The Fourth Lectern

by Andy Cooke

  Phil grimaced. “Yeah, I know. It still feels really – I don’t know – cloak and dagger.”

  “Mate – on my end it’s semi-unofficially-official. If you know what I mean,” said Jonathon.

  Phil gave a half smile. “Actually, that made perfect sense. Same here.”

  “Exactly. We get some potentially useful intel, you get to try to get to use us to help your negotiation strength, we both get a decent comms line going and start building some trust, and best of all – it’s all totally deniable and without any commitment,” said Jonathon.

  Phil shook his head. “We could really do with some clout on the negotiation front.”

  “Not going too well?”

  “Barely going at all.” Phil took a long sip of his drink. “Actually, it’s going, but you could hardly call it a negotiation. The Reds are just presenting their manifesto and shooting down any attempts to water anything down or add anything of our stuff in. They’re absolutely inflexible on the financial side – Vince is all but tearing his hair out. They seem to think they can just close their eyes and ignore the money markets. All they’ll give us is a referendum on AV – and that was in their manifesto anyway!”

  Jonathon raised his eyebrows. “Nothing at all? Come on, they must have offered you something! What about Cabinet places and ministerial appointments? Brown promised that before the election.”

  Phil rolled his eyes. “Two places. Plus five ministerial appointments. That’s it.”

  “That’s better than nothing, I guess. Still seems a bit tight, I’ve got to say. But Huhne must be attracted to being – what, Foreign Secretary? Home Secretary?” asked Jonathon.

  Phil gave a short laugh. “Maybe he would. I don’t think that Health Secretary is that irresistible, though. Especially when he’ll have to pilot those twenty billion quids worth of cuts.”

  “Shit. And the other post?”

  “Chief Secretary. For Vince. And from what we’ve picked up, he’ll be working for Balls. Nick to get a lesser post – Minister for Europe. We’d also get one minister in the DoT, one in Environment, one working for the Business Secretary and one more yet to be decided. And for that, we’d have to swallow their manifesto pretty much whole. We’d not even be able to vote against tuition fees, Trident, or nuclear power. We can abstain on all three – except for the payroll vote who have to vote in favour,” said Phil.

  “Well, that’s really crappy, mate. Seriously, you’d have got a far better deal from us if we’d done a bit better. Ollie Leftwing probably knows your manifesto better than you do. Looks like Brown reckons he can go it alone. A bit brave, seeing as he’s ten short,” said Jonathon.

  “Less than that,” replied Phil. “Don’t forget the Shinners don’t take their seats. Full muster is therefore six-forty-five, and three-twenty-two would win any confidence vote. Speaker has to vote for the status quo in any tie, right?”

  “Okay, seven short. Still a risk for Captain Paranoid.”

  “They reckon it’s closer than that. The SDLP already informally accept their whip. If they can rely on them, it’s three hundred and eighteen. And they’ve been speaking to Hermon as well.” Phil had dropped his voice, making Jonathon strain to make him out over the pub noise level.

  “Christ on a crutch – how do you know that?”

  Phil smirked. “In the bogs. I was in one of the traps and overheard Miliband minor talking to Mandelmort while they were having a piss.”

  “Dangerous game, mind you. Relying on a Nationalist Republican Party in Northern Ireland. That could go down rather badly.”

  Phil shrugged. “I guess the stance would be that they are the Northern Irish Labour Party. People view the Alliance Party as kind of a wing of us, and you guys have your UCUNF thing – and seriously, were you on drugs when you named them?”

  Jonathon looked uncomfortable. “Mate, you wouldn’t believe what they wanted to call themselves – that was a compromise.”

  “Whatever. Anyway, with them on board – assuming they get them – they’re only three short. Even McDoom has balls enough to go for that. We’d need to unite everyone to vote them down. Can you see the Nits, Plaid and the DUP voting with you, us and UKIP?” asked Phil.

  “I suppose they won’t make it an official ‘Coalition’ if that happens - just give them the whip and some sweeteners once in a while. But what about times when the Norn Iron bods aren’t present?” asked Jonathon.

