The Prodigal Daughter

Chapter thirty-one

William first brought Joanna Cabot home at Christmas. Florentyna knew instinctively that they would be married, and not just because her father turned out to be a distant relative of Richard’s. Joanna was dark-haired, slim and graceful and shyly expressive of her obvious feelings for William. For his part, William was attentive and conspicuously proud of the young woman who stood quietly by his side. ‘I suppose I might have expected you to produce a son who has been educated in New York, lived in Washington and Chicago but ends up returning to Boston to choose his wife,’ Florentyna teased Richard.

‘William is your son as well,’ he reminded her. ‘And what makes you think he’ll marry Joanna?’

Florentyna just laughed. ‘I predict Boston in the spring.’

She turned out to be wrong: they had to wait until the summer.

William was in his final year as an undergraduate and he had taken his business boards and was waiting anxiously to be accepted at the Harvard School of Business.

‘In my day,’ said Richard, ‘you waited until you had finished school and made a little money before you thought about marriage.’

‘That just isn’t true, Richard. You left Harvard early to marry me and for several weeks afterwards I kept you.’

‘You never told me that, Dad,’ said William.

‘Your father has what in politics is called a selective memory.’

William left laughing.

‘I still think—’

‘They’re in love, Richard. Have you grown so old you can’t see what’s staring you in the face?’

‘No, but—’

‘You’re not yet fifty and you’re already acting like an old fuddy-duddy. William is almost the same age as you when you married me. Well, haven’t you anything to say?’

‘No. You’re just like all politicians: you keep interrupting.’

The Kanes went to stay with the Cabots early in the new year and Richard immediately liked John Cabot, Joanna’s father, and was surprised that, with so many family friends in common, they had not yet met before. Joanna had two little sisters, who spent the weekend running around William.

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Richard said that Saturday night in bed. ‘I think Joanna is just what William needs.’

Florentyna put on an extreme mid-European accent and asked, ‘What if Joanna had been a little Polish immigrant who sold gloves in Bloomingdale’s?’

Richard took Florentyna in his arms and said, ‘I would have told him not to buy three pairs of gloves because it would work out cheaper just to marry the girl.’

Preparations for the forthcoming wedding seemed complicated and demanding to Florentyna, who remembered vividly how simply she and Richard had been married and how Bella and Claude had lugged the double bed up the stairs in San Francisco. Luckily Mrs. Cabot wanted to handle all the arrangements herself and whenever something was expected of the Kanes, Annabel was only too happy to leap forward as the family representative.

In early January, Florentyna returned to Washington to clear out her office. Colleagues stopped and chatted with her as if she hadn’t left the House. Janet was waiting for her with a pile of letters, most of them saying how sorry they were that Florentyna would not be returning to Congress but hoping that she would run for the Senate again in two years’ time.

Florentyna answered every one of them but couldn’t help wondering if something might go wrong in 1984 as well. If it did, that would finish her political career completely.

Florentyna left the capital for New York, only to find herself getting in everyone’s way. The Baron Group and Lester’s were being competently run by Richard and Edward. The Group had changed considerably since Richard had implemented the many improvements suggested by McKinsey and Company. She was continually surprised by the new Baron of Beef restaurants that could now be found on every ground floor and thought she would never get used to the computer banks alongside the hairdresser’s in the hotel lobby. When Florentyna went to see Gianni to check on the progress of the shops, he assumed she had only come in for a new dress.

During those first few months away from Washington, Florentyna became more restless than she could remember. She traveled to Poland twice and could only feel despair for her countrymen as she looked around at the devastation, wondering where the Russians would strike next. Florentyna took advantage of these journeys to meet European leaders who continually referred to their fear that America was becoming more and more isolationist with each succeeding President.

When she returned to America, once again the question of whether she should run for the Senate loomed in front of her. Janet, who had remained on Florentyna’s staff, began to discuss tactics with Edward Winchester which included regular trips to Chicago for Florentyna, who accepted any speaking engagements in Illinois that came her way. Florentyna felt relieved when Senator Rodgers called her over the Easter recess to say that he hoped she would run for his seat the following year and added that she could count on his backing.

As Florentyna checked over the Chicago newspapers that were sent to her each week, she could not help noticing that Ralph Brooks was already making a name for himself in the Senate. He had somehow managed to get on the prestigious Foreign Relations Committee as well as the Agriculture Committee — so important to Illinois farmers. He was also the only freshman senator to be appointed to the Democratic Task Force on Regulatory Reform.

It made her more determined, not less.

William and Joanna’s wedding turned out to be one of the happiest days of Florentyna’s life. Her twenty-two-year-old son standing in tails next to his bride brought back to her memories of his father in San Francisco. The silver band hung loosely on his left wrist, and Florentyna smiled as she noticed the little scar on his right hand. Joanna, although she looked shy and demure by William’s side, had already rid her future husband of some of his more eccentric habits, among them several gaudy ties and the Fidel Castro mustache William had been so proud of before he had met her. Grandmother Kane, as everyone now referred to Kate, was looking more and more like a pale-blue battleship at full steam as she plowed through the guests, kissing some and allowing others — those few older than herself — to kiss her. At seventy-six she was still elegant, without a suggestion of a failing faculty. She was also the one member of the family who could remonstrate with Annabel and get away with it.

After a memorable reception at the home of Joanna’s parents on Beacon Hill — it included four hours of dancing to the ageless music of the Lester Lanin orchestra — William and his bride flew off to Europe for their honeymoon and Richard and Florentyna returned to New York. Florentyna knew that the time was fast approaching when she would have to make an announcement about the Senate seat, and she decided to phone the retiring senator and seek his advice on how he would like her to word any statement.

She called David Rodgers at his office in the Dirksen Building. As she dialed the number, it struck her how odd it was that they now saw so little of each other when only a few months earlier they had spent half of their lives within a two hundred yard radius. The senator wasn’t in, so she left a message to say that she had called. He did not return her call for several days and finally his secretary rang to explain that his schedule had been impossibly tight. Florentyna reflected on the fact that this wasn’t David Rodgers’s style. She hoped that she was just imagining the rebuff until she discussed with Edward what was going on.

‘There’s a rumor going around that he wants his wife to take over the seat,’ he told her.

‘Betty Rodgers? But she’s always claimed she couldn’t abide public life. I can’t believe she’d choose to continue his now that David’s retiring.’

‘Well, don’t forget that since her children left home she’s been on the Chicago City Council. That’s been three years. Perhaps it’s given her a taste for higher things.’

‘How serious do you think she is?’

‘I don’t know, but a couple of phone calls and I can find out.’

Florentyna found out even before Edward because she had a call from one of her ex-staffers in Chicago who said the Cook County party machine was talking about Mrs. Rodgers as if she were already the candidate.

Edward called her back later the same day to say that he had discovered that the state committee was holding a caucus to consider putting Betty Rodgers’s name forward as the candidate, although the polls indicated that over eighty percent of the registered Democrats supported Florentyna as David Rodgers’s successor. ‘It doesn’t help,’ added Edward, ‘that Senator Brooks is openly backing Betty Rodgers.’

‘Surprise, surprise,’ said Florentyna. ‘What do you think my next move ought to be?’

‘I don’t think you can do anything at the moment. You have strong support on the committee and the outcome is very much in the balance, so perhaps it might be wise not to become too closely involved. Just go on working in Chicago and appear to remain above it all.’

‘But what if she’s chosen?’

‘Then you will have to run as an independent candidate and beat her.’

‘It’s almost impossible to overcome the party machine, as you reminded me a few months back, Edward.’

‘Truman did.’

Florentyna heard a few minutes after the meeting was over that the committee had voted by a majority of 6 to 5 to put Betty Rodgers’s name forward as the official Democratic candidate for the Senate at a full caucus meeting later in the month. David Rodgers and Ralph Brooks had both voted against Florentyna.

She couldn’t believe that only six people could make such an important decision and during the following week she had two unpleasant phone conversations, one with Rodgers and the other with Brooks, who both pleaded with her to put party unity before personal ambition. ‘The sort of hypocrisy you’d expect from a Democrat,’ commented Richard.

Many of Florentyna’s supporters begged her to fight, but she was not convinced, especially when the state chairman called and asked her to announce formally, for the unity of the party, that she would not be a candidate on this occasion. After all, he pointed out, Betty would probably only do one six-year term.

That would be enough for Ralph Brooks, Florentyna thought.

She listened to much advice over the next few days, but on a trip to Washington it was Bob Buchanan who told her to reread Julius Caesar more carefully.

‘The whole play?’ asked Florentyna.

‘No, I would concentrate on Mark Antony if I were you, my dear.’

Florentyna called the Democratic Party chairman and told him she was willing to come to the caucus and state that she was not a candidate but she was unwilling to endorse Betty Rodgers.

The chairman readily accepted the compromise.

The meeting was held ten days later at the Democratic State Central Committee in the Bismarck Hotel on West Randolph Street and when Florentyna arrived the hall was already packed. She could sense from the loud applause she received as she entered the room that the meeting might not go as smoothly as the committee had planned.

Florentyna took her assigned seat on the platform at the end of the second row. The chairman sat in the middle of the front row behind a long table with two senators, Rodgers and Brooks, on his right and left. Betty Rodgers sat next to her husband and didn’t once look at Florentyna. The secretary and treasurer completed the front row. The chairman gave Florentyna a polite nod when she appeared. The other committee members sat in the second row with Florentyna. One of them whispered, ‘You were crazy not to put up a fight.’

At eight o’clock the chairman invited David Rodgers to address the meeting. The senator had always been respected as a diligent worker for his constituents, but even his closest aides would not have described him as an orator. He started by thanking them for their support in the past and expressed the hope that they would now pass that loyalty on to his wife. He gave a rambling talk on his work during his twenty-four years as a senator and sat down to what could, at best, be described as polite applause.

The chairman spoke next, outlining his reasons for proposing Betty Rodgers as the next candidate. ‘At least it will be easy for the voters to remember her name.’ He laughed as did one or two people on the platform but surprisingly few in the body of the hall. He then went on to spend the next ten minutes expounding the virtues of Betty Rodgers and the work she had done as a city councillor. He spoke to a silent hall. And sat down to a smattering of applause. He waited a moment, then, in a perfunctory fashion, introduced Florentyna.

She had made no notes because she wanted what she had to say to sound off the cuff, even though she had been rehearsing every word for the past ten days. Richard had wanted to accompany her, but she told him not to bother, because everything had been virtually decided upon before the first word was spoken. The truth was that she did not want him there because his support might cast doubt on her apparent innocence.

When the chairman sat down, Florentyna came forward to the center of the stage and stood directly in front of Ralph Brooks.

‘Mr. Chairman, I have come to Chicago today to announce that I am not a candidate for the United States Senate.’

She paused and there were cries of ‘Why not?’ and ‘Who stopped you?’

She went on as though she had heard nothing. ‘I have had the privilege of serving my district in Illinois for eight years in the United States House of Representatives and I look forward to working for the best interests of the people in the future. I have always believed in party unity—’

‘But not party fixing,’ someone shouted.

Once again, Florentyna ignored the interruption. ‘—so I shall be happy to back the candidate you select to be on the Democratic ticket,’ she said, trying to sound convincing.

An uproar started, amid which cries of ‘Senator Kane, Senator Kane’ were clearly audible.

David Rodgers looked pointedly at Florentyna as she continued. ‘To my supporters, I say that there may come another time and another place, but it will not be tonight, so let us remember in this key state that it is the Republicans we have to defeat, not ourselves. If Mrs. Rodgers becomes the next senator, I feel certain that she will serve the party with the same ability we have grown to expect from her husband. Should the Republicans capture the seat, you can be assured that I shall devote myself to seeing we win it back in six years’ time. Whatever the outcome, the committee can depend on my support in this crucial state during election year.’

Florentyna quickly resumed her seat in the second row as her supporters cheered and cheered.

When the chairman had brought the hall to order, which he tried to do as quickly as possible, he called upon the next United States Senator from Illinois, Mrs. Betty Rodgers, to address the meeting. Until then, Florentyna had kept her head bowed, but she could not resist glancing up at her adversary. Betty Rodgers clearly had not been prepared for any opposition and looked in an agitated state as she fidgeted with her notes. She read a prepared speech, sometimes almost in a whisper, and although it was well researched the delivery made her husband sound like Cicero. Florentyna felt sad and embarrassed for her and almost despised the committee for putting Betty Rodgers through such an ordeal. She began to wonder to what extremes Ralph Brooks would go to keep her out of the Senate. When Betty Rodgers sat down she was shaking like jelly, and Florentyna quietly left the platform and stepped out of a side door so that she would no longer embarrass them. She hailed a cab and asked the driver to take her to O’Hare Airport.

‘Sure thing, Mrs. Kane,’ came the quick reply. ‘I hope you’re going to run for the Senate again. You’ll win the seat easy this time.’

‘No, I shall not be running,’ Florentyna said flatly. ‘The Democratic candidate will be Betty Rodgers.’

‘Who’s she?’ asked the taxi driver.

‘Senator Rodgers’s wife.’

‘What’s she know about the job? Her husband wasn’t that hot,’ the driver said testily, and drove the rest of the way in silence. It gave Florentyna the opportunity to reflect that she would have to run as an independent candidate if she was ever going to have any chance of winning a seat in the Senate. Her biggest anxiety was splitting the vote with Betty Rodgers and letting a Republican take the seat. The party would never forgive her if that was the eventual outcome. It would spell the end of her political career. Brooks now looked as if he were going to win either way. She cursed herself for not beating him when she had the chance.

The cab came to a halt outside the terminal building. As she paid the driver he said, ‘It still doesn’t make sense to me. I’ll tell you, lady, my wife thinks you’re going to be President. I can’t see it myself, because I could never vote for a woman.’

Florentyna laughed.

‘No offense meant, lady.’

‘No offense taken,’ she said, and doubled his tip.

She checked her watch and made her way to the boarding gate: another thirty minutes before takeoff. She bought copies of Time and Newsweek from the newsstand. Bush on both covers: the first shots of the Presidential campaign were being fired. She looked up at the telemonitor to check the New York gate number: ‘12C.’ It amused her to think of the extremes the officials at O’Hare went to in order to avoid ‘Gate 13.’ She sat down in a red plastic swivel chair and began to read the profile on George Bush. She became so engrossed in the article that she did not hear the loudspeaker. The message was repeated: ‘Mrs. Florentyna Kane, please go to the nearest white courtesy telephone.’

Florentyna continued reading about the Zapata Oil Company executive who had gone through the House, the Republican National Committee, the CIA and the U.S. Mission to China to become Vice President. A TWA passenger representative came over and touched her lightly on the shoulder. She looked up.

‘Mrs. Kane, isn’t that for you?’ the young man said, pointing at a loudspeaker.

Florentyna listened. ‘Yes, it is, thank you.’ She walked across the lounge to the nearest phone. At times like this, she always imagined that one of the children had been involved in an accident and even now she had to remind herself that Annabel was over twenty-one and William was married. She picked up the phone.

Senator Rodgers’s voice came over loud and clear. ‘Florentyna, is that you?’

‘Yes it is,’ she replied.

‘Thank God I caught you. Betty has decided she doesn’t want to run after all. She feels the campaign would be too great a strain on her. Can you come back before this place is torn apart?’

‘What for?’ asked Florentyna, her mind in a whirl.

‘Can’t you hear what’s going on here?’ said Rodgers. Florentyna listened to cries of ‘Kane, Kane, Kane,’ as clear as Rodgers’s own voice.

‘They want to endorse you as the official candidate and no one is going to leave until you return.’

Florentyna’s fingers clenched into a fist. ‘I am not interested, David.’

‘But Florentyna, I thought—’

‘Not unless I have the backing of the committee and you personally propose my name in nomination.’

‘Florentyna, anything you say. Betty always thought you were the right person for the job. It was just that Ralph Brooks pushed her into it.’

‘Ralph Brooks?’

‘Yes, but Betty now realizes that was nothing more than a self-serving exercise. So for God’s sake come back.’

‘I’m on my way.’ Florentyna ran down the corridor to the taxi stand. A cab shot up to her side.

‘Where to this time, Mrs. Kane?’

She smiled. ‘Back to where we started.’

‘I suppose you know where you’re going, but I can’t understand how an ordinary guy like me is meant to put any faith in politicians. I just don’t know.’

Florentyna prayed that the driver would be silent on his return journey so that she could compose her thoughts, but this time he treated her to a diatribe: on his wife, whom he ought to leave; his mother-in-law, who wouldn’t leave him; his son, who was on drugs and didn’t work, and his daughter, who was living in a California commune run by a religious cult. ‘What a frigging country — beg your pardon, Mrs. Kane,’ he said as they drew up beside the hall. God, how she had wanted to tell him to shut up. She paid him for the second time that evening.

‘Maybe I will vote for you after all when you run for President,’ he said. She smiled. ‘And I could work on the people who ride this cab — there must be at least three hundred each week.’

Florentyna shuddered — another lesson learned.

She tried to collect her thoughts as she entered the building. The audience had risen from their seats and were cheering wildly. Some clapped their hands above their heads while others stood on chairs. The first person to greet her on the platform was Senator Rodgers, and then his wife, who gave Florentyna a smile of relief. The chairman shook her hand heartily. Senator Brooks was nowhere to be seen: sometimes she really hated politics. She turned to face her supporters in the hall and they cheered even louder: sometimes she really loved politics.

Florentyna stood in the center of the stage, but it was five minutes before the chairman could bring the meeting to order. When there was complete silence, she simply said, ‘Thomas Jefferson once remarked: “I have returned sooner than I expected.” I am happy to accept your nomination for the United States Senate.’

She was not allowed to deliver a further word that night as they thronged around her. A little after twelve-thirty she crept into her room at the Chicago Baron. Immediately she picked up the phone and started dialing 212, forgetting that it was one-thirty in New York.

‘Who is it?’ said a drowsy voice.

‘Mark Antony.’

‘Who?’

‘I come to bury Betty, not to praise her.’

‘Jessie, have you gone mad?’

‘No, but I’ve been endorsed as the Democratic candidate for the United States Senate.’ Florentyna explained how it had come about.

‘George Orwell said a lot of terrible things were going to happen this year, but he made no mention of you waking me up in the middle of the night just to announce you are going to be a senator.’

‘I just thought you would like to be the first to know.’

‘Perhaps you’d better call Edward.’

‘Do you think I ought to? You’ve already reminded me that it’s one-thirty in New York.’

‘I know it is, but why should I be the only person you wake up in the middle of the night so that you can misquote Julius Caesar?’

Senator Rodgers kept his word and backed Florentyna throughout her whole campaign. For the first time in years she was free of pressures from Washington and could devote all her energies to an election. This time there were no thunderbolts or meteorites that could not be contained, although Ralph Brooks’s lukewarm support on one occasion and implied praise of her Republican opponent on another did not help her cause.

The main interest in the country that year was the Presidential campaign. The major surprise was the choice of the Democratic Presidential candidate, a man who had come from nowhere to beat Walter Mondale and Edward Kennedy in the primaries with his program dubbed the ‘Fresh Approach.’ The candidate visited Illinois on no less than six occasions during the campaign, appearing with Florentyna every time.

On the day of the election, the Chicago papers said once again that the Senate race was too close to call. The pollsters were wrong and the loquacious cab driver was right, because at eight-thirty Central time, the Republican candidate conceded an overwhelming victory. Later the pollsters tried to explain away their statistical errors by speculating that many men would not admit they were going to vote for a woman as senator. Either way, it didn’t matter, because the new President-elect’s telegram said it all:

Chapter thirty-two

Nineteen eighty-five was to be a year for funerals, which made Florentyna feel every day of her fifty-one years.

She returned to Washington to find she had been allocated a suite in the Russell Building, a mere six hundred yards from her old congressional office in the Longworth Building. For several days while she was settling in, she found herself still driving into the Longworth garage rather than the Russell courtyard. She also could not get used to being addressed as Senator, especially by Richard, who could mouth the title in such a way as to make it sound like a term of abuse. ‘You may imagine your status has increased, but they still haven’t given you a raise in salary. I can’t wait for you to be President,’ he added. ‘Then at least you will earn as much as one of the bank’s vice presidents.’

Florentyna’s salary might not have risen, but her expenses had as once again she surrounded herself with a team many senators would envy. She would have been the first to acknowledge the advantage of a strong financial base outside the world of politics. Most of her old team returned and were supplemented by new staffers who were in no doubt about Florentyna’s future. Her office in the Russell Building was in Suite 440. The other four rooms were now occupied by the fourteen staffers, led by the intrepid Janet Brown, who Florentyna had decided long ago was married to her job. In addition, Florentyna now had four offices throughout Illinois with three staffers working in each of them.

Her new office overlooked the courtyard, with its fountain and cobblestoned parking area. The green lawn would be a popular lunch place for senate staffers during the warm weather, and for an army of squirrels in the winter.

Florentyna told Richard that she estimated she would be paying out of her own pocket over $200,000 a year more than her senatorial allowance, an amount which varies from senator to senator depending on the size of their state and its population, she explained to her husband. Richard smiled and made a mental note to donate exactly the same sum to the Republican Party.

No sooner had the Illinois State Seal been affixed to her office door than Florentyna received the telegram. It was simple and stark: ‘WINIFRED TREDGOLD PASSED AWAY ON THURSDAY AT ELEVEN O’CLOCK.’

It was the first time Florentyna was aware of Miss Tredgold’s Christian name. She checked her watch, made two overseas calls and then buzzed for Janet to explain where she would be for the next forty-eight hours. By one o’clock that afternoon she was on board the Concorde and she arrived in London three hours and twenty-five minutes later at nine twenty-five. The chauffeur-driven car she had ordered was waiting for her as she emerged from Customs and drove her down the M4 motorway to Wiltshire. She checked into the Landsdowne Arms Hotel and read Saul Bellow’s The Dean’s December until three o’clock in the morning to counter the jet lag. Before turning the light out she called Richard.

