The casual conversation with the head of Gynecology at St. Mary’s kept running through her mind. Although she hadn’t confided in Simon, she could recall her supervisor’s every word.
“I notice from the roster that you’ve had far more days off than you are entitled to, Dr. Kerslake. You must make up your mind if you want to be a doctor or the wife of an MP.”
Elizabeth stirred restlessly as she considered the problem, but came to no conclusion except not to bother Simon while he had so much on his mind.
“Do these boundary changes affect you?” Louise asked, looking up from her copy of The Times.
Andrew was bouncing a small rubber ball on Robert’s head.
“You’ll give him brain damage,” said Louise.
“I know, but think of the goals he’ll score—and it won’t be long before I can start him on rugby.”
Robert started to cry when his father stopped to answer his mother’s question. “No, Edinburgh isn’t affected. There’s such a small movement in the population that the seven city seats will remain intact. The only real changes in Scotland will be in Glasgow and the Highlands.”
“That’s a relief,” said Louise. “I should hate to have to look for another constituency.”
“Poor old Simon Kerslake is losing his seat altogether and he daren’t do anything about it.”
“Why not?” asked Louise.
“Because he’s the minister in charge of the bill, and if he tried anything clever we would crucify him.”
“So what will he do?”
“Have to shop around for a new seat, or convince an older colleague to stand down in his favor.”
“But surely ministers find it easy to pick up a plum seat?”
“Not necessarily,” said Andrew. “Many constituencies don’t like to have someone foisted on them and want to choose their own man. And some actually prefer a local man who will never be a minister, because they feel he can devote more time to them.”
“Andrew, can you revert to being some use in Opposition?”
“What are you suggesting?” asked Andrew.
“Just keep throwing that ball at your stupid son’s head or he’ll be crying all day.”
“Take no notice of her, Robert. She’ll feel differently when you score your first goal against England.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AT EXACTLY THE time Raymond was ready to stop the affair Stephanie began leaving a set of court clothes in the flat. Although the two had gone their separate ways at the conclusion of the case they continued to see one another a couple of evenings a week. Raymond had had a spare key made so that Stephanie didn’t have to spend her life checking when he had a three-line whip.
At first he began simply to avoid her, but she would then seek him out. When he did manage to give her the slip he would often find her back in his flat when he returned from the Commons. When he suggested they should be a little more discreet she began to make threats, subtle at first, but after a time more direct.
During the period of their affair Raymond conducted three major cases for the Crown, all of which had successful conclusions and which added to his reputation. On each occasion his clerk made certain Stephanie was not assigned to be with him. Now that his residency problem had been sorted out Raymond’s only worry was how to end their relationship. He quickly discovered that getting rid of Stephanie Arnold was going to prove considerably more difficult than picking her up.
Simon was on time for his appointment at Central Office. He explained his dilemma to Sir Edward Mountjoy—vice-chairman of the party responsible for candidates—in graphic detail.
“What bloody bad luck,” said Sir Edward. “But perhaps I may be able to help,” he added, opening the green folder on the desk in front of him. Simon could see that he was studying a list of names. It made him feel once again like an undergraduate who needed someone to die.
“There seem to be about a dozen safe seats that will fall vacant at the next election, caused either by retirement or redistribution.”
“Anywhere in particular you could recommend?”
“I fancy Littlehampton.”
“Where’s that?” said Simon.