First Among Equals (6 page)

The next
morning Simon telephoned to find that Lavinia was fully recovered, but Daddy
had thought it might.
be
wise for her to spend the
rest of the day in bed. Simon concurred and promised to drop in to see her
sometime during the evening.

Once Simon had
reached his office in the Commons he phoned St. George’s Hospital, and they
told him that Dr.

Drummond would
be off duty until later that afternoon. It didn’t take the skill of Sherlock
Holmes to find Dr. E. Drummond’s telephone number in the London directory.

“It’s Simon
Kerslake,” he said when Dr, Drummond answered the phone. “I wanted to thank you
for the trouble you took over Lavinia last night.”

“It was no
trouble, no trouble at all-in fact it was the least of last night’s problems.”

Sirnon laughed
nervously and asked, “Are you free for lunch by any chance?”

Dr. Drummond
sounded somewhat surprised, but aareed after Simon had suggested the Coq d’Or,
which 44 was conveniently near St. George’s Hospital.

They agreed to
meet at one.

Simon arrived a
few minutes early, ordered a lager and waited at the bar.

At five past
one the maitre d’ brought the doctor to his side.

“It was good of
you to come at such short notice,” said Simon, after shaking hands.

“It was
irresistible. It’s not often I get invited to lunch when all I hqve done is clean
up a flesh wound.”

Simon laughed
and found himself staring at the beautiful woman. He recalled the calm poise of
yesterday, but today she revealed an infectious enthusiasm that Sinion found
irresistible. The maitre d’ guided them to a table in the comer of the room.
Simon stared once again at the slim, fair woman, whose large brown eyes had
kept hini
awake
most of the night. He couldn’t help
noticing, men stop in mid-sentence to take a closer look as she passed each
table.

“I know it
sounds silly,” he said after they had sat down, “‘but I don’t know your first
name.”

“Elizabeth,”
she said, smiling.

“Mine’s Simon.”

“I remember,”
said Elizabeth. “In fact I saw you on Panorama last month giving your views on
the state of the National Health Service.”

“Oh,” said
Simon, sounding rather pleased. “Did it come over all right?”

“You were
brilliant,” replied Elizabeth.

Simon smiled.

“Onl, an expert
would have realized you hadn’t the faintest idea what you were talking about.”
Simon was momentarily stunned and then burst out laughing.

Over a ni
,.
-al Simon couldn’t remember ordering, he learned that
Elizabeth had been to school in London before training at St. Thomas’s
Hospital. “I am only working relief at St.

Georges this
week,” she explained, “before I take up a full-time post in the gynecology
departrnent of St. Mary’s, Paddington. If Miss Maxwell Harrington had come to
the hospital a week later, we would never have met. How is she, by the way?”

“Spending the day in bed.”

“You’re not
serious?” said Elizabeth. “I only sent her home to change her dress, not
convalesce.”

Simon burst out
laughing again.

“I’m
sorry,
I probably insulted a dear friend of yours.”

“No,” said
Simon, “that was yesterday.”

Sirrion
returned to Chelsea Square that night and learned, while sitting on the end of
Lavinia’s bed, that Dadd, had “fixed”Ted Heath, and Simon could expect y to
hear from him in the near future. It didn’t stop Simon from telling Lavinia the
truth about his meeting with Elizabeth Drummond, even though he had no way of
knowing Elizabeth’s feelings.

Simon was
surprised at how well Lavinia appeared to take the news. He left a few minutes
later to return to the House of Commons in tinne for the ten o’clock vote.

In the corridor
tLe Chief Whip took him aside and asked if he could sec him in his office at
twelve the next morning. Simon readily agreed. After the vote he wandered into
the Whip’s office in the hope that some clue would be given as to why the Chief
Whip wanted to see him.

“Congratulations,
‘ said
a junior whip, looking up from his desk.

“Ont what?”
said Simon apprehensively.

“Oh hell, have
I let the cat out of the bag?”