‘Where are you?’ were his first words.

‘I’m in a small hotel at Calne in Wiltshire, England.’

‘Why, pray? Is the Senate doing a fact-finding mission on English pubs?’

‘No, my darling. Miss Tredgold has died and I’m attending the funeral tomorrow.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Richard. ‘If you had let me know I would have come with you. We both have a lot to thank that lady for.’ Florentyna smiled. ‘When will you be coming home?’

‘Tomorrow evening’s Concorde.’

‘Sleep well, Jessie: I’ll be thinking of you — and Miss Tredgold.’

At nine-thirty the next morning a maid brought in a breakfast tray of kippers, toast with Cooper’s Oxford marmalade, coffee and a copy of the London Times. She sat in bed savoring every moment, an indulgence she would never have allowed herself in Washington. By ten-thirty she had absorbed the Times and was not surprised to discover that the British were having the same problems with inflation and unemployment as those that prevailed in America. Florentyna got up and dressed in a simple black knitted suit. The only jewelry she wore was the little watch that Miss Tredgold had given her on her thirteenth birthday.

The hotel porter told her that the church was about a mile away, and since the morning was so clear and crisp she decided to walk. What the porter had failed to point out to her was that the journey was uphill the whole way and his ‘about’ was a ‘guesstimate.’ As she strode along, she reflected on how little exercise she had had lately, despite the pristine Exercycle, which had been shipped up to Cape Cod. She had also allowed the jogging mania to pass her by.

The tiny Norman church, surrounded by oaks and elms, was perched on the side of the hill. On the bulletin board was an appeal for 25,000 pounds to save the church roof; according to a little blob of red on a thermometer, over 1,000 pounds had already been collected. To Florentyna’s surprise she was met in the vestry by a waiting verger and led to a place in the front pew next to an imperious lady who could only have been the headmistress.

The church was far fuller than Florentyna had expected it to be and the school had supplied the choir. The service was simple, and the address given by the parish priest left Florentyna in no doubt that Miss Tredgold had continued to teach others with the same dedication and common sense that had influenced the whole of Florentyna’s life. She tried not to cry during the address — she knew Miss Tredgold would not have approved — but she nearly succumbed when they sang her governess’s favorite hymn, ‘Rock of Ages.’

When the service was over, Florentyna filed back with the rest of the congregation through the Norman porch and stood in the little churchyard to watch the mortal remains of Winifred Tredgold disappear into the ground. The headmistress, a carbon copy of Miss Tredgold — Florentyna found it hard to believe that such women still existed — said she would like to show Florentyna something of the school before she left. On their way, she learned that Miss Tredgold had never talked about Florentyna except to her two or three closest friends, but when the headmistress opened the door of a small bedroom in a cottage on the school estate, Florentyna could no longer hold back the tears. By the bed was a photograph of a vicar who, Florentyna remembered, was Miss Tredgold’s father, and by its side, in a small silver Victorian frame, stood a picture of Florentyna graduating from Girls Latin next to an old Bible. In the bedside drawer, they discovered every one of Florentyna’s letters written over the past thirty years; the last one remained unopened by her bed.

‘Did she know I had been elected to the Senate?’ Florentyna asked diffidently.

‘Oh, yes, the whole school prayed for you that day. It was the last occasion on which Miss Tredgold read the lesson in chapel, and before she died she asked me to write to tell you she felt her father had been right and that she had indeed taught a woman of destiny. My dear, you must not cry; her belief in God was so unshakable that she died in total peace with this world. Miss Tredgold also asked me to give you her Bible and this envelope, which you must not open until you have returned home. It’s something she bequeathed you in her will.’

As Florentyna left, she thanked the headmistress for all her kindness and added that she had been touched and surprised at being met by the verger when no one knew she was coming.

‘Oh, you should have not been surprised, child,’ said the headmistress. ‘I never doubted for a moment that you would come.’

Florentyna traveled back to London clutching the envelope. She longed to open it, like a little girl who has seen a package in the hall but knows it is for her birthday the following day. She caught the Concorde at 6:30 that evening, arriving back at Dulles by 5:30 P.M. She was seated at her desk in the Russell Building by 6:30 the same evening. She stared at the envelope marked ‘Florentyna Kane’ and then slowly tore it open. She pulled out the contents, four thousand shares of Baron Group stock. Miss Tredgold had died presumably unaware that she was worth over half a million dollars. Florentyna took out her pen and wrote out a check for 25,000 pounds for a new church roof in memory of Miss Winifred Tredgold and sent the shares to Professor Ferpozzi to be placed at the disposal of the Remagen Trust. When Richard heard the story he told Florentyna that his father had once acted the same way, but the sum required had been only 500 pounds. ‘It seems even God is affected by inflation,’ he added.

Washington was preparing for another inauguration of a President. On this occasion Senator Kane was placed in the VIP stand from which the new chief executive was to make his speech. She listened intently to the blueprint for American policy over the next four years, now referred to by everyone as the ‘Fresh Approach.’

‘You’re getting nearer the lectern every time,’ Richard had told her at breakfast.

Florentyna glanced around among her colleagues and friends in a Washington where she now felt at home. Senator Ralph Brooks, a row in front of her, was even nearer the President. His eyes never left the podium.

Florentyna found herself on the Defense Subcommittee of the Appropriations Committee and on the Environment and Public Works Committee. She was also asked to chair the Committee on Small Business. Her days once again resembled a never-ending chase for more hours. Janet and the other staffers would brief her in elevators, cars, planes, en route to vote on the floor, and even on the run between committee rooms. Florentyna was tireless in her efforts to complete her daily schedule, and all fourteen staffers wondered how much they could pile on her before she cracked under the strain. In the Senate, Florentyna quickly enhanced the reputation she had made for herself in the House of Representatives by speaking only on matters on which she was well briefed, and then with compassion and common sense. She still remained silent on issues on which she did not consider herself well informed. She voted against her party on several defense matters and twice over the new energy policy provoked by the latest war in the Middle East.

As the only Democratic woman senator, Florentyna received invitations to speak all over the nation, and the other senators soon learned that Florentyna Kane was not the token Democratic woman in the Senate but someone whom they could never afford to underestimate.

Florentyna was pleased to find how often she was invited to the inner sanctum of the Majority Leader’s office to discuss matters of policy as well as party problems.

During her first session as a senator, Florentyna sponsored an amendment on the Small Business bill, giving generous tax concessions to manufacturers that exported over 35 percent of their products. For a long time she had believed that companies who did not seek to sell their goods in an overseas market were suffering from the same delusions of grandeur as the English in the mid-twentieth century, and that if they were not careful, Americans would enter the twenty-first century with the same problems that the British had failed to come to terms with in the 1980s.

In her first three months she had answered 6,416 letters, voted 79 times, spoken on 8 occasions in the chamber, 14 times outside and missed lunch on 43 of the last ninety days.

‘I don’t need to diet,’ she told Janet, ‘I weigh less than when I was twenty-four and opened my first shop in San Francisco.’

The second death was every bit as much of a shock as Miss Tredgold’s, because the whole family had spent the previous weekend together on Cape Cod.

The maid reported to the butler that Mrs. Kate Kane had not come down to breakfast as the grandfather clock chimed eight. ‘Then she must be dead,’ said the butler.

Kate Kane was seventy-nine when she failed to come down for breakfast, and the family gathered for a Brahmin funeral. The service was held at Trinity Church, Copley Square, and could not have been a greater contrast to the service for Miss Tredgold, for this time the bishop addressed a congregation who between them could have walked from Boston to San Francisco on their own land. All the Kanes and Cabots were present along with two other senators and a congressman. Almost everyone who had ever known Grandmother Kane, and a good many of those who had not, filled the pews behind Richard and Florentyna.

Florentyna glanced at William and Joanna. Joanna looked as though she would be giving birth in about a month and it made Florentyna feel sad that Kate had not lived long enough to become Great-Grandmother Kane.

After the funeral, they spent a somber family weekend in the Red House on Beacon Hill. Florentyna would never forget Kate’s tireless efforts to bring her husband and son together. Richard was now the sole head of the Kane family, which Florentyna realized would add further responsibility to his already impossible work load. She also knew that he would not complain and it made her feel guilty that she was unable to do much about making his life any easier.

Like a typical Kane, Kate’s will was sensible and prudent; the bulk of the estate was left to Richard and his sisters, Lucy and Virginia, and large settlements were made on William and Annabel. William was to receive two million dollars on his thirtieth birthday. Annabel, on the other hand, was to live off the interest of a further two million until she was forty-five or had two legitimate children. Grandmother Kane hadn’t missed much.

In Washington, the battle for the midterm election had already begun and Florentyna was glad to have a six-year term before she faced the voters again, giving her a chance for the first time to do some real work without the biennial break for party squabbles. Nevertheless, so many of her colleagues invited her to speak in their states that she seemed to be working just as hard and the only request she politely refused was in Tennessee: she explained she could not speak against Bob Buchanan, who was seeking re-election for the last time.

The little white card which Louise gave her each night was always filled with appointments from dawn to dusk indicating the routine for the following day:

‘7:45: breakfast with a visiting foreign minister of defense. 9:00: staff meeting. 9:30: Defense Subcommittee hearing. 11:30: interview with Chicago Tribune. 12:30: lunch with six Senate colleagues to discuss defense budget. 2:00: weekly radio broadcast. 2:30: photo on Capitol steps with Illinois 4-H’ers. 3:15: staff briefing on Small Business bill. 5:30: drop by reception of Associated General Contractors. 7:00: cocktail party at French Embassy. 8:00: dinner with Donald Graham of the Washington Post. 11:00: phone Richard at the Denver Baron.’

As a senator, Florentyna was able to reduce her trips to Illinois to every other weekend. On every other Friday, she would catch the U.S. Air flight to Providence, where she would be met by Richard on his way up from New York. They would then drive out on Route 6 to the Cape, which gave them a chance to catch up with each other’s week.

Richard and Florentyna spent their free weekends on Cape Cod, which had become their family home since Kate’s death, Richard having given the Red House to William and Joanna.

On Saturday mornings, they would lounge around reading newspapers and magazines. Richard might play the cello while Florentyna would look over the paperwork she had brought with her from Washington. When weather permitted they played golf in the afternoon and, whatever the weather, backgammon in the evening. Florentyna always ended the evening owing Richard a couple of hundred dollars, which he said he would donate to the Republican Party if she ever honored her gambling debts. Florentyna always queried the value of giving to the Massachusetts Republican Party, but Richard pointed out that he also supported a Republican governor and senator in New York.

Patriotically, Joanna gave birth to a son on February 22, and they christened him Richard. Suddenly Florentyna was a grandmother.

People magazine stopped describing her as the most elegant lady in Washington and started calling her the best-looking grandmother in America. This caused a flurry of letters of protest including hundreds of photographs of other glamorous grannies for the editor to consider, which only made Florentyna even more popular.

The rumors that she would be a strong contender for the Vice Presidency in 1988 started in July when the Small Business Association made her Illinoisan of the year and a Newsweek poll voted her Woman of the Year. Whenever she was questioned on the subject she reminded her inquirers that she had been in the Senate for less than a year and that her first priority was to represent her state in Congress, although she noted that she was being invited to the White House more and more often for sessions with the President. It was the first time that being the one woman in the majority party was turning out to be an advantage.

Florentyna learned of Bob Buchanan’s death when she asked why the flag on the Russell Building was at half mast. The funeral was on the Wednesday when she was due to offer an amendment to the Public Health Service Act in the Senate and address a seminar on defense at the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars. She canceled one, postponed the other and flew to Nashville, Tennessee.

Both of the state’s senators and its seven remaining congressmen were present. Florentyna stood next to her House colleagues in silent tribute. As they waited to go into the Lutheran chapel, one of them told her that Bob had had five sons and one daughter. Gerald, the youngest, had been killed in Vietnam. She thanked God that Richard had been too old and William too young to be sent to that pointless war.

Steven, the eldest son, led the Buchanan family into the chapel. Tall and thin, with a warm, open face, he could only have been the son of Bob, and when Florentyna spoke to him after the service he revealed the same southern charm and straight approach that had endeared his father to her. Florentyna was delighted when she learned that Steven was going to run for his father’s seat in the upcoming special election.

‘It will give me someone new to quarrel with,’ she said, smiling.

‘He greatly admired you,’ said Steven.

Florentyna was not prepared to see her photograph all over the major newspapers the next morning being described as a gallant lady. Janet placed a New York Times editorial on top of her press clippings for her to read:

Florentyna was rapidly becoming the most sought-after politician in Washington. Even the President admitted that the demands on her time weren’t running far short of his. But among the invitations that came that year, there was one she accepted with considerable pride. Harvard invited her to run for election to the Board of Overseers in the spring and to address the Graduation Day ceremony that June. Even Richard put a note in his diary to keep the day free.

Florentyna looked up the list of those who had preceded her in this honor — from George Marshall outlining the plan to reconstruct postwar Europe to Alexander Solzhenitsyn describing the West as decadent and lacking in spiritual values.

Florentyna spent many hours preparing her Harvard address, aware that the media traditionally gave the speech considerable coverage. She practiced paragraphs daily in front of the mirror, in the bathtub, even on the golf course with Richard. She wrote the complete text herself — in long hand — but accepted numerous amendments from Janet, Richard and Edward on its content.

The day before she was due to deliver the speech, Florentyna had a telephone call from Sotheby’s. She listened to the head of the department and agreed to his suggestion. When they had settled on a maximum price, he said he would let her know the outcome immediately after the auction. Florentyna felt the timing could not have been better. She flew up to Boston that night, to be met at Logan Airport by an enthusiastic young undergraduate who drove her into Cambridge and dropped her off at the Faculty Club. President Bok greeted her in the foyer and congratulated her on her election to the board, and then introduced her to the other overseers, who numbered among the thirty, two Nobel Prize winners, one for literature and one for science; two ex-cabinet secretaries; an army general; a judge; an oil tycoon and two other university presidents. Florentyna sat through the meeting amused by how courteous the overseers all were to one another and she could not help but contrast their approach with that of a House committee.

The guest room they put at her disposal brought back memories of Florentyna’s student days and she even had to phone Richard from the corridor. He was in Albany dealing with some tax problems caused by Jack Kemp, the new Republican governor of New York State.

‘I’ll be with you for the lunch,’ he promised. ‘By the way, I see tomorrow’s speech was worthy of a mention by Dan Rather on the CBS news tonight. It had better be good if you hope to keep me from watching the Yankees on channel eleven.’

‘Just see you are in your place on time, Mr. Kane.’

‘Just you make sure it’s as good as your speech to the Vietnam Veterans of America, because I’m traveling a long way to hear you, Senator.’

‘How could I have fallen in love with you, Mr. Kane?’

‘It was, if I remember rightly, “Adopt an Immigrant Year,” and we Bostonians were exhibiting our usual social consciousness.’

‘Why did it continue after the end of the year?’

‘I decided it was my duty to spend the rest of my life with you.’

‘Good decision, Mr. Kane.’

‘I wish I were with you now, Jessie.’

‘You wouldn’t if you could see the room they’ve given me. I have only a single bed, so you would be spending the night on the floor. Be on time tomorrow, because I want you to hear this speech.’

‘I will. But I must say it’s taking you a long time to convert me into a Democrat.’

‘I’ll try again tomorrow. Good night, Mr. Kane.’

Richard was awakened the next morning by the telephone at the Albany Baron. He assumed it would be Florentyna on the line with some senatorial comment, but it turned out to be New York Air to say there would be no flights out of Albany that day because of a one-day job action by maintenance workers that was affecting every airline.

‘Christ,’ said Richard, uncharacteristically, then jumped into a cold shower, where he exercised some other new words in his vocabulary. Once he was dry, he tried to get dressed while dialing the front desk. He dropped the phone and had to start again.

‘I want a rental car at the front entrance immediately,’ he said, dropped the phone again and finished dressing. He then called Harvard, but they had no idea where Senator Kane was at that particular moment. He left a message explaining what had happened, ran downstairs, skipped breakfast and picked up the keys to a Ford Executive. Richard was held up in the rush-hour traffic and it took him another thirty minutes to find Route 90 East. He checked his watch: he would only have to do a steady sixty if he was going to be in Cambridge in time for the speech at two o’clock. He knew how much this one meant to Florentyna and he was determined not to be late.

The last few days had been a nightmare: the theft in Cleveland, the kitchen walkout in San Francisco, the seizing of the hotel in Cape Town, tax problems over his mother’s estate — all happening while the price of gold was collapsing because of the civil war in South Africa. Richard tried to put all these problems out of his mind. Florentyna could always tell when he was tired or overanxious and he did not want her to be worrying about situations he knew he could remedy eventually. Richard wound the car window down to let in some fresh air.

The rest of the weekend he was going to do nothing but sleep and play the cello; it would be the first break they had both had for over a month. No children: William would be in Boston with his own family, and Annabel in Mexico — leaving nothing more strenuous to consider than a round of golf for two whole days. He wished he didn’t feel so tired. ‘Damn,’ he said out loud. He’d forgotten the roses — he had planned to send them to Florentyna from the airport.

Florentyna was given two messages just before lunch. The man from Sotheby’s phoned to say that she had been successful in her bid, and a college porter delivered Richard’s news. She was delighted by the first and disappointed by the second, although she smiled at the thought that Richard would be worrying about the roses. Thanks to Sotheby’s, she now had something for him he had wanted all his life.

Florentyna had spent the morning in the formal graduation proceedings at the Tercentenary Theater. The sight of all three networks setting up their cameras on the lawn for the afternoon ceremony had made her feel even more nervous and she hoped no one had noticed that she had eaten almost nothing at lunch.

At one forty-five, the overseers left for the yard, where alumni reunion classes had already gathered. She thought back, to her own years... Bella... Wendy... Scott... Edward... and now she had returned, as Edward had predicted, as Senator Kane. She took her seat on the platform outside the Tercentenary Theater next to President Horner of Radcliffe and looked down at the card on the other chair beside her. It read, ‘Mr. Richard Kane — husband of Senator Kane.’ She smiled at how much that would annoy him, and scribbled underneath, ‘What took you so long?’ She must remember to leave the card on the mantelpiece. Florentyna knew that if Richard arrived after the ceremony had begun he would have to find a seat on the lawn. The announcement of elections, conferring of honorary degrees and reports of gifts received by the university were followed by an address from President Bok. Florentyna listened as he introduced her. She searched the rows of audience in front of her as far as she could see but was still unable to spot Richard.

‘President Horner, distinguished visitors, ladies and gentlemen. It is a great honor for me today to present one of Radcliffe’s most distinguished alumnae, a woman who has captured the imagination of the American people. Indeed, I know many of us believe that Radcliffe will one day have two presidents.’ Seventeen thousand guests burst into spontaneous applause. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, Senator Florentyna Kane.’

Florentyna’s throat went dry when she rose from her seat. She checked her notes as the great television lights were switched on, momentarily blinding her, so that she could see nothing but a blur of faces. She prayed Richard’s was among them.

‘President Bok, President Horner. I stand before you more nervous now than I was when I first came to Radcliffe thirty-three years ago and couldn’t find the dining room for two days because I was too frightened to ask anyone.’ The laughter eased Florentyna’s tension. ‘Now I see seated in front of me men and women and if I recall correctly from my Radcliffe rule book, men may only enter the bedrooms between the hours of three and five P.M. and must at all times keep both feet on the ground. If the rule still exists today, I am bound to ask how the poor things ever get any sleep.’

The laughter continued for several seconds before Florentyna was able to start again. ‘More than thirty years ago I was educated at this great university and it has set the standard for everything I have tried to achieve in my life. The pursuit of excellence has always been to Harvard of paramount importance and it is a relief to find in this changing world that the standards attained today by your graduates are even higher than they were in my generation. There is a tendency among the old to say that the youth of today do not compare with their forefathers. I am reminded of the words carved on the side of the tombs of the Pharaohs. Translated, it reads: The young are lazy and preoccupied with themselves and will surely cause the downfall of the world as we know it.” ’

The graduates cheered while the parents laughed. ‘Winston Churchill once said: “When I was sixteen, I thought my parents knew nothing. When I was twenty-one, I was shocked to discover how much they had picked up in the last five years.” ’ The parents applauded and the students smiled. ‘America is often looked upon as a great monolithic land mass, with a vast centralized economy. It is neither of these things. It is two hundred and forty million people who make up something more diverse, more complicated, more exciting than any other nation on earth and I envy all of you who wish to play a role in the future of our country and feel sorry for those who do not. Harvard University is famous for its tradition of service in medicine, teaching, the law, religion and the arts. It must be thought a modern tragedy that more young people do not consider politics an honorable and worthwhile profession. We must change the atmosphere in the corridors of power so that the very brightest of our youth do not dismiss, virtually without consideration, a career in public life.

‘None of us has ever doubted for a moment the integrity of Washington, Adams, Jefferson or Lincoln. Why shouldn’t we today produce another generation of statesmen who will bring back to our vocabulary the words “duty,” “pride” and “honor” without such a suggestion being greeted with sarcasm or scorn?

‘This great university produced John Kennedy, who once said when receiving an honorary degree from Yale, “And now I have the best of both worlds, a Harvard education and a Yale degree.” ’

When the laughter had died down, Florentyna continued: ‘I, Mr. President, have the best of every world, a Radcliffe education and a Radcliffe degree.’

Seventeen thousand people rose to their feet and it was a considerable time before Florentyna could continue. She smiled as she thought how proud Richard would be because he had suggested that line in the bathtub and she had not been sure that it would work.