  Phil shook his head. “Mate, think arithmetic. That makes it worse. Take them out of the equation and there’s six hundred and thirty two seats left. Minus the Squeaker, and a majority is three hundred and sixteen. Only one short.”

  Jonathon sighed. “Well, if it helps your hand at all, I can say Cameron and Osborne are willing to go public with an offer of negotiation, and even make some concessions public.”

  “Thanks. I’ll pass it on. I’m not sure how much it’ll help, though. They’ve got the whip hand and they know it.” Phil finished his glass. “Oh, before I go – I know it’s a stupid question, but what would be your big bosses’ stance on electoral reform – especially STV? I reckon if anything gets Plaid, the SNP, us and even UKIP on one side, that would. After Thursday night, anyway.”

  “Umm – I think ‘hollow laughter’ would be the most diplomatic way to put it. Even if David and George could be talked round – and I really doubt it – the backbenches would have a collective aneurysm at the very thought. Sorry,” said Jonathon, ruefully.

  “Oh well. Had to be asked.” Phil nodded his farewell, got up, and strolled off down the stairs. Jonathon stared into his half-empty glass. He was going to need a few more of those.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  BBC News, 10 May 2010

  “And over to Parliament Square for the latest from Nick Robinson”

  “Good afternoon. Coalition talks between the Labour Party and Liberal Democrats have reportedly broken down, both Parties blaming unfeasible demands by the other side. The Conservatives and Liberal Democrats have held exploratory talks, but it is difficult to see how they could produce even a minority Government…”

 

  ***

  Number 10, Downing Street. The White Drawing Room

  Peter Mandelson closed his eyes and rubbed the top of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He’d had very little sleep since Election Day had begun, and it didn’t look like he’d have a full night’s sleep for some time yet.

  “Okay,” he said wearily. “What exactly did Gordon say before he went off with Ed for his ‘little chat’?”

  A Labour Party staffer cleared his throat. Jerry, recalled Mandelson. That’s his name.

  “Just that he’d be damned if Cable and Huhne would force him to make unnecessary cuts or rip away our defences against the terrorists,” said Jerry.

  “Our Gordon has many praiseworthy characteristics, but willingness to compromise is not amongst them, sadly,” mused Mandelson. “Did you suggest he view their requests as a first negotiating step and try to come up with a compromise between them?”

  “Umm, yes.” Jerry looked uncomfortable. “He didn’t seem to like that idea.”

  “Indeed?” asked Mandelson with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yeah – he said ‘Who do they think they are? I’m the one who was Chancellor for ten years, and the best Chancellor we’ve ever had. I’m the one who rebuilt the world’s financial systems when they went to the brink. I’m not a fucking Tory who’ll cut, cut, cut. There’s another way and we can’t go half way between them - we can’t cut and not cut at the same time. What’s the point of cutting more than we need to? We’d just legitimise the toffs’ suggestions!’, and he walked off with Mr Balls,” said Jerry.

  “Oh dear. I think that the project to reunify the progressive centre-left may have run into some rather fundamental showstoppers,” murmured Mandelson. “Thank you, Jerry. That’ll be all.”

  Jerry nodded and left, with an expression of relief.

  David
Miliband leaned forward. “So – what do we do?” he asked. Around the table, his younger brother, Alistair Darling and Harriet Harman all looked expectantly at Mandelson.

  “It’s – difficult,” said Mandelson.

  “It’s wider than just the Party issue,” said Darling. “Vince has a pretty good case. With Greece going the way it is, Europe could become a house of cards. And the money markets are getting very apprehensive. We could see them downgrading us and we’d be paying considerably more in interest charges – which could cause bigger cuts down the line.”

  “I bow to your financial expertise,” said Mandelson, “But I’m not the one you have to convince. It’s Gordon.”

  Darling shook his head. “Gordon’s problem is that he occasionally confuses what he wants to happen with what is going to happen. If he has every intention of bringing the finances under control at some later date, why should the markets doubt him? And he hates the ‘cuts’ word with a passion.”

