“This question has nothing to do with what I said to the House on that occasion,” retorted Raymond angrily. His last few words were lost in Opposition shouts of “Resign, resign!”
Simon was up in a flash and the Speaker called him for a third time.
“Is the Honorable Gentleman telling the House that he has one set of moral standards when he speaks, and yet another when he writes?”
The House was now in total uproar and few members heard Raymond say, “No, sir, I try to be consistent.”
The Speaker rose and the noise subsided slightly. He looked about him with an aggrieved frown. “I realize the House feels strongly on these matters, but I must ask the Honorable member for Coventry Central to withdraw his remark suggesting that the minister has behaved dishonorably.”
Simon rose and retracted his statement at once, but the damage had been done. Nor did it stop members from calling “Resign” until Raymond left the Chamber a few minutes later.
Simon sat back smugly as Gould left the Chamber. Conservative members turned to nod their acknowledgment of his professional demolition of the Government’s Under-Secretary of State. The Chancellor of the Exchequer rose to deliver his prepared statement on devaluation. Simon felt sick as he listened with horror to the Chancellor’s opening words. “The Honorable member for Leeds North handed in his resignation to the Prime Minister on Saturday evening but graciously agreed not to make this public until I had had an opportunity to address the House.”
The Chancellor went on to praise Raymond for his work in the Department of Employment, and to wish him well on the back benches.
Andrew visited Raymond in his room immediately after the Chancellor had finished answering questions. He found him slumped at his desk, a vacant look on his face. Andrew had never considered Raymond a natural friend but he wanted to express his admiration for the way he had conducted himself.
“It’s kind of you,” said Raymond, who was still shaking from the experience. “Particularly as you would have demolished the lot of them.”
“Well, they’re all demolished now,” said Andrew. “Simon Kerslake must feel the biggest shit in town.”
“There’s no way he could have known,” said Raymond. “He’d certainly done his homework and the questions were spot on. I suspect we would have approached the situation in much the same way given the circumstances.”
Several other members dropped in to commiserate with Raymond after which he returned to his old department to say farewell to his team before he went home to spend a quiet evening with Joyce. There was a long silence before the Permanent Secretary ventured an opinion: “I hope, sir, it will not be long before you return to Government. You have certainly made our lives hard but for those you ultimately serve you have undoubtedly made life easier.” The sincerity of the statement touched Raymond, especially as the civil servant was already serving a new master.
It felt strange to sit down and watch television, read a book, even go for a walk and not be perpetually surrounded by red boxes and ringing phones. Within forty-eight hours he missed it all.
He was to receive over a hundred letters from colleagues in the House but he kept only one.
Monday, 20 November 1967
Dear Gould,
I owe you a profound apology. We all in our political life make monumental mistakes about people and I certainly made one today.
I believe that most members of the House have a genuine desire to serve the country, and there can be no more honorable way of proving it than by resigning when one feels one’s party has taken a wrong course.
I envy the respect in which the whole House now holds you.
Yours sincerely,
Simon Kerslake.
When Raymond returned to the Commons that afternoon, he was cheered by the members of both sides from the moment he entered the Chamber. The minister who had been in the middle of addressing the House at the time had no choice but to wait until Raymond had taken his seat on the back benches.
CHAPTER TEN
SIMON HAD ALREADY left when Edward Heath called his home. It was another hour before Elizabeth was able to pass on the message that the party leader wanted to see him at two-thirty.
Charles was at the bank when the Chief Whip called, asking if they could meet at two-thirty that afternoon before Commons business began. Charles felt like a schoolboy who had been told the headmaster expected him to be in his study after lunch. The last time the Chief Whip had phoned was to ask him to make the winding-up speech and they had hardly spoken since. Charles remained apprehensive; he always preferred to be told what a problem was immediately.
He decided to skip lunch at the bank and join his colleagues in the House, to be certain he wouldn’t be late for the afternoon appointment.
Charles did not enjoy eating at the House as the food, with the exception of the hors d’oeuvres trolley, was only a little better than Paddington station and rather worse than London airport.
He joined some of his colleagues at the large table in the center of the Members’ Dining Room and took the only seat available, next to Simon Kerslake. The two men had not really been on good terms since the Heath-Maudling leadership contest. Charles did not care much for Kerslake: he had once told Fiona that he was one of the new breed of Tories who tried a little too hard and he had not been displeased to see him embarrassed over the Gould resignation. Not that he allowed anyone other than Fiona to know his true feelings.
Simon watched Charles sit down and wondered how much longer the party could go on electing Etonian guardsmen who spent more time making money in the City and spending it at Ascot than they did working in the House—not that it was an opinion he would have expressed to anyone but his closest friend. The discussion over lunch centered on the remarkable run of by-election results the Tories had had at Acton, Meriden, and Dudley. It was obvious that most of those around the table could not wait for a general election, although the Prime Minister did not have to call one for at least another three years.
