First Among Equals (4 page)

The butler
answered the door and Simon was shown to the sitting room to find Lavinia and
Lady MaxwellHarrington discussing the forthcoming Chelsea Ball.

“Oh, Simon
darling,” began Lavinia, turning her slim body toward him.

“How super to see you.”

Simon smiled.
fie
still hadn’t quite got used to the language used by
girls who lived between Sloane Square and Kensington.

“I (to hope
you’ve managed to escape from that dreadful place for the rest of the evening,”
she said.

“Absolutely,”
Simon found himself saying,

“
and
I’ve even captured a table at the Caprice.”

“Oh, goody,”
said Lavinia. “And are they expecting you to return and vote for some silly
bill on the hour of ten?”

“No, I’m yours
all night,” said Simon, regretting the words as soon as he had said them. He
caught the coot expression on the face of Lady Maxwell-Harrington and cursed
for a third time.

C
HARLES HAMPTON drove his Daimler from the Commons to his father’s
bank in the city. He still thought of Hampton’s of Threadneedle Street as his
father’s bank although for two gererations the family had been only minority
sb.areholders, with Charles himself in possession ofa mere 2 percent of the
stock. Nevertheless, as his brother Rupert showed no desire to represent the
farnily intefests, the 2 percent guaranteed Charles a place on the board and an
income sufficient to insure that his paltry parlianientary salary of f 1,750 a
year was adequately supplemented.

Froin the day
Charles had first taken his place on the board of Hampton’s, he had had no
doubt that the new chairman. Derek
Spencer,
considered
him a dangerous rivai. Spenccr had lobbied to have Rupert replace his father
upon the latter’s retirement, and only because of Charles’s insistence had
Spencer failed to move the old earl to his way of thinking.

When Charles
went on to win his seat in Parliament, Spencer at once raised the problem that
his burdensome responsibilities at the House would prevent him from carrying;
out his day to day duties to the board.

However,
Charles was able to convince a majority of his fellow directors of the
advantages of having someone from the board at Westminster, although the rules
dictated that his private employment would have to cease if he was ever invited
to be a Minister of the Crown.

Charles left
the Daimler in Hampton’s courtyard. It amused him to consider that his parking
space was worth twenty times the value of the car. The area at the front of
Hampton’s was a relic of his great-grandfather’s day. The twelfth
Ear[
of Bridgewater had insisted on an entrance large enough
to allow a complete sweep for his coachand tour.

That conveyance
had long disappeared, to be replaced by twelve parking spaces for Hampton
directors. Derek Spencer, despite all his grammar-school virtues, had never
suggested that the land be used for any other purpose.

The young girl
seated at the reception desk abruptly stopped polishing her nails in time to
say “Good morning, Mr. Charles,” as he came through the revolving doors and
disappeared into a waiting elevator. A few moments later Charles was seated
behind a desk in his small oak-paneled office, a clean white memo pad in front
of him. He pressed a button on the intercom and told his secretary that he did
not want to be disturbed during the next hour.

Every
Conservative
member
of Parliament assumed that after
his defeat in the election Sir Alec DouglasHome would soon step down as Leader
of the Opposition. Now, in the spring of 1965,

Charles knew he
had to decide whose coattail to hang onto. While he remained in Opposition, his
only hope was of being offered a junior Shadow post, but that could turn out to
be the stepping-stone to becoming a Government Minister if the Conservatives
won the next election. He faced the first major test of his career.

Sixty minutes
later the white pad had twelve names penciled on it, but ten already had lines
drawn through 29 them. Only the names of Reginald Maudling and Edward Heath
remained.

Charles tore
off the piece of paper and the indented sheet underri-eath and put them both
through the shredder by the side of his desk. He tried to summon up some
interest in the agenda for the bank’s weekly board meeting; only or.e item,
item seven, seemed to be of any importance. Just before eleven, he gathered up
his papers and headed toward the boardroom. Most of his colleagues were already
seated when Derek Spencer called item number I as the boardroom clock chimed
the hour.

