First Among Equals

d his career with a pension of over £500 a week while Mrs. Dora Benson’s weekly income remains fixed at £47.32?”

There was a gasp even from the Conservative benches as Raymond sat down.

Simon rose again, painfully aware that he was unprepared for Gould’s attack and that he had to stifle it as quickly as he could. “I was not aware of that particular comparison either, but once again I can assure the Right Honorable Gentleman I will give the case my immediate consideration.”

To Simon’s horror Raymond rose from the benches for yet a third time. He could see that Labour members opposite were enjoying the rare spectacle of watching him up against the ropes. “Is the Right Honorable Gentleman also aware that the annuity for a Victoria Cross is £100 with no extra pension benefits? We pay our fourth-division footballers more, while keeping Mrs. Benson in the bottom league of the national income bracket.”

Simon looked distinctly harassed when he in turn rose for a fourth time and made an uncharacteristic remark that he regretted the moment he said it.

“I take the Right Honorable Gentleman’s point,” he began, his words coming out a little too quickly. “And I am fascinated by his sudden interest in Mrs. Benson. Would it be cynical of me to suggest that it has been prompted by the wide publicity this case has enjoyed in the national press?”

Raymond made no attempt to answer but sat motionless with his arms folded and his feet up on the table in front of him while his own back-benchers screamed their abuse at Simon.

The national papers the next day were covered with pictures of the arthritic Dora Benson with her bucket and mop alongside photos of her handsome young husband in private’s uniform. Many of the papers went on to describe how Albert Benson had won his VC, and some of the tabloids used considerable license. But all of them picked up Raymond’s point that Mrs. Benson was in the bottom one percent of the income bracket and that the annuity for a Victoria Cross was a pathetic £100.

It was an enterprising and unusually thorough journalist from the Guardian who led her story on a different angle which the rest of the national press had to turn to in their second edition. It transpired that Raymond Gould had put down forty-seven questions concerning war widows’ pension rights during his time in the House and spoken on the subject in three budgets and five social service debates from the back benches. He had also made the subject the thrust of his maiden speech over twenty years before. But when the journalist revealed that Raymond gave £500 a year to the Erskine Hospital for wounded soldiers every member knew that Simon Kerslake would have to retract his attack and make an apology to the House.

At three-thirty the Speaker rose from his chair and told a packed house that the Minister of State for Defense wished to make a personal statement.

Simon Kerslake rose warily from the front bench and stood nervously at the dispatch box.

“Mr. Speaker,” he began. “With your permission and that of the House I would like to make a personal statement. During a question put to me yesterday I impugned the integrity of the Right Honorable Gentleman, the member for Leeds North. It has since been brought to my attention that I did him a gross injustice and I offer the House my sincere apologies, and the Right Honorable Gentleman the assurances that I will not question his integrity a third time.”

While younger members were puzzled by the reference, Raymond smiled to himself.

Aware of how rare personal statements were in anyone’s parliamentary career, members looked on eagerly to see how he would respond.

He moved slowly to the dispatch box.

“Mr. Speaker, I accept the gracious manner in which the Right Honorable Gentleman has apologized and hope that he will not lose sight of the greater issue, namely that of war widows’ benefits, and in particular the plight of Mrs. Dora Benson.”

Simon looked relieved and nodded courteously.

Many Opposition members told Raymond he should have gone for Simon when he had him on the run, while Tom Carson continued shouting at Simon long after the House had proceeded to the next business. The Times leader writer proved them wrong when he wrote the next morning: “In an age of militant demands from the left, Parliament and the Labour party have found a new Clement Attlee on their front bench. Britain need have no fear for human dignity or the rights of man should Raymond Gould ever accede to the high office which that gentleman held.”

When Raymond returned home from the Commons that night he found Joyce had cut out all the press comments for him to study and had also somehow managed to make inroads into his overflowing correspondence.

Joyce turned out to have a better feel for gut politics than the entire Shadow Cabinet put together.

Alec Pimkin threw a party for all his Tory colleagues who had entered the House in 1964, “To celebrate the first twenty years in the Commons,” as he described the occasion in an impromptu after-dinner speech.

Over brandy and cigars the corpulent, balding figure sat back and surveyed his fellow members. Many had fallen by the wayside over the years, but of those that were left, he believed only two men now dominated the intake.

Pimkin’s eyes first settled on his old friend Charles Seymour. Despite studying him closely he was still unable to spot a gray hair on the Treasury minister’s head. From time to time Pimkin still saw Amanda, who had returned to being a full-time model and was rarely to be found in England nowadays. Charles, he suspected, saw more of her on the covers of magazines than he ever did in his home at Eaton Square. Pimkin had been surprised by how much time Charles was willing to put aside for little Harry. Charles was the last man he would have suspected of ending up a doting father. Certainly there was no sign of his ambitions diminishing, and Pimkin suspected that only one man remained a worthy rival for the party leadership.

His eyes moved on to someone for whom in 1984 Orwell’s big brother seemed to hold no fears. Simon Kerslake was deep in animated conversation about his work on the proposed disarmament talks between Thatcher, Gorbachev, and Reagan. Pimkin studied the Defense minister intently. He considered that had he been graced with such looks he would not have had to fear for his dwindling majority. Rumors of some financial crisis had long since died away, and Kerslake now seemed well set for a formidable future.

The party began to break up, as one by one his contemporaries came over to thank him for such a “splendid,” “memorable,” “worthwhile” evening. When the last one had departed and Pimkin found himself alone he drained the drop of brandy that remained in his balloon and stubbed out the dying cigar. He sighed as he speculated on the fact that he could now never hope to be made a minister. He therefore determined to become a kingmaker, for in another twenty years there would be nothing left on which to speculate.

Raymond celebrated his twenty years in the House by taking Joyce to the Guinea Restaurant off Berkeley Square for dinner. He admired the long burgundy dress his wife had chosen for the occasion and even noticed that one or two women gave it more than a casual glance throughout their meal.

He too reflected on his twenty years in the Commons, and he told Joyce over a brandy that he hoped he would spend more of the next twenty years in Government. 1984 had not turned out to be a good year for the Conservatives, and Raymond was already forming plans to make 1985 as uncomfortable for the Government as possible.

A few weeks later Tony Benn, who had lost his seat at the general election, returned to the House of Commons as the member for Chesterfield. The Conservatives came a poor third and went on to lose two more by-elections early in 1985. Even the press began to acknowledge that the Labour party was once again looking like a serious alternative Government.

The winter of 1985 brought a further rise in the unemployment figures which only increased the Labour party’s lead in the polls. And then after the resignation of two cabinet ministers over a small helicopter company in the West Country and the loss of two further by-elections, the Conservatives fell into third place for the first time in five years.

A drop in the price of oil from $22 to $10 a