First Among Equals (44 page)

Charles arrived
at the Chief Whip’s office the following morning and was quickly ushered through
to his private room. Charles’s once Odyssean locks had turned white, and the
deeper lines in his face gave him a more gentle appearance. The Chief Whip
couldn’t help noticing that a slight stoop had replaced his ramrod bearing.

Charles*s
request came as a shock. The Chief Whip had gone over many reasons why Charles
might want to see him, but Simon Kerslake’s great rival was the last man he
would have considered for this post, because it would forever deny him the
chance of becoming Leader.

“But it’s no secret
that Simon wants you to return to the front bench and be the next Chancellor,”
said the Chief Whip. “You must know he would be delighted to have you back on
the team.”

“That’s
considerate of him,” said Charles drily. “But I would prefer the more restful
life of being an arbitrator rather than an antagonist. I fear our differences
could never be fully reconciled. In any case, I’ve lost that desire always to
be on the attack. For over twenty years Simon has had the advantage of a wife
and a family to keep his feet on the ground. It’s only in the last three or
four that Harry has done the same for me.”

The Chief Whip
let out a long sigh, unable to hide his disappointment.

“I wffl convey
your request to the Party Leader,” was all he said. The Chief Whip wondered if
Simon would be as disappointed as he was, or if in fact he might riot be
relieved to see his old antagonist relegated to the sidelines.

All men are
thought to have one great moment in their careers in
the I
louse, and for Alec Pimkin it was to be that day.

The election of
a Speaker in the Commons is a quaint affair. By ancient tradition, no one must
appear to want the honor, and it is rare for more than one person to be
proposed for the post. During Henry VI’s reign three Speakers were beheaded within
a year, although in modem times it has been the heavy burden of duties that has
often led to an early grave.

This tradition
of reluctance has carried on through the ages.

Alec Pinik-in
rose from his seat on the back benches to move “that the Right Honorable
Charles Hampton does take the chair of this House as Speaker.” Dressed in a
dark blue Suit, sporting a red carnation and his favorite pink-spotted bow tie,
Alec Pimkin rose to address the House. His speech was serious yet witty,
informed yet personal. Pimkin held the House in his grasp for nine minutes and
never once let it go. “He’s done his old friend proud,” one member muttered to
another across the gangway when Pimkin sat down, and indeed the look on
Charles’s face left no doubt that he felt the same way, whatever had taken
place in the past.

After Charles
had been seconded, the tradition of dragging the Speaker-elect to the chair was
observed.

This normally
humorous affair, usually greeted with hoots of laughter and cheering, became
even more of a farce at the sight of the small, portly Pimkin and his Labour
seconder dragging the six-foot-four former Guards officer from the third row of
the back benches all the way to the chair.

Charles began
by expressing his grateful thanks for the high honor the House had bestowed on
him. He then surveyed the Commons from his new vantage point. When he rose and
stood his full height, every member knew they had selected the right man for
the job.

The sharpness
of his tongue might have gone, but it had been replaced with an equally firm
delivery that left none of his colleagues, however unruly, in any doubt that
Mr. Speaker Hampton intended to keep “order” for many years to come.

Raymond was
distressed when the Conservatives increased their majority in the Speaker’s old
seat and captured a marginal constituency on the same day. He didn’t need the
press to point out that were Conservatives and the Social Democratic Party to
join forces, Government and Opposition would be equal in number, insuring a
premature General Election. Raymond was determined that the Government hold on
for at least another four weeks, so that he could deliver his third April
budget and give the Party a strong platform on which to light the election.

Simon knew that
if Raymond Gould had the chance to deliver his third budget speech in April,
the Labour Party might be saved at the polls.

There was only
one solution: to win a “no confidence” motion before the end of March. Simon
picked up the phone to call the Social Democratic Party headquarters. Their
Leader was all too happy to meet that afternoon.

Raymond had
accepted an invitation to address a large Labour rally in Cardiff the weekend
before the vote of “no confidence.” He boarded the train at Paddington, settled
into his compartment and began to check over his speech.

As the train
pulled into Swindon, a railway official stepped on board and, having discovered
where the Chancellor of the Exchequer was seated, asked if he could speak to
him privately for a few minutes. Raymond listened carefully to what the man had
to say, replaced the speech in his briefcase, got off the train, crossed the
platform and returned by the first available train to London.

On the journey
back he tried to work out all the consequences of the news he had just been
told.

As soon as he
arrived at Paddington, he made his way through the waiting photographers and
journalists, answering no questions. A car took him straight to Westminster
Hospital. Raymond was shown into a private room to find the Prime Minister
sitting upright in bed.

“Now don’t
panic,” said the Prime Minister before Raymond could speak.

“I’m in fine
shape considering I’m over sixty, and with all the pressure we’ve been under
this last year,”

“What’s wrong with
you?” asked Raymond, taking a chair next to the hospital bed.

“Recurrence of
the old trouble, only this time they say it will take major surgery. I’ll be
out of this place in a month, six weeks at the most, and then I’ll live as long
as Harold Macmillan, they tell me.
Now, to more important
matters.
As Deputy Leader of the Party, I want you to take over again,
which will mean you will have to speak in my place during the ‘no confidence’
debate on Wednesday. If we lose the vote, I sha
,11
resign as Party Leader.”

Raymond tried
to protest. From the moment he had been told the Prime Minister was ill again,
he had known the implications. The Prime Minister held up his hand to still
Raymond’s words and continued, “No party can fight an election with its Leader
laid up in bed for six weeks, however well he might be when they release him.
The voters have the right to know who is going to lead the Party in
Parliament.” As the Prime Minister spoke, Raymond remembered Kate’s telegram on
the day of his election as Deputy Leader. “And of course, if we are forced into
an election before the Party conference in October, under Standing Order Number
5 (4), the national executive and the Shadow Cabinet would meet and
automatically select you to take over as Party Leader.”

