Sasha opened a bottle of champagne and poured Charlie and himself a glass. “I’ll have to pick the right moment,” he said. “Preferably before Alf even has a chance to raise the subject of Merrifield.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“I shall behave like an Englishman for a change. Talk about anything else, even the weather, before touching on the one subject that needs to be discussed.”
“He’s just coming through the door,” whispered Charlie.
Sasha jumped down from his stool at the bar and walked quickly across the restaurant to greet his former constituency chairman.
“Do come and join us, Alf. I’ve opened a bottle of champagne in your honor.”
“Are we celebrating anything in particular?”
“I’m about to become a father.”
“And I think I’m the mother,” said Charlie, grinning.
“Wonderful news,” said Alf, kissing her on both cheeks.
“Thank you,” said Charlie as a waiter handed them menus.
“What do you recommend?” asked Alf, not even opening his menu.
“Elena’s moussaka is the house special,” said Sasha. “Customers travel for miles just to sample it, to quote the Spectator.”
“Not a magazine I read regularly,” admitted Alf, “but I’ll take their word for it. In any case, I’m a huge fan of your mother, a remarkable woman.”
“I’m surrounded by remarkable women,” said Sasha, “and I look forward to a child who will worship me.”
“I suspect it will be the other way around,” said Alf.
After they had ordered, and Sasha had poured three more glasses of champagne, they discussed the televising of Parliament, the problems in Northern Ireland, and finally the weather, before Sasha suggested they go through to dinner.
“I can’t wait to hear what Fiona’s been up to,” said Sasha after they had taken their seats.
“All in good time,” said Alf. “But first, I want to know how you’re getting on at the Courtauld, Charlie.”
“You are sitting next to Dr. Karpenko,” said Sasha, giving his wife a nod.
“Many congratulations. You must be very proud.”
“Not as proud as I am of Sasha, who may well be an MP after the next election,” said Charlie, coming in bang on cue.
Alf couldn’t hide his disappointment. It was some time before he managed, “So you’ve been selected for another seat?”
“Not quite yet,” said Charlie, as Gino served their first course. “But he’s on the shortlist for Wandsworth Central, and as he came top in the first round by a fair margin, we’re feeling fairly confident.”
“Congratulations once again,” said Alf. “I can’t pretend I’m surprised, because I meant it when I said I hoped to live long enough to see you take your place in the Cabinet, though I confess I’d rather hoped it might be as the member for Merrifield.”
“But you told me you wouldn’t expect me to stand for Merrifield again. And in any case, now that Fiona has begun to establish herself in the House, we can assume it will go back to being a safe Tory seat at the next general election.”
“I would normally agree with you,” said Alf, “if it weren’t for the recommendations of the boundary commission, which have just been published.”
“Am I missing something here?” asked Charlie. “I feel like Alice at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.”
“That’s not surprising, because not many people outside the Westminster hothouse have even heard of the boundary commission. It’s an independent body that comes together as and when required to review the parliamentary landscape, so that any anomalies that have arisen over the years can be ironed out. In their wisdom, the Commission has decided that Merrifield’s boundaries should be redrawn to include Blandford, a few miles up the road, and form a new constituency that will retain the name of Merrifield.”
“Does that mean Merrifield will become a safe Labour seat?” asked Sasha.