First Among Equals Read online

  “No, no, I’d rather you didn’t,” said Charles, fearing he sounded a little too insistent. “I consider it my responsibility. I’ll speak to him and see that it doesn’t happen again.”

  “All right, Charles, if that’s the way you want to play it. Thank God it can’t last much longer and the damn thing will soon be law, but we must remain vigilant over every clause. The Labour party know only too well that if they defeat us on certain key clauses they can still scupper the whole bill, and if I lost one of those by a single vote I would cut Kerslake’s throat. Or anyone else’s who was responsible.”

  “I’ll make sure he gets the message,” said Charles.

  “How’s Fiona reacting to all these late nights?” the Chief Whip asked, finally relaxing.

  “Very well, considering. In fact now that you mention it I have never seen her looking better.”

  “Can’t say my wife is enjoying ‘the prep school antics,’ as she describes our continual late-night sittings. I’ve had to promise to take her to the West Indies this winter to make up for it. Well, I’ll leave you to deal with Kerslake then. Be firm, Charles. Just remember, we can’t afford to lose a vote at this late stage.”

  “Norman Edwards?” repeated Raymond in disbelief. “The General Secretary of the Haulage Union?”

  “Yes,” said Fred Padgett, getting up from behind his desk.

  “But he burned Full Employment at Any Cost? on a public bonfire with every journalist he could lay his hands on to witness the conflagration.”

  “I know,” said Fred, returning a letter to the filing cabinet. “I’m only your agent, I’m not here to explain the mysteries of the universe.”

  “When does he want to see me?” asked Raymond.

  “As soon as possible.”

  “Better ask him if he can come for a drink back at the house round six o’clock.”

  Raymond had had a heavy Saturday morning surgery and thanks to the still imminent Martians had only found time to grab a sandwich at the pub before going off to pursue his favorite pastime. This week Leeds were playing Liverpool at Elland Road. Sitting in the directors’ box every other week in full view of his constituents while he supported his local football team killed 30,000 birds with one stone. Later, when talking to the lads in the dressing room after the match, he found himself lapsing into a pronounced Yorkshire accent that bore no resemblance to the one he used to address high court judges during the week.

  Leeds won three-two and after the match Raymond joined the directors for a drink in the boardroom. He became so impassioned about an off-side decision that could have lost them a point that he nearly forgot about his meeting with Norman Edwards.

  Joyce was in the garden showing the union leader her early snowdrops when Raymond returned.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he shouted, as he hung up his yellow and blue scarf. “I’ve been to the match.”

  “Who won?” asked Edwards.

  “Leeds, of course, three-two.”

  “Damn,” said Norman, his accent leaving the other in no doubt that he had not spent many nights outside of Liverpool.

  “Come on in and have a beer,” said Raymond.

  “I’d prefer a vodka.”

  The two men went into the house while Joyce continued with her gardening.

  “Well,” said Raymond, pouring his guest a Smirnoff. “What brings you all the way from Liverpool if it wasn’t to watch the football? Perhaps you want a signed copy of my book for your next union bonfire.”

  “Don’t give me any hassle, Ray. I came all this way because I need your help, simple as that.”

  “I’m all ears,” said Raymond.

  “We had a full meeting of the General Purposes Committee yesterday, and one of the brothers has spotted a clause in the European Bill which could put us all out of work.”

  Norman passed over a copy of the bill to Raymond with the relevant clause marked in red. It gave the minister power to make new haulage and lorry regulations which would come before the House as statutory instruments and thus could not be amended.

  “If that gets through the House my boys are in deep trouble.”

  “Why?” said Raymond.

  “Because those bloody Frogs know only too well that there’s a Channel between us and them, and if my lads are forced by law to sleep a night each side the only people who’ll end up making money on the deal will be the guest-house proprietors.”

  “What’s behind it?” asked Raymond.

  “They want us to drop the stuff our end, so they can pick it up on the other side.”

  “But wouldn’t that also be true when they need to deliver goods to us?”

  “No. Their journeys are much longer to the coast, and they have to stay overnight anyway, not to mention the fact that there are eight of them to one of us. It’s diabolical, nothing less.”

  Raymond studied the wording in detail while Edwards helped himself to another vodka.

  “The clause doesn’t stop you from going over the next day.”

  “And how much do you think that will add to your costs?” asked Raymond.

  “I’ll tell you, enough to make us uncompetitive, that’s how much,” replied the trade union leader.

  “Point taken,” said Raymond. “So what’s wrong with asking your own member to put the case?”

  “Don’t trust him. He’s pro-European at any price.”

  “And what about your sponsored trade union representative in the House?”

  “Tom Carson? You must be joking. He’s so far to the left that even his own side are suspicious when he supports a cause. We lost the ‘tachograph’ clause because he championed it. In any case I only put him in the House to get him off my back.” Raymond laughed. “Now, all my General Purposes Committee want to know is: would you be willing to fight this clause in the House for us? Not that we can afford the sort of fees you’re used to at the bar,” he added.

  “There would be no fee involved,” said Raymond, “but I’m sure you’ll be able to repay me in kind sometime in the future.”

  “Got the picture,” said Edwards, touching the side of his nose with a forefinger. “What do I do next?”

  “You go back to Liverpool and hope that I am better on an away pitch than your team.”

  Norman Edwards put on an old raincoat and started to button it up. He smiled at Raymond. “I may have been appalled by your book, Ray. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t admire it.”

  The Speaker looked down at the front bench. “Mr. Andrew Fraser.”

  “Number seventeen, sir,” said Andrew.

  The Speaker looked down to check over the question, seeking a Home Office answer.

  Simon rose to the dispatch box, opened his file, and said, “Yes, sir.”

  “Mr. Andrew Fraser,” called the Speaker again.

  Andrew rose from his place on the Opposition front bench to put his supplementary.

  “May I thank the minister for agreeing to an inquiry so quickly, and ask him that, if he discovers an injustice has been done to my constituent Mr. Paddy O’Halloran, that the Home Secretary will order a retrial immediately?”

  Simon rose again.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I am grateful to the Honorable Gentleman,” said Andrew, half-rising from his place.

  All over in less than a minute, but older members who listened to the brief exchange between Fraser and Kerslake in the House that day had no doubt that considerable preparation had gone into that minute from both sides.

  “The damn man missed another three-line whip, Charles. It must be the last time. You’ve been protecting him for far too long.”

  “It won’t happen again,” promised Charles convincingly. “I would like to give him one more chance. Allow him that.”

  “You’re very loyal to him,” said the Chief Whip. “But next time I’m going to see Kerslake myself and get to the bottom of it.”

  “It won’t happen again,” repeated Charles.

  “Hm,” said the Chief Whip. “Ne