Raymond raised
his head. “Yes, the importance of that particular standing order had already
been pointed out to me,” he said without guile.

The Prime
Minister smiled.
“Joyce, no doubt.”

“No, her name
was Kate, actually.”

The Prime
Minister briefly looked puzzled, and then continued. “I think you must face the
fact that you may well be running for Prime Minister in three weeks’ time. Of
course, if we win the ‘no confidence’ vote on Wednesday, then it’s a different
matter altogether, because I’ll be back and guiding the ship long before the
Easter recess is over. That will give us enough time to call the election after
you’ve delivered your third budget.”

“I’m unable to
express how much we will miss your Leadership,” said Raymond simply.

“As every
member of the House will know which lobby they’ll be voting in long before the
debate begins, my Leadership may turn out to be less important than my single
vote. Just be certain your speech is the finest you ever deliver to the House.
And don’t forget it will be the first occasion on which they’ve allowed
television into the Commons, so make sure Joyce picks out one of those smart
shirts you sometimes wear.”

Raymond spent
the final few days before the “no confidence” vote preparing his speech. He
canceled all the engagements in his diary
except for the
Speaker’s 415 dinner to celebrate the Queen’s sixty-fifth birthday, at which he
would be standing in for the Prime Minister
.

The Government
and Opposition Whips spent Monday and Tuesday checking that every member would
be present in the House by ten o’clock on Wednesday night. The political
journalists pointed out that if the vote were it tie, Mr. Speaker Hampton had
already made it clear that he would abide by the ancient tradition of casting
his vote for the Government of the day.

The following
day, members began arriving hours before the debate was due to begin. The
Strangers’ Gallery had been booked days in advance, with many senior
ambassadors and even some privy councillors unable to be guaranteed seats. The
Press Gallery was filled and editors were sitting at the feet of their
political journalists’ desks, while the House was taken up with lighting
equipment that had been checked a dozen times that morning.

Between
two-thirty and three-thirty, Mr. Speaker Hampton had been unable to stop
members from chattering during questions to Mr. Meacher, Secretary of State for
Education, but at three-thirty he duly shouted for order and did not have to
wait long for silence before calling, “The Leader of the Opposition.”

Simon rose from
his place on the front bench to be greeted with cheers from his own side. He
was momen tardy surprised by the brightness of the arc lights, which he had
been assured he would hardly notice, but soon he was into his stride. Without a
note in front of him he addressed the House for fifty minutes, tearing into the
Government one moment,
then
switching to the policies
he would implement the next. He ended his peroration by describing the Labour
Party as “the party of wasted opportunity,” then added-jabbing his finger at
Raymond, “but you will be replaced by a party of ideas and ideals.”

The applause
continued for some time before Charles could bring the House back to order.

When it came to
Raymond’s turn to wind up on behalf of the Government, members wondered how he
would make himself heard above the noise that greeted him. He rose to the
dispatch box and, looking grave, with head bowed, almost whispered his first
few words, “Mr. Speaker, I know the whole House would wish me to open my speech
by saying how sad we all are that the Prime Minister is unable to be present
himself I am sure all Honorable Members will want to join me in sending him,
his wife and family our best wishes as he prepares for his operation.”

Suddenly the
House was silent, and, having caught its mood, Raymond raised his head and
delivered for the eleventh time the speech he had prepared so assiduously. When
he had seen Simon deliver his apparently impromptu speech, Raymond had torn up
his notes.

He spelled out
the achievements of the Government during the past two and a half years and
assured the House that he was only halfway through his time as Chancellor. When
he reached the end of his speech, he found, like the speakers before him, that
he was covered with sweat from the heat sent out by the powerful arc lights.
“We,

Mr. Speaker,
will see the return of a Labour Government for another full Parliament.”
Raymond sat down as the clock reached 10:00.

The Speaker
rose, and his first words were lost as he put the motion: “This House has no confidence
in Her Majesty’s Government.

“As many as are
of that opinion say Aye-, to the contrary,
No
. I think
the Ayes have it.”

“No,” hollered
back the voices from the Government benches.

“Clear the
lobbies,” called the Speaker above the cheers for Raymond Gould.

Members
departed to the Ayes or Nos lobbies to cast their votes. It was fourteen
minutes before the tellers returned to a noisy chamber to give the result of
the division to the clerk at the table, who then entered the figures on a
division paper. The four tellers lined up and advanced toward the table from
the bar of the House. They came to a halt and bowed. One of the Opposition
whips read out: “Ayes to the right three hundred twenty-three, Nos to the left
three hundred twenty-two,” and passed the piece of paper to the Speaker, who
tried to repeat it above the bedlam. Few members heard him say, “The Ayes have
it, the Ayes have it.”

Raymond sat on
the front bench watching the delighted Tories, who were acting as if they had
already won the election. He reflected that if the Prime Minister had been
present to register his vote, the Government would have saved the day.

H
ER MAJESTY THE QUEEN visited her Prime Minister in the hospital
twenty-four hours after his successful operation. He advised the monarch to
dissolve Parliament in a week’s time and asked that the General Election be set
for May 9.
lie
explained to the Queen that he intended
to resign as Leader of his Party immediately but would remain Prime Minister
until the result of the General Election was known.

When the Prime
Minister thought the audience was over the Queen took him by surprise. She
sought his advice on a personal matter which she realized could affect the outcome
of the General Election. The Prime Minister felt that once the Labour Party had
confirmed Raymond Gould as their new Leader, he should be the one to offer Her
Majesty advice on such a crucial matter.

The National
Executive board of the Labour Party met behind closed doors.