First Among Equals

“We’re discussing people,” said Simon, “not money.”

“Ninety percent of the voters would back me,” said Ronnie, lighting a cigar.

“Everyone imagines ninety percent of the people support their views, until they stand for election,” said Simon. “The issue of Ireland is far too important to be glib about. I repeat, we’re discussing people, eight million people, all of whom have the same right to justice as you and I. And as long as I work in the Home Office I intend to see that they get it.”

Ronnie remained silent.

“I’m sorry, Ronnie,” continued Simon. “Too many people have an easy solution to Ireland. If there was an easy solution the problem wouldn’t have lasted over two hundred years.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Ronnie. “I’m so stupid, I’ve only just worked out for the first time why you’re in public office.”

“You’re a typical self-made Fascist,” said Simon, teasing his companion once again.

“You may be right, but you won’t change my mind on hanging. Your lot should bring back the rope; the streets aren’t safe any longer.”

“For property developers like you, hoping for a quick killing?”

Both men laughed.

“Andrew, do you want lunch?”

“In a moment, in a moment.”

“That’s what you said half an hour ago.”

“I know, but he’s nearly got it. Just give me a few more minutes.” Louise waited and watched, but Robert collapsed in a heap again.

“No doubt you’re expecting him to play soccer for England by the time he’s two.”

“No, certainly not,” said Andrew, carrying his son back into the house. “Rugby for Scotland.”

Louise was touched by the amount of time Andrew spent with Robert. She told her disbelieving friends that he regularly fed and bathed the baby and even changed his nappy.

“Don’t you think he’s good-looking?” asked Andrew, strapping his son carefully into his chair.

“Yes,” said Louise, laughing.

“That’s because he looks like me,” said Andrew, putting his arms round his wife.

“He most certainly does not,” said Louise firmly.

Crash. A bowlful of porridge had been deposited on the floor, leaving just a lump left in the spoon, which Robert was now smearing across his face and hair.

“He looks as if he has just stepped out of a concrete mixer,” said Andrew.

Louise stared at her son. “Perhaps you’re right. There are times when he looks like you.”

“How do you feel about rape?” asked Raymond.

“I can’t see that it’s relevant,” Stephanie Arnold replied.

“I think they’ll go for me on it,” said Raymond.

“But why?”

“They’ll be able to pin me in a corner, damage my character.”

“But where does it get them? They can’t prove lack of consent.”