First Among Equals (21 page)

The only
drawback to Raymond’s success was that every convict’s mother was lined up to
see him at his twice-monthly office hours. But during the year he took only one
case seriously and once again began to check into the details.

This time, when
Raymond rang Angus Fraser at the prosecutor’s office, he found nothing was
known of Ricky Hodge beyond the fact that Fraser was able to confirm that he
had no known criminal record. Raymond felt he had stumbled on a case with
international implications.

As Ricky Hodge
was in a Turkish jail, any inquiries had to be made through the Foreign Office.
Raymond did not have the same relationship with the Foreign Secretary as he did
with Simon Kerslake, so he felt the direct approach would be best, and
submitted a question to be answered in the House. He worded it carefully.

“What action
does the Foreign Secretary intend to take over the confiscation of a British
passport from a constituent of the Honorable Member for Leeds North, details of
which have been supplied to him?”

When the
question was asked in front of the House on the following Wednesday the Foreign
Secretary rose to answer the question himself. He stood at the dispatch box and
peered over his half-moon spectacles and said:

“Her Majesty’s
Government is pursuing this matter through the usual diplomatic channels.”

Raymond was
quickly on his feet. “Does the Right Honorable Gentleman realize that my
constituent has been in a Turkish prison for six months and has still not been
charged?”

“Yes, sir,”
replied the Foreign Secretary. “I have asked the Turkish Embassy to supply the
Foreign Office with x.ort details of the case.”

Raymond leaped
up again. “How long will my constituent have to be forgotten in Ankara before
the Foreign Secretary does more than ask for the details of his case?”

The Foreign
Secretary rose again showing no sign of annoyance. “I will report those
findings to the Honorable Member as quickly as possible.”

“When?
Tomorrow, next week, next year?”

Raymond shouted
angrily.

“When?” joined
in a chorus of Labour backbenchers, but the Speaker called for the next
question above the uproar.

Within the hour
Raymond received a handwritten note from the Foreign Office. “If Mr. Gould
would be kind enough to telephone, the Foreign Secretary would be delighted to
make an appointment to see him.”

Raymond phoned
from the Commons and was invited tojoin the Foreign Secretary in Whitehall
immediately.

The Foreign
Office, known as “the Palazzo” by its inmates, has an atmosphere of its own.
Although Raymond had worked in a Government department as a Minister, he was
still struck by its grandeur. He was met at the courtyard entrance and guided
along yards of marble corridors before climbing a fine double staircase at the
top of which he was greeted by the Foreign Secretary’s principal private
secretary.

“Sir Alec Home
will see you immediately, Mr. Gould,” he said, and led Raymond past the magnificent
pictures and tapestries that lined the way. He was taken into a beautifully
proportioned room. The Foreign Secretary stood in front of an Adam fireplace
over which hung a portrait of Lord Palmerston.

“Gould, how kind of you to come at such short notice.
I do
hope it has not caused you any inconvenience.” Platitudes, thought Raymond.

“I know you are
a busy man. Can we get down to the point at issue, Foreign Secretary?” Raymond
demanded.

“Of course,”
Sir Alec said drily. “Forgive me for taking so much of your time.” Without a
further word, he handed Raymond a file marked “Richard M.

HodgeConfidential.”
“Although members of Parliament are not
subject to the Official Secrets Act, I know you will respect the fact that this
file is classified.”

Another bluff,
thought Raymond. He flicked back the cover. It was true, exactly as he had
suspected: In the six months since he had been jailed, Ricky Hodge had never
been formally charged.

He turned the
page. “Rome, child prostitution; Marseilles, narcotics;

Paris, black
mail”-page after page, ending in Turkey, where Hodge had been found in
possession of four pounds of heroin, which he had been selling in small packets
on the black market. It was true that he had no criminal record in England, but
at only twentynine, Ricky Hodge had spent eleven of the last fourteen years in
foreign jails. 174

Raymond closed
the file and could feel the sweat on his forehead. It was some moments before
he spoke. “I apologize, Foreign Secretary,” he said. “I have made a fool of
myself.”

