First Among Equals (41 page)

Profiles of
both men appeared in all the Sunday papers along with pictures of their wives.
It was unfortunate for Charles that the only photograph the press could find of
Amanda and
himself
together had been taken in 1981,
when miniskirts were briefly the fashion, making them look even more like
father and daughter.

The profiles
covered Simon’s rise from a middle-class Tory background to winning a marginal
seat in Coventry before being offered a junior post at the Home Office. Then
came his short period away from the Commons before returning to the House to
hold the post of Minister of State for Northern Ireland, and subsequently
Secretary
ol’State
for Defense, and finally Foreign
Affairs. The high points of Simon’s career that were most emphasized were the
Irish Charter, which had subsequently become law, his miraculous escape and the
386 tragedy ofhis son’s death from an IRA bomb, and his firm stand over HMS

Broadsword
Charles was painted as the more traditional Tory. The younger twin of the Earl
of Bridgewater, he had entered the House after Eton and Oxford and three years
in the ghts of his career, in the Grenadier Guards Fhe highlig press’s opinion,
had been his training in the Whip’s office and his work as a Treasury Minister,
followed by a steady traditional role at the Foreign Office, his firm stand on
Broadsword, and now his competent, hardworking foil to Raymond Gould’s budget
thrusts.

The Sunday
Time, – had gone one better than its rivals. Its political editor, Peter
Ridell, spent the whole week trying to contact the 257 Tory members. He
succeeded in reaching 228 of them and was able to report to his readers that
101 had said they would vote for Simon Kerslake, 98 for Charles Hampton, while
29 had refused to give any opinion. The article’s headline read “Slight Lead
for Kerslake” and went on to point out that although the two men were polite
about each other in public, no one pretended that they were friends.

“King Kerslake”
ran the banner headline in the Monday editions of the Sun, and its political
editor predicted Simon would win by 130 to 127. Simon suspected that they had
done little more than divide the Sunday Times’s “don’t-
knows
”
down the middle. With eight days to go he was being quoted at 2-1 on with Charles
11-8 against by the veteran ex-Labour MP Lord Mikardo, who had run a book on
the last fourteen leadership contests irrespective of party. When Elizabeth
told him the odds, Simon remained skeptical, as he knew from bitter experience
that it never paid to underestimate the Right Honorable Member for Sussex
Downs. Elizabeth agreed and then pointed to a small paragraph in the paper,
which he had overlooked. Ronnie’s new company was going public, and the shares
looked certain to be well oversubscribed.

“That’s one
prediction that’s turned out to be accurate,” said Simon, smiling.

With twelve
hours to go to the close of nominations, a new candidate appeared in the lists,
which came as a shock to everyone because until that moment the general public
had been entirely unaware of Alec Pirnkin.

Some of his
colleagues even expressed surprise that he had beer, able to find a proposer
and a seconder. As it had been assumed that Pimkin’s supporters were all men
who would have backed Charles, it was considered a blow to his cause, although
most political pundits doubted if Pimkin could scrape together more than seven
or eight out of the two hundred and fifty-seven votes to he cast, Charles
pleaded with Pimkin to withdraw, but he stubbornly refused, admitting to Fiona
that he was thoroughly enjoying his brief moment of glory. He held a press
conference in the Commons, gave endless interviews to television, radio and the
national press, and found he was receiving considerable political attention for
the first time in his life since the Common Market debate. He even enjoyed the
cartoon that appeared in the Daily Telegraph of the three candidates on the
starting line, which had Charles portrayed as a string bean, Simon as a jumping
bean, and Alec as a has-been waddling in a long way behind the other two. But
Alexander Dalghsh remained puzzled as to what had made Pimkin place his name in
the lists in the first place.

“My majority in
Littlehampton has plummeted from over twelve thousand to three thousand two
hundred since I was first elected, and frankly the Social Democrats have been
getting a little too close for comfort.”

“But how many
votes can you hope to pick up?” asked Fiona.

