First Among Equals (27 page)

“But it must be
very different from holding office?” said Archie, clippm’g a cigar.

“True. In
Government,” said Simon,

“
you’re
surrounded by civil servants who don’t allow you to
lift a finger or give you a moment to ponder, while in Opposition you caa think
policy through even if you do often end up having to type your own letters.”

Archie pushed
the port down to Simon’s end of the table. “I’m glad the girls are out,” said
Archie conspiratorily,

“
because
I wanted you to know I’ve decided to give up being
chairman at the end of the year.”

“Why?” asked
Simon, taken aback.

“I’ve seen you
elected and settled in. It’s time for a younger man to have a go.”

“But you’re
only my age.”

“I can’t deny
that, but the truth is that I’m not giving enough time to my electronics
company, and the board is continually reminding me of it. No one has to tell
you that these are not easy times.”

“It’s sad,”
said Simon. “Just as you get to know someone in politics, you or they always
seem to move on.”

“Fear not,”
said Archie. “I don’t intend to leave Pucklebridge, and I feel confident that
you will be my member for at least another twenty years, by which time I’ll be
quite happy to accept an invitation to Downing Street.”

“You may find
that it’s Charles Hampton who’s living at Number Ten,” said Simon, as he struck
a match to light his cigar.

“Then I won’t get
an invitation,” said Archie with a smile.

CharleF
couldn’t sleep that night after his discovery, and his tossing and turning kept
Fiona awake. He had opened the Nethercote file when he was waiting for dinner
to be served. His first act with any company was to glance down the names of
the directors to see if he knew anyone on the board. He recognized no one until
his eye stopped at “S. J. Kerslake, MP.” The cook felt sure that Mr. Hampton
had not enjoyed his dinner, because he hardly touched the main course.

On his arrival
at Hampton’s only moments after Clive Reynolds, he called for his chief
executive. Reynolds appeared a few minutes later without his usual armM of
files, surprised to see the chairman in so early. Once Reynolds was seated,
Charles opened the file in front of him. “What do you know about Nethercote and
Company?”

“Private company.
Net assets value approaching ten million
pounds, running a current overdraft of seven million, of’which we service half.

Efficiently
managed, with a good board of directors, will ride out the current problems, in
my view, and should be well oversubscribed when they eventually go public.”

“How much of
the company do we own?”

“Seven and a halt’ percent.
As you know, the bank never
takes eight percent of any company because then we would have to declare an
interest under Section Twenty-three of the Finance Act. It has always been a
policy of this bank to invest in a major client without becoming too involved
with the running of the company.”

“Who are their
principal bankers?”

“The Midland.”

“What would
happen if we put our seven and a half percent up for sale and did not renew the
overdraft facility at the end of the quarter but called it instead?”

“They would
have to seek financing elsewhere.”

“And if they
couldn’t?”

“They would
have to start selling their assets, which under that sort of forced-sale
position would be very damaging for any company, if not impossible in the
present climate.”

“And then?”

“I would have
to check my file
and .

Charles passed
over the file and Reynolds studied it carefully, frowning.

“They already
have a cash flow problem because of bad debts. With a sudden increased demand,
they might go under. I would strongly advise against such a move, Chairman.
Nethercote has proved a reliable risk over the years, and I think we stand to
make a haiidsome profit when they are quoted on the Stock Exchange.”

“For reasons I
camiot disclose to you,” said Charles, looking up from his chair, “I fear that
remaining involved with this company may turn out to be a financial
embarrassment for liampton’s.”

Reynolds looked
at him, puzzled.

“You will
inform the Midland Bank that we will not be renewing this loan at the next
quarter.”

“Then they
would have to look for support from an-229 other bank. The Midland would never
agree to shoulder the entire amount
on their own
.”

“And try to
dispose of our seven and a half percent immediately.”

“But that could
lead to a crisis of confidence in the company.”

“So be it,”
said Charles, as he closed the file.

“But I do
feel...”

“That will be
all, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Yes,
Chairman,” said the mystified chief executive, who had never thought of his
boss as an irrational man.

He turned to
leave. Had he looked back he would have been even more mystified ‘by the smile
that was spread across Charles Hampton’s face.

“They’ve pulled
the rug out from under our feet,” said Ronnie Nethercote angrily.

“Who?” said
Simon, who had just come in-to the
room.

“The Midland Bank.”

“Why would they
do that?”

“An outside shareholder
put all his stock on the market without warning, and the Midland was unwilling
to continue such a large overdraft because it was not convinced that the
company’s assets still covered the value of the shares.”

“Have you been
to see the manager?” asked Simon, unable to disguise his anxiety.

“Yes, but he
can’t do anything. His hands are tied by a main board directive,” said Ronnie,
slumping deeper into his seat.

“How bad is
it?”

“They’ve given
me a month to find another bank. Otherwise I’ll have to start selling some of
our assets.”

“What would be
the outcomc if we don’t manage to come up with another bank?” asked Simon
desperately.

“I could be
bankrupt within a month. Do you know any banker who can smell out a good deal?”

“Only
one,
and I can assure you he wouldn’t help.”

Charles put the
phone down, satisfied. He wondered if there was anything that could still be
regarded as secret. It had taken him less than an hour to find out the size of
Kerslake’s overdraft.

“Banker-to-banker
confidentiality,” he had assured them. He was still smiling when Reynolds
knocked on the door.

“The Midland
were
not pleased,” he told Charles.

“They’ll get
over it,” his chairman replied.

“What’s the
latest on Nethercote?”

“Only a rumor,
but everyone now knows they’re in trouble and the chairman is searching around
for a new backer,” said Reynolds impassively. “His biggest problem is that no
one is touching property companies at the moment.”

