“I therefore declare Major Alexander Fisher to be the duly elected Member of Parliament for the constituency of Bristol Docklands.”

An eruption of shouting and cheering broke out in one half of the room as the new member was raised onto the shoulders of his party workers and paraded around the hall. Giles walked across and shook Fisher’s hand for the first time during the campaign.

After the speeches were over, Fisher triumphant in victory, Giles gracious in defeat, Simon Fletcher pointing out that he’d recorded his highest ever vote, the newly elected member and his supporters went on celebrating throughout the night, while the vanquished drifted away in twos and threes, with Griff and Giles among the last to leave.

“We’d have done it if the national swing hadn’t been against us,” said Griff, as he drove the former member home.

“Just twenty-one votes,” said Giles.

“Eleven,” said Griff.

“Eleven?” repeated Giles.

“If eleven voters had changed their minds.”

“And if it hadn’t rained for twenty minutes at six thirty.”

“It’s been a year of ifs.”

Chapter 23

23

GILES FINALLY climbed into bed just before 5:00 a.m. He switched off the bedside light, put his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes, just as the alarm went off. He groaned and switched the light back on. No longer any need to be standing outside Temple Meads station at 6:00 a.m. to greet the early morning commuters.

My name is Giles Barrington, and I’m your Labour candidate for yesterday’s election … He switched off the alarm and fell into a deep sleep, not waking again until eleven that morning.

After a late breakfast, or was it brunch, he had a shower, got dressed, packed a small suitcase, and drove out of the gates of Barrington Hall just after midday. He was in no hurry, as his plane wouldn’t be taking off from Heathrow until 4:15 p.m.

If, another if, Giles had stayed at home for a few more minutes, he could have taken a call from Harold Wilson, who was compiling his resignation honors list. The new leader of the opposition was going to offer Giles the chance to go to the House of Lords and sit on the opposition front bench as spokesman on foreign affairs.

Mr. Wilson tried again that evening, but by then Giles had landed in Berlin.

*   *   *

Only a few months before, the Rt. Hon. Sir Giles Barrington MP had been driven out onto the runway at Heathrow, and the plane took off only after he’d fastened his seat belt in first class.