“Many more than
those drunken scribblers realize. I have nine votes already pledged, not including
my 388 own, and I could well end up with as many as fifteen.” “Why so inany?”
asked Fiona, immediately realizing how tactless the question must have sounded.

“Dear, simple
creaitire,” Pimkin replied.

“There are some
members of oui Party who do not care to be led either by a middle-class pushy
minor public schoolboy or an aristocratic, arrogant snob. By voting for me they
can lodge their protest very clearly.”

“But isn’t that
irresponsible of you?” asked Fiona, annoyed by the “simple” quip.

“Irresponsible
it may be, but you can’t begin to imagine the invitations I have been receiving
during the last few days. They should continue for at least a year after the
election is over,”

No one had
thought Tom Carson would play a major role in the Leadership ofthe Tory Party.
But when he dropped hi
,.
bombshell
,
the elements of bad luck and timing came together. On the Thursday before the
Leadership election the House was packed for questions to the Chancellor.
Raymond and Charles were having their usual verbal battles across the dispatch
box.

Charles was
coming out slightly on top and, as the Treasury wasn’t his portfolio, all Simon
could do was sit with his legs up on the table and listen while Charles scored
points.

Tom Carson
seemed to be extremely anxious to get in a supplementary on almost any
financial question that was down on the order paper. Between two-thirty and
five past three he had leaped up from his place no less than a dozen times. The
digital clock above the Speaker’s chair had reached 3:12 when, out of
exasperation, the Speaker called him on a seemingly innocuous question on
windfall profits.

With Prime
Minister’s questions just about to begin, Carson faced a packed House and a
full press gallery. He paused for a moment before phrasing his question.

“What would be
my Right Honorable friend’s attitude to a man who invests one pound in a
company and, five years later, receives a check for three hundred thousand
pounds, despite not being on the board or appearing to be involved in any way
with that company?”

Raymond was
puzzled; he had no idea what Carson was talking about. He did not notice that
Simon Kerslake had turned white.

Raymond rose to
the dispatch box. “I would remind my Honorable friend that I put capital-gains
tax up to fifty percent, which might dampen his ardor a little,” he said. It
was about the only attempt at humor Raymond had made at the dispatch box that
year, which may have been the reason so few members laughed, As Carson rose a
second time, Simon slipped a note across to Raymond, -,xhich he hurriedly
skimmed.

“But (toes the
Chancellor consider that such a person would be fit to be Prime Minister, or
even Leader of the Opposition?”

Members started
talking among themselves, trying to work out at whom the question was directed,
while the Speaker stirred restlessly in his seat, anxious to bring a halt to
such disorderly supplementaries. Raymond returned to the dispatch box and told
Carson that the question was not worthy of an answer. There the matter might
have rested, had Charles not risen to the dispatch box.

“Mr.
Speaker,
is the Chancellor aware that this personal attack
is aimed at my Right Honorable friend, the member for Pucklebridge, and is a
disgraceful slur on his character and reputation. The Honorable Member for
Liverpool Dockside should withdraw his allegation immediately.”

The
Conservatives cheered their colleague’s magnanimity, while Simon remained
silent, knowing that Charles had successfully put the story on the front page
of every national paper.

Tom Carson, arms
folded, sat back looking, satisfied with himself. The Speaker quickly moved on
to Prime Minister’s Questions.

Charles sat
back, pleased with the effect he had caused. He didn’t look at Simon, who was
visibly trembling.

Simon read the
papers over breakfast on Friday morning. He had riot overestimated the effect
of Charles’s bogus supplementary question. The details of his transaction with
Ronnie Nethercote were chronicled in the fullest extent, and it did not read
well that he had received three hundrcd thousand pounds from a “property
speculator” for a one-pound, investment.

Some of the
papers felt “bound to ask” what Nethercote hoped to gain out of the
transaction. No one seemed to realize that Simon had been on the previous
company’s board for five years, had invested sixty thousand pounds of his own
money in that company, and had only recently finished paying off the overdraft,
ending up with a small loss.

