First Among Equals Read online

  “Think of it,” said Sir Duncan, after he had ordered a second whisky. “Father and son representing the same constituency. It will be a great day for the Edinburgh Conservative party.”

  “Not to mention the Labour party,” said Andrew, looking his father in the eye.

  “I am not sure I take your meaning,” said the Lord Provost.

  “Precisely that, Father. I do not intend to contest the seat as a Conservative. I hope to be selected as the Labour candidate—if they’ll adopt me.”

  Sir Duncan looked disbelieving. “But you’ve been a Conservative all your life,” he declared, his voice rising with every word.

  “No, Father,” replied Andrew quietly. “It’s you who have been a Conservative all my life.”

  BOOK ONE

  1964-1966 THE BACK BENCHES

  CHAPTER ONE

  THURSDAY 10 DECEMBER 1964

  MR. SPEAKER ROSE and surveyed the Commons. He tugged at his long black silk gown, then nervously tweaked the full-bottomed wig that covered his balding head. The House had almost got out of control during a particularly rowdy session of Prime Minister’s questions, and he was delighted to see the clock reach three-thirty. Time to pass on to the next business of the day.

  He stood shifting from foot to foot waiting for the 500-odd members present to settle down before he intoned solemnly, “Members desiring to take the oath.” The packed assembly switched its gaze from the Speaker to the far end of the Chamber, like a crowd watching a tennis match. There, standing at the bar of the Commons, was the victor of the first by-election since the Labour party had taken office some two months before.

  The new member, flanked by his proposer and seconder, took four paces forward. Like well-drilled guardsmen, they stopped and bowed. The stranger stood at six-foot-four. He looked like a man born with the Tory party in mind, his patrician head set on an aristocratic frame, a mane of fair hair combed meticulously into place. Dressed in a dark gray, double-breasted suit and wearing a Guards’ tie of maroon and blue, he advanced once again toward the long table that stood in front of the Speakers chair between the two front benches which faced each other a mere sword’s length apart.

  Leaving his sponsors in his wake, he passed down the Government side, stepping over the legs of the Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary before being handed the oath by the Clerk of the House.

  He held the little card in his right hand and pronounced the words as firmly as if they had been his marriage vows.

  “I, Charles Seymour, do swear that I will be faithful, and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, her heirs and successors according to law, so help me God.”

  “Hear, hear,” rose from his colleagues on the benches opposite as the new MP leaned over to subscribe the Test Roll, a parchment folded into book-shape. Charles was introduced to the Speaker by the Clerk. The new member then proceeded toward the chair where he stopped and bowed.

  “Welcome to the House, Mr. Seymour,” said the Speaker, shaking his hand. “I hope you will serve this place for many years to come.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Speaker,” said Charles, and bowed for a final time before continuing on behind the Speaker’s chair. He had carried out the little ceremony exactly as the Tory Chief Whip had rehearsed it with him in the long corridor outside his office.

  Waiting for him behind the Speaker’s chair and out of sight of the other members was the leader of the Opposition, Sir Alec Douglas-Home, who also shook him warmly by the hand.

  “Congratulations on your splendid victory, Charles. I know you have a great deal to offer to our party and indeed your country.”

  “Thank you,” replied the new MP, who after waiting for Sir Alec to return to take his place on the Opposition front bench made his way up the steps of the side gangway to find a place in the back row of the long green benches.

  For the next two hours Charles Seymour followed the proceedings of the House with a mixture of awe and excitement. For the first time in his life he had found something that wasn’t his by right or by effortless conquest. Glancing up at the Strangers’ Gallery he saw his wife Fiona, his father the fourteenth Earl of Bridgwater and his brother, the Viscount Seymour, peering down at him with pride. Charles settled back on the first rung of the ladder. He smiled to himself: only six weeks ago he had feared it would be many more years before he could hope to take a seat in the House of Commons.

  At the general election a mere two months before, Charles had contested a South Wales mining seat with an impregnable Labour majority. “Good for the experience, not to mention the soul,” the vice-chairman in charge of candidates at Conservative Central Office had assured him. He had proved to be right on both counts, for Charles had relished the contest and brought the Labour majority down from 22,300 to 20,100. His wife had aptly described it as a “dent,” but it had turned out to be enough of a dent for the party to put Charles’s name forward for the Sussex Downs seat when Sir Eric Koops had died of a heart attack only a few days after Parliament had assembled. Six weeks later Charles Seymour sat in the Commons with a 20,000 majority of his own.

  Charles listened to one more speech before leaving the Chamber. He stood alone in the Members’ Lobby not quite certain where to begin. Another young member strode purposefully toward him. “Allow me to introduce myself,” the stranger said, sounding to Charles every bit like a fellow Conservative. “My name is Andrew Fraser. I’m the Labour member for Edinburgh Carlton and I was hoping you hadn’t yet found yourself a pair.” Charles admitted that so far he hadn’t found much more than the Chamber. The Tory Chief Whip had already explained to him that most members paired with someone from the opposite party for voting purposes, and that it would be wise for him to select someone of his own age. When there was a debate on less crucial issues a two-line whip came into operation: pairing made it possible for members to miss the vote and return home to their wife and family before midnight. However, no member was allowed to miss the vote when there was a three-line whip.

  “I’d be delighted to pair with you,” continued Charles. “Am I expected to do anything official?”

  “No,” said Andrew, looking up at him. “I’ll just drop you a line confirming the arrangement. If you’d be kind enough to reply letting me have all the phone numbers where you can be contacted we’ll just take it from there. Any time you need to miss a vote just let me know.”

  “Sounds a sensible arrangement to me,” said Charles as a rotund figure wearing a light gray three-piece suit, blue shirt, and a pink-spotted bow tie trundled over toward them.

  “Welcome to the club, Charles,” said Alec Pimkin. “Care to join me for a drink in the smoking room and I’ll brief you on how this bloody place works.”

  “Thank you,” said Charles, relieved to see someone he knew. Andrew smiled when he heard Pimkin add, “It’s just like being back at school, old chum,” as the two Tories retreated in the direction of the smoking room. Andrew suspected that it wouldn’t be long before Charles Seymour was showing his “old school chum” just how the bloody place really worked.

  Andrew also left the Members’ Lobby but not in search of a drink. He had to attend a meeting of the Parliamentary Labour party at which the following week’s business was due to be discussed. He hurried away.

  Andrew had been duly selected as the Labour candidate for Edinburgh Carlton and had gone on to capture the seat from the Conservatives by a majority of 3,419 votes. Sir Duncan, having completed his term as Lord Provost, continued to represent the same seat on the City Council. In six weeks Andrew—the baby of the House—had quickly made a name for himself and many of the older members found it hard to believe that it was his first Parliament.

  When Andrew arrived at the party meeting on the second floor of the Commons he found an empty seat near the back of the large committee room and settled down to listen to the Government Chief Whip go over the business for the following week. Once again it seemed to consist of nothing but three-line whips. He glanced down at the piece of