“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Griff. “But can you prove it before polling day? Because one thing’s for certain, the Tories’ eve-of-poll message will be Fisher’s letter, and they’ll push it through every letterbox in the constituency.”
“We’d do the same, given half a chance,” admitted Giles.
“But if you could prove it was a pack of lies…” said Griff, refusing to give up.
“I don’t have time to do that, and even if I did, I’m not sure anyone would believe me. Dead men’s words are so much more powerful than those of the living.”
“Then there’s only one thing left for us to do,” said Griff. “Let’s go on a bender and drown our sorrows.”
“I did that last night,” admitted Giles. “And God knows what else.”
“Once we’ve chosen a new candidate,” said Griff, quickly slipping back into election mode, “I’d like you to brief him or her, because whoever we pick will need your support and, more important, your experience.”
“That might not turn out to be an advantage in the circumstances,” Giles suggested.
“Stop being so pathetic,” said Griff. “I’ve got a feeling we won’t get rid of you quite that easily. The Labour Party is in your blood. And wasn’t it Harold Wilson who said a week is a long time in politics?”
*
When the inconspicuous door swung open, everyone in the courtroom stopped talking and turned to watch as the bailiff stood aside to allow the seven men and five women to enter the court and take their places in the jury box.
The judge waited for them to settle before she leaned forward and asked the foreman, “Have you been able to reach a verdict?”
The foreman rose slowly from his place, adjusted his spectacles, looked up at the judge and said, “Yes, we have, my lady.”
“And is your decision unanimous?”
“It is, my lady.”
“Have you found in favor of the plaintiff, Lady Virginia Fenwick, or the defendant, Mrs. Emma Clifton?”
“We have found in favor of the defendant,” said the foreman, who, having completed his task, sat back down.
Sebastian leapt to his feet and was about to cheer when he noticed that both his mother and the judge were scowling at him. He quickly resumed his seat and looked across at his father, who winked at him.
On the other side of the court sat a woman who was glaring at the jury, unable to hide her displeasure, while her counsel sat impassively with his arms folded. Once Sir Edward had read the front page of the Daily Mail that morning, he’d realized that his client had no chance of winning the case. He could have demanded a retrial, but in truth Sir Edward wouldn’t have advised his client to put herself through a second trial with the odds tipped so heavily against her.
*
Giles sat alone at the breakfast table at his home in Smith Square, his usual routine abandoned. No bowl of cornflakes, no orange juice, no boiled egg, no Times, no Guardian, just a copy of the Daily Mail laid out on the table in front of him.
12th November 1970
Dear Mr. Trelford,
You will be curious to know why I have chosen to write to you, and not Sir Edward Makepeace. The answer is, quite simply, I have no doubt that both of you will act in the best interests of your clients.
Allow me to begin with Sir Edward’s client, Lady Virginia Fenwick, and her fatuous claim that I was nothing more than her professional advisor, who always worked at arm’s length. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have never known a client who was more hands-on, and when it came to the buying and selling of Barrington’s shares, she only had one purpose in mind, namely to destroy the company, whatever the cost, along with the reputation of its chairman, Mrs. Clifton.
A few days before the trial was due to open, Lady Virginia offered me a substantial sum of money to claim that she had given me carte blanche to act on her behalf, in order to leave the jury with the impression that she didn’t really understand how the stock market worked. Let me assure you that in reply to Lady Virginia’s question to Mrs. Clifton at the AGM, “Is it true that one of your directors sold his vast shareholding in an attempt to bring the company down?” the fact is, that is exactly what Lady Virginia herself did on no fewer than three occasions, and she nearly succeeded in bringing Barrington’s down. I cannot go to my grave with that injustice on my conscience.