Free First Among Equals by Jeffrey Archer Page B

on
Simon Kerslake’s left was far more blunt in voicing
his opinion of Raymond Gould. “Bloody man thinks like a Tory, talks like a
Tory, so why isn’t he a Tory?” he demanded.
    Simon grinned
at the prematurely balding man who had been expressing his equally vivid views
throughout dinner. At over two hundred pounds, Ronnie Nethercote looked as if
he was trying to escape from every part of his bulging dinner jacket.
    “I expect,”
said Simon in reply, “that Gould, born in the thirties and living in Leeds,
would have found it hard to join the Young Conservatives.”
    “Balls,” said
Ronnie. “I managed it and I was born in the East End of London without any of
his advantages.
    Now tell me,
Mr. Kerslake, what do you do when you’re not wasting your time in the House of
Commons?”
    Raymond stayed
on after dinner and talked for some time to the captains of industry. A little
after eleven he left to return to Lansdowne Road.
    As his
chauffeur drove slowly away from Grosvenor House down Park Lane, the Under
Secretary waved expansively back to his host. Someone else waved in reply. At
first Raymond only glanced out the window, assuming it was another dinner
guest, until he saw her legs.
    Standing on the
corner outside the gas station on Park Lane stood a young girl smiling at him
invitingly, her 72 white leather miniskirt so short it might have been better
described as a handkerchief Her long legs reminded him
of Joyce’s ten years before. Her finely curled hair and the set of her hips
remained firmly implanted in Raymond’s mind all the way home.
    When they
reached Lansdowne Road, Raymond climbed out of the official car and said
goodnight to his driver before walking slowly toward his front door, but he did
not take out his latchkey.
    He waited until
he was sure the driver had turned the comer before looking up and checking the
bedroom window. All the lights were out. Joyce must be asleep.
    He crept down
the path and back on to the pavement, then looked up
and down the road, finally spotting the space in which Joyce had parked the
Volkswagen. He checked the spare key on his key ring and fumbled about, feeling
like a car thief. It took three attempts before the motor spluttered to life,
and Raymond wondered if he would wake up the whole neighborhood as he moved off
and headed back to Park Lane, not certain what to expect. When he reached
Marble Arch, he traveled slowly down in the center stream of traffic. A few
dinner guests in evening dress were still spilling out of Grosvenor House. He
passed the gas station: she hadn’t moved. She smiled again and he accelerated,
nearly bumping into the car in front of him. Raymond traveled back up to Marble
Arch, but instead of turning toward home, he drove down Park Lane again, this
time not so quickly and on the inside lane. He took his foot off the
accelerator as he approached the gas station and she waved again. He returned
to Marble Arch before repeating his detour down Park Lane, this time even more
slowly. As he passed Grosvenor House for a third time, he checked to be sure
that there were no stragglers still chatting on the pavement. It was clear. He
touched the brakes and his car came to a stop just beyond the gas station.
    He waited.
    The girl looked
up and down the street before strolling over to the car, opening the passenger
door and taking a seat next to the Under Secretary of State for Employment.
    “ LoH: )king for business?”
    “What do you
mean?” asked Raymond hoarsely.
    “Come on,
darling. You can’t imagine I was standing out there at this time of night
hoping to get a suntan.”
    Raymond turned
to look at the girl more carefully and wanted to touch her despite the aura of
cheap perfume. Her black blouse had three buttons undone; a fourth would have
left nothing to the imagination.
    “It’s ten
pounds at my place.”
    “Where’s your
place?” he heard himself say.
    “I use a hotel
in Paddington.”
    “How do we get
there?” he asked, putting his