“I don’t think
so,” said Simon. “The Chief Whip has asked to see me at twelve tomorrow.”

“I never said a
word,” said the junior whip, and buried his head in some papers. Simon smiled
and returned home.

He was unable
to sleep much that night or stand still most of the following morning and was
back in the Whip’s office by ten to twelve. He tried not to show too much
anticipation.

Miss Norse, the
Chief Whip’s aging secretary, looked up from.
her
typewriter. The tapping stopped for a moment.

“Good morning,
Mr. Kerslake. I’m afraid the Chief Whip has been held up in a meeting with Mr.
Heath.”

“I fully
understand,” said Simon. “Am I to wait, or has he arranged another
appointment?”

“No,” said Miss
Norse, sounding somewhat surprised. “No,” she repeated.

“He simply said
that whatever he wanted to see you about was no longer important, and he was
sorry to have wasted your time.”

Simon turned to
leave, immediately realizing what had happened. He went straight to the nearest
telephone booth and dialed five digits of Lavinia’s home number, and then hung
up suddenly. He waited for a few moments before he dialed seven digits.

It was a few
minutes before they found her.

“Dr
..Druaimond
,” she said crisply.

“Elizabetb,
it’s
Simon Kerslake. Are you free for dinner?”

“Why, does
Lavinia need her Band-Aid changed?”

“No,” said
Simon, “Lavinia died-somewhat prematurely.”

Elizabeth
– :
,huckled. “I do hope it’s not catching,” she said, before
adding, “I’m afraid I don’t get off until tenthirty.”

“Neither do
I
,” said Simon, “so I could pick you up at the hospital.”

“You sound a
bit low,” said Elizabeth.

“Not
low...older,” said Simon. “I’ve grown up about twenty.years in the last two
days.”

Although he
wasn’t much more than a glorified messenger boy, Charles Hampton was enjoying
the chal47 lenge of his new appointment as a junior Opposition spokesman in
Environment. At least he felt he was near the center of affairs. Even if he was
not actually making decisions on future policy, he was at least listening to
them. Whenever a debate on housing took place in the Commons, he was allowed to
sit on the front bench along, with the rest of the Conservative team. He had
already caused the defeat of two minor amendments on the Town and Country
Planning Bill, and had added one of his own, relating to the protection of
trees. “
it
isn’t preventing a world war,” he admitted
to Fiona, “but in its own way it’s quite important, because if we win the next
General Election, I’m now confident of being, offered a junior office. Then
I’ll have a real chance to shape policy.”

Fiona continued
to play her part, hosting monthly dinner parties at their Eaton Square house.
By the end of the year every member of the Shadow Cabinet had been to dinner at
least once at the Hamptons’, where Fiona never allowed a menu to be repeated or
wore the same dress twice.

When the
parliamentary year began again in October, Charles was one ofthe names
continually dropped by the political analysts as someone to watch.

“He makes
things happen,” was the sentiment that was expressed again and again. He could
barely cross the members’ lobby without a reporter’s trying to solicit his
views on everything from butter subsidies to rape.

Fiona clipped
out of the papers every mention of her husband and couldn’t help noticing that
only one new member was receiving more press coverage than Charles-a young man
t”rom Leeds named Raymond Gould.

Raymond Gould
could be found tapping away late Y into the night on his ancient typewriter
with his phone off the hook. He was writing page after page, checking, then
rechecking the proofs, and often referring to the piles of books that cluttered
his desk.

When Raymond’s
‘Full Employment at Any Cost’ was published and subtitled “Reflections of a
Worker Educated
After
the Thirties,” it caused an
immediate sensation. The suggestion that the unions would become impotent and
the Labour Party would need to be more innovative to capture the young vote was
never likely to endear him to the Party’s rank and file.

Raymond had
anticipated that it would provoke a storm of abuse from union leaders, and even
among some of his more leftwing colleagues. But when A.J.P. Taylor suggested in
the London Times that it was the most profound and realistic look at the Labour
Party since Anthony Crosland’s The Future oj* Socialism, and had produced a
politician of rare honesty and courage, Raymond knew his strategy and hard work
were paying dividends.