“When I was a
young man,” said Sir Alec,

“I made a
similar mistake on behalf of a constituent. Ernie Bevin was Foreign Secretary
at the time. He could have crucified me in the House with the knowledge he had.
Instead he revealed everything over a drink in this room. I sometimes wish the
public could see members in their quiet moments as well as in their rowdy
ones.”

Raymond thanked
Sir Alec and walked thoughtfully back to the House.

When Raymond
conducted his next office hours in Leeds North two weeks later he was surprised
to see that Mrs. Bloxharn had made an appointment.

When he greeted
her at the door he was even more surprised, for in place of her shabby clothes
and carpet slippers, she was wearing a new polished cotton dress and a shiny
pair of squeaky brown leather shoes. She looked as if “Our Blessed Lady” might
have to wait a few more years to receive her after all. Raymond motioned her to
a seat.

“I came to
thank your wife, Mr. Gould,” she said, once she was settled.

“What for?”
asked Raymond puzzled.

“For sending that nice young man around from Chris-tees.
They auctioned Great-Grandma’s table for me. I couldn’t believe my luck – it
fetched fourteen hundred pounds.” Raymond was speechless. “So it
don’t
matter about the stain on the dress any more. It even
made up for having to eat off the floor for three months.”

During the long
hot summer of 1972, clause after clause of the Common Market Bill was voted on,
often through the night. On some occasions, the Government managed majorities
of only five or six, but somehow the bill remained intact.

Charles would
often arrive home at Eaton Square at three in the morning to find Fiona asleep,
only to leave again before she had woken. Veterans of the House confirmed they
had never experienced any issue so demanding since the Second World War.

Then, suddenly,
the last vote was taken and the marathon was over. The Common Market Bill was
passed through the Commons and on its way to the House of Lords to receive
their Lordships’ approval. Charles wondered what he would do with all the hours
that were suddenly left him in the day.

When the bill
finally received the “Royal Assent” in October, the Chief Whip held a
celebration lunch at the Carlton Club in St. James’s to thank all of his team.
“And in particular, Charles Hampton,” he said, raising his glass during an
impromptu speech. When the lunch broke up, the Chief Whip offered Charles a
tift back to the Commons in his official car. They traveled along Piccadilly,
down Haymarket, through Trafalgar Square and into Whitehall. Just as the
Commons came into sight, the black Rover turned into Downing Street, as Charles
assumed, to drop the Chief Whip at Number 12. But as the car stopped, the Chief
Whip said, “The Prime Minister is expecting you in five minutes.”

“What? Why?”
said Charles.
it
rather well, didn’t V” said the
-Chief Whip-and headed off toward Number 12.

Charles stood
alone in front of Number 10

Downing Street.
The door was opened by a man in a long black
coat.

“Good
afternoon, Mr. Hampton.” The Prime Minister saw Charles in his study and, as
ever, wasted no time on small talk.

“Thank you for
all the hard work you have put in on the Common Market Bill.”

“It was a
tremendous challenge,” said Charles, searching for words.

As will be your
next job,” said Mr. Heath.

“It’s time for
you to test your skills in another department. I want you to take over as one
of the Ministers of State at the Department of Trade and Industry.”

Charles was
speechless.

“With all the problems
we are going to encounter with the trade unions during the next few
months, that
should keep you fully occupied.”

“It certainly
will,” said Charles.

He still hadn’t
been asked to sit down, but as the Prime Minister was now rising from behind
his desk, it was clear that the meeting was over.

“You and Fiona
must come and have dinner at Number Ten as soon as you’ve settled into your new
department,” said the Prime Minister as they walked toward the door.

“Thank you,”
Charles said before leaving.

As he stepped
back onto Downing Street a driver opened the back door of a shiny Austin
Westminster. It took Charles a moment to realize the car and driver
were
now his.

“The Commons, sir.

