Andrew delivered a “plague on both your houses” speech and shouted above the protests from the two main parties, “When the time comes you will both need to call on an honest broker.” At nine-thirty when he resumed his seat Andrew was cheered as loudly as forty-two members in unison could manage.
When it came to Raymond’s turn to wind up, members wondered how he would make himself heard above the noise that greeted him. He rose to the dispatch box and, looking grave, with head bowed, almost whispered his first words, “Mr. Speaker, I know the whole House would wish me to open my speech by saying how sad we all are that the Prime Minister is unable to be present tonight. I am sure all Honorable members will want to join me in sending him, his wife, and family our best wishes as he prepares for his operation.”
Suddenly the House was silent and, having caught its mood Raymond raised his head and delivered for the eleventh time the speech he had prepared so assiduously. When he had seen Simon give his apparently impromptu speech Raymond had torn up his notes. He spelled out the achievements of the Government during the past two and a half years and assured the House that he was only halfway through his time as Chancellor. “I have not been able to achieve equality in three years, but of one thing I am certain: I look forward to delivering my next budget whatever the outcome of the vote tonight. We shall not see the opportunist Government of the Conservatives or the Alliance’s so-called ‘honest broker.’ Indeed, looking at the Alliance I can say there is no one less honest and no one more broke. We, Mr. Speaker, will see the return of a Labour Government for another full Parliament.” Raymond sat down as the clock reached ten. He found, like the speakers before him, that he was drenched in sweat from the heat sent out by the powerful arc lights.
The Speaker rose and his first words were lost as he put the question:
“This House has no confidence in Her Majesty’s Government. As many as are of that opinion say Aye, to the contrary, No. I think the Ayes have it.”
“No,” hollered back the voices from the Government benches.
“Clear the lobbies,” called the Speaker above the cheers for Raymond Gould. Members departed to the lobbies to cast their votes. The Irish members surprised no one by dividing among themselves. Fourteen minutes later the tellers returned to a noisy Chamber to give the result of the division to the clerk at the table who then entered the figures on a division paper. The four tellers lined up and advanced toward the table from the bar of the House. They came to a halt and bowed for a third time. One of the Opposition Whips read out: “Ayes to the right 323, Noes to the left 322” and passed the piece of paper to the Speaker who tried to repeat it above the bedlam. Few members heard him say:
“The Ayes have it, the Ayes have it.”
Raymond sat on the front bench and watched the delighted Tories bobbing up and down like children on a carousel. He reflected that if the Prime Minister had been present to register his vote the Government would have saved the day.
Her Majesty the Queen visited her Prime Minister in hospital twenty-four hours after his successful operation. He advised the monarch to dissolve Parliament immediately and asked that the general election be set for 9 May. He explained to the Queen that he intended to resign as leader of his party that morning and would relinquish the office of Prime Minister as soon as the outcome of the election was clear.
Before she left the Westminster Hospital the Queen spent some time discussing a private constitutional issue with the Prime Minister. He suggested that when the Labour party had confirmed their new leader he must be the man to offer her advice on such a personal matter.
The National Executive of the Labour party met behind the closed doors of Transport House in Smith Square at ten o’clock the following morning to select their new leader.
Three hours and twenty minutes later the committee issued a one-line press statement: “Mr. Raymond Could has been invited to lead the party at the forthcoming general election.”
Although no one was in any doubt about the fierce arguments that must have taken place during the meeting the press were met by a unified voice once the committee finally broke up.
As Lord Broadstairs, the former Prime Minister, wrote in the center page of the Sunday Express that weekend, “The Labour party in selecting their leader resembled nothing less than the old-fashioned magic circle of Lord Rosebery in their determination to prove unity.” The only leak he had managed to gather from the meeting was that Raymond Gould’s acceptance speech had impressed every one present.
But Lord Broadstairs went on to point out that if the Labour party should lose the general election Raymond Gould could be the shortest serving leader in the Labour party’s history, as under standing order five (four) of the constitution his appointment had to be confirmed by the delegates at the next party conference in October.
It had been two hours before Raymond was able to leave Transport House and escape the press. When he eventually got away he went straight to Westminster Hospital to visit the Prime Minister. The operation had visibly aged him. He was in good spirits, but admitted that he was glad not to be facing a grueling election campaign. After he had congratulated Raymond on his new post he went on to say: “You’re dining with the Queen tonight?”
“Yes, to celebrate her sixty-fifth birthday,” said Raymond.
“There’s more to it than that,” said the Prime Minister gravely and he then revealed the private conversation that he had had with the monarch the previous day.
“And will her decision depend on the four people in that room?”
“I suspect it will.”
“And what’s your attitude?”
“That’s no longer relevant because I shall resign as Prime Minister the day after the election, so it’s more important the new Prime Minister considers what is best for the country.”
For the first time Raymond felt like the leader of the party.
Chapter thirty-four
Elizabeth straightened Simon’s white tie and took a pace back to look at him.
“Well, at least you look like a Prime Minister,” she said, smiling.
Her husband checked his watch. Still a few minutes to spare before he needed to be at the Speaker’s private apartments — not that he was willing to risk being late for this particular birthday celebration. Elizabeth helped him on with his overcoat and after a search realized he had lost another pair of gloves.
“I do hope you can take care of the nation’s belongings a little better than you do your own.” She sighed.
“I’m sure I’ll find it hard to lose a whole country,” said Simon.
“Do remember that Raymond Gould will be trying to help you,” said Elizabeth.
“Yes, that’s true. I only wish I was fighting Kinnock.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because Could was born into the wrong party,” said Simon as he kissed his wife and walked toward the front door, “and a lot of the electorate have already reached the same conclusion.”
The policeman on the gates of New Palace Yard saluted as Simon was driven into the courtyard and dropped at the Members’ Entrance. He glanced at his watch again: ten minutes to spare. He never could resist checking how many people were in the Chamber or what the latest news was on the ticker-tape machine.
He put his head round the door of the smoking room. A few members were scattered around, mainly from safe seats they felt did not need nursing. Pimkin, surrounded by his usual cronies, hailed him. His face lit up when he saw Simon formally dressed. “I say, waiter, mine’s a double gin and tonic.” His companions duly laughed. Simon responded by asking the barman to give Mr. Pimkin a large gin and tonic and to charge it to his account.