In a move which startled most observers, the Prime Minister yesterday announced that there were to be no immediate Cabinet changes following the election. After conferring for several hours with his Party
Chairman, Lord Williams, and also with the Chief Whip Francis Urquhart, Mr Collingridge issued a 'steady as she goes' message to his Party.
Downing Street sources said it was intended that the Government would be able to pursue their programme as quickly and as effectively as possible by leaving all Cabinet Ministers in place. However, senior Westminster sources last night expressed astonishment at the decision. It was seen in some quarters as betraying the weakness of the Prime Minister's position after the decimation of his parliamentary majority and criticisms of what was seen as a lacklustre campaign, for which both he and the Party Chairman are being blamed.
There was speculation last night that the Prime Minister was unlikely to fight another election, and that some senior Ministers were already manoeuvring for position in the event of an early leadership contest. One Cabinet Minister compared the Prime Minister to 'the captain of the Titanic as it was entering the ice pack'.
The decision not to make any Cabinet changes, the first time since the war that an election has not been followed by some senior reshuffle, was interpreted as being the most effective way for Collingridge to keep the simmering rivalries of some of his Cabinet colleagues under control.
Last night, the Chief Whip defended the decision as being 'the best means of getting on with the job'. However, speculation is already beginning as to who might be the likely contenders in the event of a leadership race.
Lord Williams described any suggestion of an imminent leadership election as 'nonsense'. He said, 'The Prime Minister has gained for the Party an historic fourth election victory, and we are in excellent shape.' However, the position of the Party
Chairman would be crucial during a leadership race, and Williams is known to be very close to Michael Samuel, the Environment Secretary, who could be one of the contenders.
Opposition spokesmen were quick to pounce on what they saw as indecisiveness on the part of the Prime Minister. Claiming that he had been greatly heartened by the gains his Party had made last Thursday, the Opposition Leader said: The fires of discontent are glowing within the Government. I don't think Mr Collingridge has the strength or the support to put them out. I am already looking forward to the next election...'
Roger O'Neill sat back comfortably in the arms of one of the large leather armchairs which surround the snooker tables in the back room at White's Club. When the tables are not in use, the seats which are spread around the games room offer a quiet and confidential spot for members to take their guests. He had been delighted, and not a little astonished, to receive the invitation from the Chief Whip to dine at his prestigious club in St James's. Urquhart had never shown much warmth towards O'Neill in the past, and O'Neill had been more used to a cold and condescending gaze down Urquhart's aquiline nose, rather like a well-fed bird eyeing future prey, than an invitation 'to celebrate the splendid work which you have done for us all throughout the campaign'.
O'Neill, hypertense as always, had tried to calm his nerves with a couple of mighty vodka-tonics before he arrived, but they had not been necessary. Urquhart's cosy manner, two bottles of Chateau Talbot '78 and the large cognacs which Urquhart was even now ordering from the bar suggested that O'Neill had at last been able to break through the barriers which some traditionalists within the party leadership still erected against the likes of O'Neill and his 'marketing johnnies with their vulgar cars'. Even as O'Neill derided the traditionalists and their narrow jealousies, he desperately wanted their acceptance, and now he felt guilty for having misjudged Urquhart so badly. He beamed broadly as his host returned from the bar with two crystal glasses on a silver tray. O'Neill stubbed out his cigarette in preparation for the Havana which he hoped would be following.
'Tell me, Roger, what are your plans now the election is over? Are you going to stay on with the Party? We can't afford to lose good men like you.'
O'Neill flashed yet another winning smile and assured his host that he would stay on as long as the Prime Minister wanted him.
'But how can you afford to, Roger? May I be brutally honest with you? I know just how little the Party pays its employees, and money is always so short after an election. It's going to be tough for the next couple of years. Your salary will probably get frozen and your budget cut. Aren't you tempted by some of the more handsome offers you must be getting from outside?'
'Well, it's not always easy, Francis, as you've already guessed. It's not so much the salary, you understand. I work in politics because I'm fascinated by it and love to play a part. But it would be a tragedy if the budget gets cut.'
His smile faded as he contemplated the prospect and began to fidget nervously with his glass. 'We should start working for the next election now, not in three years' time when it may be too late. Particularly with all these rumours flooding around about splits within the Party and who is to blame for the loss of seats. We need some strong and positive publicity, and I need a budget to create it.'
'The Chairman receptive to all this?' Urquhart raised an enquiring eyebrow.
'Are Chairmen ever?'
'Perhaps, Roger, there is something I can do about that. I would like to be able to help you very much, because I think you've done such excellent work. Ill go in to bat with the Chairman about your budget, if you want. But there is something I must ask you first. And I must be blunt.'
The older man's blue eyes looked directly into O'Neill's, taking in their habitual flicker. He paused while O'Neill blew his nose loudly. Another habit, Urquhart knew. He examined O'Neill closely. It was as if there were another life going on within O'Neill which was quite separate from the rest of the world, and which communicated itself only through O'Neill's hyperactive mannerisms and twitching eyes.
‘I had a visit the other day from an old colleague I used to know from the days when I held directorships in the City,' Urquhart continued, lie's one of the financial people at the Party's advertising agency. And he was very troubled. Very discreet, but very troubled. He said you were in the habit of asking them for considerable sums of cash to cover your expenses.'
The twitching stopped for a moment, and Urquhart noticed just how rarely he had ever seen O'Neill stop moving.
