If you insist, I'll speculate. But I hope I’ll not live to regret anything I'm going to say. I know nothing for sure, you understand... let's work from deduction. Given die time scale involved, it seems more likely to have leaked from yesterday's Cabinet Committee rather than from today's full Cabinet. Agreed?'
Collingridge nodded his assent.
'And apart from you and me, who is on that Committee?'
'Chancellor of the Exchequer, Financial Secretary, Health, Education, Environment, Trade and Industry.' The Prime Minister reeled off those Cabinet Ministers who had attended.
Urquhart remained silent, forcing Collingridge to finish off the logic himself. 'Well, the two Treasury Ministers were scarcely likely to leak the fact that they had screwed it up. But Health bitterly opposed it, so Peter McKenzie had a reason to leak it. Harold Earle at Education has always had a loose lip. And Michael Samuel has a habit of enjoying the company of the media rather too much for my liking.'
The shadowy suspicions which lurk in a Prime Minister's mind were being brought into the light, and Urquhart relished the spectacle as he watched the seed of accusation grow alongside Collingridge's insecurity.
There are other possibilities, but I think them unlikely,' Urquhart joined in. 'As you know Michael is very close to Teddy Williams. They discuss everything together. It could have come out of party headquarters. Not from Teddy, I mean, but one of the officials there. They can be as tight-lipped as drunken Glaswegians on a Friday night.'
Collingridge pondered this possibility for some moments in silence. 'Could it really have been Teddy?' he mused. 'Et tu, Brute! Could that really be, Francis? He was never my greatest supporter - we're from different generations - but I made him one of the team. Now surely not this?'
Urquhart was delighted at the effect his words were having on his battered leader, who sat grey and tired in his chair, staring ahead, lost in surmise and suspicion.
‘Perhaps I have relied on him too much recently. I thought he had no axe to grind, no real ambition in the House of Lords. One of the loyal old guard. Was I wrong, Francis?'
‘I simply don't know. You asked me to speculate. I can do no more at this stage.'
'Make sure, Francis. I want him, whoever he is.'
With that the Prime Minister announced open season, and Urquhart felt himself back on the heather moors of his childhood, gun in hand, waiting for the bucks to appear.
The life of the House of Commons is arduous and little appreciated. Long hours, heavy workloads, too much entertaining and too little respite ensure that the long summer break beckons to all Members like an oasis in a desert. As they approach closer to the oasis during the dog days of July, their thirst and their irritability increase, particularly after the exhaustion of an early summer election campaign.
During the next couple of weeks, Urquhart was prominent in moving steadily around the corridors and bars of the House, trying to bolster morale and calm the doubts of many Government backbenchers about Collingridge's increasingly scratchy performance. Morale is easier to shatter than to rebuild, and some old hands thought that Urquhart was trying perhaps a little too hard, his high profile serving to remind many that the Prime Minister was in especial need of support at a time when he should have been dominating events. But if it were a fault, it was one they recognised as aggressive loyalty in the Chief Whip. In any event, the end of the Session was only a week hence and the grapes of the South of France would soon be washing away much of the parliamentary cares.
It was because of this safety valve of August that Governments have developed the knack of making difficult announcements on the last day of the Session by means of Written Answers published in Hansard, the voluminous official report of parliamentary proceedings. Statements of Government intent can be placed openly and clearly on the public record, but at a time when most Members are packing up their desks rather than poring over the endless pages of Hansard, and when in any event there is little time or opportunity to make a fuss. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth - so long as you read the fine print.
Which is why it was most unfortunate that a photocopy of a draft Written Answer from the Secretary of State for Defence informing the House of substantial cuts in the Territorial Army on the grounds that they were increasingly less relevant in the nuclear era should have been found, a full ten days before it was due to be published, lying under a chair in Annie's Bar where Members and journalists congregate to exchange views and gossip. It was still more unfortunate that it was found by the lobby correspondent of the Independent, because everybody liked and respected him, and he knew how to check the story out. When the story was reported as the lead item in the Independent four days later at the start of the final full week of the Parliamentary Session, people knew that it was reliable.
Stories of 'cuts' are nothing new for Governments to deal with. If they maintain spending at existing levels while new and inevitably more expensive techniques for performing the task are discovered, they are accused of 'cuts'. If they increase expenditure in vital areas, but not as much as the self-appointed 'experts' require, they are still accused of 'cuts'. If they shift resources from one area to another, once again the accusations of 'cuts' fly. But should they dare make actual 'cuts' in any area other than their own salary levels, retribution is swift.
Retribution on this occasion came from unusual sources. While Territorial Army pay is not large, their numbers are great and they represent important votes to Government Members of Parliament. Moreover, throughout the higher echelons of the Government's constituency parties up and down the country could be found prominent figures with the initials ‘TD' after their names - Territorial Decoration' - someone who has served in, respects and will defend The Terrors to their last drop of writing ink.
Thus it was that, when the House gathered next to discuss forthcoming Parliamentary Business with the Leader of the House, the air was heavy with the midsummer heat, made more oppressive by the accusations of betrayal and emotional appeals for a change of course which on this occasion were corning from the Government benches, while the Opposition sat back like enthusiastic and very contented Roman lions watching the Christians do all the work for them.
The Right Honourable Sir Jasper Grainger, OBE, JP, TD, was on his feet. The old man proudly sported a carefully ironed regimental tie along with a heavy three piece tweed suit, refusing to compromise his personal standards in spite of the inadequate air-conditioning. And as the elected Chairman" of the Backbench Defence Committee, his words carried enormous weight.
