First Among Equals

Charles had left for Scotland the same morning for a few days’ rest by the river Spey, taking his son with him. Although he spent much of their short holiday feeling depressed about the final outcome of the leadership struggle, Harry’s original efforts at fishing helped deaden some of the pain. Harry even ended up with the biggest fish.

Amanda, on the other hand, realizing how slim her chances were of coaxing any more cash out of her husband, reopened negotiations over her life story with the News of the World.

When Nick Lloyd, the editor, read through Amanda’s notes he decided on two things. She would require a ghostwriter and the paper would have to halve their original offer.

“Why?” demanded Amanda.

“Because we daren’t print the better half of your story.”

“Why not?”

“No one would believe it.”

“But every word is true,” she insisted.

“I’m not doubting the veracity of the facts,” said Lloyd, “only readers’ ability to swallow them.”

“They accepted that a man climbed the walls of Buckingham Palace and found his way into the Queen’s bedroom.”

“Agreed,” replied Lloyd, “but only after the Queen had confirmed the story. I’m not so sure that Charles Seymour will be quite as cooperative.”

Amanda remained silent long enough for her agent to close the deal.

The watered-down version of “My Life with Charles Seymour” appeared a few months later to coincide with Charles’s much-publicized divorce, but it made no more than a faint ripple in political circles. Now that Charles had no prospect of leading his party it was very much yesterday’s news.

Amanda came out of the divorce settlement with another £50,000 but lost custody of Harry, which was all Charles really cared about. He prayed her irresponsible remarks reported in the papers concerning the boy’s claim to the title had been quickly forgotten.

Then Rupert phoned from Somerset and asked to see him privately.

A week later they sat facing each other in Charles’s drawing room at Eaton Square.

“I am sorry to broach such an embarrassing subject,” said Rupert, “but I feel it is my duty to do so.”

“Duty, poppycock,” said Charles, stubbing out his cigarette. “I tell you Harry is my son, and as such will inherit the title. He’s the spitting image of great-grandfather and that ought to be enough proof for anyone.”

“In normal circumstances I would agree with you, but the recent publicity in the News of the World has been brought to my notice and I feel …”

“That sensationalist tabloid,” said Charles sarcastically, his voice rising. “Surely you don’t take their word before mine?”

“Certainly not,” said Rupert, “but if Amanda is to be believed Harry is not your son.”

“How am I meant to prove he is?” asked Charles, trying to control his temper. “I didn’t keep a diary of the dates when I slept with my wife.”

“But it seems Amanda did so I have had to take legal advice on the matter,” continued Rupert, “and am informed that a blood test is all that will prove necessary to verify Harry’s claim to the title. We both share a rare blood group as did our father and grandfather, and if Harry is of that group I shall never mention the subject again. If not, then the title will eventually be inherited by our second cousin in Australia.”

“And if I don’t agree to put my son through this ridiculous test?”

“Then the matter must be placed in the hands of our family solicitors,” said Rupert, sounding unusually in control. “And they must take whatever course they consider fit.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

SIMON’S FIRST YEAR as leader was one of unbounded energy and ideas which bore fruit as the Conservatives picked up three seats at by-elections and whittled away the Government’s majority. The press were already predicting that the Socialists wouldn’t be able to complete their full five-year term, which moved Simon to goad Central Office into a perpetual state of readiness for an election.

Raymond continued to gain respect at the Treasury as his policies began to show results. He had to cut back on some of the more ambitious projects as his gloomy predictions about American interest rates and the drop in the production of North Sea oil proved daily more accurate. After his second budget the financial press felt he had done all that was possible, given the world situation. When unemployment fell below two million and strikes to their lowest level since the Second World War some members hailed Raymond as the unions’ Messiah, while others noted that he had been shrewd enough to steal some of the Opposition’s co-inflation clothes in the absence of Charles Seymour.

As Raymond entered his third year as Chancellor the opinion polls showed the two main parties neck and neck again, with a surprising proportion of people saying that they would vote for the Alliance for the first time.

The Liberals still held sixteen seats in the Commons but, as in the past three elections, they had decided to fight under the collective banner as the Social Democrats during the general election campaign.