First Among Equals

Simon opened his red box and tried to complete some work. The man who looked like a farmer came over and introduced himself.

“I’m Bill Travers, the chairman of the new constituency,” he began. “I only wanted to say that you’ll have my full support as chairman if the committee select you.”

“Thank you,” said Simon.

“I had hoped to represent this area, as my grandfather did. But I shall understand if Redcorn prefers to choose a man destined for the Cabinet rather than someone who would be happy to spend his life on the back benches.”

Simon was touched by his opponent’s goodwill, and would have liked to respond in kind but Travers quickly added, “Forgive me, I’ll not waste any more of your time. I can see”—he looked down at the red box—“that you have a lot of work to catch up on.”

Simon felt guilty as he watched the man walk away. A few minutes later Elizabeth returned and tried to smile. “The only room left is smaller than Peter’s and it faces the main road, so it’s just about as noisy.”

“At least no children to say ‘I’m hungry’,” he said, touching her hand.

It was a little after nine when a weary chairman came out and asked all the candidates if he could have their attention. Husbands and wives all faced him. “My committee want to thank you for going through this grim procedure. It has been hard for us to decide something that we hope not to have to discuss again for twenty years.” He paused. “The committee are going to invite Mr. Bill Travers to fight the Redcorn seat at the next election.”

In a sentence it was all over. Simon’s throat went dry.

He and Elizabeth didn’t get much sleep in their tiny room at the Bell Inn, and it hadn’t helped that the agent told them the final vote had been twenty-five—twenty three.

“I don’t think Miss Pentecost liked me,” said Elizabeth, feeling guilty. “If I had told her that I would have been willing to live in the constituency I think you’d have been offered the seat.”

“I doubt it,” said Simon. “In any case it’s no use agreeing to their terms at the interview and then imposing your own when you have been offered the constituency. My guess is you’ll find Redcorn has chosen the right man.”

Elizabeth smiled at her husband, grateful for his support.

“There will be other seats,” said Simon, only too aware that time was now running out. “You’ll see.”

Elizabeth prayed that he would prove right, and that next time the choice of a constituency would not make her have to face the dilemma she had so far managed to avoid.

When Raymond took silk, the second Tuesday after the Easter holiday, and became a Queen’s Counsel, Joyce made one of her periodic trips to London. The occasion she decided warranted another visit to Harvey Nichols. She recalled her first trip to the store so many years before when she had accompanied her husband to meet the Prime Minister. Raymond had come so far since then although their relationship seemed to have progressed so little. She had given up hope of being a mother, but still wanted him to believe she was a good wife. She couldn’t help thinking how much better-looking Raymond had become in middle age, and feared the same could not be said of her.

She enjoyed watching the legal ceremony as her husband was presented in court before the judges. Latin words spoken but not understood. Suddenly her husband was Raymond Could, QC, MP.

She and Raymond arrived late in chambers for the celebration party. Everyone seemed to have turned out in her husband’s honor. Raymond felt full of bonhomie and was chatting to the chief clerk when Sir Nigel handed him a glass of champagne. Then he saw a familiar figure by the mantelpiece and remembered that the trial in Manchester was over. He managed to circle the room speaking to everyone but Stephanie Arnold. To his horror he turned to see her introducing herself to his wife. Every time he glanced toward them they seemed deeper in conversation.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Sir Nigel, banging a table. He waited for silence. “We are always proud in chambers when one of our members takes silk. It is a comment not only on the man but also on his chambers. And when it is the youngest silk—still under forty—it adds to that pride. All of you, of course, know that Raymond also serves in another place in which we expect him to rise to even greater glory. May I add finally how pleasant it is to have his wife Joyce among us tonight. Ladies and gentlemen,” he concluded. “The toast is Raymond Gould, QC.”

“Raymond Gould, QC,” said everyone in chorus. Then, “Speech, speech.”

“I would like to thank all those people who made this great honor possible,” began Raymond. “My producer, my director, the other stars, and not forgetting the criminals, without whom I would have no profession to profess. And finally,” he said, “to those of you who want to see the back of me, I direct you all to work tirelessly to ensure the return of a Labour Government at the next election. Thank you.”

The applause was sustained and genuine and many of his colleagues were impressed by how relaxed Raymond had become of late. As they came up to congratulate him Raymond couldn’t help noticing that Stephanie and Joyce had resumed their conversation. Raymond was handed another glass of champagne just as an earnest young pupil called Patrick Montague who had recently joined them from chambers in Bristol engaged him in conversation. Although Montague had been with them for some weeks Raymond had never spoken to him at length before. He seemed to have very clear views on criminal law and the changes that were necessary. For the first time in his life Raymond felt he was no longer a young man.

Suddenly both women were at his side.

“Hello, Raymond.”

“Hello, Stephanie,” he said awkwardly and looked anxiously toward his wife. “Do you know Patrick Montague?” he asked, absentmindedly.

The three of them burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” asked Raymond.

“You do embarrass me sometimes, Raymond,” said Joyce. “Surely you realize Stephanie and Patrick are engaged?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“WITH OR WITHOUT civil servants?” asked Simon as Andrew entered the minister’s office.