Urquhart was disarmed by the young journalist's candour. He ought to be furious and on the phone to her editor, demanding an apology for such blatant harassment. But Mattie had already sensed there might be a much deeper story behind the formal announcement from Downing Street. Now she stood in a pool of light at his front door, highlights glinting in her short, blonde hair. What had he got to lose?
‘Perhaps you had better come in after all - Miss Storin, isn't it?'
‘Please call me Mattie.'
He led the way upstairs to a tasteful, if very traditional, sitting room, covered in oil paintings of horses and country scenes, and crammed with ancient but comfortable furniture. He poured himself a large Scotch and, without asking her, a glass of white wine for his guest before settling into an overstuffed armchair. Mattie sat opposite, nervously perching on the edge of the sofa. She got out a small notebook, but Urquhart waved it away.
I'm tired, Miss Storin - Mattie. It's been an arduous campaign, and I am not sure I would express myself particularly well. So no notes and no quotations, if you don't mind.' Urquhart knew he had to be careful.
'OK, Mr Urquhart. Let's do this entirely on a lobby basis. I can use what you tell me, but I can't attribute it to you in any way and absolutely no quotations.'
'Precisely.'
He took a cigarette from a silver cigarette box and relaxed back in his chair, inhaling deeply. He did not wait for Mattie's questions before starting his defence.
'So what if I tell you that the Prime Minister sees this as being the best way of getting on with the job? Not letting Ministers get confused with new responsibilities and new civil service teams, but allowing us to continue full steam ahead?'
‘I would say, Mr Urquhart, that we would scarcely have to go off the record and on to a lobby basis for that!'
Urquhart chuckled at the young journalist's bluntness. Yes, he would have to be very careful.
‘I would also say that the election result showed the need for some new blood and some new thinking,' she continued. 'You lost a lot of seats, and your endorsement by the voters wasn't exactly gushing, was it?'
'Steady on, steady on. We've got a clear majority and won many more seats than the main opposition party. Not too bad after so many years in office...' He rehearsed the official creed.
'But not really full of promise for the next election, is it? Even some of your own supporters have described your programme for the next five years as being "more of the same". "Steady as she sinks", I think one of your opponents called it. And you may remember I came to one of your election rallies. You were speaking a great deal about new energy, new ideas and new enterprise. The whole thrust of what you were saying was that there would be change—and some new players.'
She paused, but Urquhart didn't seem keen to respond. 'Your own election address -’I have it here...' She fished a glossy folded leaflet from a wad of papers which were stuffed into her shoulder bag. Urquhart stared at her intently. 'It speaks about "the exciting years ahead". All this is about as exciting as last week's newspapers.'
‘I think that's a little harsh’ protested Urquhart, knowing he should be protesting more. He had no enthusiasm for inventing excuses, and he suspected that it showed.
‘Let me ask you bluntly, Mr Urquhart. Do you really think that this is the best the Prime Minister could do?'
Urquhart did not answer directly but raised his glass slowly to his lips, without for a moment taking his eyes off her. They both knew that they were role playing, but neither was yet clear quite how this theatre piece would finish.
Urquhart savoured the fine Islay malt around his tongue, and let it warm him inside before replying. 'Mattie, how on earth do you expect me to reply to a question like that? You know as Chief Whip I am totally loyal to the Prime Minister and his shuffle - or rather non-shuffle’ There was an edge of sarcasm in his voice.
'Yes, but what about Francis Urquhart, a man who is very ambitious for his party and is desperately anxious for its success. Does he support it?'
There was no reply.
'Mr Urquhart, in my piece tomorrow I shall faithfully record your public loyalty to the reshuffle and your justification of it. I know you would not wish to see anything appear in the press which even remotely hinted that you were not happy with events. But I remind you we are speaking on lobby terms. I sense that you are not content with what is happening. I want to know. You want to ensure that it doesn't get back to my colleagues, or to your colleagues, or become common Westminster gossip. I give you my word on that. This is just for me, because it might be important in the months ahead. And by the way, no one else knows I came to see you tonight’
Mattie was offering a deal. In exchange for Urquhart's real views she would ensure that nothing she wrote could ever be traced back to its source.
