Suddenly, seeing his expression of wistfulness as he looked out of the window I was in his mind and the white ribbon of road was running high into the hills.

It was then that I understood what I had to do. And it seemed to me that I had always understood. There was nothing to be frightened of any more.

George looked away from the window.

“We’ll have to be off,” he said. His face regained its normal expression of cool amusement.

“I think your father-in-law has briefed Arthur,” he said. “I don’t need to brief you, do I, Joe?”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got it all worked out.”

When I returned from the Town Hall, Susan was reading. She didn’t look up as I entered the room but made a vague noise from behind the book to indicate that she’d seen me.

The room was lit only by a table lamp; momentarily its soft light seemed to make her not younger, but older. It might almost have been her mother sitting there; for a moment I was tempted to knock the book out of her hands. Her composure was too much to bear; I knew the sense of impregnable superiority it was based upon.

I sat down. It was as if what I’d done in the Council Chamber that night had no significance except to spite my father-in-law. The memory of his face when I’d voted against him would be always something to treasure: but it would alter nothing. And then I remembered how livid his face had been; I’d defied him in the most public way possible, I’d made a fool of him before not only his friends but also his enemies.

He would never forgive me. He would never forgive me, and that was exactly what I wanted. I had blown open the prison door; the sound, reliable man, the understanding forgiving cuck­old, had set himself free. And soon I was going to wipe that superior expression off Susan’s face. But there was no hurry, there was no need to speak until she had spoken. I loosened my collar and sprawled back in my armchair.

She looked up from her book. “You look pleased with your­self,” she said. “You wouldn’t like to get me a drink, would you? A very weak brandy and soda.”

“Certainly, darling,” I stood up. “I think I’ll have one too.” When she took the glass from me she looked at me suspiciously. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

“You know where I’ve been.”

“I ought to. It’s your second home, isn’t it?”

I went back to my chair. “Not any more,” I said.

“Don’t tell me you’re resigning.”

I nodded.

She smiled. “Joe, that’s marvellous. I can’t believe it.”

“It’s true,” I said.