and Sheila Archibald. The children smile into camera with gap teeth. The foster parents look glum.
The broadsheets focused on the story’s gothic unusualness. Any political analysis was even-handed. Certainly, Vernon Short was transformed from a backbench nobody to a daring crusader. Some church leaders hailed him as a potential future Home Secretary, or even Prime Minister.
Pulford shakes a newspaper, angrily. ‘Breath of Life and Vernon Short are both getting exactly what they want.’
‘I’m going to see Nick Absolom,’ says Staffe.
‘At the News? I thought you loathed him.’
‘And then I’m going to pay Vernon Short a visit.’
*
Vernon Short is perfectly happy to tell Staffe about his upcoming private member’s bill. He repeats his statement of regret, to Staffe, as if his every word will be committed to history. He says that everything that is incumbent upon us as a responsible nation should be achieved through discourse and legislation, not direct action. What happened to Kerry Degg was reprehensible. However, let Baby Grace be a shining testament to the value we should assign to life; the virtue of his bill is illuminated by this sorry tale.
‘Save the speech, Mr Short. It’s wasted on me,’ says Staffe. ‘I’m not here to cast a vote. What do you know of Lesley Crawford?’
Vernon’s smile shallows, in the finest degree. ‘We both believe in the rights of our unborn population. Our methods are different, of course.’
‘In what respect?’
‘I wouldn’t ever …’ Vernon stops himself and presses the intercom on his telephone, asks his secretary to make some coffee and bring through biscuits.
‘You wouldn’t ever …?’
‘I really don’t know anything about Lesley.’
‘You clearly think she is capable of murdering somebody, to further her ambitions.’
‘I said no such thing. You should be careful what conclusions you draw, Inspector.’
‘Lesley’s press statement and Kerry Degg’s baby daughter have lengthened your day in the sun.’
‘I don’t care for your tone.’
‘The pollsters reckon so. A few days ago, nobody had even heard about your bill. It was doomed. A backbench flirtation.’
‘It is good law. The argument will speak for itself.’ The door opens and Short’s secretary comes in with a tray. Short stands and hitches his trousers, motions with the slightest dip of his head for the secretary to take the coffee and biscuits back where they came from, which she does. ‘I have another appointment.’
‘No point in good laws if they’re not enforced, Mr Short. Now, tell me what the Home Secretary makes of your bill.’
‘It is common knowledge that she is publicly against it. We are a broad church and Cathy is pretty much on the centre left.’
‘Political suicide for you, then, I’d say.’
‘There comes a time when you have to stand up for what is right.’
‘The government doesn’t want this debate, does it? Especially Cathy Killick.’
‘The government embraces debate, especially the Home Secretary.’
‘You can amend your bill. You can change it any time in the next week.’
‘Short regards Staffe with renewed suspicion. ‘You’ve done your homework. But I do not intend to.’
‘You “do not intend to”. You could have said, “I will not.” But you didn’t.’
‘I do not intend to.’
‘You’re a career backbencher, eh, Vernon? Not even the sniff of a junior ministry, and you’re what? In your fifties? These young guns with their spin-doctoring ways tearing past you. It would crown your career, wouldn’t it, if you were to be offered something. Stepping into the old man’s shoes at last.’
‘You have quite an imagination. You should exercise some restraint, Inspector.’
‘When did you take up the cause of the “unborn population” as you call it?’ Staffe takes out a single sheet of A4. From it, he begins to read a list of bills that Vernon Short has voted for and against – provided courtesy of Nick
The broadsheets focused on the story’s gothic unusualness. Any political analysis was even-handed. Certainly, Vernon Short was transformed from a backbench nobody to a daring crusader. Some church leaders hailed him as a potential future Home Secretary, or even Prime Minister.
Pulford shakes a newspaper, angrily. ‘Breath of Life and Vernon Short are both getting exactly what they want.’
‘I’m going to see Nick Absolom,’ says Staffe.
‘At the News? I thought you loathed him.’
‘And then I’m going to pay Vernon Short a visit.’
*
Vernon Short is perfectly happy to tell Staffe about his upcoming private member’s bill. He repeats his statement of regret, to Staffe, as if his every word will be committed to history. He says that everything that is incumbent upon us as a responsible nation should be achieved through discourse and legislation, not direct action. What happened to Kerry Degg was reprehensible. However, let Baby Grace be a shining testament to the value we should assign to life; the virtue of his bill is illuminated by this sorry tale.
‘Save the speech, Mr Short. It’s wasted on me,’ says Staffe. ‘I’m not here to cast a vote. What do you know of Lesley Crawford?’
Vernon’s smile shallows, in the finest degree. ‘We both believe in the rights of our unborn population. Our methods are different, of course.’
‘In what respect?’
‘I wouldn’t ever …’ Vernon stops himself and presses the intercom on his telephone, asks his secretary to make some coffee and bring through biscuits.
‘You wouldn’t ever …?’
‘I really don’t know anything about Lesley.’
‘You clearly think she is capable of murdering somebody, to further her ambitions.’
‘I said no such thing. You should be careful what conclusions you draw, Inspector.’
‘Lesley’s press statement and Kerry Degg’s baby daughter have lengthened your day in the sun.’
‘I don’t care for your tone.’
‘The pollsters reckon so. A few days ago, nobody had even heard about your bill. It was doomed. A backbench flirtation.’
‘It is good law. The argument will speak for itself.’ The door opens and Short’s secretary comes in with a tray. Short stands and hitches his trousers, motions with the slightest dip of his head for the secretary to take the coffee and biscuits back where they came from, which she does. ‘I have another appointment.’
‘No point in good laws if they’re not enforced, Mr Short. Now, tell me what the Home Secretary makes of your bill.’
‘It is common knowledge that she is publicly against it. We are a broad church and Cathy is pretty much on the centre left.’
‘Political suicide for you, then, I’d say.’
‘There comes a time when you have to stand up for what is right.’
‘The government doesn’t want this debate, does it? Especially Cathy Killick.’
‘The government embraces debate, especially the Home Secretary.’
‘You can amend your bill. You can change it any time in the next week.’
‘Short regards Staffe with renewed suspicion. ‘You’ve done your homework. But I do not intend to.’
‘You “do not intend to”. You could have said, “I will not.” But you didn’t.’
‘I do not intend to.’
‘You’re a career backbencher, eh, Vernon? Not even the sniff of a junior ministry, and you’re what? In your fifties? These young guns with their spin-doctoring ways tearing past you. It would crown your career, wouldn’t it, if you were to be offered something. Stepping into the old man’s shoes at last.’
‘You have quite an imagination. You should exercise some restraint, Inspector.’
‘When did you take up the cause of the “unborn population” as you call it?’ Staffe takes out a single sheet of A4. From it, he begins to read a list of bills that Vernon Short has voted for and against – provided courtesy of Nick
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