She sighed. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. I’ll want to return to America eventually, and in any case I wouldn’t make a very good Prime Minister’s wife.”
“Three American women have in the past,” said Raymond sulkily.
“To hell with your historical precedents—and what’s more, I hate Leeds.”
“You’ve never been there.”
“I don’t need to if it’s colder than London.”
“Then you’ll have to be satisfied with being my mistress.” Raymond took Kate in his arms. “You know, I used to think being Prime Minister was worth every sacrifice, but now I’m not so sure.”
“It’s still worth the sacrifice,” said Kate, “as you’ll discover when you live at No. 10. Come on, or my dinner will be burned to a cinder.”
“You haven’t noticed these,” said Raymond smugly, pointing down at his feet.
Kate stared at the fashionable new slip-ons.
“I never thought the day would come,” she said. “Pity you’re starting to go bald.”
When Simon returned home his first words were “We’ll survive.”
“Thank God for that,” Elizabeth said. “But what have you done about your resignation letter?”
“Archie said he would return it the day I became Prime Minister.”
“If that’s ever to be true I want you to promise me just one thing.”
“Anything,” said Simon.
“You’ll never speak to Ronnie Nethercote again.”
For a moment Simon hesitated before saying, “That’s not completely fair, Elizabeth, because I haven’t been totally straight with you from the beginning.” He then sat his wife down on the sofa and told her the whole truth.
It was Elizabeth’s turn to remain silent.
“Oh, hell,” she said, looking up at Simon. “I do hope Ronnie can forgive me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I phoned him back soon after you had left for the Commons and I spent at least ten minutes telling him why he was the biggest two-faced bastard I’d ever come across, and I didn’t want to hear from him again in my life.”
It was Simon’s turn to collapse on to the sofa. “How did he respond?” he asked anxiously. Elizabeth faced her husband. “That’s the strange thing, he didn’t even protest. He just apologized.”
“Do you think she will ever speak again?”
“God knows, I hope so,” said his father, staring at the picture of his grandchild on the mantelpiece. “She’s still young enough to have another child.”
Andrew shook his head. “No, that’s out of the question. The doctor warned me a long time ago that could be dangerous.”
He had returned home from hospital ten days after the accident. The first thing he and Louise did was to attend Robert’s funeral. With Andrew on crutches, Sir Duncan had to support Louise during the short service. As soon as the burial was over Andrew took his wife back to Cheyne Walk and put her to bed, before returning downstairs to join his parents.
Andrew mother bowed her head. “Whatever happens, you must move from this place a
s soon as possible. Every time Louise looks out of that kitchen window she’ll relive the tragedy.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Andrew. “I’ll start looking for a new house immediately.”
“And what do you plan to do about the Prime Minister’s offer?” inquired Sir Duncan.