“Especially when they give you Rome,” said Patrick Sullivan. “But I’ve often wondered what it must be like to chair a great hospital, with so many different and complex issues every day — not just the patients, doctors, nurses and—”
“The car park,” said Emma. “I could have done with your diplomatic skills when it came to that particular problem.”
“I’ve never had a car parking problem,” admitted the ambassador.
“And neither did I, until I decided to charge for parking at the infirmary, when one of the local papers launched a campaign to get me to change my mind and described me as a heartless harridan!”
“And did you change your mind?”
“Certainly not. I’d authorized over a million pounds of public money to be spent building that car park, and I didn’t expect the general public to use it for free parking whenever they wanted to go shopping. So I decided to charge the same rate as the nearest municipal car park, with concessions for hospital staff and patients, so it would only be used by the people it had been originally intended for. Result: uproar, protest marches, burning effigies! This, despite a terminally ill patient having to be driven around in circles for over an hour because her husband was unable to find a space. And if that wasn’t enough, when I bumped into the paper’s editor and explained why it was necessary, all he said was, of course you’re right, Emma, but a good campaign always sells newspapers.”
Mr. Sullivan laughed. “On balance, I think I’ll stick to being the American ambassador in Rome.”
“Grandma,” said a youthful voice behind her. “A little memory of today.” Jessica handed her a drawing of Emma making a point to the ambassador.
“Jessica, it’s wonderful. I’ll definitely show it to the editor of my local paper, and explain why I was wagging my finger.”
“How’s Giles enjoying the Lords?” asked Harry.
“He isn’t,” said Karin. “He’d rather be back in the Commons.”
“But he’s a member of the Cabinet.”
“And he’s not sure he will be for much longer. Now the Tories have elected Margaret Thatcher as their leader, Giles feels they will have a good chance of winning the next election. And I confess I could vote for her,” whispered Karin, before she quickly added, “What’s the latest on your campaign to have Anatoly Babakov released from prison?”
“Not a lot of progress, I’m afraid. The Russians won’t even let us know if he’s still alive.”
“And how’s Mrs. Babakova bearing up?”
“She’s moved to New York and is renting a small apartment on the Lower West Side. I visit her whenever I’m in the States. Yelena remains an eternal optimist and continues to believe that they’re just about to release Anatoly. I haven’t the heart to tell her it isn’t going to happen in the foreseeable future, if ever.”
“Let me give the problem some thought,” said Karin. “After spending so many years behind the Iron Curtain, I might be able to come up with something that would irritate the Russians enough to reconsider their position.”
“You might also mention my lack of progress to your father. After all, he hates the communists every bit as much as you do,” said Harry, carefully observing how Karin reacted. But she gave nothing away.
“Good idea. I’ll discuss it with him when I next go down to Cornwall,” she said, sounding as if she meant it, although Harry doubted if she would ever raise the subject of Anatoly Babakov with her controller.
“Karin,” said Jessica, handing her a copy of the menu. “A little gift to mark our first meeting.”
“I’ll treasure it,” said Karin, giving her a warm hug.
“Do you ever hear from Gwyneth or Virginia?” asked Grace.
“Gwyneth occasionally,” said Giles. “She’s teaching English at Monmouth School, which should please you, and has recently become engaged to one of the house masters.”
“You’re right, that does please me,” said Grace. “She was a fine teacher. And Virginia?”
“Only what I pick up in the gossip columns. You will have seen that her father died a couple of months ago. Funny old stick, but I confess I rather liked him.”
“Did you go to his funeral?”
“No, I didn’t feel that was appropriate, but I wrote to Archie Fenwick, who’s inherited the title, saying that I hoped he’d play an active role in the Upper House. I received a very courteous reply.”
“But you surely don’t approve of the hereditary system?” said Grace.
“No, I don’t. But as long as we keep losing votes to the Tories in the Commons, reform of the House of Lords will have to be shelved until after the next election.”
“And if Mrs. Thatcher wins that election, reform of the Lords won’t be shelved, it will be buried.” Grace drained her glass of champagne before adding, “Touching on a more sensitive subject, “I’m so sorry you and Karin haven’t had any children.”
“God knows we’ve tried everything, even sex.” Grace didn’t laugh. “We both visited a fertility clinic. It seems that Karin has a blood problem and, after two miscarriages, the doctor feels the risk would be too great.”
“How sad,” said Grace. “No one to follow you into the Lords.”
“Or, more important, open the batting for England.”
“Have you thought about adoption?”
“Yes, but we’ve put it on hold until after the election.”
“Don’t put it on hold for too long. I know you’ll find this hard to believe, Giles, but there are some things more important than politics.”
“I apologize for interrupting you, Aunt Grace, but may I give you this small gift?” Jessica said, handing over another portrait.
Grace studied the drawing for some time before she offered an opinion. “Although I am not an expert, you undoubtedly have promise, my dear. Be sure you don’t squander your talent.”
“I’ll try not to, Aunt Grace.”
“How old are you?”
“Eleven.”
“Ah, the same age as Picasso when he held his first public exhibition — in which city, young lady?”
“Barcelona.”
Grace awarded her a slight bow. “I shall have my portrait framed, hang it in my study in Cambridge and tell my fellow dons and pupils alike that you are my great-niece.”
“Praise indeed,” said Giles. “Where’s mine?”
“I can’t fit you in today, Uncle Giles. Another time perhaps.”
“I’ll certainly hold you to that. How would you like to stay with me at Barrington Hall while your parents are away on honeymoon? In return, you could paint a portrait of Karin and myself. And while you’re with us you could visit your grandparents, who are just a couple of miles down the road at the Manor House.”
“They’ve already invited me to stay. And didn’t try to bribe me.”
“Never forget, my dear,” said Grace, “that your great-uncle is a politician.”
“Have you heard anything back from the Bank of England?” asked Hakim.
“Nothing official,” said Arnold Hardcastle. “But, strictly between ourselves, Sir Piers rang me on Friday afternoon to let me know that Gavin Buckland didn’t show up for his second interview, and the committee have decided not to pursue the matter any further.”
“I could have told them he was unlikely to turn up because his letter of resignation was on my desk even before I’d got back from our meeting with the Ethics Committee.”
“He’ll never be offered another job in the City,” said Arnold. “I can only wonder what he’ll do next.”
“He’s gone to Cyprus,” said Hakim. “Barry Hammond followed him to Nicosia, where he’s taken a job on the commodities desk of a local Turkish bank. He was good at his job, so let’s just hope there aren’t too many racetracks in Cyprus.”