Heads You Win

“No television until you’ve finished your prep,” scolded Natasha, wagging her finger.

“This is my prep, young lady,” said her father, as they watched a black Jaguar being driven slowly along the Mall toward Buckingham Palace, carrying a passenger who had an appointment with the monarch. Everyone knew that Her Majesty would ask Mr. Blair if he could form a government, and he would assure her that he could.

When the car reemerged through the Palace gates some forty minutes later, it traveled straight to number 10 Downing Street, where the passenger would take up residence for the next five years, along with the titles of Prime Minister and First Lord of the Treasury.

“So what happens next?” asked Charlie.

“Like so many of my colleagues, I’ll be sitting by the phone, hoping to receive a call from the PM.”

“And if he doesn’t call?” said Natasha.

“I’ll be sitting on the back benches for the next five years.”

“I don’t think so,” said Charlie. “Meanwhile, some of us have to do a day’s work. Be sure to call me the moment you hear anything. And don’t forget you’re taking Natasha to school this morning,” she added before leaving to catch the Underground to Victoria.

Sasha topped his egg to find it had already gone hard. When Natasha left the room to collect her bag, he tried to read the morning papers. History. How he wanted to read tomorrow’s papers and discover if he’d been offered a job.

Natasha stuck her head around the door. “Come on, Dad, it’s time to go. I can’t afford to be late.”

Sasha abandoned his half-finished egg, grabbed the car keys from the sideboard, and quickly followed his daughter out onto the street.

“Did I tell you I’ll be playing Portia in the school play this year, Papa?” said Natasha as she fastened her seatbelt.

“Which Portia?” asked Sasha as he drove off.

“Julius Caesar.”

“You are a true and honorable wife, as dear to me as are the ruddy drops that visit my sad heart.”

Natasha paused, before she delivered the next line. “If this were true, then should I know this secret. I grant I am a woman; but withal a woman that Lord Brutus took to wife.”

“Not bad,” said Sasha.

“We’re still looking for a Brutus, Papa, just in case you’ve got nothing better to do,” Natasha said as they drew up outside the school gates.

“Not a bad offer. I’ll let you know this evening if I get a better one.”

“By the way,” Natasha said as she got out of the car, “you made a one-word mistake.”

“Which word?”

“Haven’t you always told me, don’t be lazy, child, look it up? Have a good day, Papa, and the best of luck!”

* * *

Sasha let the phone ring three times before he picked it up.

“Sasha, it’s Ben. Just calling to wish you luck.”

“I’m sorry you lost your seat, old friend. But I’m sure you’ll be back.”

“I doubt it. I have a feeling your party will be sitting on the government benches for some time.”

“Perhaps they’ll send you to the Lords?”

“Too young. And in any case, there’s likely to be a fairly long queue in front of me.”

“Let’s keep in touch,” said Sasha, aware that that was no longer going to be quite as easy.