Chapter thirty-three
Simon’s first year as leader was one of unbounded energy and ideas which bore fruit as the Conservatives picked up three seats at by-elections and whittled away the Government’s majority. The press were already predicting that the Socialists wouldn’t be able to complete their full five-year term, which moved Simon to goad Central Office into a perpetual state of readiness for an election.
Raymond continued to gain respect at the Treasury as his policies began to show results. He had to cut back on some of the more ambitious projects as his gloomy predictions about American interest rates and the drop in the production of North Sea oil proved daily more accurate. After his second budget the financial press felt he had done all that was possible, given the world situation. When unemployment fell below two million and strikes to their lowest level since the Second World War some members hailed Raymond as the unions’ Messiah, while others noted that he had been shrewd enough to steal some of the Opposition’s co-inflation clothes in the absence of Charles Seymour.
As Raymond entered his third year as Chancellor the opinion polls showed the two main parties neck and neck again, with a surprising proportion of people saying that they would vote for the Alliance for the first time.
The Liberals still held sixteen seats in the Commons but, as in the past three elections, they had decided to fight under the collective banner as the Social Democrats during the general election campaign.
As the time for election drew near both small parties knew they would have to declare their choice for overall leader if a combination of Liberals and Social Democrats ever held the balance of power in Parliament. When the pollsters dug a little deeper it transpired that Andrew Fraser had become the most popular political leader in the country despite the fact he only led forty-two members in the Commons.
Andrew spent a lot of his time addressing meetings all over the country trying to convince the voters that at the next election the political balance would change. He said it so often he began to believe it himself, and two good by-election victories early in 1990 helped his supporters feel it was possible, too. The press began to take such claims seriously when at the local election in May the Alliance captured 102 council seats at the expense of both the major parties.
“Daddy, Daddy, open my school report.”
Charles left the morning mail unopened as he held Harry in his arms. He knew nothing could ever part them now but he dreaded Harry finding out that he might not be his real father.
“Please open it,” pleaded Harry, wriggling free.
The school doctor had been asked to take a sample of Harry’s blood along with six other boys from his form so that he would not consider the request unusual. Even the doctor hadn’t been told the full significance of the action.
Harry extracted the envelope from the pile by Charles’s side — the one with the school crest in the top left-hand corner — and held it out for his father to open. He looked excited and seemed hardly able to contain himself. Charles had promised he would phone his brother as soon as the result of the blood test was confirmed. He had wanted to phone the doctor a hundred times during the past week but had always stopped himself, knowing it would only add to the man’s curiosity.
“Come on, Dad, read the report and you’ll see it’s true.”
Charles tore open the letter and removed the little book which would reveal the result of all Harry’s efforts during the term. He flicked through the pages — Latin, English, History, Geography, Art, Divinity, Games, Form master, Headmaster. He reached the last page, a small yellow sheet headed: “Term medical report.” It started: Harry Seymour, age eleven, height four feet nine inches — he’s suddenly sprung up, thought Charles — weight five stone four pounds. He glanced up at Harry who looked as if he was about to burst.
“it is true, Dad, isn’t it?”
Charles read on without answering the boy’s question. At the foot of the page was a typewritten note signed by the school doctor. Charles read it twice before he understood its full significance and then a third time. “As requested I took a sample of Harry’s blood and analyzed it. The result shows that Harry shares a rare blood group...”
“Is it true, Dad?” asked Harry yet again.
“Yes, my son, it’s true.”
“I told you, Dad — I knew I’d be top in the class. That means I’ll be captain of the school next term. Just like you.”
“Just like me,” said his father, as he picked up the phone by his side and began to dial his brother’s number in Somerset.
When the Prime Minister went into hospital for a minor operation the press immediately started to speculate on his resignation. Ten days later when he walked out looking better than ever the rumors ceased immediately. In the Prime Minister’s absence as deputy leader Raymond chaired Cabinet meetings and stood in for him during questions in the Commons. This gave the lobby correspondents a chance to proclaim, like Caesarian soothsayers plucking at entrails, that Raymond was Primus inter pares.
Raymond enjoyed presiding over the Cabinet, but was surprised that the civil servants expected him to spend his entire Tuesday and Thursday mornings preparing for Prime Minister’s questions.
Both Simon Kerslake and Andrew Fraser had gained formidable reputations during Prime Minister’s questions, and Raymond found the fifteen-minute encounter more demanding than a full winding-up speech in a major debate; in retrospect, he was relieved that he had prepared so thoroughly. The lobby correspondents seemed to be in agreement that Raymond had held his own on both occasions and that, if anything, Simon Kerslake had underestimated him.
The Prime Minister returned to Downing Street the following week and assured Raymond that the operation had been a success and the likelihood of any recurrence of the trouble was, in the surgeon’s opinion, minimal. He admitted to Raymond that he hoped to lead the party to a second victory at the polls, by which time he would be within a few years of his seventieth birthday and ready to bow out quietly. He told Raymond bluntly that he hoped he would be his successor. But Raymond couldn’t help remembering that Neil Kinnock was eight years younger than he was.
Raymond returned to the Treasury to prepare for what looked like his final budget before the general election. His stewardship had made it possible to loosen the reins slightly with an election in mind. He described the loosening to the Cabinet as no more than a percentage point or two; he had no intention, he assured them, of letting three years’ hard work be sacrificed at the altar of vote-catching. Some of his colleagues round the Cabinet table wished he were not quite so unbending at times.
Whenever Raymond spoke around the country more and more people approached him about standing for the leadership. He always thanked them courteously but maintained his loyalty to the Prime Minister, which loyalty, he added, would remain constant until he chose to resign.
Simon and Andrew also spent every weekend in planes, cars, or trains fulfilling speaking engagements right up until the party conferences in October.
Andrew, in his summing-up speech to the SDP conference at Weston-super-Mare, told the delegates that they should expect to hold the balance of power between the two major parties after the next election. For the first time, he told them, they would have the chance to participate in a national Government. He sent the delegates home warning them to prepare for an election within the coming twelve months, by which time they would be able to welcome SDP Members of Parliament who would already be playing a major role in the running of the nation. Andrew’s supporters left the West Country keyed up for battle.