“No, the port. Taylor’s ’35. I’m afraid Kerslake is not the same vintage. Need I say more?”
“Well, no, I follow your drift but it’s most disappointing. He looks so good on paper.”
“On paper is one thing,” said Charles, “but having him as your member for twenty years is quite another. You want a man you can rely on. And his wife—never seen in the constituency, you know.” He frowned. “I’m afraid I’ve gone too far.”
“No, no,” said Alexander. “I’ve got the picture. Next one is Norman Lamont.”
“First class but he’s already been selected for Kingston, I’m afraid,” said Charles.
Dalglish looked down at his file once again. “Well, what about Pimkin?”
“We were at Eton together. His looks are against him, as my grandmother used to say, but he’s a sound man, and very good in the constituency, so they tell me.”
“You would recommend him then?”
“I should snap him up before another constituency adopts him.”
“That popular, is he?” said Alexander. “Thanks for the tip. Pity about Kerslake.”
“That was strictly off the record,” said Charles.
“Of course. Not a word. You can rely on me.”
“Cigar to your liking?”
“Excellent,” said Alexander, “but your judgment has always been so good. You only have to look at Fiona to realize that.”
Charles smiled.
Most of the other names Dalglish produced were either unknown, unsuitable, or easy to dismiss. When Alexander left shortly before ten Fiona asked him if the chat had been worthwhile.
“Yes, I think we’ve found the right man.”
Raymond had the locks on his flat changed that afternoon. It turned out to be more expensive than he had bargained for, and the carpenter had insisted on cash in advance.
The carpenter grinned as he pocketed the money. “I make a fortune doing this job, Guv’nor, I can tell you. At least one gentleman a day, always cash, no receipt. Means the wife and I can spend a month in Ibiza every year, tax free.”
Raymond smiled at the thought. He checked his watch; he could just catch the Thursday seven-ten from King’s Cross and be in Leeds by ten o’clock for a long weekend.
Alexander Dalglish phoned Charles a week later to tell him Pimkin had made the short list, and that they hadn’t considered Kerslake.
“Pimkin didn’t go over very well with the committee at the first interview.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” said Charles. “I warned you his looks were again’ him and he may come over a bit right wing at times but he’s as sound as a bell and will never let you down, take my word.”
“I’ll have to, Charles. Because by getting rid of Kerslake we’ve removed his only real challenger.”
Charles put the phone down and dialed the Home Office.
“Simon Kerslake, please.”
“Who’s calling?”
“Seymour, Whips’ office.” He was put straight through.
“Simon, it’s Charles. I thought I ought to give you an update on Littlehampton.”
“That’s thoughtful of you,” said Simon.