During the
ensuing predictable discussion on bank rates, the movement in metal prices,
Eurobonds and client-investment policy, Charles’s mind kept wandering back to
the forthcoming Leadership election and the importance of backing the winner if
he was to be quickly promoted frorn the back benches.

By the time
they reached item 7 on the agenda Charles had made tip his wind. Derek Spencer
opened a discussion or, the proposed loans to Mexico and Poland, and most of’
the board members agreed with him that the bank should participate in one, but
not risk both.

Charles’s
thoughts, however, were not in Mexico City or Warsaw. They were far nearer
home, and when the chairman called for a vote, Charles didn’t register.

“Mexico or Poland, Charles?
Which do you favor?”

“Heath,” he
replied.

“I beg, your
pardon,” said Derek Spencer.

Charles snapped
back from Westminster to Threadneedle Street to find everyone at the boardroom
table staring at him. With the air of a man who had been giving the matter
considej able thought, Charles said firmly,

“Mexico,” and
added, “The great difference between the two countrie
,,
can best be gauged by their attitudes to repayment. Mexico might not want to
repay, but Poland won’t be able to, so why not limit our risks and back Mexico?
If it comes to litigation I’d prefer to be against 30 someone who won’t pay
rather than someone who can’t.” The older members around the table nodded in
agreement; the right son of Bridgewater was sitting on the board.

When the
meeting was over Charles joined his colleagues for lunch in the directors’
dining room. A room containing two Hogarths, a Brueghel, a Goya and a
Rembrandt-Just another reminder of his great-grandfather’s ability to select
winners – could distract even the most self-indulgent gourmet. Charles did not
wait to make a decision between the Cheddar and the Stilton as he wanted to be
back in the Commons for Question Time.

On arriving at
the House he immediately made his way to the smoking room, long regarded by the
Tories as their preserve. There in the deep leather armchairs and cigar-laden
atmosphere the talk was entirely of who would be Sir Alec Home’s
successor.

Later that
afternoon Charles returned to the Commons chaniber, He wanted to observe Heath
and his Shadow team deal with Government amendments one by one. Heath was on
his feet facing the Prime Minister, his notes oa the dispatch box in front of
him.

Charles was
about to leave the chamber when Raymond Gould rose to move an amendment from
the back benches.

Charles
remained alued to his seat.

He had to
listen with grudging admiration as Raymond’s intellectual grasp and force of
argument easily compensated for his lack of oratorical skill. Although Gould
was a cut above the rest of the new intake on the Labour benches, he didn’t
frighten Charles. Twelve generations of cunning and business acumen had kept
large parts of Leeds in the hands of the Bridgewater family without the likes
of Ra, mond Gould even being aware of it.

Charles took
supper in the members’ dining room that night and sat in the center of the room
at the large table occupied by Tory backbenchers.

There was only
one topic of conversation, and as the same two names kept emerging it was
obvious that it was going to be a very closerun race.

When Charles arrived back at his Eaton Square home after the ten
o’clock vote, his wife, Fiona, was already tucked up in bed reading Graham
Greene’s The Comedians.

“They let you
out early tonight.”

“Not too bad,”
said Charles, and began regaling her with how he had spent his day, before
disappearing into the bathroom.

Charles
imagined he was cunning, but his wife, Lady Fiona Hampton, nde Campbell, only
daughter of the Duke of Falkirk, was in a different league. She and Charles had
been selected for each other by their grandparents and neither had questioned
or doubted the wisdom of the choice.

Although
Charles had squired numerous girlfriends before their marriage, he had always
assumed he would return to Fiona. Charles’s father, the fourteenth earl, had
always maintained that the aristocracy was becoming far too lax and sentimental
about love.

“Women,” he
declared, “are for bearing children and insuring a continuation of the male
line.” The old earl became even more firm in his convictions when he was
informed that Rupert showed little interest in the opposite sex and was rarely
to be found in women’s company.