“Once they’ve
collapsed, what’s to stop us picking up the pieces and making, a killing?”

“A clause that was slipped through in the finance act which your
government passed three years ago.
The penalties range from a heavy fine
to having your banking license takeen away.”

“Oh, yes, I
rememi
)er
,” said Charles.
“Pity.

So how long do
you expect
them.
to
last?”

“Once the month
is up,” said Reynolds, stroking a clean-shavei
,i
chin,
“if they fail to find a backer, the creditors w0l swarm in like locusts.”

“Aren’t the
shares worth anything?” asked Charles innocently.

“Not the paper
they are written on at the moment,” said Reynolds, watching his chairman
carefully.

This time the
chief executive couldn’t miss the chairman’s smile as Charles thought of Simon
Kerslake and his overdraft of one hundred and eight thousand pounds, now backed
by worthless shares.

Pucklebridge
would soon be looking for a new member.

At the end of a
month during which no bank came to his rescue, Ronnie Nethercote caved in and
agreed to call in the receiver and file a bankruptcy notice. He still hoped
that he could pay off all his creditors even if the shares he and his fellow
directors held remained worthless.

He felt as
worried for Simon and his career as he did for himself, but he knew there was
nothing the receiver would allow him to do to help one individual.

When Simon told
Elizabeth that night, she didn’t cry. She was a fatalist at heart, and had
always feared the outcome of her husband’s joining the board of Nethercote’s.

“Can’t Ronnie
help you? After all, you’ve supported him enough in the past.”

“No, he can’t,”
said Simon avoiding tefling her where the real responsibility for his downfall
lay.

“Do bankrupts
automatically have to leave Parliament?” was Elizabeth’s next question.

“No, but I
shall because I could never be considered for further promotion-I’d always be
rightly tainted with ‘lack of judgment.’ 11

“It seeins so unfair when you weren’t personally to blame.”

“There are
different rules for those who wish to live in the spotlight,”

Simon said
simply.

“But in time,
surely...” began Elizabeth.

“I’m not willing
to remain on the back benches for another twenty years only to hear whispered
in the corner of the smoking room ‘. . . Would have made the Cabinet if it
hadn’t been for...”‘

Elizabeth’s
next question saddened Simon.

“Does that mean
we will have to give up the nanny
,?
”

Not
necessarily, but we both may have to make sacrifices in order to keep her part
time.”

“But my work at
the hospital...” began Elizabeth not completing the sentence. “So what happens
nextT she asked
hurriedly.

“I’ll have to
tell Archie Millburn tonight.

I’ve already
written my letter of resignation to hand to him. I shall make an appointment to
see the Chief Whip on Monday to explain to him why I am going to apply for the
Chiltern Hundreds.”

“What does that
mean?”

“It’s one of
the few ways of leaving the House in midsession
– ,other
than dying. Officially it’s a nominal office under the Crown which debars you
from membership in the House.”

“It all sounds
rather formal to me,” said Elizabeth.

“I’m afraid it
will cause an embarrassing by-election in Pucklebridge,”

Simon admitted.

“Can nobody
help’?”

“There aren’t a
lot of people around who have a spare hundred and eight thousand pounds for a
worthless bunch of shares.”

“Would you like
me to come with you when you go to see Archie?” Elizabeth asked, rising from
her seat.

“No, darling.
It’s kind of you to ask.”

Elizabeth
leaned over and pushed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. She
couldn’t help noticing some gray strands that must have appeared in the last
few weeks. At that moment she felt like strangling Ronnie Nethercote.

Simon drove
slowly down to Pucklebridge to keep his impromptu appointment with the
chairman. Archie Millburn, standing hands on hips in his garden, listened to
the tale with a sad face. “It’s been happening to a lot of good people in the
city lately-but what I can’t understand is, if the company owns such prime
properties, why has no one made a takeover bid?
Sounds as if
it’s a divestiture specialist’s dream.”

“It appears to
be a matter of confidence,” said Simon.

“A sacred word
in the City,” agreed Archie, while he continued to prune his Roosevelts and Red
Mistresses.

Simon handed
him the prepared letter of resignation, which Millburn read over and
reluctantly accepted.

“I won’t mention
this to anyone until you’ve seen the Chief Whip on Monday.

I’ll call a
special meeting of the full committee on Tuesday evening and inform them of
your decision then.”

The two men
shook hands. “Your misfortune is our misfortune,” said Archie.

“In a very
short time you’ve gained the respect and the affection of the local people.
You’ll be imissed.”

Simon (trove
back to London, and, although the car radio was on, he did not take in the news
flash that they kept repeating every thirty minutes.

Raymond was
aniong the first to hear the announcement, and was stunned by it. Harold Wilson
was going to resign less than halfway through the five-year Parliament, and for
no apparent reason other than that he had just passed his sixtieth birthday. He
proposed to remain Prime Minister only so long as the Labour Party took to
select its new Leader, who would,

Raymond hoped,
serve out the full term.

Raymond and
Kate sat glued to the television, picking up every scrap of information they
could. They discussed the implications far into the night.

“Well, Red,
could this mean rehabilitation for our forgotten hero?”

“Who can say?”

“Well, if you
can’t, who can?”

“The next
Leadei, perhaps,” said Raymond.

The fight for
the Leadership was a straight battle between the left and right wings of the
Labour Party, James Callaghan on the right and Michael Foot on the left. It was
with some relief that Raymond saw Callaghan, despite losing the first ballot,
come through to be elected Leader. The Queen duly called for Callaghan and asked
him to form a new Government. As tradition demands, all serving Ministers of
the Government sent their resignations to Downing Street to allow the new Prime
Minister to select his own team.

Raymond was in
court listening to the judge’s summing up when his junior passed him a note:
“Please call 10 Downing Street as soon as possible.”