“Like to? I’d be delighted.”
“Thank heavens for that,” said Maudling. “It took me a dickens of a time to convince Ted Heath that you should be released from the Housing and Local Government team.”
When Andrew and Louise arrived back at Cheyne Walk after the weekend a red box was waiting for him in the drawing room. “Under-Secretary of State for Scotland” was printed in gold on the side.
“They’ll be round to collect that later today,” he told Louise. He turned the key to find the box was empty, and then he saw the small envelope in one corner. It was addressed to “Andrew Fraser Esquire, MP.” He tore it open. It contained a short handwritten note from the Permanent Secretary, the senior civ
il servant at the Scottish Office.
“In keeping with a long tradition, ministers are presented with the last red box from which they worked. Au revoir. No doubt we will meet again.”
“I suppose it could be used as a lunch box,” said Louise, standing by the door.
“Or perhaps an overnight case,” offered Andrew.
“Or a very small cot,” added his wife, trying to make her words casual.
Andrew looked up to see Louise looking radiant.
“I let your parents know last night, but I wasn’t going to tell you until dinner this evening.”
Andrew threw his arms around her.
“By the way,” Louise added, “we’ve already decided on her name.”
When Raymond arrived back at Lincoln’s Inn he let his clerk know that he wanted to be flooded with work. Over lunch with Sir Nigel Hartwell, the head of chambers, he explained that he thought it unlikely that the Labour party would be in Government again for some considerable time.
“Age is on your side, Raymond. Another full Parliament and you’ll be barely forty, so you can still look forward to many years in the Cabinet.”
“I wonder,” said Raymond, uncharacteristically hesitant.
“Well, you needn’t worry about briefs. Solicitors have been calling constantly since it was known you were back on a more permanent basis.”
Raymond began to relax.
Joyce phoned him after lunch with the news that she hadn’t found anything suitable, but the estate agent had assured her that they were expecting a lot more on the market in the autumn.
“Well, keep looking,” said Raymond.
“Don’t worry, I will,” said Joyce, sounding as if she was enjoying the whole exercise. “If we find something perhaps we can think of starting a family,” she added tentatively.
“Perhaps,” said Raymond brusquely.
Charles eventually received a call on the Monday night, not from No. 10 Downing Street but from No. 12, the office of the Chief Whip. Because the Chief Whip’s is not an official post, he is paid as the Parliamentary Secretary to the Treasury and he works from No. 12. The Prime Minister and the Chancellor of the Exchequer, being the first and second Lords of the Treasury, live at Nos. 10 and 11 Downing Street respectively.
The Chief Whip had phoned to say he hoped that Charles would be willing to soldier on as a junior Whip. When he heard the disappointment in Charles’s voice he added, “For the time being.”
“For the time being,” repeated Charles and put the phone down.
“At least you’re a member of the Government. You haven’t been left out in the cold,” said Fiona gamely.
“True,” he replied.
“People are sure to come and go during the next five years.”
Charles had to agree with his wife but it didn’t lessen his disappointment. Returning to the Commons as a member of the Government, however, turned out to be far more rewarding than he had expected. This time it was his party that were making the decisions.
The Queen traveled early that July morning to the House of Lords in the Irish State Coach. An escort of the Household Cavalry accompanied her, preceded by a procession of lesser state carriages in which the Imperial State Crown and other royal trappings were transported. Charles could remember watching the ceremony from the streets when he was a boy. Now he was taking part in it. When the Queen arrived at the Upper House she was accompanied by the Lord Chancellor through the Sovereign’s entrance to the robing room, where her ladies-in-waiting began to prepare her for the ceremony.