by David Harley
‘Of course,’ Matt replied, punching the air. Waves of energy swept through him and he felt like his old self again, as though he was floating onwards and upwards on a giant cushion of relief. The English might take their time about getting things right, but they always got there in the end. Muddling through and rising to the challenge were in their DNA.
After putting on a charcoal grey suit and white shirt, he accepted Sam’s choice of a dark blue tie. He stood by the window, polishing his glasses, plunged in thought. It was still hard to take in; from the moment he went out of the front door, he would be swept along by what he called the paradox of power – the never-ending sequence of unforeseeable events, decisions and calamities that would be forever outside his control. It was too late to worry now. He patted down his hair, adjusted his tie in the mirror, and took Sam in his arms.
‘There’s my man!’ said Sam, nestling against his chest while being careful not to crease or smudge his shirt. ‘You look very distinguished and prime ministerial – just like Clark Kent!’
‘A little more respect, if you don’t mind,’ said Matt. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as it’s official.’
Outside, at the back entrance, Frank the driver was waiting by the car. He opened the rear side-door.
‘All set, sir?’ said Frank. ‘Lovely evening for it.’
They drove off, between two unmarked cars in front and behind. Matt had been expecting a motorcycle escort, but presumably that would come later. He wondered what kissing hands with the King really meant – he’d better have an explanation ready for the next time he saw Sophie. In what felt like no time at all, the car swept past the small crowd that had gathered outside Buckingham Palace and through the gates. Matt stepped out and was greeted by Timothy Fitzjohn.
‘Very good of you to come. I’m sorry it took a little longer than we expected,’ said Fitzjohn, as he escorted Matt under the archway and into the inner forecourt. ‘His Majesty is looking forward to meeting you. There’s lots to talk about.’
‘It’s a great honour,’ Matt mumbled. ‘I never dreamed that one day – ’
‘You’ve deserved it. Democracy has a habit of coming up with surprises. You mustn’t be nervous; the King will put you at your ease. He’s very good at that, very direct. You’ll see.’
In solemn silence, the two of them walked up the steps to the main entrance of the Palace and down what seemed like several miles of corridors. The small talk was over. After a few initial hiccups, the constitution was creaking into action. Power lay within his grasp.
CHAPTER FORTY
Inside the Palace, Matt was surprised to find everything so dark and stifling. Trying not to be put off by the ornate surroundings, epitomised by heavy-hanging crimson drapes and over-elaborate gilt cornices, Matt bowed to the King and accepted the invitation to sit down. He was determined to savour every minute of this historic encounter, which no doubt would be the first of many. He was even prepared to overlook the King’s stuffiness and pomposity. Matt reckoned they both needed each other in the current circumstances. A good working relationship between the monarch and the prime minister was more essential than ever in these troubled times. After all the hardship and suffering, waging a class war was in nobody’s interests. He would give the King the benefit of the doubt, and devote himself to working for the common good.
The monarch took a sip from a glass of water, and fiddled with the silk handkerchief in his breast pocket.
‘Uncharted waters, it would appear,’ he said. ‘We’ve all got to work out what’s best for the country. Sacrifices may be required, wouldn’t you agree?’
Matt wondered who was in charge of polishing the King’s black brogues, and how they made them shine so brightly. He didn’t quite see the point of the question, but it would be discourteous not to reply.
‘Indeed, Your Majesty,’ he said.
‘I’m advised that constitutional precedents don’t tell us anything about electoral alliances. They only cover political parties, and the ability to command a majority in the Commons. We all have a duty to respect the constitution, which has served us so well over many centuries. So we’re in a quandary, don’t you think?’
Matt stiffened, as he switched off the faintly idiotic smile that he had intended as a mark of deference. If he’d understood correctly the way the conversation was heading, the man opposite him, for all his airs and graces and proclaimed interest in good causes, was about to suggest the unthinkable.
‘With respect, Sir, who gave you this advice?’
The King’s bottom lip twitched to the right.
‘All people who, from long experience, know what’s best for the country, including the chief of the defence staff, representing all the armed forces, and one or two business leaders and influential people in the media. People who, down the years, have proved their steadfast loyalty to me and to the nation - not fair-weather friends at all. The kind you can count on in a crisis. I have absolute confidence in their judgement.’
Matt shook his head, as if to empty it of the nonsense he was being forced to listen to. Bristling, he leaned forward.
‘And what, may I ask, do these loyal friends of yours propose? What have they told you to do?’
‘I was coming to that. They all agree that, given the critical situation in which we find ourselves, the best solution would be a government of national unity. I understand that you’d occupy one of the great offices of state.’
Matt’s mind started racing. One of the corgis began yapping at his heels. The urge to kick it was almost overwhelming.
‘I trust that would be acceptable?’ the King went on.
A phone rang on the table next to where he was sitting.
‘Yes, he’s here now. Everything’s under control. Just as we agreed.’
The King put the phone down, and placed his hands together, fingers extended, as if in prayer.
‘Can I take it you’d accept? For the sake of the country, you understand. I would be most grateful.’