“No, I’d like
to return to Eaton Square for a few minutes,” said Charles, sitting back and
enjoying the thought of his new job.

The car drove
past the Commons, up Victoria Street and on to Eaton Square.

He couldn’t
wait to tell Fiona that all the hard work had been rewarded. He felt guilty
about how little he had seen of her lately, although he could not believe it
would be much better now that he was to be involved in trade-union legislation.
How much he still hoped for a son-perhaps even that would be possible now. The
car came to a halt outside the Georgian house. Charles ran up the steps and
into the hall. He could hear his wife’s voice coming from upstairs. He took the
wide staircase in bounds of two and three at a time, and threw open the bedroom
door.

“I’m the new
Minister of State at the Department of Trade and Industry,” he announced to
Fiona, who was lying in bed.

Alexander
Dalglish looked up. He showed no sign of interest in Charles’s promotion.

Ministers
of State kll –
Im 1973-1977

S
IMON STEERED the new Boundary Commission recommendations
unspectacularly through the House as an order in Council, and suddenly he had
lost his own constituency. His colleagues in Coventry were understanding, and
nursed those wards that would become theirs at the next election in order that
he might spend more time searching for a new seat.

Seven seats
became available during the year but Simon was only interviewed for two of
them. Both were almost on the Scottish border, and both put him in second
place. He began to appreciate what it must feel like for an Olympic favorite to
be awarded the silver medal.

Ronnie
Nethercote’s monthly board reports began to paint an increasingly somber
picture, thus reflecting in real life what the politicians were lately
decreeing in Parliament. Ronnie had once again decided to postpone going public
until the climate was more advantageous. Simon couldn’t disagree with the
judgment, but when he checked his special overdraft facility, the interest on
his loans had pushed up the figures in red to over ninety thousand pounds.

When
unemployment first passed the million
mark
and Ted
Heath ordered a pay and price freeze, strikes broke out all over the country.

The new
parliamentary session in the fall of 1973 was dominated by economic issues as
the situation worsened. Charles Hampton once again became overworked as he
negotiated far into the night with trade-union leaders.

While he didn’t
win every argument, he was now so well briefed on his subject that he proved to
be a competent negotiator for the Government.

Raymond Gould
rose to the occasion, making passionate speeches on behalf of the unions, but
the Conservative majority beat them again and again.

Prime Minister
Heath was, however, moving inexorably toward a head-on clash with the unions
and a premature General Election.

When all three
annual party conferences were over, members returned to the Commons aware that
it was likely to
bc
the last session before a General
Election. It was openly being said in the corridors that all the Prime Minister
was waiting for was a catalyst.

The miners’
union provided it. In the middle of a bleak winter they called an all-out
strike for more pay in defiance of the Government’s new tradeunion legislation.
Suddenly Britain was on a three-day week.

In a television
interview, the Prime Minister told the nation that with unemployment now at an
unprecedented 1,600,000 and the country on a three-day week, he had to call an
election to insure that the rule of law be maintained. The inner cabinet
advised Heath to run on February 28, 1974.

“Who runs the country?”
became the Tory theme, but this only seemed to emphasize class differences,
rather than uniting the country as the Prime Minister had hoped.

Raymond Gould
traveled back to Leeds, convinced that the northeast industrial area would not
tolerate Heath’s high-handedness.

Charles felt
sure that the people would back any party that had shown the courage to stand
up to the unions, although the left wing, led vociferously by Tom Carson,
insisted that the Government was out to crush the Labour movement once and for
all. Charles drove down to Sussex to find his supporters glad of the chance to
put those “Commie union bastards” in their place.

On the night of
the election Simon had a quiet supper with Elizabeth and the children. He
watched in silence as others learned their election fates.

Many months had
passed before Charles had found it possible even to sustain a conversation with
Fiona for any length of time. Neither wanted a divorce, both citing the ailing
Earl of Bridgewater as their reason, although inconvenience and loss of face
were nearer the truth. In public it was hard to detect the change in their
relationship, since they had never been given to overt affection.