Jeffrey Archer - First Among Equals

“I’ve been celebrating with my wife.”

“Celebrating before you’ve heard the news?”

“What news?” said Raymond, collapsing into the armchair.

“I’ve been juggling the new team around all day and I was hoping you would agree to join the Shadow Cabinet as...”

Raymond sobered up very quickly and listened carefully to the new leader. “Can you hold the line?”

“Of course,” said the surprised voice on the other end.

“Joyce,” said Raymond, as she came out of the kitchen clutching two mugs of very black coffee. “Would you agree to live with me in London if I don’t become a judge?”

A broad smile spread across Joyce’s face with the realization that he was seeking her approval.

She nodded several times.

“I’d be delighted to accept,” he said.

“Thank you, Raymond. Perhaps we could meet at my room in the Commons tomorrow and talk over policy in your new field.”

“Yes, of course,” said Raymond. “See you tomorrow.” He dropped the phone on the floor and fell asleep in the chair.

Joyce replaced the phone and didn’t discover until the following morning that her husband was the new Shadow Secretary of State for Social Services.

Raymond sold his flat in the Barbican, and he and Joyce moved into a small Georgian house in Cowley Street, only a few hundred yards from the House of Commons.

Raymond watched Joyce decorate his study first, then she set about the rest of the house with the energy and enthusiasm of a newlywed. Once she had completed the guest bedroom Raymond’s parents came down to spend the weekend. He burst out laughing when he greeted his father at the door clutching on to a bag, marked “Gould, the family butcher.”

“They do have meat in London, you know,” said Raymond.

“Not like mine, son,” his father replied.

Over the finest beef Raymond could remember he watched Joyce and his mother chatting away. “Thank God I woke up in time,” he said out loud.

“What did you say?” asked Joyce.

“Nothing, my dear, nothing.”

Although Raymond spent most of his time on the overall strategy for a future Labour Government, like all politicians he had pet anomalies that particularly upset him. His had always been war widows’ pensions, a preoccupation which dated back to his living with his grandmother in Leeds. He remembered the shock when he first realized shortly after leaving university that his grandmother had eked out an existence for thirty years on a weekly widow’s pension that wouldn’t have covered the cost of a decent meal in a London restaurant.

From the back benches, he had always pressed for the redeeming of war bonds and higher pensions for war widows. His weekly mail showed unequivocally just how major a problem war widows’ pensions had become. During his years in Opposition he had worked doggedly to achieve ever-increasing, smaller rises, but he vowed that were he to become Secretary of State he would enact something more radical.

Joyce left a cutting from the Standard for him to read when he returned from the Commons that night. She had scribbled across it: “This could end up on the front page of every national paper.”

Raymond agreed with her, and the following day he tried to press his view on to a reluctant Shadow Cabinet who seemed more concerned with the planned series of picketing by the Yorkshire miners’ union than the case of Mrs. Dora Benson.

Raymond researched the story carefully and discovered that the case didn’t differ greatly from the many others he had looked into over the years, except for the added ingredient of a Victoria Cross. By any standards, Mrs. Dora Benson highlighted Raymond’s cause. She was one of the handful of surviving widows of the First World War and her husband, Private Albert Benson, had been killed at the Somme leading an attack on a German trench. Nine Germans had been killed before Albert Benson died, which was why he had been awarded the VC. His widow had continued working as a cleaner in the King’s Head at Barking for over fifty years. Her only possessions of any value were her war bonds, but with no redemption date they were still passing hands at twenty-five pounds each. Mrs. Benson’s case might have gone unnoticed if in desperation she had not asked Sotheby’s to auction her husband’s medal.

Once Raymond had armed himself with all the facts he put down a question to the minister concerned asking if he would at last honor the Government’s long-promised pledges in such cases. A sleepy but packed House heard Simon Kerslake, as Minister of State for Defense, reply that his department was once again considering the problem and he would make known their findings in the near future. Simon settled back on to the green benches satisfied that would pacify Gould. But Raymond’s supplementary stunned him and woke up the House.

“Does the Right Honorable Gentleman realize that this eighty-four-year-old widow, whose husband was killed in action and won the Victoria Cross, has a lower income than a sixteen-year-old cadet on his first day in the armed forces?”

Simon rose once more, determined to put a stop to the issue until he had had more time to study the details of this particular case.

“I was not aware of this fact, Mr. Speaker, and I can assure the Right Honorable Gentleman that I shall take into consideration all the points he has mentioned.”

Simon felt confident the Speaker would now move on to the next question. But Raymond rose again, the Opposition benches spurring him on.

“Is the Right Honorable Gentleman also aware that an admiral, on an index-linked income, can hope to end his career with a pension of over £500 a week while Mrs. Dora Benson’s weekly income remains fixed at £47.32?”

There was a gasp even from the Conservative benches as Raymond sat down.

Simon rose again, painfully aware that he was unprepared for Gould’s attack and that he had to stifle it as quickly as he could. “I was not aware of that particular comparison either, but once again I can assure the Right Honorable Gentleman I will give the case my immediate consideration.”

To Simon’s horror Raymond rose from the benches for yet a third time. He could see that Labour members opposite were enjoying the rare spectacle of watching him up against the ropes. “Is the Right Honorable Gentleman also aware that the annuity for a Victoria Cross is £100 with no extra pension benefits? We pay our fourth-division footballers more, while keeping Mrs. Benson in the bottom league of the national income bracket.”

Simon looked distinctly harassed when he in turn rose for a fourth time and made an uncharacteristic remark that he regretted the moment he said it.

“I take the Right Honorable Gentleman’s point,” he began, his words coming out a little too quickly. “And I am fascinated by his sudden interest in Mrs. Benson. Would it be cynical of me to suggest that it has been prompted by the wide publicity this case has enjoyed in the national press?”

Raymond made no attempt to answer but sat motionless with his arms folded and his feet up on the table in front of him while his own back-benchers screamed their abuse at Simon.

The national papers the next day were covered with pictures of the arthritic Dora Benson with her bucket and mop alongside photos of her handsome young husband in private’s uniform. Many of the papers went on to describe how Albert Benson had won his VC, and some of the tabloids used considerable license. But all of them picked up Raymond’s point that Mrs. Benson was in the bottom one percent of the income bracket and that the annuity for a Victoria Cross was a pathetic £100.

It was an enterprising and unusually thorough journalist from the Guardian who led her story on a different angle which the rest of the national press had to turn to in their second edition. It transpired that Raymond Gould had put down forty-seven questions concerning war widows’ pension rights during his time in the House and spoken on the subject in three budgets and five social service debates from the back benches. He had also made the subject the thrust of his maiden speech over twenty years before. But when the journalist revealed that Raymond gave £500 a year to the Erskine Hospital for wounded soldiers every member knew that Simon Kerslake would have to retract his attack and make an apology to the House.