The sense of betrayal was like being kicked in the stomach. All his life Matt had respected the royal family and what they stood for. That the King should propose such a gross dereliction of duty was desperately disappointing. He had come to the Palace determined to see the King in the best possible light, and instead they were playing him for a fool. He couldn’t let this pass.
‘Tell me, in your so-called government of national unity, who would lead this coup d’état?’
The King’s face had become more than usually florid. He started twisting the gold signet ring on the little finger of his left hand.
‘I really can’t say at this stage,’ he finally let out.
That could only mean one thing.
‘I’m still waiting for your reply,’ the King went on, irrationally emboldened. ‘Your approval is vital to our success. I hope I can count on your support.’
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Matt stood up, his eyes blazing.
‘You’re on their side, aren’t you? Well, sorry George, you’ve made the wrong choice. You’re with the crooks and clowns that have ruined and pillaged what remains of this country - you should be ashamed of yourself.’
‘I don’t appreciate your tone, Mr Barker. We’re all servants of the constitution – ’
‘Let me tell you one more thing and then I’ll leave. Listen carefully - your reaction to what I’m going to say will decide how you live the rest of your life.’
The King’s facial tic went into overdrive. Matt walked over to the high-backed chair where the monarch was sitting. Looking down at him, Matt softly and calmly delivered his message.
‘If you refuse to accept the result of the general election by asking me to form a government, your reign is over.’
The King laughed back in Matt’s face.
‘They’re all against you, Mr Barker. You may have won an election, but no one of any influence in this country supports you. Your alliance is a ramshackle group of leftie friends, not a serious option
for running the country. Any idiot can see that. The next prime minister has to be the leader of the largest party – that’s what the nation expects and the constitution requires. You’ll never make it to Number Ten – we’ve made sure of that.’
Matt clenched both fists. He resisted the temptation to grab the King by the lapels and bang his head against the mantelpiece. He mustn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing him lose his self-control.
‘You disappoint me, George, and you and your friends underestimate me. If you go against the people, you leave me with no other option.’
The King brought his hand up to his neck, as if he could already hear the swish and clunk of the falling guillotine.
Matt left the room without another word. As he ran for his life through the maze of deserted corridors, an alarm sounded. When he arrived downstairs at the main entrance, the two guardsmen outside their sentry boxes presented arms and let him pass unhindered through the gates. It must have been his imagination, but he could have sworn that one of them winked at him.
Seeing no sign of Frank or the silver Jaguar, he quickly texted Sam, before stopping to say a few words to the waiting press corps who had gathered in front of the statue of Queen Victoria.
‘No decision has yet been taken on who should be asked to form the next government. I had a useful exchange of views with His Majesty, and stressed the importance of respecting the result of the election. Later this evening I’ll make a televised appeal on where I believe the country should go from here.’
Sam and Rob arrived right on cue. Together with a sizeable group of SOCA supporters, they all marched up The Mall, to catch the number 11 bus towards Shoreditch.
Hassan had everything ready to start filming when they arrived at The People’s TV studio. With half an eye on the digital clock counting down the seconds, Matt finished debriefing Rob and Sam on what had happened at the Palace. In three minutes he would go on air to warn the people of the imminent putsch, and tell them to stand firm and defend their rights, whatever the cost.
‘I wish we didn’t have to do this, but there’s no other way. We can’t let down the millions of people who voted for us. This is our opponents’ last desperate throw. People would never trust us again if we gave in without a fight. Are you with me?’
‘Of course,’ said Sam.
Rob stared at the floor.
‘You should accept the offer to serve in the new government,’ he said. ‘Don’t ask me why. Just be grateful for what you’ve achieved.’
Matt and Sam exchanged glances.
‘You can’t desert us now,’ she said, ‘after everything we’ve been through together, without giving any reasons. If there’s something we should know, you’ve got to tell us.’
Rob wouldn’t meet her gaze.
‘What have they done to you?’ Sam pressed him.
Rob looked up and stared straight through her.
‘Trust me – I can’t say any more,’ he said. ‘I’ve always been with you, but we can’t go any further. I’m trying to save you.’
Sam threw herself on Rob, her clenched fists pummelling his chest.
‘I can’t believe this – what are you talking about? We can’t possibly back off now.’
Rob roughly pushed her away.
‘Let him go,’ said Matt. ‘Whoever’s got to him, if he’s lost his nerve, he’s no use to us tonight. He’ll recover soon enough.’
His face pallid, Rob picked up his briefcase and left the studio.
Matt shut his eyes and massaged his temples. Thirty seconds left. He was past caring and wouldn’t be distracted. If Rob was a traitor, and there was evidence to prove it, they would have to get rid of him. This new discovery didn’t bear thinking about – Matt would sort out the problem later. After doing some more breathing exercises, and a nod at the floor manager, Matt faced the camera to address the nation.
