First Among Equals

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHARLES AND AMANDA were married at the most inconspicuous register office in Hammersmith. They then departed for a long weekend in Paris. Charles had told his bride that he preferred her not to let anyone learn of the marriage for at least another week. He didn’t want Fiona to find yet a further excuse for not returning the Holbein. Amanda readily agreed, and then remembered—but surely Alec Pimkin didn’t count.

Paris turned out to be fun, even though Charles was sensitive about Amanda’s obvious pregnancy—never more so than when they arrived on the Friday night at the Plaza Athenée and were escorted to a suite overlooking the courtyard. Later, over dinner, Amanda astonished the waiters with her appetite as well as the cut of her dress.

Over breakfast in bed the next day Charles read in the Herald Tribune that Mrs. Thatcher was considering a reshuffle that very weekend. He cut the honeymoon short and returned to London on the Saturday, two days earlier than planned. Amanda was not overjoyed. Her husband spent the whole of Sunday at Eaton Square alongside a phone that never rang.

That same Sunday evening the Prime Minister called for Simon Kerslake and told him that he was to be made a Privy Councillor and would be moved from the Northern Ireland Office to Defense as Minister of State.

He had started to protest, but Mrs. Thatcher forestalled any discussion. “I don’t want any more dead heroes, Simon,” she said sharply.

Elizabeth was relieved when she heard the news, although it took her some time to get used to her husband being referred to as “the Right Honorable Simon Kerslake.” For some weeks the old joke of “rarely right and never honorable” had to be suffered by both of them from countless well-meaning constituents who imagined they were the only people who had thought of the quip.

Mrs. Thatcher called Charles Seymour on the Monday morning while he was waiting in Eaton Square for the return of the Holbein. Both sides’ solicitors had agreed that the first Earl of Bridgwater should be back at Charles’s home by eleven that morning. Only the Queen or Mrs. Thatcher could have kept Charles from being there to receive it.

The Prime Minister’s call came long after he thought the reshuffle was over, but then Mrs. Thatcher had been informed that Charles was in Paris on his honeymoon and wouldn’t be back until the Monday morning.

Charles took a taxi to Downing Street and was quickly ushered into the Prime Minister’s study. Mrs. Thatcher began by complimenting him on the work he had carried out on successive Finance Bills in Opposition and in Government. She then invited him to join the front-bench team as the Financial Secretary to the Treasury.

Charles accepted gracefully, and after a short policy discussion with the Prime Minister drove back to Eaton Square to celebrate both his triumphs. Amanda met him at the door to tell him the Holbein had been returned. Fiona had kept her part of the bargain: the painting had been delivered at eleven o’clock sharp.

Charles strode confidently into his drawing room and was delighted to find the bulky package awaiting him. He was by no means so pleased to be followed by Amanda, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of gin in the other; but this was not a day for quarrels, he decided. He told her of his appointment, but she didn’t seem to take in its significance until her husband opened a bottle of champagne.

Charles poured out two glasses and handed one to his bride.

“A double celebration. What fun,” she said, first draining the gin.

Charles took a quick sip of the champagne before he began to untie the knots and tear away the smart red wrapping paper that covered his masterpiece. Once the paper had been removed he pulled back the final cardboard covers. Charles stared with delight at the portrait.

The first Earl of Bridgwater was back home. Charles picked up the gold frame he knew so well to return it to its place in his study but he noticed that the picture had come a little loose. “Damn,” he said.

“What’s the matter?” asked Amanda, still leaning against the door.

“Nothing important, only I shall have to get the frame fixed. I’ll drop it into Oliver Swann on the way to the bank. I’ve waited nearly three years; another couple of days won’t make any difference.”

Now that Charles had accepted the post of Financial Secretary to the Treasury he knew there was one little arrangement he had to clear up before the appointment became public knowledge. With that in mind, he left Eaton Square and dropped the Holbein off at the framer. He then went on to the bank and summoned Clive Reynolds to his office. It was clear from Reynolds’s manner that the news of Charles’s ministerial appointment had not yet leaked out.

“Clive,” Charles called him for the first time. “I have a proposition to put to you.”

Clive Reynolds remained silent.

“The Prime Minister has offered me a post in the Government.”

“Congratulations,” said Reynolds, “and well deserved, if I may say so.”

“Thank you,” said Charles. “Now: I’m considering offering you the chance to stand in for me as chairman during my absence.”

Clive Reynolds looked surprised.

“On the clear understanding that if the Conservatives were to return to Opposition or I were to lose my appointment in Government I would be reinstated as chairman immediately.”

“Naturally,” said Reynolds. “I should be delighted to fill the appointment for the interim period.”

“Good man,” said Charles. “It can’t have escaped your notice what happened to the last chairman in the same situation.”

“I shall make certain that will not happen again.”

“Thank you,” said Charles. “I shall not forget your loyalty when I return.”