“…and I’m delighted to welcome onto the show, the Prime Minister, Andrew Proust.”
“Good morning Peter.”
“Good morning Prime Minister, you are, of course, fresh from your meeting with the German Chancellor and you seem to be claiming it as a triumph.”
“It was indeed a very good meeting for the UK. As you know we are the only European Country, bar Germany, who has had strong signs of growth within our economy. Our proposal was simple, any future financial bailout will come with the condition of a detailed business plan as to which areas within their country such Nations expect growth to begin, we then ring fence a certain amount of the bail out money for that purpose only.”
“How confident are you that the proposal will become ratified by the EU, after all, at the moment, you only have the backing of Germany,” Ford pointed out.
“That’s because we’ve only sought Germany’s backing so far,” Andrew stated, he didn’t want to be in the position of justifying his action so early into the discussion.
“Is that because you don’t expect the idea to be met favourable by other countries? Portugal is already calling the move an unhelpful attempt to interfere in the finances of other EU countries.”
“I think the British tax payers would think it an extremely reasonable request, the European Bank has a lot of money invested in Portugal, Spain, Ireland, to name but a few.”
“So, it’s a case of do as we say, more power seized by Brussles, or we’ll what…ask you to leave the E U?” Ford lent forward slightly as he asked the question, Andrew made a conscious effort to relax his own body language by comparison.
“Look Peter…” he went for the elderly professor explaining a difficult problem, to a younger student, but, he hoped, without any hint of condescension, “…there’s no question of wanting any countries to leave the EU, we’re committed to a unified, strong Europe, that will in turn help our own economy to grow. But what we’re not prepared to do is carry on blindly funding bail out deal after bail out deal, without seeing any sign of a return on the investment. The UK is leading the way in proposing a new way of dealing with this issue, and we hope it will be adopted and used in any future negotiations.”
“Is this about Europe, or is it more of a concession to your own back benchers who wish to withdraw from the EU all together?”
“Oh Peter, we have no-”
“It’s a fair question, is it-”
“If you’ll just let me finish, we have no interest in leaving the EU.”
“Really?” Ford feigned surprise, “Yet a member of your own cabinet last week said that-”
“Peter, we have no interest in leaving the EU,” Andrew interrupted him, time for a straight and simple answer; he’d deal with the errant Secretary for Education later.
“Okay, but isn’t it true that you desperately needed this win in Europe because of your poor showing in the popularity polls here?” Ford asked.
Ouch, that hurt, but Andrew had been expecting it. “No, we went forward with it because it was the best deal for the British taxpayer.”
Cut him off quickly, Andrew thought, don’t leave an opening.
“Let’s leave Europe and focus upon the UK, do-”
“My focus is always on the UK,” Andrew said, interrupting Ford.
“And yet you have been hailed the Worst Prime Minister in history, how can that be if you are always focused upon the UK?”
That was a bit below the belt Andrew felt, remain calm and smile.” I never take heed of such polls, I-”
“And yet your party is very happy to quote them when they are in your favour,” it was Ford’s turn to interrupt this time. Andrew had realised just a fraction too late, he’d allowed a crack.
“Look Peter, the People’s Party left us with a huge-”
“That was over five years-”
“If you’ll just let me answer the question, the People’s Party left us with a huge financial mess, many years in the making-”
“Five years ago.”
“Many years in the making,” Andrew’s voice rose slightly, he concentrated upon keeping his tone even, “so it isn’t surprising that it is taking, not just us, but Countries around the world, time to rebuild our economies. But we are making very real progress, and as such our model for economic recovery is being adopted by several European Countries.”
“And it is that very model that is making you so unpopular; your entire strategy rests upon your program of social housing, a policy that has been universally condemned. Why did you decide to focus upon housing as an area for investment?”
“Why not?”
Answer that one Ford, Andrew thought.
“The populace see your policy as one of rewarding those who do not pay their way; so, again, I ask you, why social housing?”
“The vast majority of people who’ve taken up the option of moving into the new homes are in work. The ordinary working men and women of this country have nothing to fear from this government, they have seen that, and will continue to see that, as the economy grows.”
“And yet the perception remains that they are benefits estates.”
“We’ve already shown ourselves to be tough on welfare, through the housing benefit cap, the TOST testing, and so on. In fact the Chancellor will next week be briefing parliament on more measures to ensure that it is always better for people to be in work than living on welfare.”
“We’ll look forward to hearing them, Prime Minister, thank you,” Ford said, with a tight head nod of acknowledgement.
“Thank you,” Andrew replied, he then watched Ford walk over to some Folk singer who was going to wrap up the programme. Andrew thought it had gone well, he’d know more when he’d spoke to Nigel and later Molly.
*****
Nigel had greeted Andrew at the door leading from Television Centre, and had accompanied him to his car. Andrew’s earlier confidence at a successful interview was starting to ebb away and be replaced by a black sludge of concern.
“I think that went well,” Andrew stated, once the car was in motion.
Nigel made a non-committal noise, steepled his fingers together and rested his chin upon them.
