Best Kept Secret (The Clifton Chronicles, #3)(62)

‘Seb. When did you get back?’

‘Late last night, Uncle Giles. Most schools have been given the day off because they’re being used as polling stations, so I asked if I could come home and help you.’

‘What would you like to do?’ asked Giles as Denby placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him.

‘Anything I can to help you win.’

‘If that’s what you want to do, listen carefully. On Election Day, the party has eight committee rooms spread across the constituency. They’re all manned by volunteers, some of whom have experience of a dozen elections. They’ll have up-to-date canvass returns for the district they’re in charge of. Every street, road, avenue and cul-de-sac will be marked to show where our supporters live. We’ll also have a volunteer sitting outside each polling station, checking off the names of people who’ve cast their vote. Our biggest problem is getting that list of names back to the committee room, so we can keep track of our supporters who haven’t voted yet, and make sure we get them to the polls before they close at nine o’clock tonight. A general rule,’ continued Giles, ‘is that more of our people vote between eight and ten a.m., soon after the polls open, while at ten o’clock the Tories will begin to turn out, and keep going until four in the afternoon. But after that, when voters are coming home from work, that’s our most vital time, because if they don’t vote on the way home, it’s almost impossible to get them back out,’ he added as Emma and Harry came into the room.

‘What’s Griff got you two doing today?’ asked Giles.

‘I’m manning a committee room,’ said Emma.

‘I’m knocking up red voters,’ said Harry. ‘And if they need a lift, I’ll be driving them to the polling station.’

‘Don’t forget,’ said Giles, ‘for some of them, the last time they had a ride in a car was probably at the last election, unless there’s been a wedding or a funeral in their family in the past four years. Which committee room has Griff allocated you to?’ he asked Emma.

‘I’m to assist Miss Parish on the Woodbine estate.’

‘You should be flattered,’ said Giles. ‘Miss Parish is a legend. Grown men fear for their lives if they forget to vote. By the way, Seb has volunteered to be one of your runners. I’ve already explained what his duties will be.’

Emma smiled at her son.

‘I’m off,’ said Giles, leaping up from his place, but not before placing two rashers of bacon between two slices of brown bread.

Emma accepted that only Elizabeth could have told him off, and probably not even her on Election Day.

‘I’ll be visiting every committee room at some point during the day,’ he said on the move, ‘so I’ll catch up with you later.’

Denby was waiting for him outside the front door.

‘I’m sorry to trouble you, sir, but I hope it won’t be inconvenient if the staff at the hall were to take half an hour off between four and four thirty this afternoon.’

‘Any particular reason?’

‘To vote, sir.’

Giles looked embarrassed. ‘How many votes?’ he whispered.

‘Six for you, sir, and one undecided.’ Giles raised an eyebrow. ‘The new gardener, sir, has ideas above his station. Thinks he’s a Tory.’

‘Then let’s hope I don’t lose by one vote,’ said Giles as he ran out of the front door.

Jessica was standing in the driveway holding the car door open for him, as she did every morning. ‘Can I come with you, Uncle Giles?’ she asked.

‘Not this time. But I promise you’ll be by my side at the next election. I’ll tell everyone you’re my girlfriend, and then I’ll win by a landslide.’

‘Isn’t there anything I can do to help?’

‘No . . . yes. Do you know the new gardener?’

‘Albert? Yes, he’s very nice.’

‘He’s thinking of voting Conservative. See if you can convert him by four o’clock this afternoon.’

‘I will, I will,’ said Jessica as Giles climbed in behind the wheel.



Giles parked outside the entrance to the docks just before 7 a.m. He shook hands with every man before they clocked on for the morning shift, and with everyone coming off the night shift. He was surprised how many of them wanted to talk to him.

‘I won’t let you down this time, guv.’

‘You can count on me.’

‘I’m on my way to the polls right now.’

When Dave Coleman, the night foreman, clocked off, Giles took him to one side and asked if he knew the reason for the men’s fervour.

‘A lot of them think it’s high time you sorted out your marital problems,’ said Coleman, who was known for his bluntness, ‘but they detest Major stuck-up Fisher so much, they certainly wouldn’t want him representing our grievances in Parliament. At a personal level,’ he added, ‘I would have respected Fisher more if he’d had the courage to show his face on the docks. There are a handful of Tories in the union, but he hasn’t even bothered to find out who they are.’

Giles was heartened by the response he received when he visited the W.D. & H.O. Wills cigarette factory, and again when he went on to meet the workers at the Bristol Aeroplane Company. But he knew that on the day of a general election, every candidate is convinced he is going to win, even the Liberals.