Cometh the Hour: A Novel (25 page)

Harry poured three glasses of the ’57 Merlot and handed one each to Emma and Seb. He raised his own glass and said, “To Maisie. Shrewd old thing.”

“To Maisie,” repeated Emma and Seb, raising their glasses.

“Ah, and I nearly forgot,” said Harry, picking the letter back up. “There’s a postscript.”

P.S. Please remember me to your dear friend Giles, who can consider himself lucky that I didn’t write about him, because had I done so, it would have been a far longer letter.

EMMA CLIFTON

1972–1975

26

“G
OOD MORNING,
Mrs. Clifton. My name is Eddie Lister. We met briefly at your mother-in-law’s funeral, but there’s no reason you should remember me.”

“How did you know Maisie, Mr. Lister?” Emma asked, because he was right, she couldn’t place him.

“I’m chairman of the governors of the Bristol Royal Infirmary. She was one of our volunteers and will be sadly missed by patients and staff alike.”

“I had no idea,” said Emma. “What did she do?”

“She was in charge of the lending library and organized the daily rota for the book trolley to be taken around the wards. More people read books at BRI than in almost any other hospital in the country.”

“Why am I not surprised,” said Emma. “Are you looking for someone to replace her, because if you are, I’d certainly be happy to do so.”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Clifton, that isn’t the reason I’m calling.”

“But I’m confident I could organize the library and, what’s more, my family has had a close association with the hospital for many years. My grandfather, Sir Walter Barrington, was chairman of the governors, my husband was nursed back to health at BRI after being seriously wounded by a German landmine in 1945, and my mother spent the last months of her life there under the care of Dr. Raeburn. What’s more, I was born at the Royal Infirmary.”

“I’m impressed, Mrs. Clifton, but I still don’t think you’re the right person to organize the book trolley.”

“May I ask why you won’t even consider me?”

“Because I was rather hoping you’d agree to become a governor of the hospital.”

Emma was momentarily silenced. “I’m not altogether sure I know what a hospital governor does.”

“Every major NHS hospital—and ours is one of the largest in the country—has a board of governors drawn from the local community.”

“And what would my responsibilities be?”

“We hold a meeting every quarter, and I also invite each trustee to take an interest in one particular department of the hospital. I thought nursing might appeal to you. Our senior matron, Mima Puddicombe, represents the two thousand nurses who work full- or part-time at BRI. I should mention that if you agree to become a governor, there is no remuneration or expenses. I realize you are a busy woman, Mrs. Clifton, with many responsibilities, but I do hope you’ll give some thought to my proposal before you make—”

“I’ve thought about it.”

Mr. Lister sighed. “Yes, I feared you’d be too busy with all your other commitments, and of course I thoroughly understand—”

“I’d be delighted to become a governor of the hospital, Mr. Chairman. When do I start?”

*   *   *

“Marshal Koshevoi is becoming somewhat restless, Comrade Brandt. He thinks it’s time you came up with something a little more tangible. After all, you’ve been living with Barrington for the past year and all you’ve produced so far is the minutes of the Labour Party’s weekly meetings in the House of Lords. Hardly illuminating.”

“I have to be careful, comrade director,” said Karin as they walked arm in arm down a quiet country lane. “If Barrington were to become suspicious and my cover was blown, all our painstaking preparations would have been for nothing. And while he’s in opposition, and not a member of the government, he isn’t privy to what’s going on in Whitehall. But if the Labour Party wins the next election, and Barrington is confident they will, that could all change overnight. And if I recall your exact words when I took on this assignment, ‘We are not in a hurry, we’re in this for the long game.’”

“That is still the case, comrade. However, I’m becoming concerned that you might be enjoying your bourgeois existence as Barrington’s mistress a little too much, and have forgotten where your true allegiance lies.”

“I joined the party when I was still at school, comrade director, and have always been dedicated to our cause. You have no reason to question my loyalty.”

Tap, tap, tap. They fell silent when they saw an elderly gentleman approaching.

“Good afternoon, colonel,” said Pengelly.

“Afternoon, John. How nice to see your daughter again,” said the old man, raising his hat.