He found
himself a regular topic of conversation at every political dinner party in
London.

Joyce thought
the book a magnificent piece of scholarship, and she spent a considerable time
trying to convince trade unionists that, in fact, it showed a passionate
concern for their movement, while at the same time realistically, considering
the Labour Party’s chances of governing in the next decade.

The Labour
Chief Whip took Raymond aside and told him, “You’ve caused a right stir, lad.
Now keep your head down for a few months and you’ll probably find every Cabinet
member quoting you as if it was party policy.”

Raymond took
the Chief Whip’s advice, but he did not have to wait months.

Just three
weeks after the book’s publication Raymond received a missive from Number 10
requesting him to check over the Prime Minister’s speech to the Trade Union
Conference and add any suggestions he might have.

Raymond read
the note again, delighted by the recognition it acknowledged.

He began to
hope he might be the first of the new intake to be invited to join the
Government front bench.

Simon Kerslake
looked upon the defeat of Maudling and his own failure to be offered a post in
the Whip’s office as only temporary setbacks. He soon began to work on a new
strategy for gaining his colleagues’ respect.

Realizing that
there was a fifteen-minute period twice a week when someone with his oratorical
skills could command notice, he turned all his cunning against the Government
benches. At the beginning of a new session each week he would carefully study
the agenda and in particular the first five questions listed for the Prime
Minister on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Supplementary
questions were required to have only the loosest association with the subject
of the main question. This meant that although Ministers were prepared for the
first question, they could never be sure what supplementaries would be thrown
at them.

Thus, every
Monday morning Simon would prepare a supplementary for at least three
questions. These he worded, then reworded, so that they were biting or witty
and always likely to embarrass the Labour Government. Although preparation
could take several hours, Simon would make them sound as though they had been
jotted down on the back of his agenda paper during Question Time – and in fact
would even do so. He remembered Churchill’s comment after being praised for a
brilliant rejoinder, “All my best off-the-cuff remarks have been prepared days
before.”

Even so, Simon
was surprised at how quickly the House took it for granted that he would be
there on the attack, probing, demanding, harrying the Prime Minister’s every
move. Whenever he rose from his seat, the Party perked up in anticipation, and
many of his interruptions reached the political columns of the Newspapers the
next day. The Labour Party had become painfully aware of Kerslake’s
contribution at Question Time.

Unemployment
was the subject of that day’s question. Simon was quickly on his feet, leaning
forward, jabbing a finger in the direction of the Government front bench.

“With the
appointment of’ four extra Secretaries of State this week the Prime Minister
can at least claim he has full employment in the Cabinet.”

The Prime
Minister sank lower into his seat, looking forward to tho recess.

No one
wits
more delighted than Simon when lie read in the Sun4ay
Express Crossbencher column that “Prime Minister Wilson may dislike Edward
Heath, but he detests Smnon Kerslake.” Simon smiled.
pleased
to find that real results had come from his own efforts, not from outside
contacts.

Junior Office
1966-11972

T
HE BRITISH CONSTITUTION remains one of the great mysteries to
almost all who were not born on that little island in the North Sea, and to a
considerable number of those who have never left its shores. This may be partly
because, unlike the Americans, the British have had no written constitution
since Magna Carta in 1215 and since then have acted only on precedent.

A Prime
Minister is elected for a term of five years, but he can “go to the country”
whenever he thinks fit, which inevitably means when he considers he has the
best chance of winning a General Election. If the government of the day has a
large majority in the Commons, the electorate expects it to remain in power for
at least four of the five years. In such circumstances “to go early” is
considered opportunistic by the voters and for that reason often backfires. But
when a party’s majority in the House is small, as was the case with Harold
Wilson’s Labour Government, the press never stops speculating on.
the
date of the next election.