Neither Charles nor Simon ordered coffee.
At two-twenty-five Charles watched the Chief Whip leave his private table in the corner of the room and turn to walk toward his office. Charles checked his watch and waited a moment before leaving his colleagues to begin a heated discussion about entry into the Common Market.
He strolled past the smoking room before turning left at the entrance to the library. Then he continued down the old Ways and Means corridor, passed through the swing doors, and entered the Members’ Lobby which he crossed to reach the Government Whips’ office. He put his head round the secretary’s door. Miss Norse OBE, the Chiefs invaluable secretary, stopped typing.
“I have an appointment with the Chief Whip,” said Charles.
“Yes, Mr. Seymour, he is expecting you. Please go through.” The typing recommenced immediately.
Charles walked on down the corridor and found the Chief Whip blocking his own doorway.
“Come on in, Charles. Can I offer you a drink?”
“No, thank you,” replied Charles, not wanting to delay the news any longer.
The Chief Whip poured himself a gin and tonic before sitting down.
“I hope what I’m about to tell you will be looked upon as good news.” The Chief Whip paused and took a gulp of his drink. “The leader thinks you might benefit from a spell in the Whips’ office, and I must say I would be delighted if you felt able to join us …”
Charles wanted to protest but checked himself. “And give up my Housing and Local Government post?”
“Oh yes, and more of course, because Mr. Heath expects all Whips to forgo outside commitments. Working in this office is not a part-time occupation.”
Charles needed a moment to compose his thoughts. “And if I turn it down, will I keep my post at Housing and Local Government?”
“That’s not for me to decide,” said the Chief Whip, “but it is no secret that Ted Heath is planning several changes in the run-up to the election.”
&n
bsp; “How long do I have to consider the offer?”
“Perhaps you could let me know your decision by question time tomorrow.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you,” said Charles. He left the Chief Whip’s office and drove to Eaton Square.
Simon arrived at two-twenty-five, five minutes before his meeting with the party leader. He had tried not to speculate as to why Heath wanted to see him, in case the meeting only resulted in disappointment. Douglas Hurd, the head of the private office, ushered him straight through to the Conservative leader.
“Simon, how would you like to join the Housing and Local Government team in the run-up to the election?” It was typical of Heath not to waste any time on small talk and the suddenness of the offer stunned Simon. He recovered quickly.
“Thank you very much,” he said. “I mean er … yes … thank you.”
“Good, let’s see you put your back into it, and be sure the results at the dispatch box are as effective as they have been from the back benches.”
The door was opened once again by the private secretary; the interview was clearly over. Simon found himself back in the corridor at two-thirty-three. It was several moments before the offer sank in. Then he suddenly felt elated and made a dash for the nearest phone. He dialed the St. Mary’s switchboard and asked if he could be put through to Dr. Kerslake. As he spoke, his voice was almost drowned by the sound of the division bells, signaling the start of the day’s business at two-thirty-five following prayers. A woman’s voice came on the line.
“Is that you, darling?” asked Simon above the din.
“No, sir. It’s the switchboard operator. Dr. Kerslake’s in the operating theater.”
“Is there any hope of getting her out?”
“Not unless you’re expecting a baby, sir.”
“What brings you home so early?” asked Fiona as Charles came charging through the front door.
“I need to talk to someone.” Fiona could never be sure if she ought to be flattered, but she didn’t express any opinion as it was all too rare these days to have his company at all.
Charles repeated to his wife as nearly verbatim as possible his conversation with the Chief Whip. Fiona remained silent when Charles had come to the end of his monologue. “Well, what’s your opinion?” he asked anxiously.
“All because of one bad speech from the dispatch box,” Fiona commented wryly.
“I agree,” said Charles, “but nothing can be gained by tramping over that ground again.”
“We’ll miss the salary you earn as a director of the bank,” said Fiona. “The tax on my private income has made the amount I now receive derisory.”
“I know, but if I turn it down, and we win the next election …?”
“You’ll be left out in the cold.”
“More to the point, stranded on the back benches.”
“Charles, politics has always been your first love,” said Fiona, touching him gently on the cheek. “So I don’t see that you have a choice, and if that means some sacrifices you’ll never hear me complain.”
Charles rose from his chair saying, “Thank you. I’d better go and see Derek Spencer immediately.”
As Charles turned to leave, Fiona added, “And don’t forget, Ted Heath became leader of the party via the Whips’ office.”
Charles smiled for the first time that day.
“A quiet dinner at home tonight?” suggested Fiona.
“Can’t,” said Charles. “I’ve got a late vote.”
Fiona sat alone wondering if she would spend the rest of her life cohabiting with three-line whips.
At last they put him through.
“Let’s have a celebration dinner tonight.”
“Why?” asked Elizabeth.
“Because I’ve been invited to join the front-bench team to cover Housing and Local Government.”
“Congratulations, darling, but what does Housing and Local Government consist of?”
