Hamish chuckled. “Don’t you ever forget, Andrew, the voters have the last word in a democracy. In Edinburgh you’re the man who has served them for more than fifteen years and they won’t forget that quickly.”
“You can get dressed now, Miss Wallace,” said the gynecologist returning to her desk.
Amanda started to slip back into her latest Dior outfit—a light blue denim suit bought the previous day in Conduit Street in an attempt to cheer herself up.
“It’s the third time in five years,” said Elizabeth Kerslake, leafing through the confidential file and trying not to sound accusing.
“I may as well book into the same clinic as before,” said Amanda, matter-of-factly.
Elizabeth was determined to make her reconsider the consequences. “Is there any chance that the father would want you to have this child?”
“I can’t be certain who the father is,” said Amanda, looking shame-faced for the first time. “You see, it was the end of one relationship and the beginning of another.”
Elizabeth made no comment other than to say, “I estimate that you are at least eight weeks pregnant, but it could be as much as twelve.” She looked back down at the file. “Have you considered giving birth to the child and then bringing it up yourself?”
“Good heavens, no,” said Amanda. “I make my living as a model, not as a mother.”
“So be it,” Elizabeth sighed, closing the file. “I’ll make all the”—she avoided saying usual—“necessary arrangements. You must see your GP immediately and ask him to sign the required clearance forms. Then phone me in about a week, rather than make the trip down to Pucklebridge again.”
Amanda nodded her agreement. “Could you let me know what the clinic is going to charge this time? I’m sure they are suffering from inflation like the rest of us.”
“Yes, I will look into that, Miss Wallace,” said Elizabeth, just managing to keep her temper as she showed Amanda to the door. Once her patient had left Elizabeth picked up the confidential file from her desk, walked over to the cabinet, and flicked through S, T, U, until she found the right slot. Perhaps she should have been sterner with her but she was convinced that it would have made little difference. She paused, wondering if having the child might change the woman’s cavalier attitude to life.
Charles returned home after the debate feeling pleased with himself. He had received praise for his latest speech from every wing of the party, and the Chief Whip had made it quite clear that his efforts on the Finance Bill had not gone unnoticed.
As he drove back to Eaton Square he wound down the car window and let the fresh air rush in and the cigarette smoke out. His smile widened at the thought of Amanda sitting at home waiting for him. It had been a glorious couple of months. At forty-eight he was experiencing realities he had never even dreamed of in fantasy. As each day passed he expected the infatuation to wear off, but instead it only grew more intense. Even the memory the day after was better than anything he had experienced in the past.
Once the Holbein had been restored to his dining room wall Charles planned to talk to Amanda about their future; if she said “Yes” he would even be willing to grant Fiona a divorce. He parked the car and took out his latch key, but she was already there opening the front door to throw her arms around him.
“Why don’t we go straight to bed?” she greeted him.
Charles would have been shocked had Fiona uttered such feelings even once in their fifteen years of married life, but Amanda made it appear quite natural. She was already lying naked on the bed before Charles could get his waistcoat off. After they had made love and she was settled in his arms Amanda told him she would have to go away for a few days.
“Why?” said Charles, puzzled.
“I’m pregnant,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ve already booked myself into a clinic. Don’t worry. I’ll be as right as rain in no time.”
“But why don’t we have the baby?” said a delighted Charles, looking down into her gray eyes. “I’ve always wanted a son.”
“Don’t be silly, Charlie. There’s years ahead of me for that.”
“But if we were married?”
“You’re already married. Besides, I’m only twenty-six.”
“I can get a divorce in a moment and life wouldn’t be so bad with me, would it?”
“Of course not, Charlie. You’re the first man I’ve ever really cared for.”
Charles smiled hopefully. “So you’ll think about the idea?”
Amanda looked into Charles’s eyes anxiously. “If I were to have a child I do hope he’d have blue eyes like yours.”
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
“I’ll think about it. In any case, you may have changed your mind by morning.”
Raymond drove Kate to Heathrow. He was wearing the pink shirt she had chosen for him; she was wearing the little red box. He had so much to tell her on the way to the airport that she hardly spoke at all. The last four weeks had gone by in a flash. It was the first time he had been grateful for being in Opposition.