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“Because I think Gwyneth is going to divorce me, and frankly she has good reason to do so.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Wilson, once again trying to light his pipe. “But I still think you should go down to Bristol and test the waters. Be sure to listen to what Griff Haskins has to say, because when I called him this morning, he left me in no doubt that he still wants you to be the candidate.”
* * *
“Many congratulations, major,” said Virginia. “You’ve been single-handedly responsible for bringing Giles Barrington down.”
“But that’s the irony,” said Fisher. “I didn’t. It wasn’t our girl who spent the night with him.”
“I’m not following you.”
“I flew to Berlin just as you instructed, and it wasn’t difficult to locate an escort agency with offices on both sides of the wall. One particular girl came highly recommended. She was paid well, and promised a bonus if she could supply photographs of the two of them in bed.”
“And there she is,” said Virginia, pointing to a selection of that morning’s papers that normally wouldn’t have found their way into the flat in Cadogan Gardens.
“But that’s not her. She rang the following morning and told me that Barrington had relieved her of a bottle of champagne but then slammed the door in her face.”
“So who’s that then?”
“No idea. The agency say they haven’t come across her before, and assume she must work for the Stasi. It had sound and surveillance equipment in all the delegates’ hotel suites during the conference.”
“But why did he reject your girl, then allow himself to be taken in by this one?”
“That I can’t explain,” said Fisher. “All I am sure about is that your ex-husband isn’t necessarily finished.”
“But he resigned this morning. It was the lead story on the morning news.”
“As a minister, yes, but not as a Member of Parliament. And if he were to hold on to his seat at the next election…”
“Then we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t.”
“How can we do that?”
“I’m so glad you asked that question, major.”
* * *
“I’m afraid I’ve been left with no choice but to resign as your Member of Parliament,” said Giles.
“Just because you went to bed with a tart?” said Griff.
“She wasn’t a tart,” Giles replied, as he did to everyone who made that assumption.
“If you resign, we may as well hand the seat to the Tories. The PM won’t thank you for that.”
“But if the polls are to be believed, the Tories are going to win the seat anyway.”
“We’ve defied the polls before,” said Griff. “And the Tories haven’t even selected their candidate yet.”
“Nothing is going to persuade me to change my mind,” said Giles.
“But you’re the only person who can win the seat,” said Griff as the phone on his desk rang. He picked it up. “Whoever it is, tell them to bugger off.”
“It’s the editor of the Bristol Evening News,” said his secretary.
“And the same applies to him.”
“But he says he has a piece of news you’ll want to hear immediately. It’s the lead story in tomorrow’s paper.”