‘As young Americans, take pride in your country’s past achievements, but strive to make them nothing more than history. Defy old myths, break new barriers, challenge the future, so that at the end of this century, people will say of us that our achievements rank alongside those of the Greeks, the Romans and the British in advancing freedom and a just society for all people on this planet. Let no barriers be unassailable and no aims too high and when the crazy whirligig of time is over, let it be possible for you to say as Franklin D. Roosevelt did, “There is a mysterious cycle in human events. To some generations much is given, of other generations much is expected, but this generation of Americans has a rendezvous with destiny.” ’

Once again, everyone on the lawn broke into spontaneous applause. When it subsided, Florentyna lowered her voice almost to a whisper. ‘My fellow alumni, I say to you, I am bored by cynics, I despise belittlers, I loathe those who think there is something sophisticated and erudite in running our nation down, because I am convinced that this generation of our youth, who will take the United States into the twenty-first century, has another rendezvous with destiny. I pray that many of them are present today.’

When Florentyna sat down she was the only person seated. Journalists were to remark the next day that even the cameramen whistled. Florentyna looked down, aware that she had made a favorable impression on the crowd, but she still needed Richard for final confirmation. Mark Twain’s words came back to her: ‘Sorrow can take care of itself, but to get the true benefit of joy, you must share it.’ As Florentyna was led off the stage, the students cheered and waved, but her eyes searched only for Richard. Making her way out of the Tercentenary Yard, she was stopped by dozens of people, but her thoughts remained elsewhere.

Florentyna heard the words ‘Who will tell her?’ while she was trying to listen to a student who was going to Zimbabwe to teach English. She swung around to stare at the troubled face of Matina Horner, the Radcliffe president.

‘It’s Richard, isn’t it?’ said Florentyna quickly.

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. He’s been involved in a car accident.’

‘Where is he?’

‘In Newton-Wellesley Hospital, about ten miles away. You must leave immediately.’

‘How bad it it?’

‘Not good, I’m afraid.’

A police escort rushed Florentyna down the Massachusetts Turnpike to the Route 16 exit as she prayed, Let him live. Let him live.

When the police car arrived outside the main entrance of the hospital she ran up the steps. A doctor was waiting for her.

‘Senator Kane, I’m Nicholas Eyre, chief of surgery. We need your permission to operate.’

‘Why? Why do you need to operate?’

‘Your husband has severe head injuries. And it’s our only chance to save him.’

‘Can I see him?’

‘Yes, of course.’ He led her quickly to the emergency room, where Richard lay unconscious beneath a plastic sheet, a tube in his mouth, his skull encased in stained white gauze. Florentyna collapsed onto the bedside chair and stared down at the floor, unable to bear the sight of her injured husband. Would the brain damage be permanent or could he recover?

‘What happened?’ she asked the surgeon.

‘The police aren’t certain, but a witness said your husband veered across the divider on the turnpike for no apparent reason and collided with a tractor-trailer. There seems to have been no mechanical fault with the car he was driving, so they can only conclude he fell asleep at the wheel.’

Florentyna steeled herself to raise her eyes and look again at the man she loved.

‘Can we operate, Mrs. Kane?’

‘Yes,’ said a faint voice that only an hour before had brought thousands of people to their feet. She was led into a corridor and sat alone. A nurse came up: they needed a signature; she scribbled her name. How many times had she done that today?

She sat alone in the corridor, a strange figure in an elegant dress, hunched up on the little wooden chair. She remembered how she had met Richard in Bloomingdale’s when she thought he had fallen for Maisie; how they first made love only moments after their first row and how they had run away and with the help of Bella and Claude she had become Mrs. Kane; the births of William and Annabel; that twenty-dollar bill that fixed the meeting in San Francisco with Gianni; returning to New York as partners to run the Baron and then Lester’s; how he had then made Washington possible; how she had smiled when he played the cello for her; how he laughed when she beat him at golf. She had always wanted to achieve so much for him and he had always been selfless in his love for her. He must live so that she could devote herself to making him well again.

In times of helplessness one suddenly believes in God. Florentyna fell on her knees and begged for her husband’s life.

Hours passed before Dr. Eyre returned to her side. Florentyna looked up hopefully.

‘Your husband died a few minutes ago, Mrs. Kane’ was all the surgeon said.

‘Did he say anything to you before he died?’ Florentyna asked.

The chief of surgery looked embarrassed.

‘Whatever it was my husband said, I should like to know, Dr. Eyre.’

The surgeon hesitated. ‘All he said, Mrs. Kane, was “Tell Jessie I love her.” ’

Florentyna bowed her head. The widow knelt alone and prayed.

It was the second funeral of a Kane in Trinity Church in six months. William stood between two Mrs. Kanes dressed in black as the bishop reminded them that in death there is life.

Florentyna sat alone in her room that night and cared no longer for this life. In the hall lay a package marked: ‘Fragile, Sotheby Parke Bernet, contents one cello, Stradivarius.’

William accompanied his mother back to Washington on Monday. The news magazines at the stand at Logan Airport were ablaze with cover headlines from Florentyna’s speech. She didn’t even notice.

William remained at the Baron with his mother for three days until she sent him back to his wife. For hours Florentyna would sit alone in a room full of Richard’s past. His cello, his photographs, even the last unfinished game of backgammon.

Florentyna began to arrive at the Senate in midmorning. Janet couldn’t get her to answer her mail except for the hundreds of letters and telegrams expressing sorrow at Richard’s death. She failed to show up at committee meetings and forgot appointments with people who had traveled great distances to see her. On one occasion she missed presiding over the Senate — a chore senators took in turn when the Vice President was absent — for a defense debate. Even her most ardent admirers doubted if she would ever fully regain her impetuous enthusiasm for politics.

As the weeks turned into months, Florentyna began to lose her best staffers, who feared she no longer had the ambition for herself that they had once had for her. Complaints from her constituents, low-key for the first few months after Richard’s death, now turned to an angry rumble, but still Florentyna went aimlessly about her daily routine. Senator Brooks quite openly suggested an early retirement for the good of the party, and continued to voice this opinion in the smoke-filled rooms of Illinois’s political headquarters. Florentyna’s name began to disappear from the White House guest lists and she was no longer at the cocktail parties held by Mrs. John Sherman Cooper, Mrs. Lloyd Kreegar or Mrs. George Renchard.

Both William and Edward traveled regularly to Washington in an effort to stop her from thinking about Richard and bring her back to taking an interest in her work. Neither of them succeeded.

Florentyna spent a quiet Christmas at the Red House in Boston. William and Joanna found it difficult to adapt to the change that had taken place in so short a time. The once elegant and incisive lady had become listless and dull. It was an unhappy Christmas for everyone except that the ten-month-old Richard was learning to pull himself up. When Florentyna returned to Washington in the New Year, matters did not improve, and even Edward began to despair.

Janet Brown waited nearly a year before she told Florentyna that she had been offered the job of administrative assistant in Senator Hart’s office.

‘You must accept the offer, my dear. There is nothing left for you here. I shall serve out my term and then retire.’

Janet too pleaded with Florentyna, but it had no effect.

Florentyna glanced through her mail, barely noticing a letter from Bella chiding her about not turning up for their daughter’s wedding, and signed some more letters that she hadn’t written or even bothered to read. When she checked her watch, it was six o’clock. An invitation from Senator Pryor to a small reception lay on the desk in front of her. Florentyna dropped the smartly embossed card into the wastepaper basket, picked up a copy of the Washington Post and decided to walk home alone. She had never once felt alone when Richard had been alive.

She came out of the Russell Building, crossed Delaware Avenue and cut over the grass of Union Station Plaza. Soon Washington would be a blaze of colors. The fountain splashed as she came to the paved walkway. She reached the steps leading down to New Jersey Avenue and decided to rest for a moment on the park bench. There was nothing to rush home for. She began to remember the look on Richard’s face as Jake Thomas welcomed him as chairman of Lester’s. He did look a fool standing there with a large red London bus under his arm. Reminiscing about such incidents in their life together brought her as near to happiness now as she ever expected to achieve.

‘You’re on my bench.’

Florentyna blinked and looked to her side. A man wearing dirty jeans and an open brown shirt with holes in the sleeves sat on the other end of the bench staring at her suspiciously. He had not shaved for several days, which made it hard for Florentyna to determine his age.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was your bench.’

‘Been my bench, Danny’s bench, these last thirteen years,’ said the grimy face. ‘Before that it was Ted’s and when I go Matt inherits it.’

‘Matt?’ repeated Florentyna uncomprehendingly.

‘Yeah, Matt the Grain. He’s asleep behind parking lot sixteen waiting for me to die.’ The tramp chuckled. ‘But I tell you the way he goes through that grain alcohol, Matt will never take over this bench. You not thinking of staying long, are you, lady?’

‘No, I hadn’t planned to,’ said Florentyna.

‘Good,’ said Danny.

‘What do you do during the day?’

‘Oh, this and that. Always know where we can get soup from church kitchens, and some of that stuff they throw out from the swanky restaurants can keep me going for days. I had the best part of a steak at the Monocle yesterday. I think I’ll try the Baron tonight.’

Florentyna tried not to show her feelings. ‘You don’t work?’

‘Who’d give Danny work? I haven’t had a job in fifteen years — since I left the Army back in ’seventy. Nobody wanted this old vet. Should have died for my country in Nam — would have made things easier for everyone.’

‘How many are there like you?’

‘In Washington?’

‘Yes, in Washington.’

‘Hundreds.’

‘Hundreds?’ Florentyna repeated in disbelief.

‘Not as bad as some cities. New York they throw you in jail as quick as look at you. When are you thinking of going, lady?’ he said, eyeing her suspiciously.

‘Soon. May I ask—’

‘You ask too many questions, so it’s my turn. Okay if I have the paper when you leave?’

‘The Washington Post?’

‘Good quality, that,’ said Danny.

‘You read it?’

‘No.’ He laughed. ‘I wrap myself up in it. Keeps me warm as a hamburger if I stay very still.’

She passed him the paper. She stood up and smiled at Danny, noticing for the first time that he had only one leg.

‘Wouldn’t have a quarter to spare an old soldier?’

Florentyna rummaged through her bag. She had only a ten-dollar bill and thirty-seven cents in change. She handed the money to Danny.

He stared at her offering in disbelief. ‘There’s enough here for both Matt and me to have some real food,’ he exclaimed. The tramp paused and looked at her more closely. ‘I know you, lady,’ Danny said suspiciously. ‘You’re that senator lady. Matt always says he’s going to get an appointment with you and explain a thing or two about how you spend government money. But I told him what those little receptionists do when they see the likes of us walk in — they call the cops and grab the Lysol. Don’t even ask us to sign the guest book. I told Matt not to waste his valuable time.’

Florentyna watched Danny as he began to make himself comfortable on his bench, covering himself very expertly with the Washington Post. ‘Any case, I told him you would be much too busy to bother with him and so would the other ninety-nine.’ He turned his back on the distinguished senator from Illinois and lay very still. Florentyna said good night before walking down the steps to the street where she was met by a policeman outside the entrance to the underground parking lot.

‘The man on that bench?’

‘Yes, Senator,’ said the officer. ‘Danny, Danny One-Leg; he didn’t cause you any trouble, I hope?’

‘No, not at all,’ said Florentyna. ‘Does he sleep there every night?’

‘Has for the past ten years, which is how long I’ve been on the force. Cold nights, he moves to a grate behind the Capitol. He’s harmless enough, not like some of those at the back of lot sixteen.’

Florentyna lay awake the rest of the night only nodding off occasionally as she thought about Danny One-Leg and the hundreds suffering from the same plight as his. At seven-thirty the next morning she was back in her office on Capitol Hill. The first person to arrive, at eight-thirty, was Janet and she was shocked to find Florentyna’s head buried in The Modern Welfare Society by Arthur Quern. Florentyna looked up.

‘Janet, I want all the current unemployment figures, broken down into states, and then into ethnic groups. I also need to know, with the same breakdowns, how many people are on social security and what percentage have not worked for over two years. Then I want you to find out how many of them have served in the armed forces. Compile a list of every leading authority — You’re crying, Janet.’

‘Yes, I am,’ she said.

Florentyna came from behind her desk and put her arms around her. ‘It’s over, my dear. Let’s forget the past and get this show back on the road.’

Chapter thirty-three

It took everyone in Congress only a month to discover that Senator Kane was back with a vengeance. And when the President phoned her personally, she knew that her attacks on his Fresh Approach were coming home to the one house where things could be changed.

‘Florentyna, I’m eighteen months away from Election Day and you’re taking my Fresh Approach campaign apart. Do you want the Republicans to win the next election?’

‘No, of course not, but with your Fresh Approach we only spent in one year on welfare what we spent on defense in six weeks. Do you realize how many people in this country don’t even eat one square meal a day?’

‘Yes, Florentyna, I do—’

‘Do you also know what the figures are for people who sleep on the streets each night in America? Not India, not Africa, not Asia. I’m talking about America. And how many of those people haven’t had a job in ten years — not ten weeks or ten months but ten years, Mr. President?’

‘Florentyna, whenever you call me Mr. President I know I’m in trouble. What do you of all people expect me to do? You have always been among those Democrats who advocate a strong defense program.’

‘And I still do, but there are millions of people across America who wouldn’t give a damn if the Russians came marching down Pennsylvania Avenue right now, because they don’t believe they could be any worse off.’

‘I hear what you’re saying, but you’ve become a hawk in dove’s clothing, and statements like the one you just made may make wonderful headlines for you, but what do you expect me to do about it?’

‘Set up a Presidential commission to look into how our welfare money is spent. I already have three of my staff working on it and I intend to present some of the horrors they are unearthing about misuse of funds before a hearing at the earliest date. I can promise you, Mr. President, the figures will make your hair curl.’

‘Have you forgotten I’m nearly bald, Florentyna?’ She laughed. ‘I like the idea of a commission.’ The President paused. ‘I could even float the concept at my next press conference.’

‘Why don’t you do that, Mr. President. And tell them about the man who’s been sleeping on a bench for thirteen years little more than a stone’s throw from the White House while you slumbered in the Lincoln bedroom. A man who lost a leg in Vietnam and doesn’t even know he is entitled to sixty-three dollars a week compensation from the Veterans Administration. And if he did, he wouldn’t know how to collect it, because his local VA office is in Texas, and if in an inspired moment they decided to send a check to him where would they address it? A park bench, near the Capitol?’

‘Danny One-Leg,’ said the President.

‘So you know about Danny?’

‘Who doesn’t? He’s had more good publicity in two weeks than I’ve had in two years. I’m even considering an amputation. I fought for my country in Vietnam, you know.’

‘And you’ve managed to take care of yourself ever since.’

‘Florentyna, if I set up a Presidential commission on welfare, will you give it your support?’

‘I certainly will, Mr. President.’

‘And will you stop attacking Texas?’

‘That was unfortunate. A junior researcher of mine discovered Danny had come from Texas, but do you realize that in spite of the illegal immigrant problem, over twenty percent of the people of Texas have an annual income of less than—?’

‘I know, I know, Florentyna, but you seem to forget that my Vice President comes from Houston and he hasn’t had a day’s rest since Danny One-Leg hit the front pages.’

‘Poor old Pete,’ said Florentyna. ‘He will be the first Vice President who has had something to worry about other than where his next meal is coming from.’

‘And you mustn’t be hard on Pete, he plays his role.’

‘You mean balances the ticket so that you can stay in the White House.’

‘Florentyna, you’re a wicked lady and I warn you that I intend to open my press conference next Thursday by saying I have come up with a brilliant idea.’

‘You’ve come up with the idea?’

‘Yes,’ said the President. ‘There must be some compensation for taking the heat all the time. I repeat that I have come up with this brilliant idea of a Presidential commission on Waste in Welfare and’ — the President hesitated for a minute — ‘that Senator Kane has agreed to be the chairman. Now will that keep you quiet for a few days?’

‘Yes,’ said Florentyna, ‘and I’ll try to report within one year so that you have time before the election to describe to the voters your bold new plans to sweep away the cobwebs of the past and usher in the Fresh Approach.’

‘Florentyna.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr. President. I just couldn’t resist that.’

Janet didn’t know where Florentyna was going to find the time to chair such an important commission. Her appointment books already needed the staffer with the smallest handwriting to complete each page.

‘I need three hours clear every day for the next six months,’ said Florentyna.

‘Sure thing,’ said Janet. ‘How do you feel about two o’clock to five o’clock every morning?’

‘Suits me,’ said Florentyna, ‘but I’m not sure we could get anyone else to sit on a commission under those conditions.’ Florentyna smiled. ‘And we’re going to need more staffers.’

Janet had already filled all the vacancies that had been created from resignations during the past few months. She had appointed a new press secretary, a new speech writer, and four more legislative researchers from some of the outstanding young college graduates who were now banging on Florentyna’s door. ‘Let’s be thankful that the Baron Group can afford the extra cost,’ Janet added.

Once the President had made his announcement, Florentyna set to work. Her commission consisted of twenty members plus a professional support staff of eleven. She divided the commission itself so that half were professional people who had never needed welfare in their lives or given the subject much thought until asked to do so by Florentyna, while the other half were currently on welfare or unemployed.

A clean-shaven Danny, wearing his first suit, joined Florentyna’s staff as a full-time advisor. The originality of the idea took Washington by surprise. Article after article was written on Senator Kane’s ‘Park Bench Commissioners.’ Danny One-Leg told stories that made the other half of the committee realize how deep-seated the problem was and how many abuses still needed to be corrected, so that those in genuine need received fair recompense.

Among those who were questioned by the committee were Matt the Grain, who now slept on the bench Danny had vacated, and ‘Tom Guinzburg,’ an ingenious convict from Leavenworth who, for a parole deal arranged by Florentyna, told the committee how he had been able to milk a thousand dollars a week out of welfare before the police caught up with him. The man had so many aliases he was no longer sure of his own name; at one point he had supported seventeen wives, forty-one dependent children and nineteen dependent parents, all of whom were nonexistent except on the national welfare computer. Florentyna thought he might be exaggerating until he showed the commission how to get the President of the United States onto the computer as unemployed, with two dependent children, living with his aging mother at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C. Guinzburg also went on to confirm something she had already feared — that he was small fry compared with the professional crime syndicates who thought nothing of raking in fifty thousand dollars a week through phony welfare recipients.

She later discovered that Danny One-Leg’s real name was on the computer and that someone else had been collecting his money for the past thirteen years. It didn’t take a lot longer to discover that Matt the Grain and several of his friends from parking lot sixteen were also on the computer although they had never received a penny themselves.

Florentyna went on to prove that there were over a million people entitled to aid who were not receiving it, while, at the same time, the money was going elsewhere. She became convinced that there was no need to ask Congress for more money, just for safeguards designed to ensure that the annual pay-out of over ten billion dollars was reaching the right people. Many of those who needed help just simply couldn’t read or write and so never returned to the government office once they had been presented with long forms to complete. Their names became an easy source of income for even a small-time crook. When Florentyna presented her report to the President ten months later, he sent a series of new safeguards to Congress for its immediate consideration. He also announced that he would be drawing up a Welfare Reform Program before the election. The press was fascinated by the way Florentyna had got the President’s name and address onto the unemployment computer; from MacNelly to Peters, the cartoonists had a field day, while the FBI made a series of welfare fraud arrests right across the country.

The press praised the President for his initiative and the Washington Post declared that Senator Kane had done more in one year for those in genuine need than the New Deal and the Great Society put together. This was indeed a ‘fresh approach’ Florentyna had to smile. Rumors began to circulate that she would replace Pete Parkin as Vice President when the next election came around. On Monday she was on the cover of Newsweek for the first time and across the bottom ran the words: ‘America’s First Woman Vice President?’ Florentyna was far too shrewd a politician to be fooled by press speculation. She knew that when the time came, the President would stick with Parkin, balance the ticket and be sure of the South. Much as he admired Florentyna, the President wanted another four years in the White House.

Once again, Florentyna’s biggest problem in life was in determining priorities among the many issues and people that competed for her attention. Among the requests from senators to help them with their campaigns was one from Ralph Brooks. Brooks, who never lost the opportunity to describe himself as the state’s senior senator, had recently been appointed chairman of the Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee, which kept him in the public eye. He had received considerable praise for his handling of the oil tycoons and leaders of big business. Florentyna was aware that he never spoke well of her in private, but when proof of this came back to her, she dismissed it as unimportant. She was surprised, however, when he asked her to share a TV commercial spot with him, saying how well they worked together and stressing how important it was that both Illinois senators be Democratic. After she had been urged to cooperate by the party chairman in Chicago, Florentyna agreed, although she had not spoken to her Senate colleague more than two or three times a month during her entire term in Congress. She hoped her endorsement might patch up their differences. It didn’t. Two years later when she came up for re-election, his support for her was rarely more than a whisper.

As the Presidential election drew nearer, more and more senators seeking re-election asked Florentyna to speak in their behalf. During the last six months of 1988 she rarely spent a weekend at home; even the President invited her to join him in several campaign appearances. He had been delighted by the public reaction to the Kane Commission report on welfare, and he agreed to the one request Florentyna made of him, although he knew that Pete Parkin and Ralph Brooks would be furious when they heard.

Florentyna had had little or no social life since Richard’s death, although she had managed to spend an occasional weekend with William, Joanna and her three-year-old grandson Richard at the Red House on Beacon Hill. Whenever she found a weekend free to be back at the Cape, Annabel would join her.

Edward, who was now chairman of the Baron Group and vice-chairman of Lester’s Bank, reported to her at least once a week, producing results even Richard would have been proud of. On Cape Cod he would join her for golf, but unlike the results of her rounds with Richard, Florentyna always won. Each time she did she would donate her winnings to the local Republican club in Richard’s memory. The local GOP man obligingly recorded the gifts as coming from an anonymous donor because Florentyna’s constituents would have been hard put to understand her reasons for switch-hitting.

Edward left Florentyna in no doubt of his feelings for her and once hesitantly went so far as to propose. Florentyna kissed her closest friend gently on the cheek. ‘I will never marry again,’ she said, ‘but if you ever beat me at a round of golf, I’ll reconsider your offer.’ Edward immediately started taking golf lessons, but Florentyna was always too good for him.