Urquhart toyed in his mind with a variety of stilettos, wondering which one to throw first. 'Very well, Mattie, let me explain the real story to you. It's really very simple. The Prime Minister has to keep the lid firmly closed on the pressure cooker in order to contain the ambition of some of his colleagues. Those ambitions have grown since the poor election result and, if he were to release the pressure now, there would be the danger of the entire Government getting plastered all over the kitchen ceiling.'
'Are you telling me that there is a lot of rivalry and dissent within the Cabinet?'
‘Let me put it this way.' He paused to consider his words carefully before continuing in a slow, deliberate voice. 'Some elements of the Party are deeply distressed. They believed the PM came dangerously close to throwing away the last election, and they don't see him as having the stamina or authority to last all the way through for another four or five years. So they are thinking of what life might be like in another eighteen months or two years, and what position they want to be in if there happened to be a leadership race. The game has suddenly become a very different one since Thursday and Henry Collingridge is no longer playing with a full team behind him. It could get very unsettling.'
'So why doesn't he get rid of the troublesome ones?'
'Because he can't risk having several former Cabinet Ministers rampaging all over the backbenches when he has got a majority of only 24 which could disappear at the first parliamentary cock-up. He has to keep everything as quiet and as low key as possible. He can't even move the Awkward Brigade to new Cabinet posts because every time you get a new Minister in a new Department they get a rush of enthusiasm and want to make their mark, while you gentlefolk of the press give them a honeymoon period and plenty of personal publicity. Their views suddenly take on a renewed importance for the leader writers, and all of a sudden we find that they are not simply doing their Ministerial jobs but also promoting themselves for a leadership race. The whole of Government business is thrown into chaos because everyone is looking over their shoulders at their colleagues rather than training their sights on the Opposition. Government becomes confused, the Prime Minister becomes even more unpopular - and suddenly we are confronted with a real leadership race.'
'So everyone simply has to remain where they are. Do you think that's a sound strategy?'
He took a deep mouthful of whisky. 'If I were the captain of the Titanic and I saw a bloody great iceberg dead ahead, I don't think I would be saying "steady as she goes". I'd want a change of course.'
Did you tell this to the Prime Minister this afternoon?'
'Mattie, you take me too far!' he chuckled in protest. 'While I respect your professional integrity and I am thoroughly enjoying our conversation, I think I would be offering you too much temptation if I started divulging the details of private discussions. That's a shooting offence!'
Mattie had not moved from the edge of her chair. She understood very clearly the significance of his words, and was determined to gather more. 'Well, let me ask you about Lord Williams. He was with the PM an extraordinarily long time this 'afternoon if all they were deciding was to do nothing’
Urquhart had been toying with this specific stiletto for several minutes. Now he threw it with deadly accuracy. 'Have you heard the phrase, "Beware of an old man in a hurry"?'
‘You surely can't imagine that he believes he could become Party Leader. Not from the Lords!'
'No, even he's not that egotistical. But he still has a couple of years left, and like so many elder statesmen would like to make sure that the leadership found its way into suitable hands’
'Whose hands?'
If not him, then one of his acolytes’ 'Like who?'
'Do you have no thoughts of your own?' 'You mean Michael Samuel’
Urquhart smiled as he heard the stiletto thud home. ‘I think I've said enough. We must call this conversation to a halt’
Mattie nodded reluctantly, and remained silent, pondering the pieces of the political jigsaw which now lay in front of her. Without further discussion Urquhart guided his guest downstairs, and they were shaking hands by the front door before she spoke again.
‘You've been very helpful, Mr Urquhart But one last question. If there were a leadership election, would you be part of it?'
'Good night, Mattie’ Urquhart said, and closed the front door firmly behind her.
Daily Telegraph. Monday 14th June. Page 1.