“What kind of problems?” asked Arnold.
“Nothing you can help me with, sadly. I have forty thousand transistor radios sitting in a bonded warehouse. The French customs are refusing to allow me to distribute them to my suppliers until every box has been opened and inspected. At the moment, they are managing two a day. The idea is to hold me up as long as possible, so that French manufacturers will be able to sell their inferior product to impatient customers. But I have a plan to defeat them.”
“I can’t wait to hear it,” said Arnold.
“Simple really. I shall build a factory in France, employ locals and then distribute my superior product without having to bother with customs officials.”
“The French will work out what you’re up to.”
“I’m sure they will, but by then everyone will be like Cedric and want a Sony radio in their front room. I can’t afford to miss my plane, but first I’d like a word in private with my new partner.” Arnold shook hands with Morita before he and Sebastian left the room. “Cedric,” Morita said taking the seat on the other side of the chairman’s desk. “Have you ever come across a man called Don Pedro Martinez? He came to see me after the show last night, along with a Major Fisher.”
“I only know Martinez by reputation. However, I have met Major Fisher, who represents him on the board of the Barrington Shipping Company, where I also serve as a director.”
“My view is that Martinez is a thoroughly nasty piece of work, while Fisher is weak, and I suspect dependent on Martinez’s money to keep afloat.”
“You worked that out after only one meeting?”
“No, after twenty years of dealing with such men. But this one is clever and devious, and you should not underestimate him. I suspect that for Martinez, even life is a cheap commodity.”
“I am grateful for your insight, Akio, but even more for your concern.”
“May I beg a small favor in return before I leave for Paris?”
“Anything.”
“I would like Sebastian to remain the link between our two companies. It will save us both a lot of time and trouble.”
“I only wish I could grant you that favor,” said Cedric, “but the boy’s going up to Cambridge in September.”
“Did you go to university, Cedric?”
“No, I left school at fifteen and, after a couple of weeks’ holiday, joined my father at the bank.”
Morita nodded. “Not everyone is cut out for university, and some are even held back by the experience. I think Sebastian has found his natural metier, and with you as his mentor, it’s even possible you might have found the right person to eventually take your place.”
“He’s very young,” said Cedric.
“So is your Queen, and she ascended the throne at the age of twenty-five. Cedric, we are living in a brave new world.”
GILES BARRINGTON
1963
18
“ARE YOU SURE you want to be leader of the opposition?” asked Harry.
“No I don’t,” said Giles. “I want to be prime minister, but I’ll have to do a spell in opposition before I can expect to get my hands on the keys to Ten Downing Street.”
“You may have held your seat at the last election,” said Emma, “but your party lost the general election by a landslide. I’m beginning to wonder if Labor can ever win another election. They seem destined to be the party of opposition.”
“I know it must look like that right now,” said Giles, “but I’m convinced that by the time the next election comes around, the voters will have had enough of the Tories and think it’s time for a change.”
“And certainly the Profumo affair hasn’t helped,” said Grace.
“Who gets to decide who’ll be the next leader of the party?”
“Good question, Sebastian,” said Giles. “Only my elected colleagues in the House of Commons, all two hundred and fifty-eight of them.”
“That’s a tiny electorate,” said Harry.
“True, but most of them will take soundings in their constituencies to find out who the rank and file would prefer to lead the party, and when it comes to Trade Union affiliated members, they’ll vote for the man their union supports. So any shipping union members from constituencies like Tyneside, Belfast, Glasgow, Clydesdale and Liverpool ought to back me.”
“The man,” repeated Emma. “Does that mean that out of two hundred and fifty-eight Labor Members of Parliament, there’s not a single woman who can hope to lead the party?”
“Barbara Castle may decide to enter the lists, but frankly she hasn’t got a snowball’s chance in hell. But let’s face it, Emma, there are more women sitting on the Labor benches than on the Conservative side of the House, so if a woman ever does make it to Downing Street, my bet is she’ll be a socialist.”
“But why would anyone want to be leader of the Labor Party? It must be one of the most thankless jobs in the country.”
“And at the same time, one of the most exciting,” said Giles. “How many people get the chance to make a real difference, to improve people’s lives and leave a worthwhile legacy for the next generation? Don’t forget, I was born with the proverbial silver spoon in my mouth, so perhaps it’s payback time.”
“Wow,” said Emma. “I’d vote for you.”
“Of course, we’ll all support you,” said Harry. “But I’m not sure there’s a lot we can do to influence two hundred and fifty-seven MPs we’ve never come across, and are hardly likely to.”
“It’s not that kind of support I’m looking for. It’s more personal, because I have to warn all of you sitting around this table that once again you can expect the press to start delving into your private lives. You may feel you’ve had enough of that already, and I couldn’t blame you if you did.”
“As long as we all sing from the same hymn sheet,” said Grace, “and say nothing other than that we’re delighted Giles is standing for leader of his party because we know he’s the right man for the job and we’re confident he’ll win, surely they’ll soon get bored and move on?”