When the press got hold of the news that Senator Kane had been chosen to deliver the keynote speech at the Democratic convention in Detroit, they started writing about her as a possible Presidential candidate in 1992. Edward became excited about these suggestions, but she reminded him that they had also considered forty-three other candidates in the last six months. As the President had predicted, Pete Parkin was livid when the suggestion came up that the keynote speech be delivered by Florentyna but eventually calmed down when he realized that the President had no intention of dropping him from the ticket. It only convinced Florentyna that the Vice President was going to be her biggest rival if she did decide to run in four years’ time.

The President and Pete Parkin were renominated at a dull party convention, with only a handful of dissenters and favorite sons to keep the delegates awake. Florentyna wistfully recalled livelier conventions, such as the GOP’s 1976 melee, during which Nelson Rockefeller had pulled a phone out of the wall in the Kansas City convention hall.

Florentyna’s keynote speech was received by the delegates in decibels fewer only than those accorded the President’s speech of acceptance, and it caused posters and campaign buttons to appear on the final day with the words: ‘Kane for ’92.’ Only in America could ten thousand campaign buttons appear overnight, thought Florentyna, and she took one home for young Richard. Her Presidential campaign was beginning without her even lifting a finger.

During the final weeks before the election, Florentyna traveled to almost as many swing states as the President himself and the press suggested that her unstinting loyalty might well have been a factor in the Democrats’ slim victory. Ralph Brooks was returned to the Senate with a slightly increased majority. It reminded Florentyna that her own re-election to the Senate was now only two years away.

When the first session of the 101st Congress opened, Florentyna found that many of her colleagues in both houses were openly letting her know of their support should she decide to put her name forward for the Presidency. She realized that some of them would be saying exactly the same thing to Pete Parkin, but she made a note of each one and always sent a handwritten letter of thanks the same day.

Her hardest task before facing re-election for the Senate was to steer the new Welfare bill through both houses, and the job took up most of her time. She personally sponsored seven amendments to the bill, principally placing responsibility on the federal government for all costs of creating a nationwide minimum income and a major overhaul of social security. She spent hours badgering, cajoling, coaxing and almost bribing her colleagues until the bill became law. She stood behind the President when he signed the new act in the Rose Garden. Cameras rolled and shutters clicked from the ring of press photographers standing behind a cordoned-off area. It was the greatest single achievement of Florentyna’s political career. The President delivered a self-serving statement and then rose to shake Florentyna’s hand. ‘This is the lady whom we can thank for “The Kane Act,” ’ he said and whispered in her ear, ‘Good thing the VP’s in South America or I would never hear the end of it.’

Press and public alike praised the skill and determination with which Senator Kane had guided the bill through Congress and The New York Times said that if she achieved nothing more in her political career, she would have placed on the books a piece of legislation that would stand the test of time. Under the new law, no one in genuine need would forfeit his rights, while at the other end of the scale, those who played the ‘Welfare Charade’ would now end up behind bars.

As soon as the fuss had blown over, Janet warned Florentyna that she must spend more time in the state now that the election was less than nine months away. Nearly all the senior members of the party offered their services to Florentyna when she came up for re-election, but it was the President who broke into a heavy schedule to support her and drew the biggest crowd when he spoke at the convention hall in Chicago. As they walked up the steps together to the strains of ‘Happy Days Are Here Again’ he whispered, ‘Now I am going to get my revenge for all the flak you’ve given me over the past five years.’

The President described Florentyna as the woman who had given him more problems than his wife and now he heard she wanted to sleep in his bed at the White House. When the laughter died down, he added, ‘And if she does aspire to that great office, America could not be better served.’

The next day the press suggested that the statement was a direct snub to Pete Parkin and that Florentyna would have the backing of the President if she decided to run. The President denied this interpretation of what he had said, but from that moment on Florentyna was placed in the unfortunate position of being the front-runner for 1992. When the results of her Senate race came in, even Florentyna was surprised by the size of her victory, as most Democratic senators had lost ground in the usual midterm election swing against the White House. Florentyna’s overwhelming victory confirmed the party’s view that it had found not only a standard-bearer but something far more important: a winner.

The week of the first session of the 102nd Congress opened with Florentyna’s picture on the cover of Time. Full profiles of her life, giving the details of her playing Saint Joan at Girls Latin and winning the Woolson Scholarship to Radcliffe, were meticulously chronicled. They even explained why her late husband had called her Jessie. She had become the best-known woman in America. ‘This charming 57-year-old woman,’ said Time in its summation, ‘is both intelligent and witty. Only beware when you see her hand clench into a tight fist because it’s then she becomes a heavyweight.’

During the new session, Florentyna tried to carry out the normal duties of a senator but she was daily being asked by colleagues, friends and the press when she would be making a statement about her intentions to run or not to run for the White House. She tried to sidetrack them by taking more interest in the major issues of the day. At the time Quebec elected a left-wing government she flew to Canada to participate in exploratory talks with British Columbia, Saskatchewan and Manitoba about federation with America. The press followed her and after she returned to Washington, the media no longer described her as a politician but as America’s first stateswoman.

Pete Parkin was already informing anyone and everyone who wanted to listen that he intended to run and an official announcement was considered imminent. The Vice President was five years older than Florentyna and she knew this would be his last opportunity to hear ‘Hail to the Chief’ played for him. Florentyna felt it might be her only chance. She remembered that Margaret Thatcher had told her when she became Prime Minister, ‘The only difference between the leader of a party’s being a man or a woman is that if a woman loses, the men won’t give you a second chance.’

Florentyna had no doubt what Bob Buchanan would have advised had he still been alive. Read Julius Caesar, my dear, but this time Brutus and not Mark Antony.

She and Edward spent a quiet weekend together at Cape Cod, and while he lost yet another golf match, they discussed the tide in the affairs of one woman, the flood and the possible fortune.

By the time that Edward returned to New York and Florentyna to Washington, the decision had finally been made.

Chapter thirty-four

‘...and to that end I declare my candidacy for the office of President of the United States.’

Florentyna gazed into the Senate Caucus Room at the 350 applauding members of the audience, which occupied a space that the sergeant-at-arms insisted should only hold 300. Television camera crews and press photographers shoved and dodged to prevent their frames from being filled with the backs of anonymous heads. Florentyna remained seated during the prolonged applause that followed her announcement. When the noise had finally ebbed, Edward stepped up to face the battery of microphones at the podium.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I know the candidate will be delighted to answer your questions.’

Half the people in the room started to speak at once and Edward nodded to a man in the third row to indicate that he could ask the first question.

‘Albert Hunt of The Wall Street Journal,’ he said. ‘Senator Kane, who do you think will be your toughest opponent?’

‘The Republican candidate,’ she said without hesitation. There was a ripple of laughter and some applause. Edward smiled and called for the next question.

‘Senator Kane, is this really a bid to be Pete Parkin’s running mate?’

‘No, I am not interested in the office of Vice President,’ replied Florentyna. ‘At best it’s a period of stagnation while you wait around in the hope of doing the real job. At worst I am reminded of Nelson Rockefeller’s words: “Don’t take the number two spot unless you’re up for a four-year advanced seminar in political science and a lot of state funerals.” I’m not in the mood for either.’

‘Do you feel America is ready for a woman President?’

‘Yes, I do, otherwise I would not be willing to run for the office, but I will be in a better position to answer that question on November third.’

‘Do you think the Republicans might select a woman?’

‘No, they don’t have the courage for such a bold move. They’ll watch the Democrats make a success of the idea and copy it when the next election comes around.’

‘Do you feel you have enough experience to hold this office?’

‘I have been a wife, a mother, the chairman of a multimillion-dollar corporation, a member of the House for eight years and a senator for seven. In the public career I’ve chosen, the Presidency is the number one spot. So yes, I believe I am now qualified for that job.’

‘Do you expect the success of your Welfare Act to help you with the votes of the poor and black communities?’

‘I hope the act will bring me support from every sector. My main intent with that piece of legislation was to ensure that both those who contribute to welfare through taxation and those who benefit from the legislation will feel that the provisions made are just and humane in a modern society.’

‘After the Russian invasion of Yugoslavia, would your administration take a harder line with the Kremlin?’

‘After Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Afghanistan, Poland and now Yugoslavia, the latest Soviet offensive on the Pakistan border reinforces my long-standing conviction that we must remain vigilant in the defense of our people. We must always remember that the fact that the two biggest oceans on earth have protected us in the past is no guarantee of our safety in the future.’

‘The President has described you as a hawk in dove’s clothing.’

‘I’m not sure if that’s a comment on my dress or my looks, but I suspect that the combination of those two birds looks not unlike the American eagle.’

‘Do you feel we can keep a special relationship with Europe after the election results in France and Britain?’

‘The decision of the French to return to a Gaullist government while the British voted for a new Labor administration does not greatly concern me. Michel Chirac and Roy Hattersley have both proved to be good friends of America in the past and I see no reason why that should change in the future.’

‘Do you expect Ralph Brooks’s support for your campaign?’

It was the first question that took Florentyna by surprise. ‘Perhaps you should ask him. But I naturally hope that Senator Brooks will feel pleased by my decision.’ She could think of nothing else to add.

‘Senator Kane, do you approve of the current primary system?’

‘No. Although I’m not a supporter of a national primary, the present system is by any standards archaic. America seems to have developed a process for the selection of a President that is more responsive to the demands of the network news programs than it is to the needs of modern government. It also encourages dilettante candidates. Today, you have a better chance of becoming President if you are temporarily out of work, having been left several million by your grandmother. You then have four years off to devote to running around the country collecting delegates, while the people best qualified for the job are probably doing a full day’s work elsewhere. If I became President, I would seek to send a bill to the Congress which would not handicap anyone from running for the Presidency through lack of time or money. We must reinstate the age-old precept that anyone born in this country, with both the desire to serve and the ability to do the job, will not find themselves disqualified before the first voter goes to the polls.’

The questions continued to come to Florentyna from all parts of the room and she took the last one over an hour later.

‘Senator Kane, if you become President, will you be like Washington and never tell a lie or like Nixon and have your own definition of the truth?’

‘I cannot promise I will never lie. We all lie, sometimes to protect a friend or a member of our family and if I were President perhaps to protect my country. Sometimes we lie just because we don’t want to be found out. The one thing I can assure you of is that I am the only woman in America who has never been able to lie about her age.’ When the laughter died down, Florentyna remained standing. ‘I’d like to end this press conference by saying that whatever the outcome of my decision today, I wish to express my thanks as an American for the fact that the daughter of an immigrant has found it possible to run for the highest office in the land. I don’t believe such an ambition would be attainable in any other country in the world.’

Florentyna’s life began to change the moment she left the room; four Secret Service agents formed a circle around the candidate, the lead one skillfully creating a passage for her through the mass of people.

Florentyna smiled when Brad Staimes introduced himself and explained that for the duration of her candidacy, there would always be four agents with her night and day, working in eight-hour shifts. Florentyna couldn’t help noticing that two of the agents were women whose build and physical appearance closely resembled her own. She thanked Staimes but never quite became used to seeing one of the agents whenever she turned her head. Their tiny earphones distinguished them from well-wishers, and Florentyna recalled the story about an elderly lady who attended a Nixon rally in 1972. She approached a Nixon aide at the end of the candidate’s speech and said she would definitely vote for his reelection because he obviously sympathized with those who, like herself, were hard of hearing.

Following the press conference, Edward chaired a strategy meeting in Florentyna’s office to work out a rough schedule for the coming campaign. The Vice President had some time before announced that he was a candidate and several other contestants had thrown their hats into the ring, but the press had already decided that the real battle was going to be between Kane and Parkin.

Edward had lined up a formidable team of pollsters, finance chairmen and policy advisors who were well supplemented by Florentyna’s seasoned staff in Washington, still led by Janet Brown.

First Edward outlined his day-by-day plan leading up to the first primary in New Hampshire, and from there to California, all the way to the convention floor in Detroit. Florentyna had tried to arrange for the convention to be held in Chicago but the Vice President vetoed the idea: he wasn’t challenging Florentyna on her home ground. He reminded the Democratic committee that the choice of Chicago and the riots that followed might have been the single reason that Humphrey lost to Nixon in 1968.

Florentyna had already faced the fact that it would be almost impossible for her to beat the Vice President in the southern states, so it was vital that she get off to a strong start in New England and the Midwest. She agreed that during the next three months she would devote seventy-five percent of her energies to the campaign, and for several hours her team threw around ideas for the best use of that time. It was also agreed that she would make regular trips to the major cities that voted in the first three primaries and, if she made a strong showing in New Hampshire, a traditionally conservative area, they would plan their forward strategy accordingly.

Florentyna dealt with as much of her Senate work as possible between making frequent trips to New Hampshire, Vermont and Massachusetts. Edward had chartered a six-seater Lear jet for her with two pilots available around the clock so that she could leave Washington at a moment’s notice. All three primary states had set up strong campaign headquarters, and everywhere Florentyna went she spotted as many ‘Kane for President’ posters and bumper stickers as she did for Pete Parkin.

With only seven weeks left until the first primary, Florentyna began to spend more and more of her time chasing the 147,000 registered Democrats in the state. Edward did not expect her to capture more than 30 percent of the votes, but he felt that might well be enough to win the primary and persuade doubters that she was an electoral asset. Florentyna needed every delegate she could secure before they arrived in the South, even if possible to pass the magic 1,666 by the time she reached the convention hall in Detroit.

The early signs were good. Florentyna’s private pollster, Kevin Palumbo, assured her that the race with the Vice President was running neck and neck, and Gallup and Harris seemed to confirm that view. Only 7 percent of the voters said they would not under any circumstances vote for a woman, but Florentyna knew just how important 7 percent could be if the final outcome was close.

Florentyna’s schedule included brief stops at more than 150 of New Hampshire’s 250 small towns. Despite the hectic nature of each day, she grew to love the classical New England mill towns, the crustiness of the Granite State’s farmers and the stark beauty of its winter landscape.

She served as starter for a dogsled race in Franconia and visited the most northerly settlement near the Canadian border. She learned to respect the penetrating insights of local newspaper editors, many of whom had retired from high-level jobs with national magazines and news services. She avoided discussions of one particular issue after discovering that New Hampshire residents stoutly defended their right to oppose a state income tax, thus attracting a host of high-income professionals from across the Massachusetts border.

More than once she had occasion to be thankful for the death of William Loeb, the newspaper publisher whose outrageous misuse of the Manchester Union-Leader had helped destroy the candidacies of Edmund Muskie and George Bush before her. It was no secret that Loeb had had no time for women in politics.

Edward was able to report that money was flowing into their headquarters in Chicago and ‘Kane for President’ offices were springing up in every state. Some of them had more volunteers than they could physically accommodate; the overspill turned dozens of living rooms and garages throughout America into makeshift campaign headquarters.

In the final seven days before the first primary, Florentyna was interviewed by Barbara Walters, Dan Rather and Frank Reynolds, as well as appearing on all three major morning news programs. As Andy Miller, her press secretary, pointed out, fifty-two million people watched her interview with Barbara Walters and it would have taken over five hundred years to shake the hands of that number of voters in New Hampshire. Nevertheless, her local managers saw to it that she visited nearly every home for the aged in the state.

Despite this, Florentyna had to pound the streets of New Hampshire towns, shaking hands with papermill workers in Berlin, as well as with the somewhat inebriated denizens of the VFW and American Legion posts, which seemed to exist in every town. She learned to work the ski-lift lines in the smaller hills rather than the famous resorts, which were often peopled by a majority of nonvoting visitors from New York or Massachusetts.

If she failed with this tiny electorate of the northern tip of America, Florentyna knew it would raise major doubts about her credibility as a candidate.

Whenever she arrived in a city, Edward was always there to meet her and he never let her stop until the moment she stepped back onto her plane.

Edward told her that they could thank heaven for the curiosity value of a woman candidate. His advance team never had to worry about filling any hall where Florentyna was to speak, with potted plants rather than with Granite State voters.

Pete Parkin, who had a good-luck streak with funeral duty, proved that the Vice President had little else to do: he spent more time in the state than Florentyna could. On the eve of the primary Edward was able to show that someone on the Kane team had contacted by phone, letter or personal visit 125,000 of the 147,000 registered Democrats; but, he added, obviously so had Pete Parkin because many of them had remained noncommittal and some even hostile.

Later that night, Florentyna held a rally in Manchester which over three thousand people attended. When Janet told her that tomorrow she would be about one fiftieth of the way through the campaign, Florentyna replied, ‘Or already finished.’ She went to her motel room a little after midnight followed by the camera crews of CBS, NBC, ABC and Cable News and four agents of the Secret Service, all of whom were convinced she was going to win.

The voters of New Hampshire woke up to drifting snow and icy winds. Florentyna spent the day driving from polling place to polling place thanking the party faithful until the last poll closed. At eleven minutes past nine, CBS was the first to tell the national audience that the turnout was estimated at forty-seven percent, which Dan Rather considered high in view of the weather conditions. The early voting pattern showed that the pollsters had proved right: Florentyna and Pete Parkin were running neck and neck, each taking over the lead during the night but never by more than a couple of percentage points. Florentyna sat in her motel room with Edward, Janet, her closest staffers and two Secret Service agents, watching the final results come in.

‘The outcome couldn’t have been closer if they had planned it,’ said Jessica Savitch, who announced the result first for NBC. ‘Senator Kane thirty point five, Vice President Parkin thirty point two, Senator Bill Bradley sixteen point four percent and the rest of the votes scattered among five others who in my opinion,’ added Savitch, ‘needn’t bother to book a hotel room for the next primary.’

‘If the result of the New Hampshire primary turns out to be satisfactory...’

Florentyna left for Massachusetts with 6 delegates committed to her; Pete Parkin had 5. The national press declared no winner but five losers. Only three candidates were seen in Massachusetts, and Florentyna seemed to have buried the bogey that as a woman she couldn’t be a serious contender.

In Massachusetts she had fourteen days to capture as many of the 111 delegates as possible, and here her work pattern hardly varied. Each day she would carry out the schedule that Edward had organized for her, a program which ensured that the candidate saw as many voters as possible and found some way to get onto the morning or evening news.

Florentyna posed with babies, union leaders and Italian restaurateurs; she ate scallops, linguine, Portuguese sweet bread and cranberries; she rode the MTA, the Nantucket ferry and the Alameda bus line the length of the Mass Pike; she jogged on beaches, hiked in the Berkshires and shopped in Boston’s Quincy Market, all in an effort to prove she had the stamina of any man. Nursing her aching body in a hot tub, she came to the conclusion that had her father remained in Russia, her route to the Presidency of the USSR couldn’t have been any harder.

In Massachusetts, Florentyna held off Pete Parkin for a second time, taking 47 delegates to the Vice President’s 39. The same day in Vermont, she captured 8 of the state’s 12 delegates. Because of the upsets already achieved by Florentyna, the political pollsters were saying that more people were answering ‘Yes’ when asked ‘Could a woman win the Presidential election?’ But even she was amused when she read that 5 percent of the voters had not realized that Senator Kane was a woman. The press was quick to point out that her next big test would be in the South, where the Florida, Georgia and Alabama primaries all fell on the same day. If she could hold on there she had a real chance, because the Democratic race had become a private battle between herself and the Vice President. Bill Bradley, having secured only 11 percent of the votes in Massachusetts, had dropped out because of lack of funds, although his name remained on the ballot in several states and no one doubted he would be a serious candidate sometime in the future. Bradley had been Florentyna’s first choice as running mate, and she already had the New Jersey senator on her short list for consideration for Vice President.

When the Florida ballots were counted, it came as no surprise that the Vice President had taken 62 of the 100 delegates, and he repeated the trend in Georgia by winning 40 to 23, followed by Alabama, where he captured 28 of the 45 voters, but Pete Parkin was not, as he had promised the press, ‘trouncing the little lady when she puts her elegant toes in the South.’ Parkin was increasingly trying to outdo Florentyna as a champion of the military, but his choice of legislation setting up the so-called ‘Fort Gringo Line’ along the Mexican-American border was beginning to rebound on him in the Southwest, where he had imagined he was unbeatable.

Edward and his team were now working several primaries ahead as they criss-crossed the country back and forth; Florentyna thanked heaven for her ample campaign funds as the Lear jet touched down in state after state. Her energy remained boundless and if anything it was the Vice President who began to stammer and sound tired and hoarse at the end of each day. Both candidates had to fit in trips to San Juan, and when Puerto Rico held its primary in mid-March, 25 of the 41 delegates favored Florentyna. Two days later, she arrived back in her home state for the Illinois primary, trailing Parkin 164 to 194.

The Windy City came to a standstill as its inhabitants welcomed their favorite daughter, giving her every one of the 179 Illinois delegates so that she went back into the lead with 343 committed delegates. However, when they moved on to New York, Connecticut, Wisconsin and Pennsylvania, the Vice President eroded the lead until he arrived in Texas trailing by only 591 to Florentyna’s 655.

No one was surprised when Pete Parkin took 100 percent of the delegates in his home state; they hadn’t had a President since Lyndon Baines Johnson and the male half of Texas believed that while J. R. Ewing might have had his faults, he had been right about a woman’s place being in the home. The Vice President left his ranch outside Houston with a lead of 743 to Florentyna’s 655.

Traveling around the country under such tremendous daily pressure, both candidates found an off-the-cuff remark or an unwary comment could easily turn out to be tomorrow’s headline. Pete Parkin was the first to make a gaffe when he got Peru mixed up with Paraguay, and the photographers went wild when he rode through Flint in a chauffeured Mercedes on one of his motorcades. Nor was Florentyna without her mishaps. In Alabama, when asked if she would consider a black running mate as Vice President, she replied, ‘Of course, I’ve already considered the idea.’ It took repeated statements to persuade the press that she had not already invited one of America’s black leaders to join her ticket.

