Jeffrey Archer - First Among Equals

Raymond read the Daily Mail caption again and smiled: “On the toss of a coin.”

It saddened Raymond that Andrew had felt it necessary to leave the Labour party, although he was delighted that he had been returned to the Commons. Raymond was only thankful that there had been no Frank Boyles in his constituency. He often wondered if it was because Joyce kept such a watchful eye on all the committees.

Margaret Thatcher’s second victory had come as a bitter blow to him although he couldn’t have pretended it was a surprise. Her overall majority of 144 was even larger than had been predicted, while the SDP managed only six seats — although the Alliance were only two percentage points behind Labour in actual votes cast. Raymond was enough of a realist to know that now nothing was going to stop the Tories from governing for another five-year term.

Once again Raymond returned to his practice at the bar and a new round of time-consuming briefs. When the Lord Chancellor, Lord Hailsham, offered him the chance to become a High Court judge, with a place in the House of Lords, Raymond gave the matter considerable thought before finally asking Joyce for her opinion.

“You’d be bored to tears in a week,” she told him.

“No more bored than I am now.”

“Your turn will come.”

“Joyce, I’m nearly fifty, and all I have to show for it is the chairmanship of the Select Committee on Trade and Industry. If the party fails to win next time I may never hold office again. Don’t forget that the last occasion we lost this badly we were in Opposition for thirteen years.”

“Once Michael Foot has been replaced the party will take on a new look, and I bet you’ll be offered one of the senior Shadow jobs.”

“That’ll depend on who’s our next leader,” said Raymond. “And I can’t see a great deal of difference between Neil Kinnock who looks unbeatable, and Michael Foot — except that Kinnock’s ten years younger than I am.”

“Then why not stand yourself?” asked Joyce.

“It’s too early for me,” said Raymond.

“Then why don’t you at least wait until we know who’s going to be the leader of the party,” said Joyce. “You can be a judge at any time — they die off just as quickly as Cabinet ministers.”

When Raymond returned to his chambers the following Monday he followed Joyce’s advice and let Lord Hailsham know that he was not interested in being a judge in the foreseeable future, and settled down to keep a watchful eye on Cecil Parkinson, the new Secretary of State for Trade and Industry.

Only a few days later Michael Foot announced that he would not be standing for leader when the party’s annual conference took place. When he informed the Shadow Cabinet several faces lit up at the thought of the forthcoming battle at Brighton in October. Neil Kinnock and Roy Hattersley became the front runners, while during the weeks leading up to the conference several trade unionists and MPs approached Raymond and asked him to stand; but he told them all “next time.”

The vote for the new leader took place on the Sunday before the conference began: as Raymond predicted Kinnock won easily and Hattersley, his closest rival, was elected as his deputy.

After the conference Raymond returned to Leeds for the weekend, still confident that he would be offered a major post in the Shadow Cabinet despite the fact he hadn’t supported the winner. Having completed his morning surgery he hung around the house waiting for the new leader to call him, even missing the match against Chelsea. He didn’t like being in the second division.

When Neil Kinnock eventually phoned late that evening Raymond was shocked by his offer and replied without hesitation that he was not interested. It was a short conversation.

Joyce came into the drawing room as he sank back into his favorite armchair.

“Well, what did he offer you?” she asked, facing him.

“Transport. Virtually a demotion.”

“What did you say?”

“I turned him down, of course.”

“Who has he given the main jobs to?”

“I didn’t ask and he didn’t volunteer, but I suspect we’ll only have to wait for the morning papers to find out. Not that I’m that interested,” he continued, staring at the floor, “as I intend to take the first place that comes free on the bench. I’ve wasted too many years already.”

“So have I,” said Joyce quietly.

“What do you mean?” asked Raymond, looking up at his wife for the first time since she had come into the room.

“If you’re going to make a complete break, I think it’s time for me to do so as well.”

“I don’t understand,” said Raymond.

“We haven’t been close for a long time, Ray,” said Joyce, looking straight into her husband’s eyes. “If you’re thinking of giving up the constituency and spending even more time in London I think we should part.” She turned away.

“Is there someone else?” asked Raymond, his voice cracking.

“No one special.”

“But someone?”

“There is a man who wants to marry me,” said Joyce, “if that’s what you mean. We were at school in Bradford together. He’s an accountant now and has never married.”

“But do you love him?”

Joyce considered the question. “No, I can’t pretend I do. But we’re good friends, he’s very kind and understanding and, more important, he’s there.”

Raymond couldn’t move.

“And the break would at least give you the chance to ask Kate Garthwaite to give up her job in New York and return to London.” Raymond gasped. “Think about it and let me know what you decide.” She left the room quickly so that he could not see her tears.

Raymond sat alone in the room and thought back over his years with Joyce — and Kate — and knew exactly what he wanted to do now that the whole affair was out in the open.

He caught the last train to London the same evening because he had to be in court by ten o’clock the next morning to attend a judge’s summing up. In the flat that night he slept intermittently as he thought about how he would spend the rest of his new life. Before he went into court the next morning he ordered a dozen red roses via Interflora. He phoned the Attorney General. If he was going to change his life he must change it in every way.

When the summing up was over and the judge had passed sentence Raymond checked the plane schedules. Nowadays you could be there in such a short time. He booked his flight and took a taxi to Heathrow. He sat on the plane praying it wasn’t too late and that too much time hadn’t passed. The flight seemed endless and he took another taxi from the airport.

When he arrived at her front door she was astonished. “What are you doing here on a Monday afternoon?”

“I’ve come to try and win you back,” said Raymond. “Christ, that sounds corny,” he added.

“It’s the nicest thing you’ve said in years,” she said as he held her in his arms; over Joyce’s shoulder Raymond could see the roses brightening up the drawing room.

“Let’s go and have a quiet dinner.”

Over dinner Raymond told Joyce of his plans to accept the Attorney General’s offer to join the bench, but only if she would agree to live in London. After a second bottle of champagne which Joyce had been reluctant to open they finally returned home.

When they arrived back a little after one the phone was ringing. Raymond opened the door and stumbled toward it while Joyce groped for the light switch.

“Ray, I’ve been trying to get you all night,” a lilting Welsh voice said.

“Have you now?” Raymond said thickly, trying to keep his eyes open.

“You sound as if you’ve been to a good party.”