“That’s just when they’ll start digging around for something new,” said Giles. “So if anyone wants to admit to anything more serious than a parking ticket, now’s your chance.”
“I’m rather hoping my next book will get to number one on the New York Times bestseller list,” said Harry, “so perhaps I ought to warn you that William Warwick is going to have an affair with the chief constable’s wife. If you think that might harm your chances, Giles, I could always hold off publication until after the election.” Everyone laughed.
“Frankly, darling,” said Emma, “William Warwick ought to have an affair with the mayor of New York’s wife, because that would give you a far better chance of making it to number one in the States.”
“Not a bad idea,” said Harry.
“On a more serious note,” said Emma, “perhaps this is the moment to tell you all that Barrington’s is just about holding its head above water, and things aren’t going to get any easier during the next twelve months.”
“How bad is it?” asked Giles.
“The building of the Buckingham is running more than a year behind schedule, and although we’ve had no major setbacks recently, the company has had to borrow a large sum of money from the banks. If it could be shown that our overdraft exceeded our asset value, the banks could call in those loans, and we might even go under. That’s the worst possible scenario, though it’s not impossible.”
“And when could that happen?”
“Not in the foreseeable future,” said Emma, “unless of course Fisher felt that washing our dirty linen in public could be used to his advantage.”
“Martinez won’t let him do that while he has such a large shareholding in the company,” said Sebastian. “But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to sit on the sidelines and watch, if you do decide to throw your hat in the ring.”
“I agree,” said Grace. “And he’s not the only person I can think of who’d be only too hap
py to throw that hat back out of the ring.”
“Who do you have in mind?” asked Giles.
“The Lady Virginia Fenwick, for a start. That woman will be delighted to remind every Member of Parliament she comes across that you’re a divorcee, and left her for another woman.”
“Virginia only knows Tories, and they’ve already had a prime minister who was divorced. And don’t forget,” added Giles, taking Gwyneth’s hand, “I’m now happily married to that other woman.”
“Frankly,” said Harry, “I think you should be more worried about Martinez than Virginia, because he’s clearly still looking for any excuse to harm our family, as Sebastian discovered when he first went to work at Farthings. And, Giles, you’re a far bigger prize than Seb, so my bet is that Martinez will do everything in his power to make sure you never become prime minister.”
“If I decide to stand,” said Giles, “I can’t spend my life looking over my shoulder, wondering what Martinez is up to. At the moment, I have to concentrate on some rivals who are far closer to home.”
“Who is your biggest rival?” asked Harry.
“Harold Wilson is the favorite with the bookmakers.”
“Mr. Hardcastle wants him to win,” said Sebastian.
“Why, in heaven’s name?” asked Giles.
“Nothing to do with heaven,” said Sebastian. “It’s also far closer to home. Both of them were born in Huddersfield.”
“It’s often something as seemingly insignificant as that that can sway someone either to support or oppose you,” sighed Giles.
“Perhaps Harold Wilson has some skeletons in his cupboard that the press will take an interest in,” said Emma.
“None that I’m aware of,” said Giles, “unless you include being awarded a first at Oxford and then coming top in the civil service exam.”
“But he didn’t fight in the war,” said Harry. “So your MC could be an advantage.”
“Denis Healey also won an MC and he might well stand.”
“He’s too clever by half to ever lead the Labor Party,” said Harry.
“Well, that certainly won’t be your problem, Giles,” said Grace. Giles gave his sister a wry smile, as the family burst out laughing.
“I can think of one problem Giles might have to face up to…” They all looked at Gwyneth, who hadn’t spoken until then. “I’m the only outsider in this room,” she said, “someone who’s married into the family, so perhaps I see things from a different perspective.”
“Which makes your opinions all the more relevant,” said Emma, “so don’t hesitate to let us know what’s making you concerned.”
“If I do, I’m afraid it could mean opening a festering wound,” said Gwyneth hesitantly.
“Don’t let that stop you telling us what’s on your mind,” said Giles, taking her hand.
“There’s another member of your family, not in this room, who is, in my opinion, a walking time bomb.”
A long silence followed, before Grace said, “You’re quite right, Gwyneth, because if a journalist were to stumble across the fact that the little girl Harry and Emma adopted is Giles’s half-sister and Sebastian’s aunt, and that her father was killed by her mother after he had stolen her jewelry and then deserted her, the press would have a field day.”
“And her mother then committed suicide, don’t forget,” said Emma quietly.
“The least you can do is tell the poor mite the truth,” said Grace. After all, she’s now at the Slade, and has a life of her own, so it wouldn’t be hard for the press to find her, and if they did before you’d told her…”
“It’s not that easy,” said Harry. “As we all know only too well, Jessica suffers from bouts of depression, and despite her undoubted talent, she often loses confidence in herself. And as she’s only a few weeks away from her midterm exams, now isn’t exactly the ideal moment.”
Giles decided not to remind his brother-in-law that he’d first warned him over a decade ago that there was never going to be an ideal moment.
“I could always talk to her,” volunteered Sebastian.
“No,” said Harry firmly. “If anyone’s going to do it, it has to be me.”
