First Among Equals Read online

  The date chosen for the leadership election was just five days later. During that time Simon Kerslake and Charles Seymour worked almost round the clock but, despite many national papers’ commissioned polls, columns of newsprint offering statistics and opinions, no one seemed certain of the outcome, other than to predict that Powell would come third.

  Charles and Simon began avoiding each other and Fiona started referring to Kerslake, first in private then in public, as “that pushy self-made man.” She stopped using the expression when Alec Pimkin asked in all innocence whether she was referring to Edward Heath.

  On the morning of the secret ballot Simon and Charles voted early and spent the rest of the day pacing the corridors of the Commons trying to assess the result. By lunchtime they were both outwardly exuberant, while inwardly despondent.

  At two-fifteen they were seated in the large committee room to hear the chairman of the 1922 Committee make the historic announcement:

  “The result of the first election for leader of the Conservative parliamentary party,” said Sir William Anstruther-Gray, “is as follows:

  Edward Heath 150 votes

  Reginald Maudling 133 votes

  Enoch Powell 15 votes.”

  An hour later Reginald Maudling, who had been lunching in the City, telephoned Heath to say he would be happy to serve under him as the new leader. Charles and Fiona opened a bottle of Krug while Simon took Elizabeth to the Old Vic to see The Royal Hunt of the Sun. He slept the entire way through Robert Stephens’s brilliant performance, before Elizabeth drove him home.

  “How come you didn’t fall asleep? After all, you’ve been just as busy as I have the last few weeks,” Simon asked.

  Elizabeth smiled. “It was my turn to want to be involved with what was happening on the center of the stage.”

  Two weeks later, on 4 August, Edward Heath announced his Shadow team. Reggie Maudling was to be deputy leader. Sir Alec accepted the Foreign Office brief while Powell went to Defense. Charles Seymour received an invitation to join the Housing and Local Government team as its junior spokesman, thus becoming the first of the new intake to be given front-bench responsibilities.

  Simon Kerslake received a handwritten letter from Reggie Maudling thanking him for his valiant efforts.

  BOOK TWO

  1966-1974 JUNIOR OFFICE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WHEN ALISON McKENZIE moved into Andrew Fraser’s Cheyne Walk flat everyone, including her father, the Minister of State for Scotland, assumed they would soon announce their engagement.

  For the previous three months Andrew had had his head down in committee helping out with the public bills relating exclusively to Scotland which were referred to the committee from the House itself. He found much of the committee work boring, as so many members repeated the views of their colleagues, less and less articulately, and for some time only his doodling improved. Even so, Andrew’s energy and charm made him a popular companion through the long summer months and he quickly gained enough confidence to suggest first minor and later major changes to amendments considered by the committee. The disparity between penalties under English and Scottish law had long worried him, and he pressed hard for changes that would bring the two systems closer together. He soon discovered that the Scottish Labour members were more traditional and clannish than even the most hidebound of Tories.

  When the session came to an end Andrew invited Alison to spend a long weekend with his parents at their country home in Stirling at the end of the recess.

  “Do you expect me to sleep under the same roof as a former Conservative Lord Provost of Edinburgh?” she demanded.

  “Why not? You’ve been sleeping with his son for the past six months.”

  “Well, the same roof perhaps, but there’s one weekend we won’t be able to sleep in the same bed.”

  “Why not? The Tories may be snobs but they’re not hypocrites.”

  Alison didn’t want to admit that she was actually quite nervous about spending the weekend with Andrew’s father, as she had heard him continually maligned at her parents’ breakfast table for over twenty years.

  When she did meet “Old Dungheap,” as her father referred to the former Lord Provost, Alison liked him immediately. He reminded her so much of her own father, while Lady Fraser was not at all the snobbish little battle-ax her mother had prepared her for.

  It was immediately agreed that during the weekend nobody would talk politics. Andrew and Alison spent most of the Friday afternoon walking through the heather-covered hills and discussing in detail how they saw their future. On the Saturday morning the minister telephoned Sir Duncan and invited them over to Bute House—the official residence of the Secretary of State for Scotland—for dinner.

  After so many years of opposing each other both families were nervous of the social get-together, but it seemed the children were to bridge the political gap they had failed to build for themselves. The McKenzies had invited two other Edinburgh families to dinner in the hope that it would ease the tension of the occasion, a branch of the Forsyths who owned the departmental store in Princes Street, and the Menzies, who ran the largest chain of newsagents in the country.

  Andrew had decided to use the gathering to make an announcement at the end of dinner, and having spent longer shopping than he originally intended was the last to arrive at Bute House.

  After they had all found their place cards around the long dining room table the fourteen guests remained silent as a lone piper played a lament before the chef entered carrying a silver salver which bore on it a large haggis for the minister’s inspection. Sir Duncan’s opinion was sought: “Warm—reekin rich!” he declared. It was the first occasion the two men had wholeheartedly agreed on anything.

  Andrew did not eat as much as the others because he couldn’t take his eyes off the guest who had been placed opposite him. She didn’t pay much attention to Andrew, but seemed always to be smiling or laughing, making those around her enjoy her company. When Andrew had last seen Louise Forsyth it had been scoring goals on a hockey pitch. She had been a dumpy little girl with long pigtails and a tendency to go for one’s ankles rather than for the ball. Now the jet black hair was short and curly, while the body had become slim and graceful. After dinner Andrew mixed among the guests and it was well after one o’clock when the party broke up: he never managed a moment alone with her. Andrew was relieved to discover that Alison wanted to spend the night with her parents at Bute House while the Frasers traveled back to their home in Stirling.

  “You’re very silent for a Socialist,” his father said in the car on the way home.

  “He’s in love,” said his mother fondly.

  Andrew made no reply.

  The next morning he rose early and traveled into Edinburgh to see his agent. The minister had caught the first flight back to London but had left a message asking if Andrew would be kind enough to see him at ten o’clock in Dover House, the London headquarters of the Scottish Office, the following day, “on an official matter.”

  Andrew was delighted but it didn’t change his attitude.

  Having answered his local post and dealt with some constituents’ problems he left his office and made his way over to the New Club to make a private phone call. He was relieved to find her still at home. She reluctantly agreed to join him for lunch. Andrew sat alone for forty minutes, checking the grandfather clock every few moments while pretending to read the Scotsman. When she was eventually ushered in by the steward, Andrew knew this was the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. He would have laughed, if he had been told—before the previous evening—that he could change his well-ordered plans on what was nothing more than a casual meeting. But then he had never met anyone like Louise before and was already convinced he never would again.

  “Miss Forsyth,” said the man wearing the green livery uniform of the club. He inclined his head slightly and left them alone.

  Louise smiled and Andrew guided her to a table in the corner.