  Ed Miliband spoke up. “Since he found out Huhne had sent Laws and Alexander to talk to the Tories without telling us first, he’s become convinced they’ve betrayed him. He thinks at some level they’re just trying to get justification for the Tory financial agenda.”

  David Miliband groaned. “Can’t he see they’re only posturing for effect? The Tories and the Libs wouldn’t get up to our numbers even if they did go together. There’s no way they can get in without our say-so.”

  “Unfortunately, Gordon is particularly sensitive to what he sees as disloyalty,” sighed Mandelson. “And he often sees the most pessimistic outcome in political terms, even if he doesn’t take that stance when looking at the finances. As long as he remains Leader…”

  An uncomfortable look flashed around the table.

  “…we are required to support him as much as we can, regardless of his own issues. David – I’d like you and Harriet to speak to the Liberals about the possibility of a supply-and-confidence deal.”

  David looked sceptical. “I’m not sure they’ll even sign up to that.”

  Mandelson shrugged. “It costs nothing to ask, makes us look more reasonable, and there are plenty of positions that can be negotiated. Suggest a short-term deal of no more than two years, hint we might be able to get some concessions in terms of finances – say, an Emergency Budget where we’d welcome their submissions. But for God’s sake don’t say we’d accept any of them!”

  “Fine, I’ll try.” said David.

  Mandelson continued. “You can throw in some suggestions on civil liberties, but not too many. Kick the Identity Cards Bill into the long grass. Suggest a cross-party committee be set up to study the need for them and report back in two years, after the suggested supply-and-confidence deal expires. We should be able to sell that to Gordon on grounds of cost savings – God knows the costs for the ID stuff keeps on climbing. And remember, everyone. Much though we may admire him, Gordon cannot continue as Leader forever. He knows at some level that the loss in support he suffered has damaged his position. What we must do is ensure his successor is not someone likely to share the same tendencies.”

  “You mean – not Balls,” said Darling.

  Mandelson looked pained. “To put it crudely, yes.”

  Ed Miliband looked uncomfortable, but joined in with the general assent around the table.

  “Well, if that’s everything for now, let’s see what the responses are. Ed – if you can try to find out what Gordon and Balls are cooking up between them, I’d be most grateful. That’s all for now,” said Mandelson.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  11 May 2010

  Witney. David Cameron’s constituency home.

  He looks remarkably domestic in that apron, thought Liam Fox as he sat at the kitchen table. Cameron was pottering around the stove, before putting down a pot lid, lifting his face and smiling.

  “That should be enough for now,” Cameron said with a smile. “Do you need a top up?”

  Fox glanced down at his wine glass. “Um, no. I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Well, I do,” declared Cameron. He poured a glass of wine and sat down across the table from Fox.

  “Doubtless you’re wondering why I asked you to pop by,” said Cameron, sipping his drink.

  “Well, yes. Not really ‘popping by’, either, considering we were both in London this morning.”

  “I like to get away from the London bubble once in a while. Especially right now. You need to break out into the countryside once in a while,” said Cameron.

  “Yes, yes, very praiseworthy, but shouldn’t we - or at least you - be in London right now?” asked Fox pointedly.

  “Why? The cards are in Brown’s hands right now. Let him make a hash of things. Napoleon’s dictum: never interrupt your enemy when he’s making a mistake,” said Cameron.

  “How so?”

  “He’s alienating the Lib Dems, denying financial reality and blundering forwards into a minority Government where all is going to end in tears. He’s looking at the arithmetic without considering precisely how he’s it’s going to go when he has to rely on getting Charles Clarke, Jeremy Corbyn, Dennis Skinner, Frank Field, John Denham and others all pointed in the same direction at the same time. It’s going to be a car crash,” said Cameron. “But that’s not why I’ve asked you round today.”

  Fox raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

  “Put baldly – what are your intentions?” asked Cameron.

  Fox blinked at the directness. “Well – I hadn’t really thought too much about it,” he temporized.