Her biggest mistake, however, was in Virginia. She addressed the University of Virginia Law School on the parole system and the changes she would like to make if she became President. The speech had been written and researched for her by one of the staffers in Washington who had been with Florentyna in her days as a congresswoman. She read the text through carefully the night before, making only a few minor changes, admiring the way the piece had been put together, and delivered the speech to a crowded hall of law students who received it enthusiastically. When she left for an evening meeting of the Charlottesville Rotary Club to talk on the problems facing cattle farmers, she dismissed all thought of the earlier speech until she read the local paper the next morning during breakfast at the Boar’s Head Inn.

The Richmond News-Leader came out with a story that all the national papers picked up immediately. A local journalist covering the biggest scoop of his life suggested that Florentyna’s speech was outstanding because it had been written by one of Senator Kane’s most trusted staff members, Allen Clarence, who was an ex-convict himself, having been given a six-month jail sentence with a year’s probation before going to work for Florentyna. Few of the papers pointed out that the offense had been drunken driving without a license and that Clarence had been released on appeal after three months. When questioned by the press on what she intended to do about Clarence, she said, ‘Nothing.’

Edward told her that she must fire him immediately, however unfair it might seem, because those sections of the press who were against her — not to mention Pete Parkin — were having a field day repeating that one of her most trusted staff members was an ex-con. ‘Can you imagine who will be running the jails in this country if that woman is elected?’ became Parkin’s hourly off-the-cuff remark. Eventually, Allen Clarence voluntarily resigned, but by then the damage had been done. By the time the two candidates reached California, Pete Parkin had increased his lead, with 991 delegates to Florentyna’s 883.

When Florentyna arrived in San Francisco, Bella was there to meet her at the airport. She might have put on thirty years, but she still hadn’t lost any pounds. By her side stood Claude, one enormous son and one skinny daughter. Bella ran toward Florentyna the moment she saw her, only to be blocked by burly Secret Service agents. She was rescued by a hug from the candidate. ‘I’ve never seen anything like her,’ said one of the Secret Service men. ‘She could kickstart a Jumbo.’ Hundreds of people stood at the perimeter of the tarmac chanting ‘President Kane’ and Florentyna, accompanied by Bella, walked straight over to them. Hands flew in Florentyna’s direction, a reaction that never failed to lift her spirits. The placards read ‘California for Kane’ and for the first time the majority of the crowd was made up of men. When she turned to leave them and go into the terminal she saw scrawled all over the side of a wall in red, ‘Do you want a Polack bitch for President?’ and underneath, in white, ‘Yes.’

Bella, now the headmistress of one of the largest schools in California, had also, after Florentyna had won a seat in the Senate, become the city’s Democratic committee chairwoman.

‘I always knew you would run for President, so I thought I had better make certain of San Francisco.’

Bella did make certain, with her 1,000 so-called volunteers banging on every door. California’s split personality — conservative in the south, liberal in the north — made it difficult to be the kind of centrist candidate Florentyna wanted to be. But her efficiency, compassion and intelligence converted even some of the most hardened Marin County left-wingers and Orange County Birchers. San Francisco’s turnout was second only to Chicago’s. Florentyna wished she had fifty-one Bellas because the vote in San Francisco was enough to give her 69 percent of the state. It had been Bella who had made it possible for Florentyna to look forward to arriving in Detroit for the convention with 128 more delegates than Parkin.

Over a celebration dinner, Bella warned Florentyna that the biggest problem she was facing was not ‘I’ll never vote for a woman’ but ‘She has too much money.’

‘Not that old chestnut. I can’t do any more about that,’ said Florentyna. ‘I’ve already put my own Baron stock into the foundation.’

‘That’s the point — no one knows what the foundation does. I realize it helps children in some way, but how many children, and how much money is involved?’

‘The trust last year spent over three million dollars on three thousand one hundred and twelve immigrants from underprivileged backgrounds. Added to that, four hundred and two gifted children won Remagen scholarships to American universities and one went on to be the foundation’s first Rhodes Scholar and will soon be on his way to Oxford.’

‘I wasn’t aware of that,’ said Bella, ‘but I’m continually reminded that Pete Parkin built a feeble little library for the University of Texas at Austin. And he’s made sure the building is as well known as the Widener Library at Harvard.’

‘So what do you feel Florentyna should be doing?’ asked Edward.

‘Why don’t you let Professor Ferpozzi hold his own press conference? He’s a man the public will take notice of. After that everyone will know that Florentyna Kane cares about other people and spends her own money on them to prove it.’

The next day, Edward worked on placing articles in selected publications and organized a press conference. They resulted in a small piece in most journals and newspapers, but People magazine did a cover picture of Florentyna with Albert Schmidt, the Remagen Rhodes Scholar. When it was discovered that Albert was a German immigrant whose grandparents had fled from Europe after escaping from a prisoner-of-war camp, David Hartman interviewed Albert the next day on ‘Good Morning, America.’ After that he seemed to be getting more publicity than Florentyna.

On her way back to Washington that weekend, Florentyna heard that the governor of Colorado, whom she had never particularly considered a friend or political ally, had endorsed her without advance warning at a solar-energy symposium in Boulder. Her approach to industry and conservation, he told the convention, offered the resource-rich western states their best hope for the future.

That day ended on an even brighter note when Reuters tapped out the news right across America that the Welfare Department had delivered its first major report since the implementation of the Kane Act. For the first time since Florentyna’s overhaul of the social service system, the welfare recipients leaving the register in a given year had surpassed the number of new applicants coming on.

Florentyna’s financial backing was always a problem as even the most ardent supporters assumed she could foot her own campaign bills. Parkin, with the backing of the oil tycoons led by Marvin Snyder of Blade Oil, had never had to face the same problem. But during the next few days campaign contributions flowed into Florentyna’s office, along with telegrams of support and good wishes.

Influential journalists in London, Paris, Bonn and Tokyo began to tell their readers that if America wanted a President of international status and credibility there was no contest between Florentyna Kane and the cattle farmer from Texas.

Florentyna was delighted whenever she read these articles, but Edward reminded her that neither the readers nor the writers could pull any levers on any voting machines in America, although he felt for the first time they now had Parkin on the run. He was also quick to point out that there were still 412 of the 3,331 delegates who after the primaries and caucuses remained undecided. The political pundits estimated that 200 of them were leaning toward the Vice President while about a hundred would come out in favor of Florentyna. It looked as if it was going to be the closest convention roll call since Reagan ran against Ford.

After California, Florentyna returned to Washington with another suitcase full of dirty clothes. She knew she would have to cajole, coax and arm-twist those 412 undecided delegates. During the next four weeks she spoke personally to 388 of them, some of them three or four times. It was always the women she found the least helpful, although it was obvious they were all enjoying the attention that was being showered on them, especially because in a month’s time no one would ever phone them again.

Edward ordered a computer terminal so that Florentyna had access to the records at campaign headquarters. The terminal provided information on all 412 delegates who remained uncommitted, along with a short life history of each, right down to their hotel room numbers in Detroit. When he reached the convention city, he intended to be ready to put his final plan into operation.

For five days during the next week, Florentyna made certain she was never far from a television set. The Republicans were at the Cow Palace in San Francisco, haggling over whom they wanted to lead them, no one having excited the voters during the primaries.

The choice of Russell Warner came as no surprise to Florentyna. He had been campaigning for the Presidency ever since he had become governor of Ohio. The press’s description of Warner as a good governor in a bad year reminded Florentyna that her main task would be to defeat Parkin. Once again, she felt it was going to be easier to defeat the Republican standard-bearer than the opposition within her own party.

The weekend before the convention, Florentyna and Edward joined the family on Cape God. Exhausted, Florentyna still managed to beat Edward in a round of golf and she thought he looked even more tired than she felt. She was thankful that the Baron was run so well by its new, young directors, which now included William.

Florentyna and Edward were both due to fly into Detroit on Monday morning where they had taken over yet another Baron. The hotel would be filled with Florentyna’s staff, supporters, the press and 124 of those uncommitted delegates.

As she said good night to Edward and then to the Secret Service men and women — whom she was beginning to treat as her extended family — that Sunday night, Florentyna knew that the next four days were going to be the most important in her political career.

Chapter thirty-five

When Jack Germond of the Baltimore Sun asked Florentyna on the plane when she had started working on her acceptance speech, she replied, ‘Since my eleventh birthday.’

On the flight from New York to Detroit Metro Airport, Florentyna had read through her acceptance speech, already drafted in case she was nominated on the first ballot. Edward had predicted that she would not secure victory on the first roll call, but Florentyna felt she had to be prepared for any eventuality.

Her advisors considered the result was much more likely to be known after the second or even the third ballot, by which time Senator Bradley would have released his 189 delegates.

During the previous week, she had drawn up a short list of four people whom she thought worthy of consideration to join her on the ticket as Vice President. Bill Bradley still led the field and Florentyna felt he was her natural successor to the White House, but she was also considering Sam Nunn, Gary Hart and David Pryor.

Florentyna’s thoughts were interrupted when the plane landed and she looked out of the windows to see a large, excited crowd awaiting her. She couldn’t help wondering how many of them would also be there tomorrow when Pete Parkin arrived. She checked her hair in her compact mirror; a few white strands were showing in the dark hair, but she made no attempt to disguise them, and she smiled at the thought that Pete Parkin’s hair had remained the same implausible color for the past thirty years. Florentyna wore a simple linen suit and her only piece of jewelry was a diamond studded donkey.

Florentyna unbuckled her seat belt, rose and ducked her head under the overhead compartment. She stepped into the aisle and as she turned to leave, everyone in the plane began applauding. She suddenly realized that if she lost the nomination, this would be the last time she would see them all together. Florentyna shook hands with all the members of the press corps, some of whom had been on the trail with her for five months. A crew member opened the cabin door and Florentyna stepped out onto the staircase, squinting into the July sun. The crowd let up a yell of ‘There she is,’ and Florentyna walked down the steps and straight toward the waving banners because she always found that direct contact with the voters recharged her. As she touched the tarmac, she was once again surrounded by the Secret Service, who dreaded crowds they could never control. She might sometimes think of being assassinated when she was alone, but never when she was in a crowd. Florentyna clasped outstretched hands and greeted as many people as possible before Edward guided her away to the waiting motorcade.

A line of ten small new Fords reminded her that Detroit had finally come to terms with the energy crisis. If Pete Parkin were to make the mistake of being driven in a Mercedes in this city, she would be the Democratic choice before Alabama cast its first vote. Secret Service men filled the first two cars while Florentyna was in the third, with Edward in front by the driver. Florentyna’s personal doctor rode in the fourth and her staff filled the remaining six ‘Mighty Midgets,’ as the new small Ford had been dubbed. A press corps bus followed at the rear with police outriders dotted up and down the motorcade.

The front car moved off at a snail’s pace so that Florentyna could wave to the crowds, but as soon as they reached the highway the cars traveled into Detroit at a steady fifty miles an hour.

For twenty minutes Florentyna relaxed in the back seat during the drive into the midtown New Center area, where the motorcade exited at Woodward Avenue, turned south toward the river and slowed to about five miles an hour as the crowds filled the streets to catch a glimpse of Senator Kane. Florentyna’s organizing committee had distributed 100,000 handbills showing the exact route she would take when she arrived in the city, and her supporters cheered her all the way to the Baron Hotel. The Secret Service had begged her to change the route, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

Dozens of photographers and television crews were poised awaiting her arrival as Florentyna stepped out of her car and climbed the steps of the Detroit Baron, the whole area lit up by flashbulbs and arc lights. Once she was inside the hotel lobby, the Secret Service men whisked her away to the twenty-fourth floor, which had been reserved for her personal use. She quickly checked over the George Novak Suite to see that everything she required was there, because she knew that this was going to be her prison for the next four days. The only reason she would leave that room would be either to accept the nomination as the Democratic Party candidate or to declare her support for Pete Parkin.

A bank of telephones had been installed so that Florentyna could keep in touch with the 412 wavering delegates. She spoke to thirty-eight of them before dinner that night and then sat up until two o’clock the next morning, going over the names and backgrounds of those who her team genuinely felt had not made up their minds.

Next day, the Detroit Free Press was filled with pictures of her arrival in Detroit, but in truth she knew Pete Parkin would receive the same enthusiastic coverage tomorrow. At least she was relieved that the President had decided to remain on the sidelines when it came to supporting either candidate. The press had already treated that as a moral victory for Florentyna.

She put the newspaper down and began to watch the closed circuit television to see what was going on in the convention hall during the first morning. She also kept an eye on all three channels at lunchtime in case any one network came up with some exclusive piece of news that the other two had missed and to which the press would demand her instant reaction.

During the day, thirty-one of the wavering delegates were brought to meet her on the twenty-fourth floor. As the hour progressed, they were served coffee, iced tea, hot tea and cocktails. Florentyna stuck to Perrier water.

She watched in silence as Pete Parkin arrived in Air Force Two at the Detroit airport. One staffer told her that his crowd was smaller than the one that had turned out for her yesterday, while another said it was larger. She made a mental note of the staffer who said that Parkin’s crowd was larger today and decided to listen to his opinions more carefully in the future.

Pete Parkin made a short speech at a specially set-up podium on the tarmac, his Vice Presidential seal of office glistening in the sun. He said how delighted he was to be in the city that could rightly describe itself as the car capital of the world. ‘I should know,’ he added, ‘I’ve owned Fords all my life.’ Florentyna smiled.

By the end of two days under ‘house arrest,’ Florentyna had complained so much about being cooped up that on Wednesday morning the Secret Service took her down in a freight elevator so that she could stroll along the river front, enjoying the fresh air and the skyline view of Windsor, Ontario, on the opposite bank. She had gone only a few paces before she was surrounded by well-wishers who wanted to touch her hand.

When she returned, Edward had some good news: five uncommitted delegates had decided to vote for her on the first ballot. He estimated that they needed only another seventy-three to claim the magic 1,666. On the monitor she followed the program on the floor of the convention hall. A black school superintendent from Delaware expounded Florentyna’s virtues, and when she mentioned Florentyna’s name the blue placards filled the hall with ‘Kane for President.’ During the speech that followed, there was an equivalent sea of red placards demanding ‘Parkin for President.’ She paced around the suite until one-thirty, by which time she had seen forty-three more delegates and spoken on the phone to another fifty-eight.

The second day of the convention was devoted to the major platform speeches on policy, finance, welfare, defense and the keynote speech by Senator Pryor. Time and time again, delegates would declare that whichever of the two great candidates was selected, they would go on to beat the Republicans in November; but most of the delegates on the floor kept up a steady hum of conversation, all but oblivious to the men and women on the platform who might well make up a Democratic cabinet.

Florentyna broke away from the welfare debate to have a drink with two delegates from Nevada who were still undecided. She realized their next stop would probably be Parkin, who would also promise them their new highway, hospital, university or whatever excuse they came up with to visit both candidates. At least tomorrow night they would have to come out finally in someone’s favor. She told Edward she wanted a fence put up in the middle of her room, so that wavering delegates had somewhere to sit when they came to meet her.

Reports flowed in during the day about what Pete Parkin was up to, which seemed to be much the same as Florentyna except that he was booked into the Westin Hotel at the Renaissance Center. As neither of them could go into the convention arena, their daily routines continued: delegates, phone calls, press statements, meetings with party officials and finally bed without much sleep.

On Thursday, Florentyna was dressed by six o’clock in the morning and was driven quickly to the convention hall. Once they had arrived at the Joe Louis Arena, she was shown the passage she would walk down to deliver her acceptance speech if she were the chosen candidate. She walked out onto the platform and stood in front of the banked microphones, staring out at the twenty-one thousand empty seats. The tall, thin placards that rose from the floor high into the air proudly proclaimed the name of every state from Alabama to Wyoming. She made a special note of where the Illinois delegation would be seated so that she could wave to them the moment she entered the hall.

An enterprising photographer who had slept under a seat in the convention hall all night began taking photographs of her before he was smartly ushered out of the hall by the Secret Service. Florentyna smiled as she looked toward the ceiling where twenty thousand red, white and blue balloons waited to cascade down on the victor. She had read somewhere that it had taken fifty college students, using bicycle pumps, one week to fill them with air.

‘Okay for testing, Senator Kane?’ said an impersonal voice from she could not tell where.

‘My fellow Americans, this is the greatest moment in my life and I intend to—’

‘That’s fine, Senator. Loud and clear,’ said the chief electrician as he walked up through the empty seats. Pete Parkin was scheduled to go through the same routine at seven o’clock.

Florentyna was driven back to her hotel, where she had breakfast with her closest staff, who were all nervous and laughed at each other’s jokes, however feeble, but fell silent whenever she spoke. They watched Pete Parkin doing his usual morning jog for the television crews; it made them all hysterical when someone in an NBC windbreaker holding a mini-camera accelerated past a breathless Vice President three times to get a better picture.

The roll call vote was due to start at nine that evening. Edward had set up fifty phone lines direct to every state chairman on the convention floor so that he could be in constant touch if something unexpected happened. Florentyna was seated behind a desk with only two phones, but at the single touch of a button she had access to any of the fifty lines. While the hall was beginning to fill they tested each line and Edward pronounced that they were ready for anything, that now all they could do was use every minute left to contact more delegates. By five-thirty that evening, Florentyna had spoken by phone or in person to 392 of them in four days.

By seven o’clock the Joe Louis Arena was almost packed, although there was still a full hour to go until the names were placed in nomination. No one who had traveled to Detroit wanted to miss one minute of the unfolding drama.

At seven-thirty Florentyna watched the party officials begin to take their seats on the stage and she remembered her days as a page at the Chicago convention when she had first met John Kennedy. She knew then that they had all been told to arrive at certain times; the later you were asked, the more senior you were. Forty years had passed, and she was hoping to be asked last.

The biggest cheer of the evening was reserved for Senator Bill Bradley, who had already announced he would address the convention if there was a deadlock after the first ballot. At seven forty-five, the Speaker of the House of Representatives, Marty Lynch, rose and tried to bring the convention to order, but he could scarcely make himself heard above the klaxons, whistles, drums, bugles and cries of ‘Kane’ and ‘Parkin’ from supporters trying to outscream one another. Florentyna sat watching the scene but showed no sign of emotion. When finally there was a semblance of order, the chairman introduced Mrs. Bess Gardner, who had been chosen to record the votes, although everyone in the hall knew that the results would flash up onto the vast video screen above her head before she even had a chance to confirm them.

At eight o’clock the chairman brought his gavel down; some saw the little wooden hammer hit the base, but no one heard it. For another twenty minutes the noise continued as the chairman still made no impression on the delegates. Eventually at eight twenty-three Marty Lynch could be heard asking Rich Daley, the mayor of Chicago, to place the name of Senator Kane in nomination; ten more minutes of noise before the mayor was able to deliver his eulogy. Florentyna and her staff sat in silence through a speech that described her public record in the most glowing terms. She also listened attentively when Senator Ralph Brooks nominated Pete Parkin. The reception of both proposals by the delegates would have made a full symphony orchestra sound like a tin whistle. Nominations for Bill Bradley and the usual handful of predictable favorite sons followed in quick succession.

At nine o’clock, the chairman looked down into the body of the hall and called upon Alabama to cast its vote. Florentyna sat staring at the screen like a prisoner about to face trial by jury — wanting to know the verdict even before she had heard the evidence. The perspiring chairman of the Alabama delegation picked up his microphone and shouted, ‘The great state of Alabama, the heart of the South, casts 28 votes for Vice President Parkin and 17 votes for Senator Kane.’ Although everyone had known how Alabama was going to vote since March 11, over four months before, this didn’t stop Parkin posters from being waved frantically, and it was another twelve minutes before the chairman was able to call on Alaska.

‘Alaska, the forty-ninth state to join the Union, casts 7 of its votes for Senator Kane, the forty-second President of the United States, 3 for Pete Parkin and one for Senator Bradley.’ It was the turn of Florentyna’s followers to unloose a prolonged uproar in support of their candidate, but Parkin led the field for the first half hour until California declared 214 for Senator Kane, 92 for Parkin.

‘God bless Bella,’ said Florentyna, but had to watch the Vice President go back into the lead with the help of Florida, Georgia and Idaho. When they reached the state of Illinois the convention nearly came to a halt. Mrs. Kalamich, who had welcomed Florentyna that first night in Chicago nearly twenty years before, had been chosen as vice-chairman of the Illinois Democratic Party in the convention year to deliver the verdict of her delegates.

‘Mr. Chairman, this is the greatest moment of my life’ — Florentyna smiled as Mrs. Kalamich continued — ‘to say to you that the great state of Illinois is proud to cast every one of its 179 votes for its favorite daughter and the first woman President of the United States, Senator Florentyna Kane.’ The Kane supporters went berserk as she took the lead for the second time, but Florentyna knew her rival would create the same effect when the moment came for Texas to declare its allegiance, and in fact Parkin went ahead for a second time with 1,440 delegates to Florentyna’s 1,371 after his home state had given its verdict. Bill Bradley had picked up 97 delegates along the way and now looked certain to gather enough votes to preclude an outright winner on the first round.

As the chairman pressed forward with each state — Utah, Vermont, Virginia — the network computers were already flashing up on the screen that there would be no winner on the first ballot, but it was ten forty-seven before Tom Brokaw pronounced the first round verdict: 1,522 for Senator Kane, 1,480 for Vice President Parkin, 189 for Senator Bradley and 140 for favorite sons.

The chairman told the delegates that Senator Bradley would now address them. Another eleven minutes passed before he could speak. Florentyna had talked to him on the phone every day of the convention and steadfastly avoided asking him to join her ticket as Vice President, because she felt such an offer would smack of bribery rather than a conscientious choice of him because she felt he was the right man to succeed her. Although Ralph Brooks was the favorite for the post in the Parkin camp, Florentyna couldn’t help wondering if Pete Parkin had already offered Bradley the chance to join him.