“And as soon as possible,” said Grace.
“Please let me know when you have,” said Giles, before adding, “Are there any other bombshells you think I ought to be prepared for?” A long silence followed before Giles continued. “Then thank you all for giving up your time. I’ll let you know my final decision before the end of the week. I have to leave you now, as I ought to be getting back to the House. That’s where the voters are. If I do decide to stand, you won’t see much of me during the next few weeks, as I’ll be glad-handing, making endless speeches, visiting far-flung constituencies and spending any free evenings I have buying drinks for Labor members in Annie’s Bar.”
“Annie’s Bar?” said Harry.
“The most popular watering hole in the House of Commons, frequented mainly by Labor members, so that’s where I’m off to now.”
“Good luck,” said Harry.
The family rose as one and applauded him as he left the room.
* * *
“Has he got any chance of winning?”
“Oh, yes,” said Fisher. “He’s very popular among the rank and file in the constituencies, although Harold Wilson is the favorite with the sitting members, and they’re the only ones who have a vote.”
“Then let’s send Wilson a large donation toward his campaign fund, cash if necessary.”
“That’s the last thing we need to do,” said Fisher.
“Why?” demanded Diego.
“Because he’d send it back.”
“Why would he do that?” asked Don Pedro.
“Because this isn’t Argentina, and if the press found out that a foreigner was backing Wilson’s campaign, he would not only lose, but be forced to withdraw from the contest. In fact, he’d not only return the money, but make it public that he’d done so.”
“How can you possibly win an election if you haven’t got any money?”
“You don’t need a great deal of money if your electorate is only two hundred fifty-eight members of Parliament, most of whom spend all their time in the same building. You might have to buy some stamps, make a few phone calls, stand the odd round of drinks in Annie’s Bar, and by then you’d have been in touch with almost all your electorate.”
“So if we can’t help Wilson win, what can we do to make sure Barrington loses?” asked Luis.
“If there are two hundred fifty-eight voters, we must surely be able to bribe some of them,” said Diego.
“Not with money,” said Fisher. “The only thing that lot care about is preferment.”
“Preferment?” repeated Don Pedro. “What the hell is that?”
“For younger members, a candidate might hint that they were being considered for a front bench job, and for older members who are retiring at the next general election, a suggestion that their experience and wisdom would be greatly appreciated in the Lords. And for those who have no hope of ever holding office, but will still be around after the next election, a party leader always has jobs that need to be filled. I knew one member who wanted nothing more than to be chairman of the House of Commons Catering Committee because they get to select which wines go on the menu.”
“OK, so if we can’t give Wilson any money, or bribe the voters, the least we can do is recycle all the dirt we have on Barrington’s family,” suggested Diego.
“Not much point, when the press will be only too happy to do that without any help from us,” said Fisher. “And they’ll get bored after a few days, unless we come up with something fresh for them to get their teeth into. No, we have to think of something that would be certain to make the headlines and, at the same time, knock him out with one blow.”
“You’ve obviously been giving this considerable thought, major,” said Don Pedro.
“I must admit I have,” said Fisher, looking rather pleased with himself. “A
nd I think I may have come up with something that will finally sink Barrington.”
“Then spit it out.”
“There’s one thing a politician can never recover from. But if I’m to set Barrington up, I’ll need to put a small team in place, and the timing will have to be perfect.”
19
GRIFF HASKINS, THE Labor Party’s agent for Bristol Docklands, decided he would have to give up drinking if Giles was to have any chance of becoming leader of the party. Griff always went on the wagon for a month before any election, and on a bender for at least a month after, depending on whether they’d won or lost. And since the Member for Bristol Docklands had been safely returned to the green benches with an increased majority, he’d felt he was entitled to the occasional night off.
It wasn’t good timing when Giles called his agent the morning after he’d been on the binge to let him know that he was going to stand for leader. As Griff was nursing a hangover at the time, he called back an hour later to make sure he’d heard the member correctly. He had.
Griff immediately phoned his secretary, Penny, who was on holiday in Cornwall, and Miss Parish, his most experienced party worker, who admitted she was bored out of her mind and only came alive during election campaigns. He told them both to be waiting on platform 7 at Temple Meads station at 4:30 that afternoon if they wanted to be working for the next prime minister.
At five o’clock, the three of them were seated in a third-class carriage on a train bound for Paddington. By noon the following day, Griff had set up an office in the House of Commons, and another at Giles’s home in Smith Square. He still needed to recruit one more volunteer for his team.
Sebastian told Griff that he would be delighted to cancel his fortnight’s holiday to help his uncle Giles win the election, and Cedric agreed to make it a month, as the lad could only benefit from the experience, even though Sir Giles was his second choice.
Sebastian’s first job was to make a wall chart that listed all 258 Labor members of Parliament who were entitled to vote, and then place a tick beside each name to show which category they fell into: certain to vote for Giles, red tick; certain to vote for another candidate, blue; and undecided—the most important category of all—green. Although the chart was Sebastian’s idea, it was Jessica who produced the finished article.