First Among Equals

“Perhaps he’s going to be a politician after all,” concluded Louise, staring down at her son.

“What has changed your mind?” asked Andrew.

“He never stops shouting at everyone, he’s totally preoccupied with himself, and he falls asleep as soon as someone else offers an opinion,” she replied.

“At last I think I’ve found it.” After Raymond heard the news he took the train up to Leeds the following Friday. Joyce had selected four houses for him to consider, but he had to agree with her that the one in Chapel Allerton was exactly what they were looking for. It was also by far the most expensive.

“Can we afford it?” asked Joyce anxiously.

“Probably not, but one of the problems of seeing four houses is that you end up only wanting the best one.”

“I could go on looking.”

“No, you’ve found the right house; now I’ll have to work out how we can pay for it, and I think I may have come up with an idea.”

Joyce said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“We could sell our place in Lansdowne Road.”

“But where would we live when you’re in London?”

“I could rent a small flat somewhere between the law courts and the Commons while you set up our real home in Leeds.”

“But wouldn’t you get lonely?”

“Of course I will,” said Raymond, trying to sound convincing. “But almost every member north of Birmingham is parted from his wife during the week. In any case, you’ve always wanted to settle in Yorkshire, and this might be our best chance. If my practice continues to grow we can buy a second house in London at a later date.”

Joyce looked apprehensive.

“One added bonus,” said Raymond, “your being in Leeds will ensure I never lose the seat.”

She smiled, as she always felt reassured whenever Raymond showed the slightest sign of needing her.

On Monday morning Raymond put in a bid for the house in Chapel Allerton before returning to London. After a little bargaining over the phone during the week, he and the owner settled on a price. By Thursday Raymond had put his Lansdowne Road house on the market and was surprised by the amount the estate agent thought it would fetch.

All Raymond had to do now was find himself a flat.

Simon sent a note to Ronnie expressing his thanks for keeping him so well informed about what was happening at Nethercote and Company. It had been eight months since he had resigned from the board because of his appointment as a minister, but Ronnie saw that the minutes of each meeting were posted to him to study in his own time. “His own time”: Simon had to laugh at the thought.

His overdraft at the bank now stood at a little over £72,000, but as Ronnie intended the shares should be offered at five pounds each when they went public Simon felt sure there was still a fair leeway, as his personal holding should realize £300,000. Elizabeth warned him not to spend a penny of the profit until the money was safely in the bank. He was thankful she didn’t know the full extent of his borrowing.

Over one of their occasional lunches at the Ritz, Ronnie spelled out to Simon his plans for the future of the company.

“Now that the Tories are in I think I’ll go public in eighteen months’ time. This year’s profits are up again and next year’s look even better. So 1973 looks a perfect bet.”

Simon looked apprehensive and Ronnie responded quickly. “If you’re having any problem, Simon, I’ll be happy to take the shares off your hands at their market value. At least that way you’d show a small profit.”

“No, no,” said Simon. “I’ll hang in there now that I’ve waited this long.”

“Suit yourself,” said Ronnie. “Now tell me—how are you enjoying the Home Office?”

Simon put down his knife and fork. “Of the three great offices of state, it’s the one most involved with people, so there’s a new challenge at a personal level every day, although it can be depressing too. Locking people up in prisons, banning immigrants and deporting harmless aliens isn’t my idea of fun. The Home Office never seems to want anyone to enjoy too much freedom.”

“And what about Ireland?”

“What about Ireland?” said Simon, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’d give the north back to Eire,” said Ronnie, “or let them go independent and give them a large cash incentive to do so. At the moment the whole exercise is money down the drain.”