“It’s kind of you to ask, Ronnie, but the answer has to be no.”
They both broke off their conversation to allow the head waiter to take their orders.
“There’s a salary of £20,000 a year that goes with it.”
“I can’t deny that Elizabeth and I could do with the money. With Peter staying up at Oxford to do a D.Phil. and Michael bent on being an actor I wonder if my bank account will ever be in credit.”
“Then why not come in with us?” asked Ronnie.
“Because I’m a committed politician,” said Simon, “and I no longer want to involve myself in any commercial activities.”
“That might stop you becoming Prime Minister?”
Simon hesitated at the bluntness of Ronnie’s question then said, “Frankly, yes. I’ve got a better than outside chance and I’d be foolish to lengthen the odds by becoming involved in anything else right now.”
&
nbsp; “But everyone knows that as soon as Margaret announces she’s going to pack up you’ll be the next leader. It’s as simple as that.”
“No, Ronnie, it’s never as simple as that.”
“Then tell me, who could beat you?”
“Charles Seymour, for one.”
“Seymour? He’s a toffee-nosed git,” said Ronnie.
“He has a lot of friends in the party, and his patrician background still counts for something with the Tories. Sir Alec remains the best loved of our most recent Prime Ministers.”
“Yes, but he was given the leadership by the magic circle,” said Ronnie. “You’d kill Seymour with every elected member of the party having a vote.”
“Time will tell,” said Simon, bored with a conversation he had had with so many people lately. “But what have you been up to?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“I’ve been working my backside off in preparation for going public in about a year’s time, which is why I wanted you on the board.”
“You never give up.”
“No, and I hope you haven’t given up your one percent of the company.”
“Elizabeth has it locked away somewhere.”
“Then you had better find the key.”
“Why?” asked Simon.
“Because when I put out ten million shares on the market at three quid a time, your one original share will be exchanged for 100,000 shares of common stock. I know you weren’t ever Chancellor but that’s £300,000 of anyone’s money.”
Simon was speechless.
“Well, say something,” said Ronnie.
“Frankly I’d forgotten the share existed,” Simon finally managed.
“Well, I think I can safely say,” said Ronnie, parodying one of Mrs. Thatcher’s favorite phrases, “that’s not a bad investment for a pound, and one you will never regret.”
As the budget debate drew nearer Raymond found twenty-four hours each day were not enough, even without sleep. He discussed the changes he required with the Treasury mandarins, but it became more obvious as each week passed that he would have to make sacrifices. He was sick of being told that there would always be next year, feeling he had waited far too long already. He often went over to Transport House to discuss with his party researchers those promises in the manifesto which they considered the top priorities. Raymond had been pleased by the party’s decision to leave Walworth Road and return to Transport House as the party headquarters soon after their victory at the polls.
As the weeks passed, compromises were reached and cutbacks agreed but Raymond managed to cling to the changes about which he felt most passionate. By the Friday morning before the budget the mandarins had handed him his speech. It ran to 143 pages and they estimated it would keep him at the dispatch box for two and a half hours.