The Lords' Day (retail) Read Online Free PDF

combination of mind and money proved to be a highly combustible mixture in the underachieving world of Westminster. He was a man who
insisted on seeing the big picture in a system that rarely looked further than tomorrow’s headlines. Another brilliant career blighted by envy and the doubts of his superiors.
    So Harry had returned to the backbenches – it was never clear whether he had jumped or been pushed – and instead of being driven in a ministerial car he now walked – or, as
this morning, ran. He ran to pump adrenalin through his befuddled mind and to put as much distance as possible between him and his blazing row with Melanie. They had sat for the best part of two
hours in his old kitchen in Mayfair, hurling accusations at each other. She had planned it all, he claimed – the separation, the divorce, next would come the settlement, everything
calculated, like a shopping list. And she retorted that it was just that harsh, uncompromising view of the world that had forced her away from him. She said she was heartbroken, had struggled to
make things work yet had met in return only indifference and emotional cruelty. Already she was practising for the lawyers.
    Yet it was their discussion about the baby that had turned anger to outrage. Pregnancy was the one thing she hadn’t planned, joining the club just as she was about to become an independent
operator. So they had sat and flung clichés at each other, about a woman’s right to choose, a father’s right to be consulted, a child’s right to life, her right to control
her own body.
    ‘So many fucking rights, Mel, where does it all end? You’d think no one ever did any wrong in this world.’
    ‘Climb down from your pulpit, Harry. Save the moral righteousness for the press releases.’
    ‘What has that poor unborn child done to deserve this?’
    ‘We don’t get what we deserve in life, aren’t you always telling me that?’
    ‘Mel, I want the baby.’
    ‘What, you’ll apply for visiting rights?’
    ‘I’ll fight you.’
    ‘Don’t threaten me, Harry. You want a fight – I’ll give you one that’ll crawl over every front page in the country. Can you stand that?’
    Somewhere inside his head an alarm bell was ringing, warning him to back off. She wasn’t the Republican Guard; he needed her. ‘Please, Mel. Think about this. Even if you want the
bloody divorce, let us have the baby.’
    ‘I didn’t think you believed in one-parent families,’ she mocked.
    ‘Don’t, Mel. Please.’
    ‘Too late, Harry.’
    ‘It’s never too late,’ he whispered, meaning it, no matter how trite it sounded.
    ‘Will be by Friday afternoon,’ she spat back.
    Friday. Two days. What was so special about Friday?
    She realised she’d gone too far, and tried to dissemble. ‘That’s when you’ll be getting the lawyer’s papers.’
    But he knew she was covering up. Friday afternoon. Marie Stopes. The day after tomorrow. That was when she was having the abortion.
    ‘You want me to beg?’
    ‘I’d love you to beg, Harry. It would be the first time I’d ever seen it, might even make me believe in miracles. But it won’t do any good.’
    ‘I’ll never forgive you,’ he said, and they both knew that was true. How could he forgive her, when he hadn’t begun to forgive himself? And for the first time in his
life, Harry had to run.
    8.43 a.m.
    Baroness Blessing arrived early at the entrance to the House of Lords, as was her habit for the State Opening. On a day such as this, some of the most senior peers were assigned
specific places, but for the rest of the pack it was a matter of first come and first seated. The baroness was a diehard romantic and loved the lavish colours and costumes that the occasion
provided, so for nearly ten years she had defied the onset of arthritis and increasing age to be the first in line. She was a forthright figure whose old hips made her rock to and fro like an old
barn door and she smelled vaguely of horses, and she