Emma turned out to be right about the “old boys’ club,” because all the big beasts in the party remained loyal to Heath, along with the Telegraph and Mail. Only the Spectator kept pressing Mrs. Thatcher to stand. And when, to Emma’s delight, she finally did allow her name to go forward, the announcement was met by Heath’s inner circle with ridicule and contempt, while the press refused to take her challenge seriously. In fact, Heath told anyone who would listen that she was no more than a stalking horse.

“He’s about to discover that she’s a Thoroughbred,” was all Emma had to say on the subject.

*   *   *

On the day of the vote, Giles invited his sister to join him for lunch in the House of Lords so she would be among the first to learn the result. Emma found the atmosphere in the corridors of power electric, and understood for the first time why so many otherwise rational human beings couldn’t resist the roar of the political jungle.

She accompanied Giles up to the first floor so she could watch the Tory members as they entered committee room 7 to cast their votes. There was no sign of any of the five candidates, just their acolytes swarming around, trying to persuade last-minute waverers that their candidate was certain to win.

At six o’clock, the door to committee room 7 slammed shut so the chairman of the 1922 Committee could preside over the count. Fifteen minutes later, even before Edward du Cann had a chance to announce the result, a loud cheer went up from inside the committee room. Everyone standing in the corridor fell silent as they waited for the news.

“She’s won!” went up the cry, and like falling dominoes, the words were repeated again and again until they reached the crowds on the street outside.

Emma was invited to join the victor for a celebratory drink in her room.

“I haven’t won yet,” said Thatcher after Airey Neave had raised a glass to the new Leader of the Opposition. “Let’s not forget that was only the first round, and someone else is bound to stand against me. Not until then will we discover if a woman can not only lead the Tory party, but become prime minister. Let’s get back to work,” she added, not allowing her glass to be refilled.

It wasn’t until later, much later, that Emma called Harry to explain why she’d missed the last train to Bristol.

*   *   *