By Sunday Simon
had made a full press statement to set the record straight, and most of the
papers had given him a fair hearing. However, the editor of the Sunda
– ,
Express didn’t help matters with a comment in his widely
read “PM” column on the center page, I would not suggest for one moment that
Simon Kerslake has done anything that might be described as dishonest, but with
the spotlight turned so fiercely on him, there may be some members of
Parliament whojeel thej, cannot risk going into a General Election withan
accident-prone leader. Mr. Hampton, on the other hand, has made hisposition
abundantly clear. He did not seek to return to hisfamily bank in Opposition
while he wa v still hoping to hold public
of ,fice
.

The Monday
papers were reassessing the outcome of the ballot to take place the next day
and were predicting that Hampton now had the edge. Some journalists went so far
as to suggest that Alec Pimkin might profit from the incident as members waited
to see if there would be a second chance to give their final verdict.

Simon had
received several letters of sympathy during the week, including one from
Raymond Gouid. Raymond assured Simon that he had not been prepared for the
Carson supplementary and apologized for any embarrassment his first answer
might have caused.

“It never
crossed my mind that he had,” said Simon, as he passed Raymond’s letter over to
Elizabeth.

“The Times was
right,” she said a few moments later. “He is a very fair man.”

A moment later Simon passed his wife another letter.

Mav Hampton’s Bank Cheapside London ECI

Dear Mr. Kerslake,

I write to correct one statement to which the press has continually
referred. Charles Hampton, the former chairman of this bank, did seek to return
to Hampton’s after the Conservatives went into Opposition. He hoped to continue
as chairman on a salary of L40
,000
a year.

The board of Hampton’s did not fall in with his wishes.

Yours sincerely,

CLIVE REYNOLDS

“Will you use
it?” asked Elizabeth, when she had finished reading the letter through.

“No. It will
only draw more attention to the issue.”

Elizabeth
looked at her husband as he continued to read the letters and remembered the
file that she still possessed on Amanda Wallace. She would never reveal its
contents to Simon; but perhaps the time had come to make Charles Hampton sweat
a little.

On Monday
evening Simon sat on the front bench hstening to the Financial Secretary moving
those clauses of the short Finance Bill which were being taken in Committee on
the floor of the House. Charles never let any one of Raymond Gould’s team get
away with a phrase, or even a comma, if he could see a weakness in his case,
and the Opposition were enjoying every moment. Simon sat and watched the votes
slipping away, knowing he could do nothing to stop the process.

Of the three
candidates, only Pimkin slept well the night before the election.

Voting began
promptly at nine o’clock the next day in the Grand Committee room of the House
of Commons, the party whips acting as tellers. It became apparent that Mrs.
Thatcher had decided to remain neutral, and by three-ten all but one of those
entitled to vote had done so. The Chief Whip stood guard over the large black
tin box until Big Ben struck four.

At four o’clock
the box was removed to the Chief Whip’s office, and the little slips were
tipped out and checked twice in less than fifteen minutes. As the Chief Whip
left his office he was followed, Pied Piperlike, by lobby correspondents hoping
to learn the result, but he had no intention of divulging anything before he
reached the 1922 Committee, who were keenly awaiting him.

Committee room
14 was filled to overflowing with some 250 of the 257

Conservative
members of Parliament present. The chairman of the 1922

Committee rose,
faced the Committee, unfolded the piece of paper the Chief Whip had handed him
and pushed up his glasses. He hesitated as he took in the figures.

“The result of
the ballot carried out to select the leader of the Parliamentary Party is as
follows:

CHARLES HAMPTON 121

SIMON KERSLAKE 119

ALEC PIMKIN 16

There was a
gasp, followed by prolonged chatter which lasted until members noticed that the
chairman remained standing as he waited for some semblance of order to return
among his colleagues.

“There being no
outright winner,” he continued, “a second ballot will take place next Tuesday
without Mr. Pimkin.”