At last the senior senator from New Jersey was able to address the convention. ‘My fellow members of the Democratic Party,’ he began. ‘I thank you for the support you have given me during this election year, but the time has come for me to withdraw from this Presidential race and release my delegates to vote the way their conscience guides them.’ The hall fell almost silent. Bradley spoke for several minutes about the sort of person he wanted to see in the White House but did not openly support either candidate. He closed with the words: ‘I pray you will select the right person to lead our country’ and was cheered for several minutes after he had returned to his seat.

By this time, most people in Suite 2400 of the Baron had no nails left; only Florentyna remained outwardly calm, although Edward noticed that her fist was clenched. He quickly returned to work on the green section of his master printout, which showed only the Bradley delegates, but there wasn’t much he could do while they were all on the floor except phone the chairman of each state committee and keep them working. The phones came ringing back; it seemed that the Bradley delegates were also split down the middle. Some of them would even continue to vote for Bradley in the second round in case the convention became deadlocked and had to turn to him in the end.

The second roll call vote started at eleven twenty-one with Alabama, Alaska and Arizona showing no changes. The balloting dragged on from state to state until the Wyoming decision was recorded at twelve twenty-three. At the end of the second round, the convention was still undecided, with the only important change being that Pete Parkin had taken a slight lead — 1,629 to 1,604 — while 98 delegates had remained uncommitted or faithful to Senator Bradley.

At twelve thirty-seven the chairman said, ‘Enough is enough. We’ll start the roll call again tomorrow evening at seven o’clock.’

‘Why not first thing tomorrow morning?’ asked one of Florentyna’s sleepless young aides as he was leaving the arena.

‘As the Boss pointed out,’ said Janet, ‘elections are now run for the benefit of the networks, and tomorrow morning just isn’t prime time.’

‘Are the networks going to be responsible for which candidate we choose?’ the aide asked.

They both laughed. The sleepless aide repeated the same comment twenty-four hours later — when neither of them laughed.

The exhausted delegates slumped off to their rooms, aware that on a third ballot most states freed their delegates from their original pledges, which meant that they could now vote any way they pleased. Edward and his team didn’t know where to start, but they picked up the printouts and went through each delegate from Alabama to Wyoming for a third time that night, hoping they would have a plan for every state by eight o’clock the next morning.

Florentyna hardly slept that night, and at ten past six she walked back into the living room of her suite in a robe to find Edward still poring over the lists.

‘I’ll need you at eight,’ he said, not looking up at her.

‘Good morning,’ she said, and kissed him on the forehead.

‘Good morning.’

Florentyna stretched and yawned. ‘What happens at eight?’

‘We speak to thirty Bradley and undeclared delegates an hour all through the day. I want you to have spoken to at least two hundred and fifty by five this afternoon. We’ll have all six phones manned every minute of that time so that there will never be less than two people waiting to speak to you.’

‘Won’t eight be a little early?’ asked Florentyna.

‘No,’ said Edward. ‘Because of the time zone difference, the East Coast delegates will wake early as usual and I won’t bother the West Coast delegates until after lunch.’

Florentyna returned to her room realizing yet again how much thought Edward had put into her whole campaign and she remembered Richard saying how lucky she was to have two men who adored her.

At eight o’clock, she started work with a large glass of orange juice by her side. As the morning proceeded, the team became more convinced that the first roll call that evening would give the majority to their candidate. The feeling in that room was turning to one of victory. At ten-forty Bill Bradley rang to say that if his delegates caused a deadlock again he was going to recommend that they vote for Florentyna.

At eleven twenty-seven Edward passed Florentyna the phone again. This time it wasn’t a well-wisher.

‘It’s Pete Parkin here. I think we ought to get together. Can I come and see you immediately?’

Florentyna wanted to say ‘I’m far too busy’ but only said ‘Yes.’

‘I’ll be right over.’

‘Whatever can he want?’ said Edward as Florentyna handed him back the phone.

‘I have no idea, but we don’t have long before we find out.’

Pete Parkin arrived via the freight elevator with two Secret Service agents and his campaign manager.

After unnatural pleasantries had been exchanged — the two candidates hadn’t spoken to each other for the past six months — and coffee poured, the contenders were left alone. They sat in comfortable chairs facing each other. They might as well have been discussing the weather, not which one of them should rule the Western world. The Texan got straight down to business.

‘I am prepared to make a deal with you, Florentyna.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘If you withdraw I’ll offer you the Vice Presidency.’

‘You must be—’

‘Hear me out, Florentyna,’ said Parkin, putting up his massive hand like a traffic cop. ‘If you accept my offer, I’ll only serve one term if elected and then I’ll support you for the job in 1996 with full White House backing. You’re five years younger than I am and there is no reason why you shouldn’t complete two full terms.’

Over the previous thirty minutes Florentyna had thought of many reasons why her rival might want to see her, but she had not been prepared for this.

‘If you don’t accept my offer and I win tonight, I’ll be giving the number two spot to Ralph Brooks, who has already confirmed that he is willing to run.’

‘I’ll call you by two this afternoon’ was all that Florentyna said.

Once Pete Parkin had left with his aide, Florentyna discussed the offer with Edward and Janet, who both felt that they had come too far to give in now. ‘Who knows what the situation might be in four years’ time?’ Edward pointed out. ‘You might be like Humphrey trying to recover from Johnson; and in any case, we only need a deadlock at this time and Bradley’s delegates will push us comfortably over the top on the fourth ballot.’

‘I wonder if Parkin knows that,’ said Janet.

Florentyna sat motionless listening to her different advisors and then asked to be left alone.

Florentyna phoned Pete Parkin at one forty-three and politely declined his offer, explaining she was confident that she was going to win on the first ballot that night. He made no reply.

By two o’clock the press had got hold of the news of the secret meeting, and the phones in Suite 2400 never stopped as they tried to find out what had happened. Edward kept Florentyna concentrating on the delegates and with each call she was becoming more and more assured that Pete Parkin’s move had been made more out of desperation than confidence. ‘He’s played his final card,’ said Janet, smirking.

At six o’clock everyone in Suite 2400 was back in front of the television: there were no longer any delegates left to speak to; they were all on the convention floor. Edward still had his phone bank linked up to all the state chairmen, and the early reports back from them indicated that the feeling they had picked up votes all through the day was accurate.

Exactly at the point when Florentyna relaxed and felt confident for the first time, the bombshell fell. Edward had just handed her yet another Perrier water when CBS flashed up on the screen ‘Newsbreak’ and a camera went over to Dan Rather, who told a stunned audience only fifteen minutes before the roll call was due to start that he was about to interview Vice President Parkin on the reason for his secret meeting with Senator Kane. The CBS camera panned down on the florid face of the big Texan and to Florentyna’s horror the whole thing was going out live on the vast screen in the convention hall. She remembered that the Rules Committee had decided to allow anything to go up on the screen that might affect the delegates; this was meant to stop rumors spreading around the convention hall about what was really going on outside, to be sure that what had happened between Ford and Reagan in 1980 over the picking of a running mate could never happen again. It was the first time that the delegates in the hall had been unanimously silent.

The camera switched back to the CBS anchorman.

‘Mr. Vice President, we know you had a meeting with Senator Kane today. Can you tell me the reason you asked to see her?’

‘Certainly, Dan, it was first and foremost because I’m interested in the unity of my party and above all in beating the Republicans.’

Florentyna and her staff were mesmerized. She could see the delegates on the floor hanging on every word and she was helpless to do anything except listen.

‘Can I ask what took place at that meeting?’

‘I asked Senator Kane if she would be willing to serve as my Vice President and make up a Democratic team that would be unbeatable.’

‘How did she reply to your suggestion?’

‘She said she wanted to think the offer over. You see, Dan, I believe together we can lick the Republicans.’

‘Ask him what my final answer was,’ said Florentyna, but it was no use; the cameras were already switching to a half-crazed convention hall ready for the first vote. Edward phoned CBS and demanded equal time for Florentyna. Dan Rather agreed to interview Senator Kane immediately, but Florentyna knew that they were already too late. Once the voting had started the committee had agreed that nothing would go on that screen except the ballot tally. No doubt they would have to revise the rule by the next convention, but all Florentyna could think of was Miss Tredgold’s views on television: ‘Too many instant decisions will be made that will later be regretted.’

The chairman banged his gavel and called upon Alabama to begin the roll call and the Camellia State showed a two-vote switch to Parkin. When Florentyna lost one delegate from Alaska and two from Arizona she knew her only hope was another deadlock so that she could put her version of the meeting with Parkin on television before the next vote. She sat and watched herself lose one vote here and a couple there but when Illinois held firm she hoped the tide might turn. Edward and the team had been working the phones nonstop.

Then the next blow came.

Edward received a call from one of his campaign managers on the floor to say that Parkin staffers had started a rumor in the hall that Florentyna had accepted his offer. A rumor he knew Florentyna would never be able to trace back directly to Parkin or have time to rebut. Although as each state’s turn came to vote, Edward fought to stem the tide. When they reached West Virginia, Parkin needed only twenty-five more delegates to go over the top. They gave him twenty-one, so he needed four from the penultimate state, Wisconsin. Florentyna was confident that all three delegates from Wyoming, the final state to vote, would remain loyal to her.

‘The great state of Wisconsin, mindful of its responsibility tonight’ — once again the hall was totally silent — ‘and believing in the unity of the party above all personal considerations, gives all its eleven votes to the next President of the United States, Pete Parkin.’

The delegates went berserk. In Suite 2400 the result was met with stunned silence.

Florentyna had been beaten by a cheap but brilliant trick. And its true genius was that if she denied everything and gave her version of Parkin’s behavior, the Democrats might well lose the White House to the Republicans and she would be made the scapegoat.

Thirty minutes later Pete Parkin arrived at Joe Louis Arena amid cheers and the strains of ‘Happy Days Are Here Again.’ He spent another twelve minutes waving to the delegates and when at last he managed to bring the hall to silence he said: ‘I hope to stand on this platform tomorrow night with the greatest lady in America and place before the nation a team that will whip the Republicans so that those elephants will never forget it.’

Once again the delegates roared their approval. During the next hour Florentyna’s staff crept back to their rooms until just Edward was left alone with her.

‘Do I accept?’

‘You have no choice. If you don’t, and the Democrats lose, the blame will be placed at your door.’

‘And if I tell the truth?’

‘It will be misunderstood; they will say you’re a bad loser after your opponent had held out the olive branch of reconciliation. And don’t forget, President Ford predicted ten years ago that the first woman President would have to have been the Vice President before the American people would find the idea acceptable.’

‘That might be true, but if Richard Nixon were here today,’ said Florentyna bitterly, ‘he would be on the phone to Pete Parkin congratulating him on a trick far superior to any he pulled off against Muskie or Humphrey.’ Florentyna yawned. ‘I’m going to bed, Edward. I will have made a decision by the morning.’

At eight-thirty Pete Parkin sent an emissary to ask if Florentyna had made up her mind. She replied that she wanted to see him again in private.

This time, Parkin arrived with three television companies in tow and as many reporters who could get hold of red press passes. When they were alone, Florentyna found it hard to control her temper even though she had decided not to remonstrate with Parkin but simply asked if he would confirm that he intended to serve one term.’

‘Yes,’ he said, looking Florentyna straight in the eye.

‘And at the next election you’ll give me your full backing?’

‘You have my word on that,’ he said.

‘On those terms I’m willing to serve as Vice President.’

When he had left the room, Edward listened to what had taken place and said, ‘We know exactly what his word is worth.’

As she entered the convention hall later that night, Florentyna was greeted by a cascade of noise. Pete Parkin held her hand up high and the delegates once more roared their approval. Only Ralph Brooks looked sour.

Florentyna felt her acceptance speech as Vice Presidential candidate was below her best, but they cheered her just the same. However, the biggest cheer of the evening was raised for Pete Parkin when he addressed the delegates; he had been introduced as their new hero, the man who had brought honest unity to the party.

Florentyna flew to Boston and retreated to Cape Cod the next morning after a nauseating press conference with the Democratic Presidential candidate, who kept referring to her as ‘that great little lady from Illinois.’

When they parted, in full view of the press, he kissed her on the cheek. She felt like a prostitute who had accepted his money and found it was too late to change her mind about going to bed.

Chapter thirty-six

Taking advantage of the fact that the campaign did not start until after Labor Day, Florentyna returned to Washington to catch up on her neglected senatorial duties. She even found time to visit Chicago.

She spoke to Pete Parkin on the phone every day and certainly he could not have been more friendly and cooperative about fitting in with her arrangements. They agreed to meet at his White House office to discuss the final plan for the campaign. Florentyna tried to fulfill all her other commitments before the meeting so she could devote herself entirely to electioneering during the last nine weeks.

On September 2, accompanied by Edward and Janet, Florentyna arrived at the west wing of the White House to be greeted by Ralph Brooks, who clearly remained a trusted lieutenant of the candidate. She was determined not to be the cause of any friction between herself and Brooks so near the election, especially because she knew that Brooks had expected to be the Vice Presidential candidate himself. Senator Brooks took them from the reception area through to Pete Parkin’s office. It was the first time Florentyna had seen the room she might occupy in a few weeks and she was surprised by the warmth, with its yellow walls and ivory molding. Fresh flowers sat on Parkin’s mahogany desk, and the walls were hung with Remington oil paintings. Parkin’s love of the West, Florentyna thought. The late summer sun flooded in through the south-facing windows.

Pete Parkin jumped up from behind his desk and came over to greet her, just a little too effusively. Then they all sat around a table in the center of the room.

‘I think you all know Ralph,’ said Pete Parkin with a slightly uncomfortable laugh. ‘He’s worked out a campaign strategy which I am sure you’ll find most impressive.’

Ralph Brooks unfolded a large map of the United States on the table in front of them. ‘I feel the main consideration to keep uppermost in our minds is that to capture the White House we must have two hundred and seventy electoral college votes. Although it is obviously important and satisfying to win the popular vote, as we all know it’s still the electoral college which selects the next President. For this reason, I have colored the states black that I feel we have least chance of winning, and white those that are traditionally safe in the Democrat column. That leaves the key swing states, which I’ve marked in red, which between them make up one hundred and seventy-one electoral college votes.

‘I believe both Pete and Florentyna should visit all the red states at least once, but Pete should concentrate his energies in the South while Florentyna spends most of her time in the North. Only California, with its massive forty-five electoral votes, will have to be visited by both of you regularly. During the sixty-two days left before the election, we must use every spare minute on states where we have a genuine chance and make only token visits to those fringe areas we captured in the 1964 landslide. As for our own white states, we must be prepared to visit them all once so that we cannot be accused of taking them for granted. I consider Ohio a no-hoper as it’s Russell Warner’s home state, but we mustn’t let the Republicans assume Florida is theirs just because Warner’s running mate was once the state’s senior senator. Now, I’ve also worked out a daily routine for you both, starting next Monday,’ he continued, handing the candidate and Florentyna separate sheaves of paper, ‘and I think you should be in contact with each other at least twice a day, at eight o’clock in the morning and eleven o’clock at night, always Central Time.’

Florentyna found herself impressed by the work Ralph Brooks had put in before the briefing and could appreciate why Parkin had become so reliant on him. For the next hour Brooks answered queries that arose from his plan and agreement was reached on their basic strategy for the campaign. At twelve-thirty the Vice President and Florentyna walked on to the north portico of the White House to speak to the press. Ralph Brooks seemed to have statistics for everything: The press, he warned them, was divided like everyone else. One hundred and fifty papers with twenty-two million readers were already supporting the Democrats, while one hundred and forty-two with twenty-one point seven million readers were backing the Republicans. If they needed to know, he added, he could supply the relevant facts for any paper in the country.

Florentyna looked out across the lawn at Lafayette Square, dotted with lunchtime strollers and picnickers. If elected, she would rarely again be able to visit Washington’s parks and memorials. Not unaccompanied, anyway. Parkin escorted her back to the Vice President’s office when the press had asked all the usual questions and received the usual answers. When they returned to the office they found that Parkin’s Filipino stewards had set up lunch on the conference table. Florentyna came away from the meeting feeling a lot better about how matters were working out, especially since the Vice President had twice in the hearing of Brooks referred to their earlier agreement concerning 1996. Still Florentyna thought it would be a long time before she could totally trust Parkin.

On September 7 she flew into Chicago to start her part of the election campaign but found that even though the press was still hard put to keep up with the daily routine she put herself through, she lacked the drive that had been a trademark of her earlier campaigning.

The Brooks plan ran smoothly for the first few days as Florentyna traveled through Illinois, Massachusetts and New Hampshire. She met with no surprises until she arrived in New York, where the press was waiting in large numbers at the Albany airport. They wanted to know her views about Pete Parkin’s treatment of Chicanos. Florentyna confessed that she didn’t know what they were talking about, so they told her that the candidate had said that he had never had any trouble with Chicanos on his ranch; they were like his own children. Civil rights leaders were up in arms all over the country and all Florentyna could think of to say was, ‘I am sure he has been misunderstood or else his words have been taken out of context.’

Russell Warner, the Republican candidate, said there could be no misunderstanding. Pete Parkin was simply a racist. Florentyna kept repudiating these statements although she suspected they were rooted in truth. Both Florentyna and Pete Parkin had to break off from their scheduled plans to fly to Alabama and attend the funeral of Ralph Abernathy. Ralph Brooks described the death to an aide as timely. When Florentyna heard what he had said she nearly swore at him in front of the press.

Florentyna continued her travels through Pennsylvania, West Virginia and Virginia, before going on to California, where she was joined by Edward. Bella and Claude took them out to a restaurant in Chinatown. The manager gave them a corner alcove where no one could see them or, more importantly, hear them, but the relaxed break only lasted for a few hours before Florentyna had to fly on to Los Angeles.

The press was becoming bored with the petty squabbles between Parkin and Warner over everything except real issues, and when the two candidates appeared together on a television debate in Pittsburgh, the universal opinion was that they both lost and that the only person of Presidential stature in the whole campaign was turning out to be Senator Kane. Many journalists expressed the view that it was a tragedy that Senator Kane had ever let it be known she was willing to be Pete Parkin’s running mate.

‘I’ll write what really happened in my memoirs,’ she told Edward. ‘Only by then who will care?’

‘In truth, no one,’ replied Edward. ‘How many Americans could tell you the name of Harry Truman’s Vice President?’

The next day, Pete Parkin flew into Los Angeles to join Florentyna for one of their few joint appearances. She met him at the airport. He walked off Air Force II holding up Missouri’s Unterrified Democrat, the only paper that had run as its headline ‘Parkin Wins Debate’: Florentyna had to admire the way he could make a rhinoceros look thin-skinned. California was to be the last stop before they returned to their own states and they held a final rally in the Rose Bowl. Parkin and Florentyna were surrounded by stars, half of whom were on stage for the free publicity they were guaranteed whichever candidate was in town. Along with Dustin Hoffman, Al Pacino and Jane Fonda, Florentyna spent most of her time signing autographs. She didn’t know what to say to the girl who, puzzled by her signature, asked: ‘Which was your last movie?’

The following morning, Florentyna flew back to Chicago while Pete Parkin left for Texas. As soon as Florentyna’s 707 touched down in the Windy City, she was greeted by a crowd of over thirty thousand people, the biggest any candidate had had on the campaign trail.

On the morning of the election she voted at the elementary school in the Ninth District, in the presence of the usual group of reporters from the networks and the press. She smiled for them, knowing she would be forgotten news within a week if the Democrats lost. She spent the day going from committee room to polling places to television studio, and ended up back at her suite in the Chicago Baron a few minutes after the polls had closed.

Florentyna indulged herself with her first really long hot bath in over five months and a change of clothes that was not affected by whom she was spending the evening with. Then she was joined by William, Joanna, Annabel and Richard, who, at the age of seven, was being allowed to watch his first election. Edward arrived just after ten-thirty and for the first time in his life saw Florentyna with her shoes off and her feet propped up on a table.

‘Miss Tredgold wouldn’t have approved.’

‘Miss Tredgold never had to do seven months of campaigning without a break,’ she replied.

In a room full of food, drink, family and friends, Florentyna watched the results come in from the East Coast. It was obvious from the moment that New Hampshire went to the Democrats and Massachusetts to the Republicans that they were all in for a long night. Florentyna was delighted that the weather had been dry right across the nation that day. She had never forgotten Theodore H. White telling her that America always voted Republican until 5 P.M. on Election Day. From that time on, working men and women on their way home decide whether to stop at the polls; if they do and only if they do, the country will go Democratic. It looked as though a lot of them had stopped by, but she wondered if it would turn out to be enough. By midnight, the Democrats had taken Illinois and Texas but lost Ohio and Pennsylvania and when the voting machines closed down in California, three hours after New York, America still hadn’t elected a President. The private polls conducted outside the voting places proved only that the nation’s largest state wasn’t wild about either candidate.

At the George Novak Suite in the Chicago Baron, some ate, some drank, some slept. But Florentyna remained wide awake throughout the whole proceedings and at two thirty-three, CBS announced the result she had been waiting for: California had been won by the Democrats, the returns showing 50.2 to 49.8, a margin of a mere 332,000 votes, giving the election to Parkin. Florentyna picked up the phone by her side.

‘Are you calling the President-elect to congratulate him?’ asked Edward.

‘No,’ said Florentyna. ‘I’m calling Bella to thank her for putting him there.’

Florentyna spent the next few days in Cape Cod having a total rest, only to find she kept waking at six each morning with nothing to do except wait for the morning papers. She was delighted when Edward joined her on Wednesday but couldn’t get used to his affectionately addressing her as ‘V.P.’

