Be Careful What You Wish For: The Clifton Chronicles 4 (21 page)

BOOK: Be Careful What You Wish For: The Clifton Chronicles 4
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‘And as soon as possible,’ said Grace.

‘Please let me know when you have,’ said Giles, before adding, ‘Are there any other bombshells you think I ought to be prepared for?’ A long silence followed before Giles
continued. ‘Then thank you all for giving up your time. I’ll let you know my final decision before the end of the week. I have to leave you now, as I ought to be getting back to the
House. That’s where the voters are. If I do decide to stand, you won’t see much of me during the next few weeks, as I’ll be glad-handing, making endless speeches, visiting
far-flung constituencies and spending any free evenings I have buying drinks for Labour members in Annie’s Bar.’

‘Annie’s Bar?’ said Harry.

‘The most popular watering hole in the House of Commons, frequented mainly by Labour members, so that’s where I’m off to now.’

‘Good luck,’ said Harry.

The family rose as one and applauded him as he left the room.

‘Has he got any chance of winning?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Fisher. ‘He’s very popular among the rank and file in the constituencies, although Harold Wilson is the favourite with the sitting members, and
they’re the only ones who have a vote.’

‘Then let’s send Wilson a large donation towards his campaign fund, cash if necessary.’

‘That’s the last thing we need to do,’ said Fisher.

‘Why?’ demanded Diego.

‘Because he’d send it back.’

‘Why would he do that?’ asked Don Pedro.

‘Because this isn’t Argentina, and if the press found out that a foreigner was backing Wilson’s campaign, he would not only lose, but be forced to withdraw from the contest. In
fact, he’d not only return the money, but make it public that he’d done so.’

‘How can you possibly win an election if you haven’t got any money?’

‘You don’t need a great deal of money if your electorate is only 258 Members of Parliament, most of whom spend all their time in the same building. You might have to buy some stamps,
make a few phone calls, stand the odd round of drinks in Annie’s Bar, and by then you’d have been in touch with almost all your electorate.’

‘So if we can’t help Wilson win, what can we do to make sure Barrington loses?’ asked Luis.

‘If there are 258 voters, we must surely be able to bribe some of them,’ said Diego.

‘Not with money,’ said Fisher. ‘The only thing that lot care about is preferment.’

‘Preferment?’ repeated Don Pedro. ‘What the hell is that?’

‘For younger members, a candidate might hint that they were being considered for a front bench job, and for older members who are retiring at the next general election, a suggestion that
their experience and wisdom would be greatly appreciated in the Lords. And for those who have no hope of ever holding office, but will still be around after the next election, a party leader always
has jobs that need to be filled. I knew one member who wanted nothing more than to be chairman of the House of Commons Catering Committee because they get to select which wines go on the
menu.’

‘OK, so if we can’t give Wilson any money, or bribe the voters, the least we can do is recycle all the dirt we have on Barrington’s family,’ suggested Diego.

‘Not much point, when the press will be only too happy to do that without any help from us,’ said Fisher. ‘And they’ll get bored after a few days, unless we come up with
something fresh for them to get their teeth into. No, we have to think of something that would be certain to make the headlines and, at the same time, knock him out with one blow.’

‘You’ve obviously been giving this considerable thought, major,’ said Don Pedro.

‘I must admit I have,’ said Fisher, looking rather pleased with himself. ‘And I think I may have come up with something that will finally sink Barrington.’

‘Then spit it out.’

‘There’s one thing a politician can never recover from. But if I’m to set Barrington up, I’ll need to put a small team in place, and the timing will have to be
perfect.’

19

G
RIFF
H
ASKINS
, the Labour Party’s agent for Bristol Docklands, decided he would have to give up drinking if Giles was to
have any chance of becoming leader of the party. Griff always went on the wagon for a month before any election, and on a bender for at least a month after, depending on whether they’d won or
lost. And since the Member for Bristol Docklands had been safely returned to the green benches with an increased majority, he’d felt he was entitled to the occasional night off.

It wasn’t good timing when Giles called his agent the morning after he’d been on the binge to let him know that he was going to stand for leader. As Griff was nursing a hangover at
the time, he called back an hour later to make sure he’d heard the member correctly. He had.

Griff immediately phoned his secretary, Penny, who was on holiday in Cornwall, and Miss Parish, his most experienced party worker, who admitted she was bored out of her mind and only came alive
during election campaigns. He told them both to be waiting on platform seven at Temple Meads station at four thirty that afternoon if they wanted to be working for the next prime minister.

At five o’clock, the three of them were seated in a third-class carriage on a train bound for Paddington. By noon the following day, Griff had set up an office in the House of Commons, and
another at Giles’s home in Smith Square. He still needed to recruit one more volunteer for his team.

Sebastian told Griff that he would be delighted to cancel his fortnight’s holiday to help his uncle Giles win the election, and Cedric agreed to make it a month, as the lad could only
benefit from the experience, even though Sir Giles was his second choice.