“Thank you, colonel,” said Pengelly. “She’s just down for the day, and we thought a breath of country air wouldn’t do us any harm.”

“Capital,” said the colonel. “I rarely miss my constitutional. Gets me out of the house. Well, must be getting along, or the memsahib will be wondering where I am.”

“Of course, sir.” Pengelly didn’t speak again until they could no longer hear the tap, tap, tap of the colonel’s walking stick. “Has Barrington asked you to marry him?” he asked, taking Karin by surprise.

“No, comrade director, he has not. After two failed marriages, I don’t think he’ll be rushing into a third.”

“Perhaps if you were to become pregnant?” he said as they turned off the road and followed a path that led to a disused tin mine.

“What use would I be to the party then, if I had to spend all my time bringing up a child? I’m a trained operative, not a babysitter.”

“Then let’s see some proof of it, Comrade Brandt, because I can’t go on telling my masters in Moscow tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, like a parrot.”

“Barrington is attending an important meeting in Brussels next Monday, when he’ll witness the signing of the treaty that will make Britain a member of the EEC. He’s asked me to accompany him. I may be able to pick up some useful information as there will be a lot of foreign delegates around.”

“Good. With so many ambitious politicians all trying to prove how important they are, be sure to keep your ears open, especially at dinners and casual get-togethers. They have no idea how many languages you speak. And don’t switch off in the evening, when they’ll be relaxed after a drink or two and more likely to say something they might later regret, especially to a beautiful woman.”

Karin looked at her watch. “We’d better turn back. I’m supposed to be in Bristol in time for dinner with Giles and his family.”

“Wouldn’t want you to miss that,” said Pengelly, as they began to retrace their steps. “And do remember to wish Giles … a happy Christmas.”

*   *   *

On the journey back from Truro to Bristol, Karin couldn’t stop thinking about the dilemma she now faced. During the past year she had fallen deeply in love with Giles and had never been happier in her life, but she’d become trapped, playing a role she no longer believed in, and she couldn’t see a way out of the maze. If she suddenly stopped supplying information for the Stasi, her masters would call her back to Berlin, or worse. If she lost Giles, she would have nothing to live for. By the time she drove through the gates of the Manor House, the dilemma hadn’t been resolved, and wouldn’t be, unless …

*   *   *

“Is Karin joining us for dinner?” asked Emma as she poured her brother a whisky.

“Yes, she’s driving up from Cornwall. She’s been to visit her father, so she may be a little late.”

“She’s so bright and full of life,” said Emma. “I can’t imagine what she sees in you.”

“I agree. And it’s not as if she doesn’t know how I feel about her, because I’ve asked her to marry me enough times.”

“Why do you think she keeps turning you down?” asked Harry.

“With my track record, who can blame her? But I think she may be weakening.”

“That’s good news, and I’m so pleased you’ll both be joining us for Christmas.”

“And how are you enjoying the Lords these days?” asked Harry, changing the subject.

“It’s been fascinating shadowing Geoffrey Rippon, who’s been in charge of our application to join the EEC. In fact I’m off to Brussels next week to witness the signing of the treaty.”

“I read your speech in Hansard,” said Harry, “and I agreed with your sentiments. Let me see if I can remember your exact words, ‘Some talk of the economy, others of trade relations, but I will vote for this bill if for no other reason than it will ensure that our country’s youth will only have to read about two world wars, and will never have to experience a third.’”

“I’m flattered.”

“And what does the new year hold for you, Giles?” asked Emma, filling up his glass.

“I’ve been drafted onto the general election team and put in charge of the marginal seats campaign. Even better news, Griff Haskins has agreed to come out of retirement and act as my chief of staff.”

“So the two of you will be roaming around the country doing what, exactly?” asked Emma.

“Visiting the sixty-two marginal seats that will determine the outcome of the next election. If we win them all—which is most unlikely—we’ll end up with a majority of around thirty.”

“And if you lose them all?”

“The Conservatives will remain in power. I’ll be history, and I suspect your friend Margaret Thatcher will be the next Chancellor of the Exchequer.”

“I can’t wait,” said Emma.

“Did you take up her offer to meet again?”

“She’s invited me to have a drink with her in the Commons in a couple of weeks’ time.”