Pete Parkin had already called a press conference at his Texas ranch to say he would not be naming his cabinet until the New Year. Florentyna returned to Washington on November 14, for the lameduck session of Congress, and prepared for her move from the Russell Building to the White House. Although her time was fully occupied in the Senate and Illinois, it came as a surprise to her that she spoke to the President-elect only two or three times a week and then on the phone. Congress adjourned two weeks after Thanksgiving, and Florentyna returned to Cape Cod for a family Christmas with a grandson who kept calling her Grannie President.

‘Not yet,’ she told him.

On January 9 the President-elect arrived in Washington and held a press conference to announce his cabinet. Although Florentyna had not been consulted on his appointments, no one was expecting any real surprises: Charles Lee was made Secretary of Defense and would have been everyone’s choice. Paul Rowe retained his position as director of the CIA. Pierre Levale became attorney general, and Michael Brewer, national security advisor. Florentyna didn’t raise an eyebrow until Parkin came to his choice for Secretary of State. She sat in disbelief when the President declared:

‘Chicago can rightly be proud of having produced the Vice President as well as the Secretary of State.’

By Inauguration Day, Florentyna’s personal belongings in the Baron had been packed up and were all ready for delivery to the Vice President’s official residence on Observatory Circle. The huge Victorian house seemed grotesquely large for a family of one.

For this inauguration, Florentyna’s whole family sat in seats one row behind Pete Parkin’s wife and daughters, while Florentyna sat on one side of the President and Ralph Brooks sat immediately behind him. When she stepped forward to take the oath of office, her only thought was to wish that Richard were there by her side to remind her she was getting closer and closer. Glancing sideways at Pete Parkin, she concluded that Richard would still have voted Republican.

Chief Justice William Rehnquist gave her a warm smile as she repeated after him the oath of office for the Vice President.

‘ “I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic...” ’

‘ “I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic...” ’

Florentyna’s words had sounded clear and confident, perhaps because she had learned the oath by heart. Annabel winked at her as she returned to her seat amid deafening applause.

After the Chief Justice administered the Presidential oath to Parkin, Florentyna listened intently as America’s new Chief Executive delivered his inaugural address. She had not been consulted about it and she hadn’t even seen its final draft until the night before. Once again Parkin referred to her as the greatest little lady in the land.

After the inauguration ceremony was over, Parkin, Brooks and Florentyna joined congressional leaders for lunch in the Capitol. Her Senate colleagues gave Florentyna a warm welcome when she took her place on the dais. After lunch they climbed into limousines for the drive down Pennsylvania Avenue that would lead the inaugural parade. Sitting in the enclosed viewing stand in front of the White House, Florentyna watched floats, marching bands and assorted governors roll by, representing every one of the fifty states. She stood and applauded when the farmers of Illinois saluted her, and later after making a token visit to every one of the inaugural balls, she spent her first night in the Vice President’s house and realized the closer she got to the top, the more alone she became.

The next morning, the President held his first cabinet meeting. This time Ralph Brooks sat on his right-hand side. The group, visibly tired from the seven inaugural balls the night before, assembled in the Cabinet Room. Florentyna sat at the far end of the long oval table, surrounded by men with whose views she had rarely been in accord in the past, aware that she was going to have to spend four years battling against them before she could hope to form her own cabinet. She wondered how many of them knew about her deal with Parkin.

As soon as Florentyna had settled into her wing of the White House, she appointed Janet Brown as head of her personal office. Many of the positions left vacant by Parkin’s staff she also filled with her old team from the campaign and Senate days.

Of the remaining staff she inherited, she quickly learned how valuable their skills and special qualifications would have been had they not disappeared one by one as the President offered them executive jobs. Within three months, Parkin had denuded her office of all the most competent staff, taking first the middle-ranking campaign operatives and then some of the inner circle of advisors.

Florentyna tried not to show her anger when the President offered Janet Brown the position of Under Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services.

Janet didn’t hesitate over the new opportunity: and in a handwritten letter to the President she accepted the great compliment he had paid her but explained in detail why she felt unable to consider any government position other than to serve the Vice President.

‘If you can wait four years, so can I,’ she explained.

Florentyna had often read that the life of the Vice President was, to quote John Nance Garner, ‘not worth a pitcher of warm spit,’ but even she was surprised to find how little real work she had to do compared with her days in Congress. She had received more letters when she had been a Senator. Everyone seemed to write to the President or the state representatives. Even the people had worked out that the Vice President had no power. Florentyna enjoyed presiding over the Senate for important debates, because it kept her in contact with colleagues who would be helping her again in four years’ time, and they made sure she was aware of what was being said covertly in the halls of Congress, as well as on the House and Senate floor. Many senators used her to get messages through to the President, but as time went by she began to wonder whom she should use for the same purpose, as the days turned into weeks in which Pete Parkin did not bother to consult her on any major issue.

During her first year as Vice President, Florentyna made goodwill tours to Brazil and Japan, attended the funerals of Willy Brandt in Berlin and Edward Heath in London, carried out on-site inspections of three natural disasters and chaired so many special task forces that she felt qualified to publish her own guide to how the government works.

The first year went slowly, the second even more so. The only highlight was representing the government at the crowning of King Charles III in Westminster Abbey after Queen Elizabeth II’s abdication in 1994. Florentyna stayed with Ambassador John Sawyer at Winfield House, conscious of how similar their respective roles were in the matter of form over substance. She seemed to spend hours chatting about how the world was run and what the President was doing on matters such as the building up of Russian troops on the Pakistan border. She gained most of her information from the Washington Post and envied Ralph Brooks’s real involvement as Secretary of State. Although she kept herself well informed on what was going on in the world at large, for only the second time in her life she was bored. She longed for 1996, fearing her years as Vice President would yield very few positive results.

Once Air Force II had landed back at Andrews, Florentyna returned to her work and spent the rest of the week checking through the State and CIA traffic that had piled up in her absence abroad. She rested over the weekend even though CBS informed the public that the dollar had suffered as a result of the international crisis. The Russians were massing more forces on the Pakistan border, a fact that the President had dismissed in his weekly press conference as ‘not of great importance.’ The Russians, he assured the assembled journalists, were not interested in crossing any borders into countries that had treaties with the United States.

During the following week the panic seemed to subside and the dollar recovered. ‘It’s a cosmetic recovery,’ Florentyna pointed out to Janet, ‘caused by the Russians. The international brokers are reporting that the Bank of Moscow is selling gold, which was exactly what they did before invading Afghanistan. I do wish bankers would not treat history on a week-to-week basis.’

Although several politicians and journalists contacted Florentyna to express their fears, she could only placate them as she watched proceedings from the wings. She even considered making an appointment to see the President, but by Friday evening most Americans were on their way home for a peaceful weekend convinced the immediate danger had passed. Florentyna remained in her office in the west wing that Friday evening and read through the cables from ambassadors and agents on the Indian subcontinent. The more she read, the more she felt unable to share the President’s relaxed stance. As there was very little she could do about it, she neatly stacked up the papers, put them into a special red folder and prepared to go home. She checked her watch. 6:32. Edward had flown down from New York and would be joining her for dinner at 7:30. She was laughing about the thought of filing her own papers when Janet rushed into the office.

‘There’s an intelligence report that the Russians are mobilizing.’

‘Where’s the President?’ was Florentyna’s immediate reaction.

‘I’ve no idea. I saw him leaving the White House by helicopter about three hours ago.’

Florentyna reopened her file and stared back down at the cables while Janet remained standing in front of her desk.

‘Well, who will know where he is.’

‘You can be sure Ralph Brooks does,’ Janet said.

‘Get me the Secretary of State on the line.’

Janet left for her own office while Florentyna checked through the reports again. She quickly went over the salient points raised by the American ambassador in Islamabad before re-reading the assessment of General Pierce Dixon, the chairsan of the joint chiefs of staff.

The Russians, it was reliably documented now, had ten divisions of troops on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border and their forces had been multiplying over the past few days. It was known that half their Pacific fleet was sailing toward Karachi, while two battle groups were carrying out ‘exercises’ in the Indian Ocean. General Dixon had directed an increased intelligence watch when it was confirmed that fifty MIG 25s and SU 7s had landed at Kabul military airport at six that evening. Florentyna checked her watch: 7:09.

‘Where is the bloody man?’ she said out loud. Her phone buzzed.

‘The Secretary of State on the line for you,’ said Janet. Florentyna waited for several seconds.

‘What can I do for you?’ asked Ralph Brooks, sounding as if Florentyna had interrupted him.

‘Where is the President?’ she asked for a third time.

‘At this moment he’s on Air Force I,’ said Brooks quickly.

‘Stop lying, Ralph. It’s transparent, even on the phone. Now, tell me where the President is.’

‘Halfway to California.’

‘If we have an increased intelligence watch because the Soviets are on the move, why hasn’t he been advised to return?’

‘We have advised him, but he had to land to refuel.’

‘As you well know, Air Force I doesn’t need to refuel for that length of journey.’

‘He isn’t on Air Force I.’

‘Why the hell not?’

No reply came.

‘I suggest you level with me, Ralph, even if it’s only to save your own skin.’

There was a further pause.

‘He was on his way to see a friend in California when the crisis broke.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Florentyna. ‘Who does he think he is? The President of France?’

‘I have everything under control,’ said Brooks, ignoring her comment. ‘His plane will touch down at the Colorado airport in a few minutes’ time. The President will immediately transfer to an air force F15 and will be back in Washington within two hours.’

‘What type of aircraft is he on at this moment?’ asked Florentyna.

‘A private 737 owned by Marvin Snyder of Blade Oil.’

‘Can the President enter the secure National Command Network from the plane?’ asked Florentyna. No reply was forthcoming. ‘Did you hear what I said?’ she rapped out.

‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘The truth is that the plane doesn’t have complete security. We have the same problem George Bush had when he had no choice but to return to Washington in a private plane at the time Reagan was shot.’

‘Are you telling me that over the next two hours any ham radio operator could tune in to a conversation between the President and the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff?’

‘Yes,’ admitted Ralph.

‘I’ll see you in the Situation Room,’ said Florentyna, and slammed down the phone.

She came out of her office almost on the run. Two surprised Secret Service officers quickly followed her as she headed down the narrow staircase past small portraits of former Presidents. Washington faced her at the bottom of the stairs before she turned into the wide corridor that led to the Situation Room. The security guard already had the door open that led into the secretarial section. She passed through a room of buzzing Telexes and noisy typewriters while yet another security man opened the oak-paneled door of the Situation Room for her. Her Secret Service men remained outside as she marched in.

Ralph Brooks was seated in the President’s chair giving orders to a bevy of military personnel. Four of the remaining nine seats were already occupied — around a table that almost took up the whole room. Immediately to the right of Brooks sat the Secretary of Defense, Charles Lee, and on his right the director of the CIA, Paul Rowe. Opposite them sat the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, General Dixon, and the national security advisor, Michael Brewer. The door at the end of the room that led into the communications area was wide open.

Brooks swung around to face her. Florentyna had never seen him with his coat off and a shirt button undone.

‘No panic,’ he said. ‘I’m on top of everything. I’m confident the Russians won’t make any move before the President returns.’

‘I don’t expect that’s what the Russians have in mind,’ said Florentyna. ‘While the President is unexplainably absent, we must be prepared for them to make any move that suits them.’

‘Well, it’s not your problem, Florentyna. The President has left me in control.’

‘On the contrary, it is my problem,’ said Florentyna, firmly refusing to take a seat. ‘In the absence of the President the responsibility for all military matters passes to me.’

‘Now listen, Florentyna, I’m running the shop and I don’t want you interfering.’ The gentle buzz of conversation between personnel around the room came to an abrupt halt as Brooks stared angrily at Florentyna. She picked up the nearest phone. ‘Put the attorney general on the screen.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said the operator.

A few seconds later Pierre Levale’s face appeared on one of the six televisions encased in the oak paneling along the side of the wall.

‘Good evening, Pierre, it’s Florentyna Kane. We have an increased intelligence watch on our hands and for reasons I am not willing to discuss the President is indisposed. Will you make it clear to the Secretary of State who holds executive responsibility in such a situation?’

Everyone in the room stood still and stared up at the worried face on the screen. The lines on Pierre Levale’s face had never been more pronounced. They all knew he had been a Parkin appointment, but he had shown on past occasions that he thought more highly of the rule of law than of the President.

‘The Constitution is not always clear on these matters,’ he began, ‘especially after the Bush-Haig showdown following the attempt on Ronald Reagan’s life. But in my judgment, in the President’s absence all power is vested in the Vice President and that is how I would advise the Senate.’

‘Thank you, Pierre,’ said Florentyna, still looking at the screen. ‘Please put that in writing and see that a copy is on the President’s desk immediately on completion.’ The Attorney General disappeared from the screen.

‘Now that that’s settled, Ralph, brief me quickly.’

Brooks reluctantly vacated the President’s chair, while a staff officer opened a small panel below the light switch by the door. He pressed a button and the beige curtain that stretched along the wall behind the President’s chair opened. A large screen came down from the ceiling with a map of the world on it.

Charles Lee, the Secretary of Defense, rose from his chair as different-colored lights shone all over the map. ‘The lights indicate the position of all known hostile forces,’ he said as Florentyna swung around to face the map. ‘The red ones are submarines, the green ones aircraft and the blue ones full army divisions.’

‘A West Point plebe looking at the map could tell you exactly what the Russians have in mind,’ said Florentyna as she stared at the mass of red lights in the Indian Ocean, green lights at Kabul airport and blue lights stretched along Afghanistan’s border with Pakistan.

Paul Rowe then confirmed that the Russians had been massing armies on the Pakistan border for several days and within the last hour a coded message from a CIA agent behind the lines suggested that the Soviets intended to cross the border of Pakistan at ten o’clock Eastern Standard Time. He handed her a set of decoded cables and answered each of her questions as they arose.

‘The President told me,’ said Brooks pointedly when Florentyna had read the final message, ‘that he feels Pakistan is not another Poland and that the Russians wouldn’t dare go beyond the Afghanistan border.’

‘I think we are about to find out if his judgment is sound,’ she said.

‘The President,’ he added, ‘has been in touch with Moscow during the week, as well as the Prime Minister of England, the President of France and the West German Chancellor. They all seem to agree with his assessment.’

‘Since then the situation has changed radically,’ said Florentyna sharply. ‘It’s obvious that I’ll have to speak to the Russian President myself.’

Once again Brooks hesitated. ‘Immediately,’ Florentyna added. Brooks picked up the phone. Everyone in the room waited while the circuit was linked. Florentyna had never spoken to President Andropov before and she could feel her heart beating. She knew her phone would be monitored to pick up the slightest reaction she unwittingly displayed, as it would be for the Russian leader. It was always said that it was this device that had enabled the Russians to run roughshod over Jimmy Carter.

A few minutes later Andropov came on the line. ‘Good evening, Mrs. Kane,’ he said, not acknowledging her title, his voice as clear as if he were in the next room. After four years at the Court of St. James the President’s accent was minimal and his command of the language impressive. ‘May I ask where President Parkin is?’

Florentyna could feel her mouth go dry. The Russian President continued before she could reply.

‘In California, no doubt.’ It didn’t surprise Florentyna that the Russian President knew more about Parkin’s habits than she did. It was now obvious why the Russians had chosen ten o’clock to cross the Pakistan border.

‘You’re right,’ said Florentyna. ‘And as he will be indisposed for at least another two hours you will have to deal with me. I therefore wish you to be left in no doubt that I am taking full Presidential responsibility in his absence.’ She could feel small beads of sweat, but didn’t dare to touch her forehead.

‘I see,’ said the former head of the KGB. ‘Then may I ask what is the purpose of this call?’

‘Don’t be naive, Mr. President. I want you to understand that if you put one member of your armed forces over the border with Pakistan, America will retaliate immediately.’

‘That would be very brave of you, Mrs. Kane,’ he said.

‘You obviously don’t understand the American political system, Mr. President. It requires no “bravery” at all. As Vice President I am the one person in America who has nothing to lose and everything to gain.’ This time the silence was not of her making. Florentyna felt her confidence growing. He had given her the chance to continue before he could reply. ‘If you do not turn your battle fleet south, withdraw all ten army divisions from the border with Pakistan and fly your MIG 25s and SU 7’s back to Moscow, I shall not hesitate to attack you on land, sea and in the air. Do you understand?’

The phone went dead.

Florentyna swiveled around.

By now the room was abuzz again with professionals who had previously only played ‘games’ in this situation and now waited like Florentyna to see if all their training, experience and knowledge were about to be tested.

Ralph Brooks held a hand over the mouthpiece of his phone and reported that the President had landed in Colorado and wanted to speak to Florentyna. She picked up the red security phone by her side.

‘Florentyna? Is that you?’ came from the phone in a broad Texas accent.

‘Yes, Mr. President.’

‘Now hear me, lady. Ralph has briefed me and I am on my way back immediately. Don’t do anything rash — and be sure the press doesn’t get to hear of my absence.’

‘Yes, Mr. President.’ The phone went dead.

‘General Dixon?’ she said, not bothering to look at Brooks.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said the four-star general who had not spoken until then.

‘How quickly can we mobilize a retaliatory force into the battle area?’ she asked the chief of staff.

‘Within the hour. I could have ten squadrons of Fills in the air, out of our bases in Europe and Turkey, but it would take me all of three days for the Mediterranean fleet to make contact with the Russians.’

‘How long would it be before the fleet reached the Indian Ocean?’

‘Two or three days, ma’am.’

‘Then issue the order and make it two, General.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said General Dixon again, and left the Situation Room for the Operations Room.

Florentyna didn’t have to wait long for the next report to come up on the screen. It was the one she feared most. The Russian fleet still plowed on relentlessly toward Karachi while more and more Soviet divisions were missing at Salabad and Asadabadon on the Afghanistan border.

‘Get me the President of Pakistan,’ said Florentyna.

He was on the line in moments. ‘Where is President Parkin?’ was his first question.

‘Not you as well?’ Florentyna wanted to say, but in fact replied, ‘On his way back from Camp David. He will be with us shortly.’ She briefed him on the actions she had taken to date and made it clear how far she was still willing to go.

‘Thank God for one brave man,’ said Murbaze Bhutto.

‘Just stay on the open line and we’ll keep you briefed if anything changes,’ said Florentyna, ignoring the compliment.

‘Shall I get the Russian President back?’ asked Ralph Brooks.

‘No,’ said Florentyna. ‘Get me the Prime Minister of Britain, the President of France and the Chancellor of West Germany.’

She checked her watch: 7:35. Within twenty minutes Florentyna had spoken to all three leaders. The British agreed to her plan, the Germans were skeptical but would cooperate, while the French were unhelpful.

The next piece of information Florentyna received was that Russian MIG 25s at Kabul military airport were being prepared for takeoff.

Immediately she ordered General Dixon to place all forces on standby. Brooks leaned forward to protest, but by then all those present had placed their careers in the hands of one woman. Many of them watched her closely and noted she showed no emotion.

General Dixon came back into the Situation Room. ‘Ma’am, the F111s are now ready for takeoff, the Sixth Fleet is steaming full speed toward the Indian Ocean and a brigade of paratroopers can be dropped at Landi Kotap on to the border of Pakistan within two hours.’

‘Good,’ said Florentyna quietly. The Telex continued to rap out the message that the Russians were still advancing on every front.

‘Don’t you think we should renew contact with the Soviet President before it’s too late?’ asked Brooks. Florentyna noticed that his hands were shaking.

‘Why should we contact Andropov? I have nothing to say to him. If we turn back now it will always be too late,’ said Florentyna quietly.

‘But we must try to negotiate a compromise, or by this time tomorrow the President will look like a jackass,’ said Brooks, standing over her.

‘Why?’ asked Florentyna.

‘Because in the end you will have to give in.’

Florentyna made no reply but swiveled back in her chair to face General Dixon, who was standing by her side.

‘In one hour, ma’am, we will be in enemy airspace.’

‘Understood,’ said Florentyna.

Ralph Brooks picked up the ringing phone by his side. General Dixon returned to the Operations Room.

‘The President is preparing to land at Andrews Air Force Base. He’ll be with us in twenty minutes,’ Brooks told Florentyna. ‘Talk to the Russians and tell them to back off until he returns.’

‘No,’ said Florentyna. ‘If the Russians don’t turn back now you can be certain they will let the whole world know exactly where the President was at the moment they crossed the Afghanistan border. In any case, I am still convinced they will turn back.’

‘You’ve gone mad, Florentyna,’ he shouted, rising from his chair.

‘I don’t think I have ever been saner,’ she retorted.

‘Do you imagine the American people will thank you for involving them in a war over Pakistan?’ asked Brooks.

‘It’s not Pakistan we’re discussing,’ replied Florentyna. ‘India would be next, followed by Turkey, Greece, Italy, Britain and finally Canada. And you, Ralph, would still be looking for excuses to avoid any confrontation even when the Soviets were marching down Constitution Avenue.’

‘If that’s your attitude, I wash my hands of the whole affair,’ said Brooks.

‘And no doubt you will receive the same footnote in history as the last person who carried out that ignominious act.’

‘Then I shall tell the President you overruled me and countermanded my orders,’ said Brooks, his voice rising with every word.

Florentyna looked up at the handsome man who was now red in the face. ‘Ralph, if you’re going to wet your pants, can you please do it in the little boys’ room and not the Situation Room.’

Brooks stormed out. General Dixon returned.

‘Twenty-seven minutes to go and still no sign of the Russians turning back,’ whispered the chairman of the joint chiefs. A message came through on the Telex that the fifty MIG 25s and SU7s were taking off and would be in Pakistan airspace within thirty-four minutes.

General Dixon was by her side. ‘Twenty-three minutes, ma’am.’

‘How are you feeling, General?’ Florentyna tried to sound relaxed.

‘Better than the day I marched into Berlin as a lieutenant, ma’am.’

