Best Kept Secret (The Clifton Chronicles 3)

'Where have I seen that woman before?' whispered Emma. But Harry was concentrating on Fisher, who hadn't returned to his seat and clearly had more to say.

'I thought it might also be of interest for you to know that this morning I received a letter from Lady Barrington.'

A silence descended on the hall that none of the candidates had achieved all evening. Giles was sitting on the edge of his seat as Fisher produced a letter from an inside jacket pocket. He slowly unfolded it and began to read.

'"Dear Major Fisher, I write to express my admiration for the gallant campaign you are waging on behalf of the Conservative Party. I wanted to let you know that if I were a citizen of Bristol, I would not hesitate to vote for you, as I believe you are by far the best candidate. I look forward to seeing you take your seat in the House of Commons. Yours sincerely, Virginia Barrington."'

Pandemonium broke out in the hall, and Giles realized that all he'd achieved in the past hour had evaporated in a single minute. Fisher folded up the letter, slipped it back into his pocket and returned to his place. The bishop tried valiantly to bring the meeting back to order, while Fisher's followers continued to cheer and cheer, leaving Giles's supporters to look on in despair.

Griff had been proved right. Never give your opponent a platform.

'Have you managed to buy back any of those shares?'

'Not yet,' said Benny, 'Barrington's are still riding high on the back of the better than expected annual profits, and the expectation that the Tories will increase their majority at the election.'

'What's the share price standing at now?'

'Around four pounds seven shillings, and I can't see it dropping in the near future.'

'How much do we stand to lose?' asked Fisher.

'We? Not we,' said Benny, 'only you. Lady Virginia won't lose anything. She sold all her shares at a far higher price than she originally paid for them.'

'But if she doesn't buy them back, I'll lose my place on the board.'

'And if she did buy them back, she'd have to pay a hefty premium, and I imagine she wouldn't be happy about that.' Benny waited for a few seconds before adding, 'Try to look on the bright side, major. By this time next week, you'll be a Member of Parliament.'

The following day, the two local papers didn't make good reading for the sitting member. Hardly a mention of Giles's speech, just a large photograph of Virginia on the front page, looking her most radiant, with a copy of her letter to Fisher printed underneath.

'Don't turn the page,' said Griff.

Giles immediately turned the page to find the latest poll, predicting that the Tories would increase their majority by twenty-three seats. Bristol Docklands was eighth on the list of Labour marginals most likely to fall to the Conservatives.

'There's not a lot a sitting member can do when the national tide turns against his party,' said Griff, once Giles had finished reading the article. 'I reckon a damn good member is worth an extra thousand votes, and a poor opposing candidate can lose a thousand, but frankly, I'm not even sure an extra couple of thousand will be enough. But that won't stop us fighting for every last vote until nine o'clock on Thursday night. So make sure you never let your guard down. I want you out on the streets shaking hands with anything that moves. Except Alex Fisher. If you come across that man, you have my permission to throttle him.'

'Have you managed to buy back any Barrington's shares?'

'I'm afraid not, major. They never once fell below four pounds and three shillings.'

'Then I've lost my place on the board.'

'I think you'll find that was always part of Barrington's plan,' said Benny.

'What do you mean?'

'It was Sandy McBride who picked up your shares the moment they came on the market, and he's been the main buyer for the past twenty-one days. Everyone knows he's Barrington's broker.'

'The bastard.'

'They obviously saw you coming, major. But it's not all bad news, because Lady Virginia made a profit of over seventy thousand pounds on her original investment, so I reckon she owes you one.'

Giles couldn't have worked any harder during the final week of the campaign, even if at times he felt like Sisyphus pushing his boulder up a hill.

When he turned up at campaign headquarters on the eve of the poll, it was the first time he'd seen Griff looking depressed.

'Ten thousand of these were dropped into letterboxes right across the constituency last night, just in case anybody might have missed it.'

Giles looked at a reproduction of the front page of the Bristol Evening Post with Virginia's photograph above her letter to Fisher. Underneath it were the words: If you want to be represented in Parliament by an honest and decent man, vote Fisher.

'That man's a piece of shit,' said Griff. 'And he's been dumped right on top of us from a great height,' he added as one of the first volunteers strolled in carrying the morning papers.

Giles slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. But a moment later he could have sworn he heard Griff laughing. He was laughing. He opened his eyes and Griff passed him a copy of the Daily Mail. 'It's going to be close, my boy, but at least we're back in the race.'

Giles didn't immediately recognize the pretty girl on the front page, who had just been chosen to star in The Benny Hill Show. Jenny had told the showbiz correspondent about the job she'd been doing before she got her big break.

'I was paid ten pounds a day to escort a Tory candidate around his constituency, and tell everyone I was his girlfriend.'

Giles didn't think it was a very good photograph of Fisher.

Fisher swore out loud when he saw the front page of the Daily Mail.

He drained his third cup of black coffee and got up to leave for campaign headquarters, just as he heard the morning post landing on the mat. Any letters would have to wait until tonight, and he would have ignored them if he hadn't spotted one with the Barrington's company crest on it. He bent down, picked it up and returned to the kitchen. He tore it open and extracted two cheques, one made out to him, for £1,000, his quarterly payment as a director of Barrington's, the second for £7,341, Lady Virginia's annual dividend, also made out to 'Major Alexander Fisher' so that no one would know it was her 71⁄2 per cent stockholding that made it possible for him to be on the board. No longer.

When he got back this evening, he would make out a cheque for the same amount and send it on to Lady Virginia. Wondering if it was too early to phone her, he checked his watch. It was a few minutes past eight, and he was meant to be standing outside Temple Meads meeting voters as they came out of the station on their way to work. Surely she would be awake by now. He picked up the phone and dialled a Kensington number.

It rang several times before a sleepy voice came on the line. He nearly put the phone down.

'Who is this?' Virginia demanded.

'It's Alex Fisher. I thought I'd call to let you know I've sold all your Barrington's stock, and you've made a profit of over seventy thousand.' He waited for a thank you, but nothing was forthcoming. 'I wondered if you had any plans to buy back your shares?' he asked. 'After all, you've made a handsome return since I've been on the board.'