This Was a Man (The Clifton Chronicles #7)(122)
On the second chime, two doormen in full morning dress pulled open the great doors of the chamber to allow the new Lord Chancellor to enter the Upper House. He tried not to smile when he saw what a theatre producer would have called a full house. In fact, several of his colleagues had had to stand in the aisles, while others sat on the steps of the throne.
Their lordships stood as one as he entered the chamber and greeted him with loud cries of ‘Hear, hear!’ and the traditional waving of order papers. Giles later told Freddie that his colleagues’ welcome was the greatest moment in his life.
‘Even better than escaping from the Germans?’
‘Just as terrifying,’ Giles admitted.
While the Bishop of Bristol conducted prayers, Giles glanced up at the Distinguished Strangers’ Gallery, to see his wife, son and oldest friend looking down at him. They couldn’t hide the pride they felt.
When the bishop had finally blessed his packed congregation, their lordships waited for the Lord Chancellor to take his place on the Woolsack for the first time, then resumed their seats once Giles had settled and arranged his robes. He couldn’t resist pausing for a moment before he nodded in the direction of the Rt Hon. the Baroness Clifton, to indicate that she could rise to answer the first question on the order paper.
Emma stood to address the House.
‘My lord chancellor,’ she began. ‘I know the whole House will want to join me in congratulating you on your appointment, and to wish you many happy years presiding over the business of the House.’
The cries of acclamation came from all sides of the chamber as Giles bowed to his sister.
Question number one.
Emma turned to face the cross benches.
‘I can assure the noble lord, Lord Preston, that the government is taking the threat of Aids most seriously. My department has set aside one hundred million pounds for research into this terrible disease, and we are sharing our findings with eminent scientists and leading medical practitioners around the globe in the hope of identifying a cure as quickly as possible. Indeed, I should add that I am travelling to Washington next week, where I will be meeting with the Surgeon General, and I can assure the House that the subject of Aids will be high on our agenda.’
An elderly gentleman seated on the back row of the cross benches stood to ask a supplementary question.
‘I am grateful for the minister’s reply, but may I ask how our hospitals are coping with the sudden influx of patients?’
Giles sat back and listened with interest to the way his sister dealt with every question that was thrown at her, recalling his own time on the front bench. Although there was the occasional hesitation, she no longer needed to constantly check the brief prepared by her civil servants. He was equally impressed that she now had total command of the House, something some ministers never mastered.
For the next forty minutes, Emma answered questions on subjects that ranged from cancer research funding, to assaults on A&E staff following football matches, to ambulance response times to emergency calls.
Giles wondered if there was any truth in the rumours being whispered in the corridors that if the Conservatives won the next election, Margaret Thatcher would appoint her as leader of the House of Lords. Frankly, if that were to happen, he didn’t think any of his colleagues in the Upper House would be surprised. However, another rumour that had recently been echoing around the corridors of power was that a Tory backbencher was preparing to challenge Thatcher for the leadership of the party. Giles dismissed the idea as speculation, because although the lady’s methods were considered by some in her party to be draconian, even dictatorial, Giles couldn’t imagine that the Tories would even consider removing a sitting prime minister who had never lost an election.
‘I can only tell the noble lord,’ said Emma, when she stood to answer the final question on the order paper, ‘that my department will continue to sanction the sale of generic drugs, but not before they have undergone the most rigorous testing. It remains our aim to ensure that patients will not have to pay exorbitant prices to drug companies whose priority often seems to be profit, and not patients.’
Emma sat down to loud ‘Hear, hear!’s, and when a Foreign Office minister rose to take her place in order to open a debate on the Falkland Islands, she gathered up her papers and hurried out of the chamber, as she did not wish to be late for her next appointment with the gay rights campaigner Ian McKellen, who she knew held strong views on how the government should be handling the Aids crisis. She was looking forward to telling him how much she’d enjoyed his recent performance as Richard III at the National Theatre.
As she left the chamber, she stumbled and dropped some papers, which a passing whip picked up and handed back to her. She thanked him, and was about to hurry on when a voice behind her called out, ‘Minister, I wonder if I might have a word with you?’
Emma turned to see Lord Samuels, the president of the Royal College of Physicians, chasing after her. If she had made a blunder during question time, he wasn’t the kind of man who would have embarrassed her in the chamber. Not his style.
‘Of course, Lord Samuels. I hope I didn’t make some horrendous gaffe this afternoon?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Samuels, giving her a warm smile. ‘It’s just that there is a subject I would like to discuss with you, and wondered if you could spare a moment.’