Skinner's festival

80

'I don't care whose daughter she is!'

'Secretary of State,' said Sir James Proud, hissing the words in a tone he had rarely used before in his life. 'If Bob Skinner had heard you say that, I would not guarantee your safety.' He took a menacing step towards Ballantyne.

'Sir James, please.' The Prime Minister restrained him with a light touch on the sleeve of his uniform. He turned to face Ballantyne, questioningly, across the drawing room of Number 6 Charlotte Square.

'I only meant that we can't give in to blackmail, PM,' said theSecretary of State, now flushed and flustered.

The Prime Minister walked slowly down the long room towards him, his eyes cold behind his spectacles.

'Alan, if you showed such bravery and courage with your own person as you do in putting other people's lives at risk – mine included – then you would probably make a great Minister. As it is, you're undoubtedly the biggest mistake I have ever made. Last night I said I wanted you to demit office, on health grounds, after a decent interval. You don't deserve decency, man. Give me your resignation now, please.'

He turned back to Proud. 'Now, Sir James, how are we going to help Mr Skinner?'

'With respect. Prime Minister, that isn't really a matter for you,' a voice interrupted.

There was a fourth man in the long room. Sir Hamish Tebbit, Private Secretary to the Queen, had flown to Edinburgh that morning for a personal briefing on the situation from the Prime Minister. The tall grey-suited courtier stepped forward from the window. He had been doing his best to make himself inconspicuous while the politicians and the policeman had their confrontation.

'I would remind you that the Honours of Scotland are the property of the Crown. Therefore their disposal is a matter for the

Crown alone. If you will permit me, I will withdraw to another room, one with a telephone, and seek guidance from that highest authority.'