As a result of these conflicting considerations, many MPs were undecided. They wanted to be able to talk to me, to find out what I was like and where I stood. Airey and his team would send these Members along to see me in the room of Robin Cooke — one of our team — in the House where, singly or in small groups, over a glass of claret or a cup of tea, I would try to answer their points as best I could. Ted, by contrast, preferred lunch parties of MPs where, I suspect, there was not much straight talking — at least not from the guests. Doubtless his campaign team marked them down as supporters, which many were not.
The press on Monday 3 February was full of the fact that the National Union of the Party had reported that 70 per cent of Constituency Associations favoured Ted Heath and that the great majority of Conservative supporters agreed with them. We were not surprised by this. The Conservative Associations, nudged by Central Office, were understandably loyal to the existing Leader: and the opinion poll results reflected the fact that I was a relatively unknown quantity outside the House of Commons. But obviously it did not help, and it certainly boosted confidence in the Heath camp. Indeed, there was evidence of a late surge of support for Ted among MPs. Airey’s and Bill’s final canvass returns suggested that I was neck and neck with Ted, with the third candidate, the gallant and traditionalist Hugh Fraser, picking up a few right-wing misogynist votes. But I was told that I came over quite well on the World in Action television programme that night.
On Tuesday 4 February, the day of the first ballot, I was up early to prepare Denis’s breakfast and see him off to work before driving from Flood Street to the House of Commons, exhibiting what I hoped was a confident smile and a few friendly words for the press gathered outside. For me it was another day on the Finance Bill Committee, while in another House of Commons Committee Room the voting for the leadership took place. The ballot was due to close at 3.30. I went up to Airey Neave’s room to await the result. Bill Shelton represented me at the count and Tim Kitson represented Ted. I believe that even after they had heard the sombre news of the outcome of that day’s voting the Heath camp had hoped that the proxy votes, counted last, would see Ted through. But most of the proxies also went to me. I was trying to concentrate on anything other than the future when the door opened and Airey came in. Softly, but with a twinkle in his eye, he told me: ‘It’s good news. You’re ahead in the poll. You’ve got 130 votes to Ted’s 119.’ Hugh Fraser had sixteen.
I could barely believe it. Although I was thirty-one votes short of the required margin to win outright on the first ballot — 50 per cent plus a lead of 15 per cent of those eligible to vote — and therefore there would have to be a second round, I was nonetheless decisively ahead. I had no doubt that if I had failed against Ted that would have been the end of me in politics. As it was, I might be Leader. Who knows? I might even be Prime Minister. I went downstairs and someone opened some champagne. But I had to keep a clear head, for I was soon back to the Finance Bill amid a certain raillery from friends and opponents alike, for the news had spread like wildfire. Later that evening I went back to Airey’s flat for a council of war.
My own surprise at the result was as nothing compared to the shattering blow it had delivered to the Conservative establishment. I felt no sympathy for them. They had fought me unscrupulously all the way. But I did feel sorry for Ted, who quickly announced his decision to resign as Leader and not to contest the second ballot. Willie Whitelaw now put his name forward and immediately became the favourite. I myself thought that Willie had a very good chance of winning; and though I could not seriously imagine him changing the direction of the Party as I wished, it did please me to think that between us there would be none of the bitterness which had soured my relations with Ted. Jim Prior, John Peyton and Geoffrey Howe also entered the contest. I was a little worried about Geoffrey’s candidature because he held similar views to mine and might split the right-wing vote, which in a close contest could be crucial. Hugh Fraser withdrew and urged his supporters to vote for Willie.
In fact, without knowing it, I had what the Americans call ‘momentum’. I had always reckoned that a substantial number of those voting for me in the first round would only do so as a tactical way of removing Ted and putting in someone more acceptable but still close to his way of thinking, such as Willie. But in fact, far from draining away, my support actually hardened. Perhaps there was an odd sense of gratitude to me for having done what no one else dared, that is to remove from the leadership someone who quite simply made the Party unelectable. Perhaps a sufficient number of my colleagues genuinely felt that the way forward for the Party was the root and branch reconsideration that Keith and I advocated. Perhaps there was a feeling that it was ‘a bit offside’ for those who had failed to challenge Ted when he looked unbeatable to step in to scoop up the prize once he had lost it. There were probably also doubts about whether Willie, for all his amiable qualities, was the right man to rethink Conservatism in the face of a Labour Government with a newly militant and aggressive left wing.
Certainly, many people in the Party at Westminster and outside it were now desperately anxious to bring the whole process to a swift end. The very circumstances which had counted against me in the first ballot now assisted me as the leading candidate in the second. The Daily Telegraph, an important barometer of Tory grassroots feeling, swung decisively onto my side. When I talked with Willie at a dinner organized by the British-American Parliamentary Group at Lancaster House on Thursday 6 February he seemed fairly confident that he was the front-runner. The new canvass returns which Airey and his team were making strongly suggested otherwise. But I was cautious. There had been some whispers that I was secretly anti-Common Market, which it was thought might damage me. So at George Gardiner’s suggestion I made a short statement of my views endorsing Europe. I also continued to see — and sometimes communicate by note with — MPs who needed reassurance on particular points.
Willie and I both attended the Young Conservative Conference at Eastbourne on Saturday 8 February. One woman on the platform was dressed in funereal black and glowering. I was rather concerned and asked her whether anything was wrong. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m in mourning for Mr Heath.’ There were few other mourners present. Willie and I were photographed as we kissed for the cameras. I remarked: ‘Willie and I have been friends for years. I’ve done that to Willie many times and he to me. It was not that difficult for him to do it, I think.’ Willie replied: ‘I’ve kissed her often. But we have not done it on a pavement outside a hotel in Eastbourne before.’ It was all good fun and the atmosphere lightened.
I used my own speech to the Conference to give a full-blooded rendering of my views. I said:
You can get your economic policies right, and still have the kind of society none of us would wish. I believe we should judge people on merit and not on background. I believe the person who is prepared to work hardest should get the greatest rewards and keep them after tax. That we should back the workers and not the shirkers: that it is not only permissible but praiseworthy to want to benefit your own family by your own efforts.
Conservatives had not heard this sort of message for many years, and it went down well.
Airey, Keith, my other advisers and I looked at the situation after the first ballot. Our general approach was to concentrate on the electorate — the 276 Tory MPs — pointing out that I had already won a near majority of them, that I was pulling steadily away from the field and that my four rivals were fighting for second place. In these circumstances we felt that I had little to gain from debates with the other candidates. But a slight stir was created when I decided not to appear on Panorama with them. They went ahead without me. But this was Hamlet without a Princess. It merely emphasized my status as the front-runner.