First Among Equals

“Where are you leading me, Lady Macbeth?”

“No bloody hands will be needed for this killing. Simply, having chosen your Duncan you volunteer to organize the new intake for him. If he becomes leader, he’s bound to feel it would be appropriate to select one or two new faces for his team.”

“You could be right.”

“Well, let’s sleep on it,” said Fiona, turning out the light on her side of the bed.

Charles didn’t sleep on it but lay restless most of the night turning over in his mind what she had said. When Fiona awoke the next morning she carried on the conversation as if there had been no break in between. “Do you have to be rushed into a decision?”

“No, but if I let it drift I could be accused of jumping on the bandwagon and then I would have lost my chance to be seen as a leader among the new intake.”

“Better still,” she continued, “before the man you choose announces he is a candidate, demand that he stand on behalf of the new members.”

“Clever,” said Charles.

“Whom have you decided on?”

“Heath,” Charles replied without hesitation.

“I’ll back your political judgment,” said Fiona. “Just trust me when it comes to tactics. First, we compose a letter.”

In dressing gowns, on the floor at the end of the bed, the two elegant figures drafted and redrafted a note to Edward Heath. At nine-thirty it was finally composed and sent round by hand to his rooms in Albany.

The next morning Charles was invited to the small, bachelor flat for coffee. They talked for over an hour and later, as the two men stood below a Piper landscape in the drawing room, the deal was struck.

Charles thought Sir Alec would announce his resignation in the late summer which would give him eight to ten weeks to carry out a campaign. Fiona typed out a list of all the new members and during the next eight weeks every one of them was invited to their Eaton Square flat for drinks. Fiona was subtle enough to see that members of the Lower House were outnumbered by other guests, often from the House of Lords. Heath managed to escape from his front-bench duties on the Finance Bill to spend at least an hour with the Seymours once a week. As the day of Sir Alec Douglas-Home’s resignation drew nearer Charles realized the leadership result could be almost as important to him as it would be to Heath, but he also remained confident that he had carried out his plan in a subtle and discreet way. He would have been willing to place a wager that no one other than Edward Heath had worked out how deeply he was involved.

One man who attended the second of Fiona’s soirees saw exactly what was going on. While many of the guests spent their time admiring the Seymour art collection Simon Kerslake kept a wary eye on his host and hostess. Kerslake was not convinced that Edward Heath would win the forthcoming election and felt confident that Reginald Maudling would turn out to be the party’s natural choice. Maudling was, after all, Shadow Foreign Secretary, a former Chancellor, and far senior to Heath. More important, he was a married man. Simon doubted the Tories would ever pick a bachelor to lead them.

As soon as Kerslake had left the Seymours he jumped into a taxi and returned immediately to the Commons. He found Reginald Maudling in the Members’ Dining Room seated at the table frequented only by the Shadow Cabinet. He waited until Maudling had finished his meal before asking if they could have a few moments alone. The tall shambling figure—not altogether certain of the name of the new member— leaned over and invited Simon to join him for a drink in his room.

Maudling listened intently to all the enthusiastic young man had to say and accepted the judgment of the well-informed member without question. It was agreed that Simon should try to counter the Seymour campaign and report back his results twice a week.

While Seymour could call on all the powers and influence of his Etonian background, Kerslake could rely on the knowledge and arm-twisting skills gained from his time as President of the Oxford Union. Simon weighed up the advantages and disadvantages he possessed. He did not own a palatial home in Eaton Square in which Turners, Constables, and Holbeins were not to be found in books but on the walls. He also lacked a glamorous society wife. Simon lived in a small house in Beaufort Street in Chelsea and Elizabeth was a gynecologist at St. Mary’s Hospital, Paddington. Although Elizabeth gave Simon’s political aspirations her full backing she still considered her own career every bit as important, an opinion with which Simon concurred. The local Coventry press had on several occasions recalled in their columns how Elizabeth had left her three-day-old child to help perform a Caesarian section on a mother in the adjoining ward and, two years later, had to be dragged off night duty just as she went into labor with their second child.

This independence of character was one of the reasons Simon had admired Elizabeth when they first met, but he realized she was no match for Lady Fiona Seymour as a hostess and he never wanted her to be. He despised pushy political wives.

Simon spent the following days trying to work out the certain Maudling and certain Heath supporters, although many members claimed they would favor both candidates, according to who asked them. These he listed as doubtfuls. When Enoch Powell threw his cap into the ring Simon could not find a single new member other than Alec Pimkin who openly supported him. That left forty members from the new intake who still had to be followed up. He estimated twelve certain Heath, eleven certain Maudling, and one Powell, leaving sixteen undecided. As the day of the election drew nearer it became obvious that few of the rema

ining sixteen actually knew either candidate well, and were still not sure for whom they should vote.

Simon realized that he could not invite them all round to Beaufort Street between Elizabeth’s ward duties, so he would have to go to them. During the last eight weeks he accompanied his chosen leader as he addressed the party faithfuls in twenty-three new members’ constituencies. Simon traveled from Bodmin to Glasgow, from Penrith to Great Yarmouth, briefing Maudling studiously before every meeting.

Gradually it became obvious to everyone that Charles Seymour and Simon Kerslake were the chosen lieutenants among the new intake. Some members resented the whispered confidences at the Eaton Square cocktail parties, or the discovery that Simon Kerslake had visited their constituencies under false pretenses, while others were simply envious of the reward that would inevitably be heaped on the victor.

“But why do you support Maudling?” Elizabeth had asked him one evening over dinner.

“Reggie has a great deal more experience of Government than Heath—and in any case he’s more caring about those around him.”

“But Heath appears to be so much more professional,” Elizabeth insisted, pouring her husband a glass of wine.

“That may well be the case, but the British have always preferred good amateurs to preside over their affairs.”

“If you believe all that stuff about amateurs why become so involved yourself?”

Simon considered her question for some time before answering. “Because I don’t come from the type of background that automatically commands the center of the Tory stage,” he admitted.

“Neither does Heath,” commented Elizabeth dryly.