Fiona would
never have dreamed of disagreeing with the old earl to his face and was herself
delighted by the thought of giving birth to a son who would inherit the
earldom. But despite enthusiastic and then contrived efforts Charles seemed
unable to sire an heir. Fiona was assured by a Harley Street physician that
there was no reason she could not bear children. The specialist had suggested
that perhaps her husband pay the clinic a visit. She shook her head, knowing
Charles would dismiss such an idea out of hand, no matter how much he wanted a
son.

Fiona spent
much of her spare time in their Sussex East constituency furthering Charles’s
political career. She had learned to live with the fact that theirs was not
destined to be a romantic marriage and had almost resigned
herself
to its other advantages. Although many men confessed covertly and overtly that
they found Fiona’s elegant bearing attractive, she had either rejected their
advances or pretended not to notice them.

By the time
Charles returned from the bathroom in his blue silk pajamas Fiona had formed a
plan, but first she needed some questions answered.

“Whom do you
favor?”

“It will be a
close-run thing, but I spent the entire afternoon observing the serious candidates.”

“Did you come
to any conclusions?” Fiona asked.

“Heath and
Maudling are the most likely ones, though to be honest I’ve never had a
conversation with either of them that lasted for more than five minutes.”

“In that case
we must turn disadvantage into advantage.”

“What do you
mean,
old girl?” Charles asked as he climbed into bed beside
his wife.

“Think back.
When you were President of Pop at Eton, could you have put a name to any of the
first-year boys?”

“Certainly
not,” said Charles.

“Exactly.
And I’d be willing to bet that neither Heath nor
Maudfing could put a name to twenty of the new intake on the Tory benches.”

“Where are you
leading me, Lady Macbeth?”

“No bloody
hands will be needed for this killing. Simply, having chosen your Duncan, you
volunteer to organize the new intake for him. If he becomes Leader, he’s bound
to feel it would be appropriate to select one or two new faces for his team.”

“You really are
a Campbell.”

“Well, let’s
sleep on it,” said Fiona, turning out the light on her side of the bed.

Charles didn’t
sleep on it but lay restless most of the night turning over in his mind what
she had said. When Fiona awoke the next morning she carried on the conversation
as if there had been no break in between.

“Better still,”
she continued, “before the man you choose announces he is a candidate, demand
that he run on behalf of the new members.”

“Clever,” said
Charles.

“Whom have you
decided on?”

“Heath,”
Charles replied without hesitation.

“I’ll back vour
political judgment,” said Fiona. “Just trust me wh – n it comes to tactics.
First, we compose a letter.”

In dressing
gowns, on the floor at the end of the bed, the two elegant figures drafted and
redrafted a note to Edward Heath. At nine-thirty it was finally composed and
sent around by hand to his rooms in Albany.

The next
morning Charles was invited to the small bachelor flat for coffee.

They talked for
over an hour and tile dzal was struck.

Charles thought
Sir Alec would announce his resignation in the late summer, which would give
him eight to ten weeks to carry out a campaign. Fiona typed out a list of all
the new members, and during the next eight weeks every one of them was invited
to their Eaton Square house for drinks. Fiona was subtle enough to see that
members of the lower house were outnumbered by other guests, often from the
House of Lords. Heath managed to escape from his front-bench duties on the
Finance Bill to spend at least an hour with the Hamptons once a week. As tile
day ofSir Alec Home’s resignation drew nearer-, Charles remained confident that
he had carried 34 out his p –
lan
in a subtle and
discreet way.

He would have
been willing to place a wager that no one other than Edward Heath had any idea
how deeply he was involved.

One man who
attended the second of Fiona’s soirees saw exactly what was going on. While
many of the guests spent their time admiring the Hampton art collection, Simon
Kerslake kept a wary eye on his host and hostess.

Kerslake was
not convinced that Edward Heath would win the forthcoming election for Leader
of the Opposition and felt confident that Reginald Maudling would turn out to
be the party’s natural choice. Maudling was, after all, Shadow Foreign
Secretary, a former chancellor and far senior to Heath. More important, he was
a married man. Simon doubted the Tories would ever pick a bachelor to lead
them.