'Roger, let me assure you I am riot trying to trap you or trick you. This is strictly between us. But if I am to help you, I must be sure of the facts.'
The face and the eyes started up again, and O'Neill's ready laugh made a nervous reappearance. 'Francis, let me assure you that there's nothing wrong at all. It's silly, of course, but I am grateful that you raised it with me. It's simply that there are times when I incur expenses on the publicity side which are easier and more convenient for the agency to meet rather than putting them through the Party machine. Like buying a drink for a journalist or taking a Party contributor out for a meal.'
O'Neill was speeding on with his explanation, which showed signs of having been practised. 'You see, if I pay for them myself I have to claim back from the Party. We have a pretty laborious accounts department which takes its own sweet time paying those invoices - two months or more. Frankly, with the way I get paid, I can't afford it. Yet if I charge them through the agency, I get the money back immediately while they have to put them through their own accounts before invoicing us at headquarters. That takes another month or so, which simply means that the Party gets an even longer holiday on repaying those expenses. It's like an interest-free loan for the Party. And in the meantime I can get on with my job. The amounts are really very small’
O'Neill reached for his glass.
‘Like £22,300 in the last ten months small?'
O'Neill nearly choked. He put his glass down quickly and his face contorted as he struggled simultaneously to gulp down air and blurt out a denial.
It's nothing like that amount’ he protested. His jaw dropped as he debated what to say next. This explanation he hadn't practised.
Urquhart turned away from him to signal for another two cognacs. His eyes returned calmly to O'Neill, whose twitching now resembled a fly caught in a spider's web. Urquhart spun more silken threads.
'Roger, you have been charging regular expenses to the agency without clearly accounting for those amounts to the tune of precisely £22,300 since the beginning of. September last year. What began as relatively small amounts have in recent months grown up to £4,000 a month. You don't get through that many drinks and dinners even during an election campaign.'
‘I assure you, Francis, that any expenses I've charged have all been entirely legitimate!' The choking had begun to subside. As the steward placed the fresh drinks on the table, Urquhart moved in to bind his prey with a lethal touch.
'And let me assure you, Roger, that I know precisely what you have been spending the money on,' he said quietly.
He took a sip from his cognac as his victim remained motionless, transfixed. 'Roger, as Chief Whip I have to become familiar with every problem known to man. Do you know, in the last two years I have had to deal with cases of wife beating, adultery, fraud, mental illness. I've even had a case of incest. We didn't let him stand for re-election, of course, but there was nothing to be gained by making a public fuss about such things. That's why you almost never hear about them, incest I draw the line at but in general we don't moralise, Roger. Every man is allowed one weakness or indulgence - so long as it remains a private one’
He paused. In fact, one of my Junior Whips is a doctor who was appointed specifically to help me spot the signs of strain, and we get quite practised at it After all, we have well over 300 MPs to look after, all of whom are living on the edge and under immense pressure. You'd be surprised, too, how many cases of drug abuse we get at Westminster. The specialists say there is something like 10 per cent of the population, including MPs, who are physiologically or psychologically vulnerable to chemical addiction of one sort or another. Not their fault, it's something in their makeup, and they have much more trouble than the rest of us in resisting drink, pills and the rest. There's a charming and utterly private drying-out farm just outside Dover where we send them, sometimes for a couple of months. Most of them recover completely and return to a full political life.'
He paused yet again to swill the cognac around his glass and sip it gently, but continued to watch O'Neill closely. The other man did not stir. He sat there as if petrified.
'But it helps to catch them early,' Urquhart continued, 'which is why we are so sensitive to the signs of drug abuse. Like cocaine. It's become a real problem recently. They tell me it's fashionable - whatever that means - and too damned easy to obtain. Do you know it can rot your nasal membranes clean away if you let it? Funny drug. Gives people an instant high and persuades them that their brain and senses can complete five hours' work in just five minutes. Makes a good man brilliant, so they say. Pity it's so addictive’
There was another pause. 'And expensive’
Urquhart had not taken his eyes off O'Neill for a second during his narrative, and had witnessed the exquisite agony which had racked O'Neill inside. Any doubt about his diagnosis that he had started with had been brushed aside with the whimpering which began slowly to emerge from the other man. Now his words were tortured and pleading.
'What are you saying? I am not a drug addict. I don't do drugs!'
'No, of course not, Roger.' Urquhart adopted his most reassuring tone. 'But I think you must accept that there are some people who could jump to the most unfortunate conclusions about you. And the Prime Minister, you know, is not a man to take chances. It's not a matter of condemning a man without trial, simply opting for a quiet life without unnecessary risks.'
The Prime Minister can't believe this!' O'Neill gasped as if he had been butted by a charging bull.
I'm afraid that the Chairman was a little less than helpful with the PM the other day - he knows nothing, of course, but I don't think the dear Lord Williams is one of your greatest fans. Don't worry, I reassured the Prime Minister about you, and you have nothing to fear. As long as you have my support.'
Urquhart knew full well of the paranoia which dominates the minds of cocaine addicts, and the impact which his totally invented story about the Chairman's disaffection would leave on O'Neill's helter-skelter emotions. He also knew that the paranoia was matched by a lust for notoriety, which O'Neill could only achieve through his political connections and the continued patronage of the Prime Minister, and this he could not bear to lose. 'As long as you have my support’ rang in O'Neill's ears. 'One slip and you are dead’ it was saying. The web around O'Neill was complete, and now Urquhart offered him the way out.