“Housing, urban land, transport, devolution, water, historic buildings, Stansted or Maplin airport, the Channel tunnel, royal parks …”
“Have they left anything for anyone else to do?”
“That’s only half of it, if it’s out of doors it’s mine. I’ll tell you the rest over dinner.”
“Oh, hell, I don’t think I can get away until eight tonight, and we’d still have to get a baby-sitter. Does that come under Housing and Local Government, Simon?”
“Sure does,” he said, laughing. “I’ll fix it and book a table at the Grange for eight-thirty.”
“Have you got a ten o’clock vote?”
“Afraid so.”
“I see, coffee with the baby-sitter,” she said. She paused. “Simon.”
“Yes, darling?”
“I’m very proud of you.”
Derek Spencer sat behind his massive partner’s desk in Cheapside and listened intently to what Charles had to say.
“You will be a great loss to the bank,” were the chairman’s first words. “But no one here would want to hold up your political career, least of all me.”
Charles noticed that Spencer could not look him in the eye as he spoke.
“Can I assume that I would be invited back on the board if for any reason my situation changed at the Commons?”
“Of course,” said Spencer. “There was no need for you to ask such a question.”
“That’s kind of you,” said Charles, genuinely relieved. He stood up, leaned forward, and shook hands rather stiffly.
“Good luck, Charles,” were Spencer’s parting words.
“Does that mean you can no longer remain on the board?” asked Ronnie Nethercote when he heard Simon’s news.
“No, not while I’m in Opposition and only a Shadow spokesman. Only the Chief Whip receives a salary and is therefore disqualified, but if we win the next election and I’m offered a job in Government I would have to resign immediately.”
“So I’ve got your services for another three years?”
“Unless the Prime Minister goes earlier, or we lose the next election.”
“No fear of the latter,” said Ronnie. “I knew I’d picked a winner the day I met you, and I don’t think you’ll ever regret joining my board.”
Over the months that followed Charles was surprised to find how much he enjoyed working in the Whips’ office, although he had been unable to hide from Fiona his anger at Kerslake taking over his shadow post at Housing and Local Government. The order, discipline, and camaraderie of the job brought back memories of his days in the Grenadier Guards. His duties were manifold and ranged from checking that members were all present in their committees to sitting on the front bench in the Commons and picking out the salient points members made in their speeches to the House. He also had to keep an eye out for any signs of dissension or rebellion on his own benches while remaining abreast of what was happening on the other side of the House. In addition he had fifty of his own members from the Midlands area to shepherd, and had to be certain that they never missed a vote unless paired, and only then when the Whips’ office had been informed.
As Whips are never called on to make speeches in the House at any time Charles seemed to have discovered a role for which he was best cut out. Fiona reminded him once again that Ted Heath had a spell in the Whips’ office on his way to becoming Shadow Chancellor. She was delighted to see how involved her husband had become with Commons life but still hated going to bed alone each night and regularly falling asleep before he had even arrived home.
Simon also enjoyed his new appointment from the first moment. As the junior member of the Housing and Local Government team he was given transport as his special subject. During the first year he read books, studied pamphlets, held meetings with national transport chairmen from air, sea, and rail, and frequently worked long into the night trying to master his new brief. Simon was one of those rare members who, after only a few weeks, looked as if he had always been on the front bench.
Both parties were surprised by th
e fourteen percent swing to the Conservatives at the Louth by-election toward the end of 1969. It began to look as if the Labour party did not have enough time to recover before they had to call an election. But in March 1970 the Labour party had a surprisingly good result in the Ayrshire South by-election; it caused the press to speculate that the Prime Minister might go to the country early. The May local elections in England and Wales showed a further swing to Labour, which was contrary to every other political trend of the previous two years. Talk of a general election was suddenly in the air.
When the following month’s opinion polls confirmed the swing to Labour Harold Wilson visited the Queen at Buckingham Palace and asked her to dissolve Parliament. The date of the general election was set for 18 June 1970.
The press were convinced that Wilson had got it right again, and would lead his party to victory for the third time in a row, a feat no man in political history had managed. Every Conservative knew that would spell the end of Edward Heath’s leadership of his party.
Andrew and Louise returned to Edinburgh as soon as the Queen had made the announcement. Parliament went into a limbo period while members dispersed all over the country only in order to try and return to Westminster.
Andrew found his local committee had been taken by surprise by the PM’s announcement, and realized he only had a matter of days to prepare himself.
The evening he arrived back in Edinburgh he called his General Purposes Committee together and over coffee and sandwiches mapped out a demanding three-week timetable which would allow him to reach every part of the constituency not once but several times. Street cards were pinned on to an old trestle table, soon to be filled in with crayon of various colors according to the canvassing returns: a red line through a definite Labour vote, a blue line through a Conservative one, a yellow through a Liberal, and a black line through the growing Scottish Nationalist party.