The tape stopped. Silence reigned supreme. I couldnt believe that Humphrey had been foolish enough to talk like that in public, even though I knew that it would never be broadcast.
How could you say that? I asked finally.
I I it was Mike Yarwood, he explained in a strangled voice.
Was it? I asked.
No, said Bernard.
I wandered from the table over to the window. The afternoon November sky was black and heavy with rain. I really dont know how to handle this, I mused. I shall have to take advice.
Advice? whispered Sir Humphrey.
Yes, I said, turning the knife in the wound. I think Id better play it to the Cabinet. Get their reaction.
He seemed on the verge of falling to his knees. But Oh please was all he could say.
Or the Privy Council, I suggested.
Oh please, he begged.
Or Her Majesty, I said lightly.
Oh God! he groaned, and collapsed into a chair again.
I walked across the room and stood over him. Suppose this were to get into the papers? How much damage do you think it would do me? And the government?
Humphrey, of course, still believed that it would get into the papers. I shall say I was wrong. That Ive checked the figures and its not true.
But it is true! I hissed.
But I can say its not. Nobody can prove it. Its never been tried.
I pretended shock. You would deny the truth? In public?
Yes Prime Minister. For you! For me indeed!
He had other ideas. We could issue a clarification to the press.
I indicated the tape. I think your views are quite clear.
Prime Minister, in government a clarification is not to make things clear, it is to put you in the clear.
I dont think even a wizard such as yourself could do that here, I said. But Im touched that you would be willing to lie for me -- and Ill take a raincheck on that. And now Ive got something to tell you. And I put him out of his misery. Bernard, give Humphrey the tape. Humphrey, this is the original. The master.
It took him a moment or two to assimilate the news. You mean
There are no other copies, I reassured him. It has been retrieved from the BBC.
How? By whom?
Bernard flashed a desperate, wide-eyed remember your promise look at me. But he neednt have worried.
Intelligence, I said calmly.
Bernard visibly relaxed.
So -- you mean its all right? asked Humphrey, hopeful but very subdued.
I didnt want to let him right off the hook. I had an important trade-off to offer. It depends what you mean by all right, I said.
Nobody will ever know? Thats what he meant. But I thought about his question, as he waited on tenterhooks.
I suppose, I answered eventually, that depends on whether I choose to tell them. I mean, I could just hand you the tape or I could hold on to it while I consider the security and disciplinary implications. I certainly cant become involved in some shabby cover-up.
He was waiting for the verdict of the court. So I offered him my deal, casually. Oh Humphrey, one other thing. When do you appear before the Committee?
Tomorrow, Prime Minister.
And have you decided yet what to tell them? About my authorising the tapping of MPs phones?
Oh. Yes. Yes. Ive er he tried to focus on his vague memories of that other problem, the tape recording having temporarily driven all else from his mind. Ive been thinking about it a lot. Very hard.
I asked him for his conclusions. They were not wholly surprising. I have concluded, Prime Minister, that in the interests of National Security the only honourable course is to support your statement in the House.
I prompted him. Youll say that Hugh Halifaxs phone was never bugged?
Ill say that I have no evidence that --"
I stopped him mid-sentence. No, Humphrey. Youll say that the Government has never authorised any tapping of MPs phones.
He breathed deeply. And Ill say that the Government has never authorised any tapping of MPs phones.
I smiled. He whispered: What happens if they ever find out the truth?
I couldnt even see a problem there. Youll have to say that nobody told you. Because you didnt need to know. Agreed?
He nodded. I handed him the tape. Is that settled then?
Yes Prime Minister, he muttered, and clasped the spools of tape close to his heart.
THE PATRON OF THE ARTS
December 3rd
Do you think perhaps asked Bernard hesitantly, I mean, would it have been wiser? you know, with hindsight, was it a mistake?
Yes Bernard, I said.
We were discussing the British Theatre Awards, a really unimportant, self-serving, narcissistic gathering, and not one on which the time of the Prime Minister should be wasted.
But Malcolm, my press officer, Bernard and I had spent the best part of an hour wondering how to handle the hideous predicament in which I find myself.
The irony is, I certainly didnt have to agree to present these awards. Malcolm recommended it! He is denying that now, of course. With respect, Prime Minister, I didnt actually recommend it. I just that the British Theatre Awards dinner was being televised live and that as the guest of honour youd be seen by twelve million people in a context of glamour, fun and entertainment. And that youd be associated with all the star actors and actresses who give pleasure to millions.
And you dont call that a recommendation? I was incredulous. It was worth ten points in the opinion polls, the way you described it.
Malcolm nodded mournfully. But Bernard was confused. Isnt it a bad idea to be associated with actors? I mean, their job is pretending to be what theyre not. And if youre seen with them, well, people might realise
He stopped short. Might realise? I stared at him, daring him to continue. Go on, Bernard, I invited him with menace.
He hesitated. Er, I mean, not realise exactly might suspect, might think that you were I mean, I dont mean theyd think you were entertaining, obviously not, I mean, they might see you were pretending Um, what was it you wanted to speak to Malcolm about? he finished desperately.
The problem would have been clear to anyone except an ivory-tower career Civil Servant like Bernard. Malcolm had assured me that it would be a non-controversial occasion: there would be no other politicians there, and actors and actresses are usually nice to politicians because they live on flattery and some of them dish it out as eagerly as they receive it.
But nobody had thought it through. Accusingly, I tapped the file in front of me. What about this? I asked.
Malcolm was embarrassed. Im sorry, Prime Minister, but we didnt know about that when we accepted the invitation.
All I can say is, he should have known. He should have found out. Thats what hes paid for. You knew the government was being criticised for not spending enough on the arts?
He shrugged. All governments are always criticised for not spending enough on the arts.
Bernard hastened to agree. Its the standard way for arts journalists to suck up to actors and directors. Thats how they get back on speaking terms after theyve given them bad reviews.
But you knew -- or should have known -- what the situation would be, I insisted.
Malcolm stubbornly refused to concede the point. No, Prime Minister, we didnt know how small the Arts Council grant increase was going to be. How could we? It was only finalised yesterday.
He was right. And it was my fault, though I didnt admit it -- I had insisted on no leaks. Hoist by my own petard again. Yesterday the news broke that thered be virtually no increase in grant for the National Theatre. And, by a hideous coincidence, the Chief Associate Director of the National Theatre is Chairman of the Awards Dinner, making the speech that introduces me, which will inevitably be full of snide remarks and sarcastic jokes, and which is bound to portray me as a mean-spirited Philistine. Live on TV, in front of twelve million people.