“And how did you respond?”
“I didn’t. I shall wait a week and then decline as gracefully as possible.”
“What made you decide against the offer so quickly?”
“I don’t like being told by Jock McPherson, or anyone else for that matter, that I will lose my seat at the next election if I don’t fall in with their plans.” He headed toward the kitchen door. “I’ll be back to the red box as soon as I’ve scored a couple of goals against MacPele.” A moment later he had joined Robert in the garden.
“Now listen, clever boots, I’m going to teach you how to feint a pass so that your opponent goes one way while you go the other.”
“Sounds just like politics to me,” muttered Louise, watching them out of the kitchen window.
27 Eaton Square,
London, SW1
23 April 1974
Dear Derek,
Thank you for your letter of 18 April and your kind invitation to rejoin the board of Seymour’s. I am delighted to accept and look forward to working with you again.
Yours sincerely,
Charles Seymour.
Fiona checked the wording and nodded. Short and to the point. “Shall I post it?”
“Yes, pleas,” said Charles as the phone rang.
He picked it up. “730-9712. Charles Seymour speaking.”
“Oh, hello, Charles. It’s Simon Kerslake.”
“Hello, Simon,” said Charles, trying to sound pleased to hear from his former colleague. “What’s it like out there in the real world?”
“Not much fun, which is exactly why I’m phoning. I’ve been short-listed for Pucklebridge, Sir Michael Harbour-Baker’s seat. He’s nearly seventy and has decided not to stand again at the next election. As his constituency touches the south border of yours, I thought you might be able to put in a word for me again.”
“Delighted,” said Charles. “I’ll speak to the chairman tonight. You can rely on me, and good luck. It would be nice to have you back in the House.”
Simon gave him his home number which Charles repeated slowly, as if he were writing it down.
“I’ll be in touch,” said Charles.
“I really appreciate your help.”
Simon put down the phone.
Elizabeth looked up from her copy of The Lancet.
“I don’t trust that man,” she said.
“A woman’s intuition again?” said Simon, smiling. “You were wrong about Ronnie Nethercote.”
“That’s yet to be proved.”
It was several days before Kate Garthwaite agreed to see Raymond again. And when she eventually joined him for dinner at the House she was not overwhelmed or flattered and she certainly didn’t hang on his every word.
She was lively, fun, intelligent, and well informed and they began to see each other regularly. As the months passed Raymond found himself missing her at weekends when he was in Leeds with Joyce. Kate enjoyed her independence and made none of the demands on him that Stephanie had, never once suggesting he spend more time with her or that she might leave clothes behind in the flat.