Jeffrey Archer - First Among Equals

As Whips are never called on to make speeches in the House at any time Charles seemed to have discovered a role for which he was best cut out. Fiona reminded him once again that Ted Heath had a spell in the Whips’ office on his way to becoming Shadow Chancellor. She was delighted to see how involved her husband had become with Commons life but still hated going to bed alone each night and regularly falling asleep before he had even arrived home.

Simon also enjoyed his new appointment from the first moment. As the junior member of the Housing and Local Government team he was given transport as his special subject. During the first year he read books, studied pamphlets, held meetings with national transport chairmen from air, sea, and rail, and frequently worked long into the night trying to master his new brief. Simon was one of those rare members who, after only a few weeks, looked as if he had always been on the front bench.

Both parties were surprised by the fourteen percent swing to the Conservatives at the Louth by-election toward the end of 1969. It began to look as if the Labour party did not have enough time to recover before they had to call an election. But in March 1970 the Labour party had a surprisingly good result in the Ayrshire South by-election; it caused the press to speculate that the Prime Minister might go to the country early. The May local elections in England and Wales showed a further swing to Labour, which was contrary to every other political trend of the previous two years. Talk of a general election was suddenly in the air.

When the following month’s opinion polls confirmed the swing to Labour Harold Wilson visited the Queen at Buckingham Palace and asked her to dissolve Parliament. The date of the general election was set for 18 June 1970.

The press were convinced that Wilson had got it right again, and would lead his party to victory for the third time in a row, a feat no man in political history had managed. Every Conservative knew that would spell the end of Edward Heath’s leadership of his party.

Andrew and Louise returned to Edinburgh as soon as the Queen had made the announcement. Parliament went into a limbo period while members dispersed all over the country only in order to try and return to Westminster.

Andrew found his local committee had been taken by surprise by the PM’s announcement, and realized he only had a matter of days to prepare himself.

The evening he arrived back in Edinburgh he called his General Purposes Committee together and over coffee and sandwiches mapped out a demanding three-week timetable which would allow him to reach every part of the constituency not once but several times. Street cards were pinned on to an old trestle table, soon to be filled in with crayon of various colors according to the canvassing returns: a red line through a definite Labour vote, a blue line through a Conservative one, a yellow through a Liberal, and a black line through the growing Scottish Nationalist party.

Andrew began each day of the campaign with a press conference at which he discussed local matters that affected his constituents, answered criticisms made by the other candidates, and dealt with any national issues that had arisen during the previous twenty-four hours. He then spent the rest of the morning touring the constituency with a loudspeaker van, entreating people to “Send Fraser back to Westminster.” He and Louise would fit in a pub lunch together before the dreaded door-to-door canvassing began.

“You’ll enjoy this,” said Andrew as they walked up to the first door on a cold Monday morning. The street list of names was on a card in his pocket. Andrew pressed the door bell, and a little jingle could be heard. A woman still in her dressing gown answered it a few moments later.

“Good morning, Mrs. Foster,” he began. “My name is Andrew Fraser. I’m your Labour candidate.”

“Oh, how nice to meet you. I have so much I need to discuss with you — won’t you come in and have a cup of tea?”

“It’s kind of you, Mrs. Foster, but I have rather a lot of ground to cover during the next few days.” When the door closed, Andrew put a blue line through her name on his card.

“How can you be sure she’s Conservative?” demanded Louise, “she seemed so friendly.”

“The Conservatives are trained to ask all the other candidates in for tea and waste their time. Your own side will always say, ‘You have my vote, don’t spend your time with me,’ and let you get on to those who are genuinely uncommitted.”

“I always vote for Fraser,” said Mrs. Foster’s next-door neighbor. “Labour for parliament, Tory for the local council.”

“But don’t you feel Sir Duncan should be removed from the council?” asked Andrew, grinning.

“Certainly not, and that’s what I told him when he suggested I shouldn’t vote for you.”

Andrew put a red line through the name and knocked on the next door.

“My name is Andrew Fraser and I—”

“I know who you are, young man, and I’ll have none of your politics, or your father’s for that matter.”

“May I ask who you will be voting for?” asked Andrew.

“Scottish Nationalist.”

“Why?” asked Louise.

“Because the oil belongs to us, not those bloody Sassenachs.”

“Surely it’s better for the United Kingdom to remain as one body?” suggested Andrew. “At least that way—”

“Never. The Act of 1707 was a disgrace to our nation.”

“But—” began Louise enthusiastically. Andrew put a hand on her arm. “Thank you, sir, for your time,” and prodded his wife gently down the path.

“Sorry, Louise,” said Andrew, when they were back on the pavement. “Once they mention the 1707 Act of Union we have no chance; some Scots have remarkably long memories.”

He knocked on the next door. A fat man answered it, a dog lead in his hand.

“My name is Andrew Fraser, I—”

“Get lost, creep,” came back the reply.

“Who are you calling creep?” Louise retaliated as the door was slammed in their faces. “Charming man.”

“Don’t be offended, darling. He was referring to me, not you.”

“What will you put by his name?”

“A question mark. No way of telling who he votes for. Probably abstains.”

He tried the next door.

“Hello, Andrew,” said a lady before he could open his mouth. “Don’t waste your time on me, I always vote for you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Irvine,” said Andrew, checking his house list. “What about your next-door neighbor?” he asked, pointing back.

“Ah, he’s an irritable old basket, but I’ll see he gets to the polls on the day and puts his cross in the right box. He’d better, or I’ll stop keeping an eye on his greyhound for him when he’s out.”

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Irvine,” said Andrew, laughing.

“One more red,” he told Louise as they returned to the pavement.

“And you might even pick up the greyhound vote.”

They covered four streets during the next three hours, and Andrew put red lines through those names he was certain would support him on polling day.

“Why do you have to be so sure?” asked Louise.

“Because when we pick them up to vote on election day we don’t want to remind the opposition, let alone arrange a lift for someone who then takes pleasure in voting Tory.”

Louise laughed. “Politics is so dishonest.”

“Be relieved you’re not married to an American senator,” said Andrew, putting a red line through the last name in the street. “At least we don’t have to be millionaires to stand. Time for a quick bite before the evening meeting,” he added, taking his wife’s hand. On their way back to their headquarters they came across their Conservative opponent, but Andrew didn’t respond when Hector McGregor tried to engage him in conversation, again holding him up.