“I’m becoming painfully aware that Dad is a one-man band. He beats the big drum while the rest of us are occasionally allowed to bang the cymbals. Perhaps the time has come for Farthings and Kaufman’s to consider a merger.”

Seb couldn’t pretend that the idea hadn’t crossed his mind since he’d become deputy chairman, but Vic’s suggestion couldn’t have come at a worse time, while he had so many other things on his mind.

“Let’s talk about it as soon as the trial is over. And by the way,” Seb added, “be sure to keep a close eye on Sloane because rumor in the City is that he’s also showing a keen interest in your father’s health.”

Seb was back behind his desk just after two o’clock and went on attacking the pile of unopened mail for the rest of the day. He didn’t get home until after midnight.

A security man let him into the bank on Sunday morning, but it wasn’t until late on Sunday afternoon that he came across a cream envelope marked PRIVATE & CONFIDENTIAL, with six George Washington stamps in the top right-hand corner. He ripped it open and read a letter from Rosemary Wolfe. How could he possibly take time off to go to America now? How could he possibly not?

*   *   *

Giles did as he was told. He spent Saturday morning walking up and down Broadmead carrying a large, empty Marks and Spencer shopping bag. He shook hands with anyone who stopped to talk to him about the dreadful Conservative government, and that awful Ted Heath. If anyone raised the subject of Major Fisher, he remained diplomatic.

“I wish you were still our MP.”

“If only I’d known, I would never have voted for him.”

“It’s a scandal. The damn man ought to resign,” to which Giles responded with a well-prepared reply: “That’s a decision for Major Fisher and his constituency party to make, so we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Later, he sat at the bar of a packed, noisy pub and had a ploughman’s lunch with Griff, washed down with a pint of Somerset cider.

“If Fisher resigns and a by-election is called,” said Griff, “I’ve already told the Bristol Evening News that the local Labour party won’t be interviewing anyone other than the former member.”

“Cheers,” said Giles, raising his glass. “How did you manage that?”

“Twisted a few arms, made the odd threat, offered the occasional bribe, and promised the chairman an MBE.”

“Nothing new then?”

“Except that I did remind the committee that if the Tories are going to have a new name on the ballot paper, perhaps we should stick with one the voters are familiar with.”

“What are you doing about the increased aircraft noise what’s comin’ out of Filton? It’s a bloody disgrace!”