First Among Equals

“I expect,” said Simon in reply, “that Gould would have found it hard to join the Young Conservatives, born in the thirties and living in Leeds.”

“Balls,” said Ronnie. “I managed it and I was born in the East End of London without any of his advantages. Now tell me, Mr. Kerslake, what do you do when you’re not wasting your time in the House of Commons?”

Raymond stayed on after dinner and chatted for some time to the captains of industry. A little after eleven he left to return to Lansdowne Road.

As his chauffeur drove slowly away from Grosvenor House down Park Lane, the Under-Secretary waved expansively back to his host. Someone else waved in reply. At first Raymond only glanced across, assuming it was another dinner guest, until he saw her legs. Standing on the corner outside the petrol station on Park Lane stood a young girl smiling at him invitingly, her white leather miniskirt so short it might have been better described as a handkerchief. Her long legs reminded him of Joyce ten years before except that they were black. Her finely curled hair and the set of her hips remained firmly implanted in Raymond’s mind all the way home.

When they reached Lansdowne Road Raymond climbed out of the official car and said “Good night” to his driver before walking slowly toward his front door, but he did not take out his latch key. He waited until he was sure the driver had turned the corner before looking up and checking the bedroom window. All the lights were out. Joyce must be asleep.

He crept down the path and back on to the pavement, then looked up and down the road, finally spotting the space where Joyce had parked the Sunbeam. He checked the spare key was on his key-ring and fumbled about, feeling like a car thief. It took three attempts before the car spluttered into life, and Raymond wondered if he would wake up the whole road as he moved off and headed back to Park Lane, not certain what to expect. When he reached Marble Arch he traveled slowly down in the center stream of traffic. A few dinner guests in evening dress were still spilling out of Grosvenor House. He passed the petrol station: she hadn’t moved. She smiled again and he accelerated, nearly running into the car in front of him. Raymond traveled back up to Marble Arch but, instead of turning toward home, he drove down Park Lane again, this time not as quickly and on the inside lane. He took his foot off the accelerator as he approached the petrol station and she waved again. He returned to Marble Arch before repeating his detour down Park Lane, this time even more slowly. As he passed Grosvenor House for a third time he checked to be sure that there were no stragglers still chatting on the pavement. It was clear. He touched the brakes and his car came to a stop just beyond the petrol station. He waited.

The girl looked up and down the street before strolling over to the car, opening the passenger door and taking a seat next to the Under Secretary of State for Employment.

“Looking for business?”

“What do you mean?” asked Raymond hoarsely.

“Come on, darling. You can’t imagine I was standing out there hoping to get a suntan.”

Raymond turned to look at the girl more carefully and wanted to touch her despite the aura of cheap perfume. Her black blouse had three buttons undone; a fourth would have left nothing to the imagination.

“It’s ten pounds at my place.”

“Where’s your place?” he heard himself say.

“I use a hotel in Paddington.”

“How do we get there?” he asked, putting his hand nervously through his red hair.

“Just head up to Marble Arch and I’ll direct you.”

Raymond pulled out and went off toward Hyde Park Corner, and drove round before traveling on up toward Marble Arch once again.

“I’m Mandy,” she-said, “what’s your name?”

Raymond hesitated. “Malcolm.”

“And what do you do, Malcolm, in these hard times?”

“I … I sell secondhand cars.”

“Haven’t picked out a very good one for yourself, have you?” She laughed.

Raymond made no comment. It didn’t stop Mandy.

“What’s a secondhand car salesman doing dressed up like a toff, then?”

/> Raymond had quite forgotten he was still in evening dress.

“I’ve … just been to a convention … at the … Hilton Hotel.”

“Lucky for some,” she said, and lit a cigarette. “I’ve been standing outside Grosvenor House all night in the hope of getting some rich feller from that posh party.” Raymond’s cheeks nearly turned the color of his hair. “Slow down and take the second on the left.”

He followed her instructions until they pulled up outside a small dingy hotel. “I’ll get out first, then you,” she said. “Just walk straight through reception and follow me up the stairs.” As she got out of the car he nearly drove off and might have done so if his eye hadn’t caught the sway of her hips as she walked back toward the hotel.

He obeyed her instructions and climbed several flights of narrow stairs until he reached the top floor. As he approached the landing, a large bosomy blonde passed him on the way down.

“Hi, Mandy,” she shouted back at her friend.