Florentyna asked a staff major to check all three networks. She began to realize what Kennedy had been through over Cuba. The major pressed some buttons in front of him. CBS was showing a Popeye cartoon, NBC a basketball game, and ABC an old Ronald Reagan movie. She checked through everything on the little TV screen once again, but there was no change. Now she could only pray she would be given enough time to be proved right. She sipped at a cup of coffee that had been left at her elbow. It tasted cold and bitter. She pushed it to one side as President Parkin stormed into the room, followed by Brooks. The President was wearing an open-necked shirt, a sports jacket and check trousers.

‘What the hell is going on?’ were his first words. Florentyna had stepped away from the President’s chair and General Dixon came forward once again.

‘Twenty minutes to go, ma’am.’

‘Now, brief me quickly, Florentyna,’ demanded Parkin, taking his place in the President’s chair. She sat down on the President’s right and told him what she had done up to the moment he walked in.

‘You fool,’ he shouted when she had finished. ‘Why didn’t you listen to Ralph? He would never have got us into this trouble.’

‘I am aware of exactly what the Secretary of State would have done presented with the same set of circumstances,’ said Florentyna coldly.

‘General Dixon,’ said the President, turning his back on Florentyna. ‘What is the exact position of your forces?’ The general briefed President Parkin. Maps continually flashing up on the screen behind him showed the latest Russian position.

‘In sixteen minutes’ time the F11 bombers will be over enemy territory.’

‘Get me the President of Pakistan,’ said Parkin, banging the table in front of him.

‘He’s holding on an open line,’ said Florentyna quietly.

The President grabbed the phone, hunched his shoulders over the table and started speaking in a confidential tone.

‘I’m sorry it’s worked out this way, but I have no choice but to reverse the Vice President’s decision. She didn’t understand the full implication of her actions. Now, I don’t want you to feel we’re deserting you. Be assured we will negotiate a peaceful withdrawal from your territory at the first possible opportunity,’ said Parkin.

‘For God’s sake, you can’t desert us now,’ said Bhutto.

‘I must do what is best for all of us,’ replied Parkin.

‘Like you did in Afghanistan.’

Parkin ignored the comment and slammed down the phone.

‘General?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Dixon, stepping forward.

‘How much time have I got?’

The general looked up at the small digital clock suspended from the ceiling in front of him. ‘Eleven minutes and eighteen seconds,’ he said.

‘Now listen and listen carefully. The Vice President took on too much responsibility in my absence and I must now find a way out of this mess without egg landing on all our faces. I’m sure you agree, General.’

‘Anything you say, Mr. President, but in the circumstances I’d stick with it.’

‘There are wider considerations that go beyond the military. So I want you to—’

A shout went up from the far side of the room from a hitherto unknown colonel. For a moment he stopped even the President from speaking.

‘What is it?’ shouted Parkin.

The colonel now stood at attention. ‘The Russian fleet has turned back and is now heading south,’ he said, reading a cable.

The President was speechless. The unknown colonel continued: ‘The MIG 25s and SU 7s are flying northwest to Moscow.’ A cheer went up, drowning out the rest of the colonel’s pronouncements. Telexes buzzed out confirmation all over the room.

‘General,’ said Parkin, turning to the chairman, ‘we’ve won. It’s a triumphant day for you and America.’ He hesitated for a moment before adding, ‘And I want you to know that I’m proud to have led my country through this hour of peril.’

No one in the Situation Room laughed and Brooks quickly added, ‘Congratulations, Mr. President.’ Everyone started cheering again, while several personnel walked over to congratulate Florentyna.

‘General, bring your boys home. They’ve carried out a fantastic operation. Congratulations — you did a great job.’

‘Thank you, Mr. President,’ said General Dixon. ‘But I feel the praise should go to—’

The President turned to Ralph Brooks and said, ‘This calls for a celebration, Ralph. All of you will remember this day for the rest of your lives. The day we showed the world America couldn’t be pushed around.’

Florentyna was now standing in the center as if she had had nothing to do with what had happened in that room. She left a few minutes later because the President continued to ignore her. She returned to her office on the second floor and put away the red file and slammed the cabinet closed. No wonder Richard had never voted Democratic.

‘A gentleman’s been waiting for you since seven-thirty,’ were the first words the butler said when she returned to her home on Observatory Circle.

‘Good God,’ said Florentyna out loud and rushed through to the drawing room where she found Edward, eyes closed, slumped on the sofa in front of the fire. She kissed him on the forehead and he woke immediately.

‘Ah, my dear, been rescuing the world from a fate worse than death, no doubt?’

‘Something like that,’ said Florentyna, pacing up and down as she told Edward everything that had happened at the White House that evening. Edward had never seen her so angry.

‘Well, I’ll say one thing for Pete Parkin,’ Edward said, when she had reached the end of her story. ‘He’s consistent.’

‘He won’t be after tomorrow.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Precisely that. I’m going to hold a press conference in the morning to let everybody know exactly what happened. I’m sick and tired of his devious and irresponsible behavior, and I know that most people who were in the Situation Room tonight will confirm everything I’ve told you.’

‘That would be both rash and irresponsible,’ said Edward, staring into the fire in front of him.

‘Why?’ said Florentyna, surprised.

‘Because America would be left with a lame duck president. You might be the hero of the hour, but within days you would be despised.’

‘But—’ began Florentyna.

‘No buts. On this occasion you’ll have to swallow your pride and be satisfied with using what happened tonight as a weapon to remind Parkin of his agreement over the one-term Presidency.’

‘And let him get away with it?’

‘And let America get away with it,’ said Edward firmly.

Florentyna continued pacing and didn’t speak for several minutes. ‘You’re right,’ she said finally. ‘I was being shortsighted. Thank you.’

‘So might I have been if I had experienced what you went through at first hand.’

Florentyna laughed. ‘Come on,’ she said and stopped pacing for the first time. ‘Let’s have something to eat. You must be starving.’

‘No, no,’ said Edward, looking at his watch. ‘Although I must confess, V.P., you’re the first girl who’s kept me waiting three and a half hours for a dinner date.’

Early the next morning the President phoned her.

‘That was a great job you did yesterday, Florentyna, and I appreciate the way you carried out the earlier part of the operation.’

‘You hardly showed it at the time, Mr. President,’ she said, barely controlling her anger.

‘I intend to address the nation today,’ said Parkin, ignoring Florentyna’s comment, ‘and although this isn’t the time to tell them I shall not be seeking re-election, when the time does come I shall remember your loyalty.’

The President addressed the nation at eight o’clock that night on all three networks. Other than a passing mention of Florentyna he left the distinct impression that he had been in complete control of operations when the Russians turned back.

One or two national newspapers suggested that the Vice President had been involved in the negotiations with the Russian leader, but as Florentyna was not available to confirm this, Parkin’s version went almost unchallenged.

Two days later Florentyna was sent to Paris for the funeral of Giscard d’Estaing. By the time she returned to Washington the public was worked up about the final game of the World Series and Parkin was a national hero.

When the first primary was little more than eighteen months away, Florentyna told Edward that the time had come to start planning for the 1996 Presidential campaign. To that end, Florentyna accepted invitations to speak all over America, and during the year she addressed voters in thirty-three states. She was delighted to find that wherever she went the public took it for granted she was going to be the next President. Her relationship with Pete Parkin remained cordial, but she had had to remind the President that the time was drawing near for him to make the announcement about his intentions to serve only one term in office, so that she could officially launch her campaign.

One Monday in July, when she had returned to Washington from a speaking engagement in Nebraska, she found a note from the President saying that he would be making those intentions clear in a statement to the nation that Thursday. Edward had already started work on a strategic outline for a 1996 campaign so that as soon as the President had announced that he would not be running again, the Kane effort would be ready to move into high gear.

‘His timing is perfect, V.P.,’ he said. ‘We have fourteen months before the election campaign and you needn’t even declare you’re the candidate before October.’

Florentyna sat alone in the Vice President’s office that Thursday evening waiting for the President to deliver his statement. The three networks were carrying his speech and all of them had talked of the rumor that, at sixty-six, Parkin was not considering a second term. Florentyna waited impatiently as a camera panned down from the façade of the White House and into the Oval Office, where President Parkin sat behind his desk.

‘My fellow Americans,’ he began, ‘I have always believed in keeping you informed of my plans as I do not want any speculation about my personal future as to whether I shall be running again for this onerous office in fourteen months’ time’ — Florentyna smiled — ‘I therefore wish to take this opportunity to make my intentions clear so that I can complete this session without involving myself in party politics.’ Florentyna nearly leaped out of her seat in delight as Parkin now leaned forward in what the press referred to as ‘his sincere stance’ before continuing. ‘The President’s job is here in the Oval Office serving the people and to that end I announce that although I shall be a candidate for President at the next election, I will leave the electioneering to my Republican opponents while I continue to work for your best interests in the White House. I hope you will allow me the privilege of serving you for another four years. God bless you all.’

Florentyna was speechless for some moments. Finally she picked up the phone by her side and dialed the Oval Office. A woman’s voice answered.

‘I’m on my way to see the President immediately.’ Florentyna slammed down the phone and walked out of her room toward the Oval Office.

The President’s private secretary met her at the door. ‘The President is in conference right now, but I expect him to be free at any moment.’

Florentyna paced up and down the corridor for thirty-seven minutes before she was finally shown in.

‘Pete Parkin. You’re a liar and a cheat,’ she said, spitting out the words even before the door had closed.

‘Now just a minute, Florentyna. I feel for the good of the nation—’

‘For the good of Pete Parkin, who can’t keep his end of any bargain, God help this country. Well, I can tell you one thing: I am not willing to run as your Vice President for a second term.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said the President, sitting down in his chair and making a note on the pad in front of him, ‘but I naturally accept your decision with regret. Not that it would have made a lot of difference.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Florentyna.

‘I wasn’t intending to ask you to join me on the ticket for a second time, but you have made the whole problem a lot easier for me by refusing to be considered. The party will now understand why I had to look to someone else for the coming election.

‘You would lose the election if I ran against you.’

‘No, Florentyna, we would both lose and the Republicans might even win the Senate and the House. That wouldn’t make you the most popular little lady in town.’

‘You won’t get my backing in Chicago. No President has ever won the election without Illinois and they will never forgive you.’

‘They might if I replace one former senator from the state with another.’

Florentyna turned cold. ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she said.

‘If I pick Ralph Brooks, I think you will find he is a popular enough choice. So will the people of Illinois when I say that I see him as my natural successor in five years’ time.’

Florentyna left without another word. She must have been the only person who had ever slammed the Oval Office door.

Chapter thirty-seven

When Florentyna went over the details of the Parkin meeting for Edward the following Saturday on the golf course at Cape Cod, he confessed that the news came as no great surprise.

‘He may not be much of a President, but he knows more about Machiavellian politics than Nixon and Johnson put together.’

‘I should have listened to you in Detroit when you warned me this would happen.’

‘What did your father always say about Henry Osborne? Once a skunk, always a skunk.’

There was a slight breeze and Florentyna threw a few blades of grass into the air to determine its direction. Satisfied, she took a ball from her golf bag, set it up and hit a long drive. To her surprise the wind took the ball slightly to the right and into some brush.

‘Didn’t properly anticipate the wind, V.P., did you?’ volunteered Edward. ‘I can only believe this must be my day to beat you, Florentyna.’ He hit his ball right down the center of the fairway but twenty yards shorter than Florentyna’s.

‘Things are bad, Edward, but not that bad,’ she said, smiling, and proceeded to take the first hole with a chip out of the rough and a long putt.

‘Early days,’ said Edward as they were about to tee off on the second hole. He asked Florentyna about her future plans.

‘Parkin is right: I can’t make a fuss, because such an outburst would only play into the hands of the Republicans, so I have decided to be realistic about my future.’

‘And what does that mean?’

‘I’ll see the remaining fourteen months out as Vice President and then I’d like to return to New York as chairman of the Baron Group. I’ve had an almost unique view of the company since my continual traveling around the globe, and I think I’ll be able to effect some new ideas that could put us far in front of any of our competitors.’

‘Then it sounds as though we have an interesting time ahead of us,’ Edward said, smiling as he joined her to walk to the second green. He tried to concentrate on his game while Florentyna went on talking.

‘I would also like to join the board of Lester’s. Richard always wanted me to find out how a bank worked from the inside. He never stopped telling me he paid his directors a higher salary than the President of the United States.’

‘You’ll have to consult William on that, not me.’

‘Why?’ asked Florentyna.

‘Because he’s taking over as chairman on January first next year. He knows more about banking than I ever will. He’s inherited all Richard’s natural instincts for high finance. I’ll stay on as a director for a few more years, but I’m confident that the bank couldn’t be in better hands.’

‘Is he old enough for such a responsibility?’

‘Same age as you were when you first became chairman of the Baron Group,’ said Edward.

‘Well, at least we’ll have one president in the family,’ Florentyna said as she missed a two-foot putt.

‘One hole each, V.P.’ Edward marked his card and studied the 210-yard dogleg that lay in front of him. ‘Now I know how you intend to occupy half of your time. So do you have anything planned for the other half?’

‘Yes,’ said Florentyna. ‘The Remagen Trust has lacked direction since the death of Professor Ferpozzi. I’ve decided to head it up myself. Do you know how much the trust has on deposit nowadays?’

‘No, but it would only take one phone call to find out,’ said Edward, trying to concentrate on his swing.

‘I’ll save you a quarter, said Florentyna. ‘Twenty-one million dollars, bringing in an annual income of nearly three million dollars. Edward, the time has come to build the first Remagen University with major scholarships for the children of first-generation immigrants.’

‘And remember, V.P., gifted children, whatever their background,’ said Edward, teeing up.

‘You’re sounding more and more like Richard every day,’ she laughed.

Edward swung. ‘I wish my golf were as good as his,’ he added as he watched his little white ball headed high and far before hitting a tree.

Florentyna didn’t seem to notice. And after she had hit her ball firmly down the middle of the fairway, they both walked off in different directions. They could not continue their conversation until they had reached the green, where Florentyna went on talking about where the new university should be built, how many students it should admit in its first year, who should be the first president. She ended up losing the third and fourth holes. Florentyna began to concentrate on her game but still had to scramble to square the match up by the ninth.

‘I’ll be particularly pleased to give your hundred dollars to the Republican Party today,’ Florentyna said. ‘Nothing would give me more pleasure than seeing Parkin and Brooks bite the dust.’

Florentyna sighed as she hit a bad short iron from the tee toward the tenth green.

‘I’m far from beaten yet,’ said Edward.

Florentyna ignored him. ‘What a waste my years in government have been,’ she said.

‘No, I can’t agree with that,’ said Edward, still practicing his swings. ‘Eight years in Congress, a further seven in the Senate and ending up the first woman Vice President. And I suspect history will ultimately record your role over the invasion of Pakistan far more accurately than Parkin has felt necessary. Even if you have achieved less than you’d hoped, you’ve made the task a lot easier for the next woman who wants to go the whole way. Ironically I believe if you were the Democratic candidate at the next election, you would win easily.’

‘The public opinion polls certainly agree with you.’ Florentyna tried to concentrate, but sliced her tee shot. ‘Damn,’ she said as her ball disappeared into the woods.

‘You’re not at the top of your game today, V.P.,’ said Edward. He proceeded to win the tenth and eleventh holes but then threw away the twelfth and thirteenth with overanxious putts.

‘I think we should build a Baron in Moscow,’ said Florentyna when they had reached the fourteenth green. ‘That was one of my father’s greatest dreams. Did I ever tell you that the minister for tourism, Mikhail Zokovlov, has long been trying to interest me in the idea? I have to go on that frightful culture trip to Moscow next month, which will be a wonderful opportunity to discuss the idea with him in detail. Thank God for the Bolshoi Ballet, borscht and caviar. At least they’ve never tried to get me in bed with some handsome young man.’

‘Not while they know about our golf deal,’ chuckled Edward.

They split the fourteenth and fifteenth and Edward won the sixteenth hole. ‘We are about to discover what you are like under pressure,’ said Florentyna.

Edward proceeded to lose the seventeenth by missing a putt of only three feet, so that the match rested on the last hole. Florentyna drove well, but Edward, thanks to a lucky bounce off the edge of a small rise, came within a few feet of her. He put his second shot only twenty yards from the green and found it hard to suppress a smile as they walked down the center of the fairway together.

‘You have a long way to go yet, Edward’ said Florentyna as she sent her ball flying into a sand trap.

Edward laughed.

‘I would remind you how good I am with a sand wedge and putter,’ said Florentyna, and proved her point by pitching the ball only four feet from the hole.

Edward chipped up from twenty yards to within six feet.

‘This may be the last chance you’ll ever have,’ she said.

Edward held his putter firmly and jabbed at the ball and watched it teeter on the edge of the hole before disappearing into the cup. He threw his club high into the air and cheered.

‘You haven’t won yet,’ said Florentyna, ‘but no doubt it will be the nearest you’ll ever get.’ She steadied herself as she checked the line between ball and hole. If she sank her putt, the match was halved and she was off the hook.

‘Don’t let the helicopters distract you,’ said Edward.

‘The only thing that is distracting me, Edward, is you. Be warned, you will not succeed. Since the rest of my life depends on this shot, you can be assured I shall not make a mistake. In fact,’ she said, taking a step back, ‘I shall wait until the helicopters have passed over.’

Florentyna stared up into the sky and waited for the four helicopters to fly past. Their chopping noise grew louder and louder.

‘Did you have to go to quite such lengths to win, Edward?’ she asked as one of the helicopters began to descend.

‘What the hell is going on?’ said Edward anxiously.

‘I have no idea,’ said Florentyna. ‘But I suspect we are about to find out.’

Her skirt whipped around her legs as the first helicopter landed a few yards off the green of the eighteenth hole. Even as the blades continued to rotate an army colonel leaped out and rushed over to Florentyna. A second officer jumped out and stood by the helicopter, holding a small black briefcase. Florentyna and Edward stared at the colonel as he stood to attention and saluted.

‘Madam President,’ he said. ‘The President is dead.’

Florentyna clenched her hand into a tight fist as the eighteenth hole was surrounded by agents from the Secret Service. She glanced again at the black nuclear command briefcase which was now her sole responsibility, the trigger she hoped she would never have to pull. She was reminded that moment what real responsibility meant.

‘How did it happen?’ she asked calmly.

The colonel continued in clipped tones. ‘The President returned from his morning jog and retired to his room to shower and change for breakfast. It was over twenty minute before any of us felt that something might be wrong so I was sent to check, but it was already too late. The doctor said he must have had a massive coronary. He had had two minor heart attacks during the last year, but on both occasions we managed to keep them out of the press.’

‘How many people know of his death?’

‘Three members of his personal staff, his doctor, Mrs. Parkin and the attorney general, whom I informed immediately. On his instructions, I was detailed to find you and see that the oath of office is administered as quickly as is convenient. I am then to accompany you to the White House, where the attorney general is waiting to announce the details of the President’s death. The attorney general hopes that these arrangements meet with your approval.’

‘Thank you, Colonel. We’d better return to my home immediately.’

Florentyna, accompanied by Edward, the colonel, the officer with the black box and four Secret Service agents, climbed aboard the army aircraft. As the chopper whirled up into the air, Florentyna gazed down at the eighteenth green where her ball, a diminishing white speck, remained four feet from the hole. A few minutes later, the helicopter landed on the grass in front of Florentyna’s Cape Cod house while the other three remained hovering overhead.

Florentyna led them all into the living room, where young Richard was playing with his father and Bishop O’Reilly, who had flown in for a quiet weekend.

‘Why are there helicopters flying over the house, Grandma?’ Richard asked.

Florentyna explained to her grandson what had happened. William and Joanna rose from their chairs, not sure what to say.

‘What do we do next, Colonel?’ asked Florentyna.

‘We’ll need a Bible,’ said the colonel, ‘and the oath of office.’

Florentyna went to her study table in the corner of the room and from the top drawer took out Miss Tredgold’s Bible. A copy of the Presidential oath was not as easy to find. Edward thought it might be in Theodore White’s The Making of the President: 1972, which he remembered was in the library. He was right.

The colonel phoned the attorney general and checked that the wording was correct. Pierre Levale then spoke to Bishop O’Reilly and explained how he should administer the oath.

In the living room of her Cape Cod home, Florentyna Kane stood beside her family, with Colonel Max Perkins and Edward Winchester acting as witnesses. She took the Bible in her right hand and repeated the words after Bishop O’Reilly.

‘I, Florentyna Kane, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States and will to the best of my ability preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.’

Thus Florentyna Kane became the forty-third President of the United States.

William was the first to congratulate his mother and then they all tried to join in at once.

‘I think we should leave for Washington, Madam President,’ the colonel suggested a few minutes later.

‘Of course,’ Florentyna turned to the old family priest. ‘Thank you, Your Excellency,’ she said. But the bishop did not reply; for the first time in his life, the little Irishman was lost for words. ‘I shall need you to perform another ceremony for me in the near future.’

‘And what might that be, my dear?’

‘As soon as we have a free weekend Edward and I are going to be married.’ Edward looked even more surprised and delighted than he had at the moment he heard Florentyna had become President. ‘I remembered a little too late,’ she continued, ‘that if you fail to complete a hole in match-play competition, it is automatically awarded to your opponent.’

Edward took her in his arms as Florentyna said, ‘My darling, I will need your wisdom and your strength, but most of all your love.’

‘You’ve already had them for nearly forty years, V.P. I mean...’

Everyone laughed.

‘I think we should leave now, Madam President,’ the colonel prompted. Florentyna nodded in agreement as the phone rang.

Edward walked over to the desk and picked it up. ‘It’s Ralph Brooks. Says he needs to speak to you urgently.’

‘Would you apologize to the Secretary of State, Edward, and explain I am not available at the moment.’ Edward was about to convey the message when she added, ‘And ask him if he would be kind enough to join me at the White House immediately.’

Edward smiled as the forty-third President of the United States walked toward the door. The colonel accompanying her pressed a switch on his two-way radio and spoke softly into it: ‘Baroness returning to Crown. The contract has been signed.’