  Cameron’s expression implied mild disbelief. “Let me tell you mine, then,” he suggested.

  Fox shrugged. “Okay, then.”

  “I started at the Conservative Research Department when Margaret was still PM,” began Cameron. Fox shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Cameron noticed, and said with a smile, “Oh, don’t worry, Liam, I’m not going through my entire career. Tell me, what did you think of what Margaret did?”

  “Well, she pulled the country kicking and screaming out of the depths and set it on its feet again, for a start,” said Fox.

  “Indeed – she did many things right. Some things maybe not so well, but do you know what her greatest disappointment was?” asked Cameron.

  “What are you talking about?” asked Fox.

  “She hoped – or expected – that as the richer echelons became better off, we’d see more philanthropy. More voluntary investment in society. And don’t get me started on the misinterpretation of what she said about society – anyone reading her words in context can see exactly what she meant: society is people – families and neighbours and community groups, not the state,” said Cameron. “Over in the US, it was the done thing – if you were rich – to sponsor something. Fund something to give back to the community. Endow your local University, or sponsor your sports stadium. Contribute to a charity. She believed the reason we saw less of that over here, and therefore more reliance on the State, was that the richer people, and especially the upper-middle classes, had more taken off of them whilst the State had wormed its way into areas where it really wasn’t essential.”

  Fox was now paying more interest despite himself. “I think I see where you might be going with this,” he ventured.

  Cameron continued. “She was wrong. With the rolling back of the State and the release of the financial pressure on the middle classes, nothing happened. No big philanthropy. No big voluntary investments of time or money. And it was worsened by the centralization – which went directly against what she said she wanted to do.”

  “How so?” asked Fox.

  “More power to the people – but with local services in the hands of local councils, people tend simply to vote according to the electoral cycle. Seriously, Liam, how many people do you think walk into polling booths for local elections and cast their vote for who they think will provide the best services rather than for partisan reasons?” said Cameron.

  “Maybe more than you�
��d think,” suggested Fox.

  “Maybe,” said Cameron. “But if so, why can you bet your house on what the local elections will show year on year? The Party out of power gains, the one in power loses. Even when we were at our greatest depths and Blair was at his zenith, we were suddenly making huge gains in 1998 and 1999, when a couple of years back, we were being destroyed. The only thing that changed was we were out of power and they were in. Can you really look at the results and say ‘The voters made a considered choice on who in their area is best to provide services and suddenly decided the Tories now were the best choice for local service provision when a few months ago they were abhorrent?’ Seriously?”

  “Fine, but…” said Fox.

  Cameron bulled on. “So whilst Margaret was trying to make changes, she was losing councils and the Left were gaining them. Even the really looney-tunes lefties. So it was either ‘accept the looney leftie councils splurging money on whatever they wanted’, or ‘intervene and protect the ratepayers’. So she centralised, and then came up with the community charge to try to make people more responsive to their councils. Not her best move.”

  “Fine, fine. She made mistakes. So?” asked Fox.

  “So – she pulled the British economy out of a death-spin. She tamed the unions. She restored our national pride. But her hopes for society went totally unfulfilled and now she’s remembered for all that, as well as for creating a divided society focussed on the greedy. We’re remembered for that. When what she wanted, and what we want, is to achieve the best for everyone,” said Cameron.

  There was a quiet pause as both men sipped their drinks. Cameron kept his eyes on Fox.

  “That’s why I went into Parliament in the first place. Why I ran for Leader when everyone said it was too soon. Why I pushed the Big Society when all the responses have been ‘Huh?’. Why I’m still pushing it. Why I pushed it throughout this hell of a campaign. And why I’m going to continue to push it. Because I want to see that dream completed. The other half of it in place. A society where people contribute voluntarily rather than throwing their problems at a faceless State. Where the fortunate give back to the society that gave them their chances – out of choice, not compulsion. That’s why I’m going to keep pushing it until I’m in Downing Street and able to push it with actions rather than words,” Cameron said forcefully.