‘This is an historic and decisive moment for us all. Five days ago, you voted to elect a parliament and a government. The election campaign was the most brutal and violent ever seen in this country, with tragic loss of life. Yet it produced a clear result. The Save Our Country Alliance won a narrow but indisputable majority in the House of Commons, with 340 seats. The English Nationalist Party won 290 seats. Logic, fairness and our constitution require that the Alliance should form the next government. The will of the people couldn’t be clearer.’
‘To my profound regret, the outgoing prime minister has refused to accept this result. In a desperate attempt to retain power, he and his corrupt cronies have persuaded the King to support a military coup d’état.’
‘The former prime minister and the King may not realise it, but England is no longer a feudal country. They will not prevail. The King has forfeited his right to the throne. James Crouch will be arrested and charged with treason. He will of course be given a scrupulously fair trial.’
‘I appeal to all of you who have the future of our country at heart to join me tomorrow in a march for freedom, to uphold our democratic rights. This is our country’s chance for a fresh start, and a better life for you all. Let’s seize it together.’
‘Now get it out there,’ said Matt to Sam. ‘Use every platform you can find.’
Matt felt his phone vibrate. He saw it was Giles Penfold.
‘Are you completely insane? Don’t you realise you’ve just signed your death warrant? Your only chance is to disappear before they come for you, you’ve got to leave this minute, you understand, you mustn’t wait a moment longer …’
Matt let him prattle on for a few more seconds, and then ended the call. Penfold and his like still hadn’t realised that the old threats no longer worked. With the result of the election, the world had moved on, and the people Penfold used to work for were no longer in charge. Their authority was slipping away. If everything went according to plan, in less than twenty-four hours they would count for nothing.
Alone in the flat in Number Ten, curled up in bed in his paisley pyjamas and shivering with fear for his future, James Crouch couldn’t get to sleep. He had never felt so low and ashamed of himself. By accepting the deal to stay in office without exercising power, he had seriously miscalculated, and lost all dignity and self-respect. He understood now that General McIntyre would never keep his side of the bargain, and would eventually throw him to the wolves. Valentina wasn’t answering his calls, and he missed her terribly. He should never have let her go like that. The military policeman had locked his bedroom door – ‘for your own safety, sir’. There was no way out. He wondered who would go and visit his elderly mother, wracked with Alzheimer’s and arthritis, once they came to take him away. He knew that talking to him cheered her up, even if she made no sense, but from now on she would be on her own.
He imagined the knock on the door in the morning, at first light, the initial polite tap quickly followed by remorseless banging. He had been tossed on the mile-high scrap heap of pointless politicians whose shelf life was over and whose time had come and gone. He had started with nothing and worked his way up, yet his ultimate failure meant nobody would ever give him the slightest hint of praise or gratitude or recognition. The thought that he would end his life as a loser made him inconsolable.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
They entered Parliament Square as Big Ben struck twelve. Twenty tanks and armoured cars, splayed out in a semicircle, were parked outside the Houses of Parliament. A hundred hooded marksmen in military camouflage stood in a line by the Cromwell Green entrance, light machine guns at the ready. The military helicopters flow lower and lower, buzzing the crowd as it surged into the square. The chanting had stopped and the drums were no longer beating. From all sides, loudspeakers repeatedly blared out a warning that if the demonstrators didn’t leave immediately, they would be evacuated by force. No one obeyed the command, as more and more people poured into the square.
Alone, with Sam a few paces behind him, Matt walked towards the marksmen. The loudspeakers fell quiet. Apart from the helicopters, now hovering abo
ve the river, and the screech of seagulls, a blanket of silence fell on the square. Matt came to a halt, ten yards in front of the soldiers. Then the order to fire was shouted out: perfectly synchronised, the marksmen raised their guns and took aim at the crowd, before firing a round in the air. Amid screams of panic, people started pushing in all directions. A minute elapsed, and then the order was repeated. The jostling first resumed, then ceased.
Matt steeled himself, imagining another crackle of gunfire and praying it wouldn’t happen. Two more minutes passed without any further sound or movement in the square. The entire crowd collectively held its breath. All eyes were focussed on the row of marksmen and their weapons.
One by one, starting from the far end of the line, the soldiers slowly removed their hoods and laid their arms on the ground. Then they stood to attention, looking impassively straight ahead.
The tank crews jumped out of their vehicles, and also came to attention.
From different parts of the square, a few people started clapping. Suddenly, with an immense, ear-splitting roar, as one the crowd cheered its relief and gratitude. Matt found a tree to lean against and closed his eyes for a moment, his whole body trembling. He knew what he had to do. First, he texted Jenny to say it was safe for her and the children to come and join the celebrations. They were waiting for his call at McDonalds in Trafalgar Square, and now he wanted to have Sophie and Jack by his side.
Then it was time to show the world that power in England was changing hands. After asking Sam to come with him, he forced a way through the crowd to the main gate of the House of Commons, on the other side of the road. As the leader of the coalition that had won the election, it was his perfect right to enter Parliament. He had a word with the two policemen at the gate: without a second’s hesitation, they shook his hand and let him through. He heard another roar from the crowd behind him, as his victorious entry into the Palace of Westminster was captured by a thousand cameras.