She finished with her husband’s bow tie and banished him to the walk-in closet for his jacket. The two women fell into conversation as Culver joined his boss.

‘I know you hate these things, Kip,’ he said, as always, getting his attention immediately with the informal manner of address. ‘But it’s as much a part of your job as dealing with budgets, railroads and reconstruction, and more a part of your job than worrying about snow blowers and powerlines around the city like you were this afternoon.’

‘Jesus, Jed, did Barbara word you up before you got here? Because I’ve been getting slammed by her for the same thing all evening.’

The Chief of Staff helped him get his arms into the dinner jacket and even tugged at the lapels a couple of times to make it sit properly on Kip’s shoulders.

‘That’s because she’s right,’ he said. ‘You’re not the city engineer anymore. You’re the President. City engineers worry about snowstorms. Presidents worry about re-election.’

Kipper frowned. ‘I thought I was supposed to worry about a lot more than that.’

‘It’s all moot if you don’t get re-elected. And that’s not going to happen unless you campaign properly. And you cannot campaign properly without money. So that’s what tonight is about – raising money, to get you back into office, so you can do your job, clearing roads, rebuilding railways and pissing off the Greens by opening up a nasty new power plant somewhere. It’s all good. But none of it is going to happen if you don’t get the votes.’

Kipper coughed out a short, humourless laugh. ‘I think all those things will happen whether I get re-elected or not, Jed. Some things aren’t political. They just have to happen.’

‘Really? Seriously? You actually live inside that gingerbread house?’ Culver asked in a gentle voice. ‘You think Sandra Harvey would let the French build that shiny new pebble bed reactor you’re so keen on? You think Blackstone would run your settlement program completely blind to race, colour or creed? You happy with the way he’s virtually outlawed labour unions down there in Texas?’

He had him, of course, which didn’t improve Kip’s mood. He hated being pushed into a corner. But at least when you got him there, he had the good grace to stay put.

‘I suppose so,’ he sighed. ‘Well, are we going to get this done?’