Sebastian’s first job was to make a wall chart that listed all 258 Labour Members of Parliament who were entitled to vote, and then place a tick beside each name to show which category
they fell into: certain to vote for Giles, red tick; certain to vote for another candidate, blue; and undecided – the most important category of all – green. Although the chart was
Sebastian’s idea, it was Jessica who produced the finished article.

On the first count, Harold Wilson had 86 certainties, George Brown 57, Giles 54, and James Callaghan 19, with Undecided a crucial 42. Giles could see that his immediate task was to get rid of
Callaghan and then overhaul Brown, because if the Member for Belper were to withdraw, Griff calculated that most of his votes would come their way.

After a week of canvassing, it was clear that Giles and Brown were no more than a percentage point apart in second place and, although Wilson was clearly in the lead, the political pundits all
agreed that if Brown or Barrington were to withdraw it would be a close-run contest.

Griff never stopped roaming the corridors of power, happy to arrange private meetings with the candidate for any member who claimed they were undecided. Several of them would remain that way
until the last moment, as they had never enjoyed so much attention in their lives, and were also keen to end up backing the winner. Miss Parish was never off the phone, and Sebastian became
Giles’s eyes and ears, continually running between the House of Commons and Smith Square, keeping everyone up to date.

Giles delivered twenty-three speeches during the first week of the campaign, although they rarely made more than a paragraph in the following day’s papers, and never the front page. With
only two weeks to go, and Wilson beginning to look a dead cert, Giles decided it was time to go off message and take a risk. Even Griff was surprised by the reaction of the press the next morning,
when Giles made every front page, including the
Daily Telegraph
.

‘There are too many people in this country unwilling to do a day’s work,’ Giles had told an audience of trade union leaders. ‘If someone is fit and healthy and has turned
down three jobs in a period of six months, they should automatically lose their unemployment benefit.’

These words were not greeted with rapturous applause, and the initial reaction from his colleagues in the House was unfavourable;
shot himself in the foot
was the expression his rivals
kept repeating. But as the days passed, more and more journalists began to suggest that the Labour Party had at last found a potential leader who lived in the real world, and clearly wanted his
party to govern, rather than be doomed to perpetual opposition.

All 258 Labour Members of Parliament returned to their constituencies at the weekend, and they quickly discovered a groundswell in favour of the Member for Bristol Docklands. An opinion poll on
the following Monday confirmed this, and put Barrington within a couple of points of Wilson, with Brown running a poor third and James Callaghan in fourth place. On Tuesday, Callaghan dropped out
of the race, and told his supporters he would be voting for Barrington.

When Sebastian brought the wall chart up to date that evening, Wilson had 122, Giles 107 with 29 still undecided. It only took Griff and Miss Parish another twenty-four hours to identify the 29
MPs who, for one reason or another, were still sitting on the fence. Among them were members of the influential Fabian group, who made up 11 crucial votes. Tony Crosland, the group’s
chairman, requested a private meeting with both the leading candidates, letting it be known that he was keen to hear their views on Europe.

Giles felt his meeting with Crosland had gone well, but whenever he checked the chart, Wilson still remained in the lead. However, the press were beginning to write the words ‘neck and
neck’ in their headlines as the contest entered its final week. Giles knew that he would need a substantial stroke of luck if he was to overhaul Wilson in the last few days. It came in the
form of a telegram delivered to his office on the Monday of the last week of the campaign.

The European Economic Community invited Giles to give the keynote speech at its annual conference in Brussels, just three days before the leadership election. The invitation didn’t mention
that Charles de Gaulle had dropped out at the last minute.

‘This is your chance,’ said Griff, ‘not only to shine on the international stage, but to capture those eleven Fabian Society votes. It could make all the difference.’

The subject selected for the speech was
Is Britain ready to join the Common Market?
And Giles knew exactly where he stood on that issue.

‘But when am I going to find the time to write such an important speech?’

‘After the last Labour member has gone to bed, and before the first one gets up the following morning.’

Giles would have laughed, but he knew Griff meant it.

‘And when do I sleep?’

‘On the plane back from Brussels.’

Griff suggested that Sebastian accompany Giles to Brussels, while he and Miss Parish remained in Westminster, keeping a vigilant eye on the undecided.

‘Your flight takes off from London Airport at two twenty,’ said Griff, ‘but don’t forget that Brussels is an hour ahead of us, so you won’t touch down until about
four ten, which will give you more than enough time to get to the conference.’

‘Isn’t that cutting it a bit fine?’ asked Giles. ‘My speech is at six.’

‘I know, but I can’t afford to have you hanging about in an airport unless it’s full of MPs who haven’t made up their minds. Now, the session you’re addressing
should last about an hour, so it will end around seven, well in time for you to catch the eight-forty flight back to London, where the hour time difference will work to your advantage. Grab a taxi
as soon as you land, because I want you back in the House in time for the division on the Pensions Bill at ten.’

‘So what do you expect me to do now?’

‘Get on with your speech. Everything depends on it.’

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