“For goodness sakes Nigel, what is your problem?”
“It is not my problem Prime Minister, you allowed a headline through,” Nigel stated. Whenever anyone of influence gave an interview, that person not only had to be competent and confident in their answers but also had to look to the sound bites, the headlines that would appear in the press the following day. Nigel was suggesting Andrew had left an opening for the more left-wing papers to use against him. His mind skimmed back over the interview, and then screeched to a halt.
“Damn.”
“Damn indeed,” Nigel repeated.
“Get me a statistic, to back it up.”
“Already done, what you were referring to was the fact that there are more lower income families, where one or both adults are in work, living in the new social housing than not.”
“And if I’m pushed to give a figure?” Andrew asked.
“I’d avoid a direct answer unless absolutely necessary, the figures vary widely across the country, and the best we can hope for, is 51%.”
“Ouch.” Andrew frowned as he spoke, he’d made a stupid, stupid mistake.
“Quite, but maybe no-one will pick up on it. Besides, overall, it was a good interview.”
“Now you just sound patronising,” Andrew grumbled, although there was no malice behind his charge.
“Well, I try.” Nigel gave a half-hearted smirk.
“So, when are you going to tell me what’s really bothering you?” Andrew asked, he could still feel it, that under currant of concern it seemed to emanate from his friend’s very pores.
Nigel made no attempt at denial. “I’m not sure yet, I need to do some more digging. How about I call around later on this evening?”
“I was hoping to spend some time with Molly and Elaine this evening. Can it wait?” And
rew asked, he knew what Molly’s reaction would be to him having to work, and truth be told, he’d looked forward to some family time himself.
“Possibly, possibly not, but I think the sooner we discuss it the better.”
In other words, it couldn’t wait, and if Nigel was concerned, then Andrew knew he should be too.
“Okay, I should be back in the flat by six.” Andrew was intrigued but knew better than to push his friend, if he was not ready to share.
“I shouldn’t be any later than seven, seven thirty,” Nigel said.
“Okay,” Andrew replied, they rode the rest of the way in silence, as his brain whirred around every conceivable reason for his friend’s concern.
*****
“But why does he have to come around tonight?” Molly asked, not for the first time. She was seated at the kitchen table while Andrew did circuits of the room, rubbing Elaine’s back as she lay against his shoulder.
“It’s not a social visit Mols, its work and if I’d said any other minister had to pop around you would have accepted it as the norm, but because it’s Nigel it has to be an issue. He does work for me you know,” Andrew stated, straining to maintain a sing-song voice while conveying his irritation.
“I know that, but I’m not sure he does,” Molly retorted, Elaine began to whimper.
“There, daddy’s little girl’s fine.” Andrew kissed the side of her head as he spoke, he decided to ignore Molly’s comment and go for a compromise. “I’m sure if it could wait, Nigel would not have asked to come around tonight, he knows I was looking forward to spending some time with you both…yes I was, daddy’s two gorgeous girls… look, he said he’d be here around seven thirty, whatever it is I promise it won’t take long.”
Molly rolled her eyes, but her shoulders relaxed. “Fine, I’ll take Elaine for her bath when he arrives, I want him gone by the time we’re done.” She stood and walked over to Andrew, put one hand on Molly’s back and the other around his waist. “She is gorgeous isn’t she?”
“Of course, she takes after her mother,” Andrew said, kissing his wife gently on the lips.
“Very smooth Prime Minister,” Molly said, smiling as she did so.
“Well, I do try,” Andrew replied, at the exact moment Elaine, very audibly, brought up some wind. They both laughed, the tension gone, they were just an ordinary, working family.
“And that is why I love you, now pop Elaine in her seat, dinner’s ready.”
“Can’t wait, it smells delicious,” Andrew said, the smell had hit as soon as he’d entered their private rooms. Molly had refused to have a nanny, having given up her job at Brewster and Bennet, the potential conflict of interest being too great, she’d instead thrown herself into full time motherhood. On such occasions, when she was required to do her bit, then either sets of grandparents baby-sat or Andrew’s sister. However, Molly had been more than happy to accept help in the general housekeeping area as, she so eloquently put it, who wouldn’t want someone else to hoover for them? And so Eva had been allocated to the family, and she seemed to have fitted seamlessly into their lives. Andrew’s image of a large, ruby-faced, matronly figure had been exploded by the petite Scot, who was beyond the level of super-organised. She was also an amazing cook, and as such, there was always something in the oven or fridge ready for them to tuck into. Andrew’s nostrils had detected his favourite, lamb stew, the moment he’d stepped into the flat.
“We love Eva’s stew, don’t we Ellie?” Andrew cooed.
“Not Ellie,” Molly said, her back to her husband as she reached into the oven. She was determined her daughter’s name would not be shortened in any way, despite the fact that everyone seemed to do it.
“Mammy says not Ellie, but Ellie’s just a gorgeous girl, she is a darling, yes she is…oh what a lovely smile,” Andrew continued.
Elaine just smiled, a wide beaming smile, which was simply contagious in its joy. For a split second a thought sheared into Andrew’s consciousness – what happened to us, between Elaine’s age and now to make us loose that fundamental enjoyment of just being?
