Jeffrey Archer - First Among Equals

Bombshells occur in the House of Commons only on rare occasions, mainly because the elements of bad luck and timing have to come together. Something that will create a headline one week may be hardly worthy of a mention the next. On the Thursday before the leadership election the House was packed for questions to the Chancellor. Raymond and Charles were having their usual verbal battles across the dispatch box, Charles coming out slightly on top. As the Treasury wasn’t his portfolio, all Simon could do was sit with his legs up on the table and listen while his rival scored points.

Tom Carson seemed extremely anxious to get in a supplementary on almost any question that was down on the order paper. Between two-thirty and five past three he had leaped up from his place no less than a dozen times. The digital clock above the Speaker’s chair had reached three-twelve when, out of exasperation, the Speaker called him on a seemingly innocuous question on windfall profits.

With Prime Minister’s questions just about to begin Carson faced a packed House and a full press gallery. He paused for a moment before putting his question.

“What would be my Right Honorable friend’s attitude to a man who invests one pound in a company and, five years later, receives a check for £300,000 despite not being on the board or appearing to be involved in any way with that company?”

Raymond was puzzled as he had no idea what Carson was talking about. He did not notice that Simon Kerslake had turned white.

Raymond rose to the dispatch box. “I would remind my Honorable friend that I put capital gains tax up to fifty percent which might dampen his ardor a little,” he said. It was about the only attempt at humor Raymond had made at the dispatch box that year, which may have been the reason so few members laughed. As Carson rose a second time Simon slipped a note across to Raymond which he hurriedly skimmed.

“But does the Chancellor consider that such a person would be fit to be Prime Minister or even leader of the Opposition?”

Members started talking amongst themselves, trying to work out at whom the question was directed while the Speaker stirred restlessly in his seat, anxious to bring a halt to such disorderly supplementaries. Raymond returned to the dispatch box and told Carson that the question was not worthy of an answer. There the matter might have rested had Charles not risen to the dispatch box.

“Mr. Speaker, is the Chancellor aware that this personal attack is aimed at my Right Honorable friend, the member for Pucklebridge, and is a disgraceful slur on his character and reputation? The Honorable member for Liverpool Dockside should withdraw his allegation immediately.”

The Conservatives cheered their colleague’s magnanimity while Simon remained silent, knowing that Charles had successfully put the story on the front page of every national paper.

Simon read the papers over breakfast on the Friday morning, and was not surprised by the coverage of Charles’s bogus supplementary. The details of his transaction with Ronnie Nethercote were chronicled in the fullest extent, and it did not read well that he had received £300,000 from a “property speculator” for a one pound investment. Some of the papers felt “bound to ask” what Nethercote hoped to gain out of the transaction. No one seemed to realize that Simon had been on the previous company’s board for five years, had invested £60,000 of his own money in that company, and had only recently finished paying off the overdraft.

By the Sunday Simon had made a full press statement to put the record straight, and most of the papers had given him a fair hearing. However, Sir Peter McKay, the editor of the Sunday Express, didn’t help matters with a comment in his widely-read PM column on the center page.

I would not suggest for one moment that Simon Kerslake has done anything that might be described as dishonest, but with the spotlight turned so fiercely on him there may be some Members of Parliament who feel they cannot risk going into a general election with an accident-prone leader. Mr. Seymour, on the other hand, has made his position abundantly clear. He did not seek to return to his family bank in Opposition while he was still hoping to hold public office.

The Monday papers were reassessing the outcome of the ballot to take place the next day and were predicting that Seymour now had the edge Some journalists went so far as to suggest that Alec Pimkin might profit from the incident as members waited to see if there would be a second chance to give their final verdict.

Simon had received several letters of sympathy during the week, including one from Raymond Gould. Raymond assured Simon that he had not been prepared for the Carson supplementary and apologized for any embarrassment his first answer might have caused.

“It never crossed my mind that he had,” said Simon, as he passed Raymond’s letter over to Elizabeth.

“The Times was right,” she said a few moments later. “He is a very fair man.”

A moment later Simon passed his wife another letter.

15 May 1989

Seymour’s Bank,

202 Cheapside,

London, EC1

Dear Mr. Kerslake,

I write to correct one fact to which the press have continually referred. Mr. Charles Seymour, the former chairman of this bank, did seek to return to Seymour’s after the Conservatives went into Opposition. He hoped to continue as chairman on a salary of £40,000 a year.

The board of Seymour’s did not fall in with his wishes.

Yours sincerely,

“Will you use it?” asked Elizabeth, when she had finished reading the letter through.

“No. It will only draw more attention to the issue.”

Elizabeth looked at her husband as he continued to read the letters, and remembered the file that she still possessed on Amanda Wallace. She would never reveal its contents to Simon; but perhaps the time had come to make Charles Seymour sweat a little.

On the Monday evening Simon sat on the front bench listening to the Financial Secretary moving those clauses of the short Finance Bill which were being taken in committee on the floor of the House. Charles never let any of Raymond Gould’s team get away with a phrase or even a comma if he could see a weakness in their case, and the Opposition were enjoying every moment. Simon sat and watched the votes slipping away, knowing he could do nothing to stop the process.

Of the three candidates only Pimkin slept well the night before the election.

Voting began promptly at nine o’clock the next day in the Grand Committee room of the House of Commons, the party Whips acting as tellers. By three-ten all but one of those entitled to vote had done so. John Cope, the Chief Whip, stood guard over the large black tin box until Big Ben struck four, when it became apparent that Mrs. Thatcher had decided to remain neutral.

At four o’clock the box was removed to the Chief Whip’s office and the little slips were tipped out and checked twice in less than fifteen minutes. As John Cope left his room he was followed, Pied Piper-like, by lobby correspondents hoping to learn the result, but he had no intention of divulging anything before he reached the 1922 Committee who were keenly awaiting him.

Committee room fourteen was filled to overflowing, with some 280 of the 289 Conservative Members of Parliament present. Their chairman, Sir Cranley Onslow, welcomed the Chief Whip and asked him to join him on the small raised platform. He did so and passed over a folded piece of paper. The chairman of the 1922 Committee rose, faced the committee, unfolded the piece of paper, and pushed up his glasses. He hesitated as he took in the figures.

“The result of the ballot carried out to select the leader of the parliamentary party is as follows: