Chapters (34)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Letter from Author
At 10 p.m., Big Ben tolls sonorously. Not via the television, but right here, outside my window. A fraction of an instant later, David Dimbleby is on screen, announcing that interviews with voters outside polling stations all over the country have led analysts to predict with a high degree of confidence that Labour will form the next government – and that it has probably won by a near-record landslide. This should not be a surprise, given what opinion polls have been showing for some time, but somehow it is. The story is as big as it gets and has electrified the press gallery. We’ve all been writing that the British people wanted a change. The overwhelming majority of them have now voted for one, they’ve executed it. But what does it mean? It has been so long since Labour has been in power, memories are dim about what follows from a transfer of power. And as for Labour’s leader, he’s not a chip off any kind of block. Who is he? What will he start to do in just a few hours’ time when he moves with his young family from Tufnell Park to 10 Downing Street?
He will win because people believe in him. Clare was spot on, though that wasn’t a remarkable or unconventional view. They believe he can restore faith in politics and public service. Also correct. When he doesn’t – because he doesn’t have the imagination and because he is too selfish – there will be a heavy toll. All he will leave is cynicism, disenchantment and chaos. I trust my sister’s judgement. I always have. She had personal reasons for denigrating him. But those personal reasons go to the heart of who he is.
On my screen, I call up the profile of Todd I prepared long in advance. I amend it, adding – in reported speech – that a senior official who was close to him fears he is more interested in power for power’s sake than for what he would do to rehabilitate the country. I close by writing, ‘Socialism may be out of time. It may need rethinking for an age of information, an age of services, an age where the forge, the mill, the mine and the lathe are no longer the foundations of our economy. But this may be a secondary consideration for Mr Todd. According to the well-placed official, Britain’s new prime minister will struggle to restore faith in politics and public service, and if he fails his legacy may be cynicism, disenchantment and chaos. ENDS.’ I press the ‘send’ button, and wonder whether any of the assorted editors back at base will query my new conclusion. It somewhat jars with the mood of the country. But I am sure Clare was right. She always was.
If only we’d talked.