“Not lunch?” said Harry.

“She doesn’t do lunch,” said Giles.

Emma laughed. “So don’t regard anything you tell me as private, because I’ve got both feet firmly in the enemy’s camp.”

“My own sister, plotting against me.”

“You’d better believe it.”

“No need to get too worried,” said Harry. “Emma’s just been appointed a governor of the Bristol Royal Infirmary so she isn’t going to have a lot of time left over for politics.”

“Congratulations, sis. Eddie Lister is a first-class chairman and you’ll enjoy serving under him. But what made you agree to take on such a demanding commitment?”

“Maisie. It turns out she was a hospital volunteer, in charge of the library. I didn’t even know.”

“Then you can be sure every book had to be properly stamped and back on time if you didn’t want to be fined.”

“She’ll be a hard act to follow, as everyone continually reminds me. I’ve already discovered that a hospital is a fascinating twenty-four-hour operation. It rather puts Barrington’s Shipping in the shade.”

“Which department has Eddie asked you to shadow?”

“Nursing. The senior matron and I are already meeting once a week. An NHS hospital is very different from a public company because no one thinks about profits, only patients.”

“You’ll end up a socialist yet,” said Giles.

“Not a hope. The bottom line still dictates the success or failure of any organization, so I’ve asked Sebastian to trawl through the hospital’s annual accounts to see if he can spot any ways of cutting costs or making savings.”

“How’s Sebastian doing,” asked Giles, “remembering all he’s been through?”

“He’s more or less fully recovered physically, but I suspect that mentally it will take considerably longer.”

“That’s understandable,” said Giles. “First Sam, and then Priya. How can we even begin to understand how he’s coping?”

“He’s simply immersed himself in work,” said Emma. “Since he’s become the bank’s chief executive he’s been working hours that make no sense. In fact he doesn’t seem to have any personal life at all.”

“Have either of you raised the delicate subject of Samantha?” asked Giles.

“Once or twice,” said Harry, “but it’s always the same response. He won’t consider getting in touch with her while Michael is still alive.”

“Does that also apply to Jessica?”

“I’m afraid so, although I never mention our granddaughter unless he does.”

“But your mother was right,” said Emma. “The years are slipping by and, at this rate, Jessica will be a young woman before any of us get to meet her.”

“Sadly that may well be the case,” said Harry. “But we have to remember it’s Seb’s life that’s been thrown into turmoil, not ours.”

“Speaking of people whose lives have been thrown into turmoil,” said Emma, turning to her brother, “I often wonder how your ex-wife is coping with motherhood.”

“Not very well, I suspect,” said Giles. “And has anybody ever found out who the father is?”

“No, that remains a mystery. But whoever it is, little Freddie doesn’t seem to have interfered with Virginia’s lifestyle. I’m told she’s back on the circuit, and the drinks are on her.”

“Then the father has to be an extremely wealthy man,” said Harry.

“He does,” agreed Giles. “Wealthy enough to have bought her a house in Onslow Gardens, and for her to employ a nanny, who I gather can be seen wheeling the Hon. Frederick Archibald Iain Bruce Fenwick in his pram down Rotten Row every morning.”

“How do you know that?” asked Emma.

“We socialists don’t confine ourselves to the
Times
and
Telegraph,
sis, and what’s more—” Giles was interrupted by a knock on the front door. “That must be Karin back from Cornwall,” he said as he rose from his chair and left the room.

“Why don’t you like Karin?” asked Emma once Giles was out of earshot.

“What makes you say that?” asked Harry.

“You imagine I don’t know what you’re thinking, after more than forty years? Giles adores her, and it upsets him that you won’t accept her.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Giles and Karin strolled into the room chatting and holding hands. Harry stood up to greet her. If she wasn’t in love with Giles, he thought, she’s a damn good actress.

27

E
MMA HADN’T ENTERED
the Palace of Westminster since their lordships had decided she was free to marry the man she loved. Giles had invited her to join him for lunch many times, but she just couldn’t face it. She hoped a visit to the Commons would finally exorcise the ghosts of the past and, in any case, she was looking forward to meeting Mrs. Thatcher again.