'My wife is already by my side,' said Dunnett, gesturing towards an attractive young woman seated in the second row, 'as she will be throughout the campaign. In fact if I become your Member of Parliament, you'll probably see a lot more of Connie than you will of me.'
Fisher smiled. He knew the question played to Dunnett's strengths and, just as important, to Simpson's weakness. Mind you, when he had sent out the letters inviting them to attend the meeting, he had addressed one envelope to Mr and Mrs Dunnett, and the other simply to N. Simpson Esq.
'My wife is a lecturer at the London School of Economics,' said Simpson, 'but she would be free to visit the constituency most weekends and during the university holidays.' Fisher could feel the votes slipping away. 'And I'm sure you'll agree there can be no greater calling than teaching the next generation.'
The applause that followed suggested that one or two people didn't altogether agree that the LSE was the best way of doing it.
'And finally,' said the chairman, 'I know that our secretary, Major Fisher, has a question for both candidates.'
'I read in the Daily Mail this morning,' said Fisher, 'so it's possibly not true' - both candidates laughed dutifully - 'that the London constituency of Fulham Central has also selected its shortlist, and will be interviewing prospective candidates on Monday. I wondered if either of you are on that shortlist and, if you are, would you be willing to withdraw from that contest before we vote tonight?'
'I did not apply for Fulham Central,' said Dunnett, 'as I have always wanted to represent a seat in the West Country, where my wife was born and bred, and where we hope to raise a family.'
Fisher nodded. Simpson had to wait for the applause to die down.
'I am on the shortlist for Fulham Central, Major Fisher,' he began, 'and I would consider it to be discourteous to withdraw my name at such short notice without good reason. However, if I were fortunate enough to be selected tonight, I couldn't have a better reason to withdraw.'
Good recovery, thought Fisher as he listened to the applause that followed. But was it good enough?
The chairman rose from his place. 'I am sure you will all join me in thanking both candidates not only for giving up their valuable time to be with us tonight, but for making such splendid contributions. I have no doubt that both will become Members of Parliament, but unfortunately we can only select one of them.' Yet more applause. 'And so now we come to the vote. Let me explain how I intend to proceed. If members will kindly make their way to the front of the hall, our association secretary Major Fisher will issue you with ballot papers. After you have placed a cross beside the name of the candidate of your choice, please drop your voting slip into the ballot box. Once the count has been completed and the secretary and I have checked the papers, which shouldn't take long, I will announce which candidate has been chosen to represent the Conservative Party in Bristol Docklands at the forthcoming general election.'
The members formed an orderly queue while Fisher handed out just over 300 ballot papers. After the last vote had been cast, the chairman asked a steward to remove the ballot box and take it to a private room behind the stage.
When the chairman and the secretary entered the room a few minutes later, they found the ballot box on a table in the centre, guarded by the steward. They sat down on two wooden chairs placed opposite each other. The steward unlocked the ballot box before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
Once he heard the door close, the chairman stood up, opened the box and tipped the voting slips out on to the table. As he sat back down he asked Fisher, 'How do you want to proceed?'
'I suggest you count Simpson's votes while I count Dunnett's.'
The chairman nodded, and they began sifting through the votes. It quickly became clear to Fisher that Simpson was likely to win by twenty or thirty votes. He realized he'd have to be patient, and wait for the right moment. That moment came when the chairman placed the ballot box on the floor and bent down to check inside and make sure he hadn't missed any of the voting slips. It only took him a few seconds, but it gave Fisher enough time to reach into a pocket of his jacket and discreetly remove a handful of votes he'd marked in favour of Dunnett earlier that afternoon, an action he'd practised several times in front of a mirror. He skilfully slipped the votes on to his own pile, not sure if they'd be enough.
'So,' said Fisher, looking up, 'how many votes for Simpson?'
'One hundred and sixty-eight,' replied the chairman. 'And how many for Dunnett?'
'One hundred and seventy-three.'
The chairman looked surprised.
'As it was so close, chairman, perhaps it would be wise to double check so there can be no reprisals later.'
'Couldn't agree with you more,' said the chairman. 'Shall we change places?'
They did so and began to count a second time.
A few minutes later the chairman said, 'Spot on, Fisher. One hundred and seventy-three for Dunnett.'
'And I agree with your figure, chairman. A hundred and sixty-eight for Simpson.'
'You know, I wouldn't have thought there were that many people in the room.'
'There were an awful lot standing at the back,' said Fisher. 'And several sitting in the aisles.'
'That must explain it,' said the chairman. 'But I don't mind telling you on the QT, old boy, that I voted for Simpson.'
'So did I,' said Fisher. 'But that's democracy for you.'
The chairman laughed. 'Well, I suppose we'd better be getting back and tell them the result before the natives become restless.'
'Perhaps it might be wise, chairman, to simply announce the winner, and not reveal how close the vote was? After all, we must now all get behind the candidate the association has selected. Of course, I'll record the exact figures when I write up the minutes.'
'Good thinking, Fisher.'
'I'm sorry to ring you at such a late hour on a Sunday night, Lady Virginia, but something has arisen, and if we're to take advantage of it, I'll need your authority to act immediately.'
'This had better be good,' said a sleepy voice.
'I've just heard that Sir William Travers, the chairman of Barrington's - '
'I know who William Travers is.'
' - died of a heart attack a couple of hours ago.'
'Is that good news or bad news?' asked a voice that was suddenly awake.
'Unquestionably good, because the share price is certain to fall the moment the press gets wind of it, which is why I called, because we've only got a few hours' start.'
'I presume you want to sell my shares again?'
'Yes, I do. I'm sure I don't have to remind you that you made a handsome profit on the last occasion, as well as damaging the company's reputation.'
'But if I do sell again, is there any chance the shares might go up?'
'Shares only go one way when the chairman of a public company dies, Lady Virginia, especially when it's a heart attack.'
'Then go ahead, sell.'
20
GILES HAD PROMISED his sister that he'd be on time for the meeting. He skidded to a halt on the gravel outside the main building and parked his Jaguar next to Emma's Morris Traveller. He was pleased to see she was already there because, although they both owned 11 per cent of the company, Emma took a far greater interest in Barrington Shipping's affairs than he did, even more since she'd embarked on her degree course at Stanford with that double Pulitzer Prize-winner, whose name he could never remember.