'May I return to the point raised by several of my Honourable Friends about the unnecessary and deeply damaging cuts in our Territorial Army establishment? Will the Leader of the House be in no doubt about the depth of feeling amongst his own supporters on this matter? Have he and the Prime Minister yet fully understood the damage that will be done to the Government's support over the coming months? Will he even now allow the House time to debate and reverse this decision, because I must ask him not to leave his colleagues defenceless to the accusations of bad faith which will follow if this goes through?'
The Leader of the House, Simon Lloyd, straightened and readied himself once again to come to the Despatch Box, which he was beginning to feel should have been constructed with sandbags. It had been a torrid twenty minutes of trying to defend the Government's position, and he had grown increasingly tetchy as he found the response he had prepared earlier with the Prime Minister and Defence Secretary affording increasingly less protection from the grenades being thrown by his own side. He was glad Collingridge and the Defence Secretary were sitting beside him on the Front Bench. Why should he suffer on his own?
'My Right Honourable Friend misses the point. The document which found its way into the newspapers was stolen Government property. These are issues which rise high above the details of the document itself. If there is to be a debate, it should be about such flagrant breaches of honesty. Will he not join me in wholeheartedly condemning the theft of important Government documents as being the major issue at stake here? He must realise that by coming back to the details of expenditure he is as good as condoning the activity of common theft and assisting those who are responsible for it’
Sir Jasper rose to seek permission to pursue the point and, amidst waving of Order Papers throughout the Chamber, the Speaker consented. The old soldier gathered himself up to his full height, back as straight as a ramrod, moustache bristling and face flushed with genuine anger.
‘Does my Right Honourable Friend not realise that it is he who is missing the point’ he thundered, 'that I would rather live alongside a common British thief than a common Russian soldier, which is precisely the fate this policy is threatening us with?'
The uproar which followed took the Speaker a full minute to calm sufficiently for any chance of a response to be heard. During that time, the Leader of the House turned and offered a look of sheer desperation to the Prime Minister and the Defence Secretary, huddled together on the Front Bench. Collingridge muttered briefly in the ear of his colleague, and then gave a curt nod to the Leader of the House.
'Mr Speaker’ the Leader of the House began, and paused to let the clamour subside and to clear his throat, which was by now parched with tension. 'Mr Speaker, I and my Right Honourable Friends have listened carefully to the mood of the House. I have the permission of the Prime Minister and the Secretary of State for Defence to say that, in light of the representations put from all sides today, the Government will look once again at this important matter to see whether any alternative solution can be found.'
He had run up the white flag, and he didn't know whether to feel sick or relieved.
The cries of victory and relief reached far outside the Chamber as the parliamentary correspondents drank in an emotional scene and recorded it in their notebooks. Amidst the hubbub and confusion on all sides, the lonely figure of Henry Collingridge sat small and shrunken, staring straight ahead.
Some minutes later, a breathless Mattie Storin had pushed her way through the crowd of politicians and correspondents who were jostling in the lobby outside the entrance to the Chamber, as Opposition Members claimed victory for themselves while Government supporters with considerably less conviction tried to claim victory for common sense. Few were in any doubt that they had witnessed a Prime Minister on the rack. Above the mel£e Mattie saw the tall figure of Urquhart edging his way around the outside of the crowd, avoiding the questions of several agitated backbenchers. He disappeared through a convenient door, and Mattie pursued him. By the time she had almost caught up with her quarry, Urquhart was striding two at a time up the stairs which led to the upper galleries surrounding the Chamber.
'Mr Urquhart,' she shouted breathlessly after the fleeing Minister, promising herself once again that she would give up late nights and resume jogging. ‘I need your view.'
I'm not sure I have one today, Miss Storin.' Urquhart did not stop.
'Surely we're not back on the "Chief Whip refuses to endorse Prime Minister" game again?' Urquhart stopped and turned to face the still panting Mattie. He smiled in amusement at the young correspondent's cheek. Tea, Mattie, I suppose you have a right to expect something. Well, what do you think?'
If the PM had trouble in controlling his Cabinet before this, his task now is going to be - what, a nightmare? Impossible?'
‘It is not unusual for Prime Ministers to change their minds. But to be forced to change your mind publicly, simply because you are unable to defend your own decision, is...'
Mattie waited in vain for Urquhart to finish, but realised he would not do so. He would not condemn his Prime Minister, not openly on the stairs, but it was clear there would be no justification either. She prompted the Chief Whip yet again. Isn't the Government getting accident prone - the second major leak in a matter of weeks? Where are these leaks coming from?'
'As Chief Whip I am responsible only for discipline on the Government backbenches. You can scarcely expect me to play headmaster to my own Cabinet colleagues as well.'
‘But if it's coming from Cabinet - who, and why?'
‘I simply don't know, Mattie. But doubtless the Prime Minister will instruct me to find out who and why.'
'Formally or informally?'
‘I can't comment on that,' muttered Urquhart, and continued up the stairs pursued by Mattie.
'So we have got to the point where the Prime Minister is about to launch an inquiry into which of his own Cabinet colleagues is leaking sensitive information. Is that what you are saying?'
'Oh, Mattie. It seems I have already said too much. You're a damn sight quicker on the uptake than most of your colleagues. It seems to me that your logic rather than my words has led you to your conclusions, eh? And I trust that you will be keeping my name out of this.'