 'I think I'd delude myself that way. I suppose it wouldn't be hard to do – without a knowledge of what was going on at the heart of things. But a head of government can't afford the luxury of delusion; not if he's to serve the people who've trusted him – as be should.'

He stirred his coffee, sipped without tasting, then put it down.

'War is inevitable sooner or later,' James Howden said slowly, 'because it's always been inevitable. It always will be, too, just as long as human beings are capable of quarrelling and anger, no matter over what. You see, any war is just a little man's quarrel magnified a million times. And to abolish war you'd need to abolish every last vestige of human vanity, envy, and unkindness. It can't be done.'

'But if all that's true,' Margaret protested, 'then there's nothing worth while, nothing at all.'

Her husband shook his head. 'That isn't so. Survival is worth while, because survival means living, and living is an adventure.' He turned, eyes searching his wife's face. 'It's been an adventure with us. You wouldn't want to change it?'

'No,' Margaret Howden said, 'I don't suppose I would.'

His voice was stronger now. 'Oh, I know what's said about a nuclear war – that it would wipe out everything and extinguish all life. But when you think of it, there have been forecasts of doom about every weapon from the breech-loading cannon to the aeroplane bomb. Did you know that when the machine gun was invented somebody calculated that two hundred machine guns firing for a thousand days would kill the whole world's population?'