“I trained hard and ended up as captain of the school rugby team and that made them stop laughing.”
“But by then you were big. I can’t train to be white.”
“No, I was still small, and you won’t need to train.”
“Why?” asked Clarissa, still not letting go of his hand.
“Because you’re going to be beautiful, and then all those ugly white girls will be oh so jealous.”
Clarissa was silent for some time before she spoke again.
“Promise, Daddy?”
“I promise,” he said, remaining on the edge of the bed.
“Like Frank Boyle is jealous of you?”
Andrew was startled. “What do you know about him?”
“Only what I heard Mummy say, that he’s going to be the Labour man for Edinburgh, but you’ll still beat him.”
Andrew was speechless.
“Is he going to be the Labour man, Daddy?” she asked.
“Yes, he is.”
“And will you beat him?”
“I’ll try.”
“Can I help?” Clarissa asked, a tiny smile appearing on her face.
“Of course. Now off you go to sleep,” said Andrew, getting up and drawing the curtains.
“Is he black?”
“Who?” asked Andrew.
“The nasty Frank Boyle.”
“No,” said Andrew, laughing, “he’s white.”
“Then he ought to be made to have my skin then I could have his.”
Andrew turned off the light, relieved Clarissa could no longer see his face.
Harry’s second birthday party was attended by all those two-year-olds in the vicinity of Eaton Square whom his nanny considered acceptable. Charles managed to escape from a departmental meeting accompanied by a large paint board and a red tricycle. As he parked his car in Eaton Square he spotted Fiona’s old Volvo driving away toward Sloane Square. He dismissed the coincidence although he still had plans for regaining the priceless Holbein. Harry naturally wanted to ride the tricycle round and round the dining room table. Charles sat watching his son and couldn’t help noticing that he was smaller than most of his friends. Then he remembered that great grandfather had only been five feet eight inches tall.
It was the moment after the candles had been blown out, and nanny switched the light back on, that Charles was first aware that something was missing. It was like the game children play with objects on a tray: everyone shuts his eyes, nanny takes one away, and then you all have to guess which piece it was.
It took Charles some time to realize that the missing object was his gold cigar box. He walked over to the sideboard and studied the empty space. He continued to stare at the spot where the small gold box left to him by his great-grandfather had been the previous night. Now all that was left in its place was the matching lighter.
He immediately asked Amanda if she knew where the heirloom was, but his wife seemed totally absorbed in lining up the children for a game of musical chairs. After checking carefully in the other rooms Charles went into his study and phoned the Chelsea police.
An inspector from the Crime Squad came round immediately and took down all the details. Charles was able to supply the police officer with a photograph of the box which carried the initials C.G.S. He stopped just short of mentioning Fiona by name. The inspector assured Charles that he would deal with the investigation personally. Charles returned to the party to find nannies arriving to gather their wards.
When the Edinburgh Carlton Labour party issued a press statement after their AGM announcing that Frank Boyle had been selected to fight the seat as their candidate, Andrew was surprised and touched by the flood of letters and calls of goodwill he received, many from people he didn’t even know. Most of the messages begged him to stand at the next general election as an Independent.