‘So how are you filling your time, now you’re no longer chairman of Barrington’s?’
‘I still have a few more months before I hand over the chairmanship of the Royal Infirmary, but after last night’s vote of no confidence in the government, it looks as if I’ll be spending most of my time running around the West Country trying to make sure you end up in Downing Street.’
‘I’d rather you were running around the whole country doing the same job,’ said Mrs Thatcher.
‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘If you switch on your television, you’ll see the Prime Minister being driven into Buckingham Palace for an appointment with the Queen. Mr Callaghan will be seeking her permission to prorogue Parliament so he can call a general election.’
‘Has a date been fixed?’
‘Thursday May the third. And I want you to take on your brother head-on.’
‘What do you have in mind?’
‘As you probably know, he’s once again in charge of Labour’s marginal-seats campaign. Those fifty or sixty key constituencies that will determine the outcome of the election. I think you’d be the ideal person to do the same job for the Tory party.’
‘But Giles has vast experience of election campaigns. He’s a consummate politician—’
‘—and no one knows him better than you.’
‘There must be a dozen or more people who are far better qualified to take on such a responsibility.’
‘You’re my first choice. And I have a feeling your brother will not be pleased when he learns who he’s up against.’ A long silence followed, before Mrs Thatcher added, ‘Come up to London and meet the party chairman, Peter Thorneycroft. He’s already set everything up, so all I need now is a coordinator who will put the fear of God into our local chairmen in those marginal seats.’
This time Emma didn’t hesitate. ‘When do I start?’
‘Tomorrow morning, ten o’clock, Central Office,’ replied the leader of the opposition.
‘You asked to see me, chairman.’
‘I did, and I’ll get straight to the point,’ said Emma even before Hands had been given the chance to sit down. ‘I’ve had several complaints from nurses concerning your unethical behaviour.’
‘Several?’ said Hands, who sat down in his chair, looking relaxed.
‘During the past year, Matron has been collecting evidence, and she has asked me to set up an official enquiry.’
‘Be my guest,’ said Hands. ‘You’ll find nothing will stick, and I’ll be completely exonerated.’
‘Nothing will stick? An unfortunate choice of words, I would have thought, Dr Hands, unless of course . . .’
‘You say another word, Lady Clifton, and I’ll instruct my lawyers to issue a writ for libel.’
‘I doubt it. Like you, I’ve made sure there are no witnesses, and while I accept that you may be cleared of all the charges, I intend to make sure that your reputation will be in tatters, and you’ll never be able to find a job in this country again. So I suggest—’
‘Are you threatening me? If you are, it could well be your reputation that ends up in tatters, once the enquiry proves to be a waste of time and money – and just when BRI has once again been shortlisted for hospital of the year.’
‘Yes, I had considered that,’ said Emma. ‘In the past your strength has always been that it was your word against that of a young nurse. But this time you won’t be dealing with a frightened young woman but the chairman of the hospital. And yes, I am willing to risk my reputation against yours.’
‘You’re bluffing,’ said Hands. ‘You’ve got less than a year to go, and you really wouldn’t want this to be the one thing you’re remembered for.’
‘Wrong again, Dr Hands. When I expose you for what you are, I suspect your colleagues and the sixteen nurses who have provided written evidence –’ Emma tapped a thick file on the desk in front of her, which was nothing more than a surveyor’s report – ‘will be only too grateful for my intervention, while you’ll find it difficult to get a job in a minor African state.’
This time Hands hesitated before he spoke. ‘I’ll take my chances. I’m confident you don’t have enough evidence to open an enquiry.’
Emma leant forward, dialled an outside number and switched the phone to speaker. A moment later they both heard the word, ‘Editor.’
‘Good morning, Reg. Emma Clifton.’
‘Which one of my reporters do you want strung up this morning, Emma?’
‘Not one of your reporters this time. One of my doctors.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘I’m about to instigate an enquiry into the behaviour of a doctor at the hospital, and I thought you’d want to hear about it before the nationals get hold of the story.’
‘That’s good of you, Emma.’ Hands began waving at her frantically. ‘But if the story is going to make the final edition, I’ll need to send a reporter over to the hospital immediately.’