This Was a Man (The Clifton Chronicles 7)

“Not until the captains and the kings have departed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you think, for one moment, that Wellington would have considered dining with Napoleon the night before Waterloo?”

“It might have been a damned sight better for everyone concerned if he had,” said Karin.

Giles laughed. “I have a feeling Napoleon might have agreed with you on that.”

“How much longer do we have to wait before we discover which one of you is to be exiled on St. Helena?”

“Not much longer. A provisional date for the debate has been penciled into the parliamentary calendar for a week on Thursday.”

“Dare I ask how your speech is going?”

“Never better. I think I can safely say it will be greeted with the waving of order papers and prolonged and rapturous applause.” Giles paused. “Actually, I haven’t got a clue, my darling. All I can tell you is that I’ve never worked harder on a speech.”

“Even if you win the argument, do you really have any chance of defeating the government while it has a built-in majority?”

“A very real chance. If the crossbenchers and Liberals join us in the lobby, it will be a close-run thing. I’ve also identified about a dozen Tories who are not at all happy with the bill, and are still wavering. If I can convince some of them to cross the floor, or just abstain, it will be neck and neck.”

“But surely the Conservative whips will be working overtime cajoling, threatening, and even bribing any possible rebels?”

“That’s not quite so easy to pull off in the Lords, where the whips don’t have too many jobs to offer, promotions to hint at, or honors to dangle in front of ambitious young politicians. Whereas I can appeal to their vanity by claiming they are courageous, independent men of conscience, who place what is good for the nation ahead of what is good for their party.”

“What about the women?” demanded Karin.

“It’s much harder to bribe women.”

“You’re a scoundrel, Giles Barrington.”

“I know, my darling, but you have to understand that being a scoundrel is simply part of a politician’s job description.”

“If you were to win the vote,” said Karin, sounding serious for the first time, “would that mean Emma might have to resign?”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“I hope you’ve got some better clichés than that in your speech.”

“Traitor,” said Giles, as he put his slippers on, disappeared into the bathroom, and turned on the hot water. He looked in the mirror, which was rapidly steaming up, and declared, “How can the minister pretend to understand the plight of a young mother in Darlington, Doncaster, or Durham?

“Which one do you think?” he asked, his voice returning to normal.

“Darlington,” said Karin. “Emma’s unlikely ever to have been there.”

“—or the hardships suffered by a miner from South Wales, who spends half his life down a pit, or a crofter in the Highlands, who begins work at four in the morning. For these are the very people who rely on their local hospital when they fall sick, only to discover that it’s been closed by those decent, caring Tories opposite, who aren’t interested in saving lives, just saving pennies.”

“So they can build a bigger, better-equipped hospital just up the road?” suggested Karin.

“How can the right honorable lady begin to understand…” continued Giles, ignoring his wife’s interruption.

“How long are you going to be in there, Giles?”

“Stop heckling, woman. I’ve just begun my peroration.”

“And I need to go to the loo, now.”

Giles came out of the bathroom. “And you dare to accuse me of underhand tactics,” he said, brandishing his shaving brush at her.