*****
If it had been hard work settling into the Chancellor’s accommodation, living in the Prime Minister’s was overwhelming. For months, every time Andrew and Molly settled in the lounge or indeed any room, they wondered out loud if Churchill, Thatcher, Blair had all done the same thing. The sense of history in the air was almost palpable; they’d eventually gotten used to their former home, but not this one. It was full of too much…something, it was there in every sound and action taken. It wasn’t as if they were looking at wallpaper chosen by Alice Blackthorn, the flat had been completely redecorated, as it was between every inhabitant, but their essence and those before them remained, as vivid as their portraits adorning the wall of the formal accommodation. The contrast between the two areas of the house, the, ‘working,’ part and the private quarters couldn’t be more striking; where the formal areas were designed to impress, and they did, the private rooms were much more modest. There was a large lounge, dinning room and kitchen/diner, as well as a small study and four double bedrooms, all of which had their own en-suite. Molly had gone for a pastel/vintage theme, the lighter colours suiting their more modern furniture, while other rooms were a miss-match of store room pieces and nothingness. Elaine’s room had yet to be designed, at the moment her cot lay beside her parent’s bed; Molly was veering between various shades of lemon with a matching animal theme or a primary colour explosion. Andrew was in favour of the more conservative design, he feared poor Elaine would be accosted with sensory overload if the brighter scheme won out. Yet, a patchwork of different colours still adorned the walls, no matter how often Andrew voiced his opinion. In the end he’d decided his advice, although sort, was not really a deciding factor, so he’d left Molly to do as she wished.
His wife had just headed off with Elaine when Nigel arrived.
“You’ve just missed Molly and Elaine,” Andrew said, by way of an introduction as he led Nigel into the lounge. “Molly’s just taken her for her bath.”
Nigel nodded, his face betraying no sign of interest whatsoever. Andrew shook his head, his friend had tried, for a while, after Elaine was born, asking him how they were all coping, but at around the three week stage he’d obviously decided enough was enough; he’d been polite, expressed an interest but he couldn’t be expected to keep it up forever.
“Brandy?” Andrew tilted the decanter in Nigel’s direction.
“Yes, just a small one,” Nigel replied, which was just as well because Andrew was under strict instructions to get him out within the hour; the level of alcohol required was usually a good indicator of how long a meeting could last.
Andrew passed him the brandy, poured himself one and took a seat opposite his friend. It was odd, a different house, a different room but same seating pattern as before.
“So, what’s going on?” Andrew asked, may as well get straight to the point.
“I’m hearing worrying developments from certain more right-wing members of the party.”
“And by right-wing, you mean…”
“The Chancellor and his cronies.” Nigel filled in the gap.
“Ah, I should have known, their reluctant compliance couldn’t last for ever. How worried should…never mind, just tell me.” It was pointless, Andrew thought, asking how worried he should be because Nigel’s presence in the room was his answer. Andrew swirled his drink and stood up. “We gave them the Chancellorship, the DWP, what else do they want? In fact no, don’t tell me because they’re not getting anything else, we had a deal and if they’re reneging then I’m happy to take them on,” Andrew stated, sod them, he was the PM and they were still in the minority. Although, he thought no, that wasn’t true, especially when it came to welfare and immigration.
“In the short term they are after nothing extra, in the medium to long-term they want Chase for PM.”
“What? They haven’t the support for that,” Andrew retorted.
N
igel shrugged as he spoke. “Look, what I’m hearing is that the right are going to use the Chancellor and DWP announcements on future welfare reform, as a means of implying you aren’t prepared to take tough action.”
“But I-”
“Look,” Nigel interrupted him, “you know how it goes, Christ we did the same over the bedroom tax as a means of ousting Blackthorn.”
“But still, you’re talking about them having to gain a lot more support within the Party before any leadership challenge could have any sort of chance to succeed,” Andrew stated.
“Not as much as you’d think, but anyway I did say in the medium to long term. This is merely the right staking its claim.”
“But still…the damage another leadership challenge would do,” Andrew mused.
“It could be catastrophic,” Nigel added, “which is why they intend to start sowing their seeds early.”
Andrew took a sip of his brandy, let the idea settle a bit. “We need to have an answer ready for every move they try and make.”
“More than that,” Nigel stated, “We need to make our move before they have chance to do anything.”
“Okay, what are you suggesting?” Andrew asked.
“Simple, we get in there before they do. The Chancellor and DWP Minister are due to announce the new welfare measures, together, to the house in a week’s time, in the meantime every interview, every comment you make between now and then you mention the announcement, things like, as you know the Chancellor will be announcing our plan, you know the stuff, so that in the public’s mind they will associate you, not them with the measure. You can even let a few snippets out, everything to suggest they are following your, and the Unitary Party’s will.”
“The right are going to be furious, it could cause trouble for the future,” Andrew stated.
“Worse than what they are planning anyway? No, this is the right way forward. Oh and another thing,”
An Ordinary Working Man Page 38
