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on, was implicitly demoralizing. Though I had never been defeated in a general election, retained the support of the Party in the country, and had just won the support of a majority of the Party in Parliament, the best thing to be said for me, apparently, was that I was better placed than other candidates to beat Michael Heseltine. But even this was uncertain since my strongest supporters doubted I could win, and others believed that even if I succeeded in that, I would be unable to unite the Party afterwards for the general election. And hanging over all this was the dread much-invoked spectre of ‘humiliation’ if I were to fight and lose. I drew the meeting to a close, saying I would reflect on what I had heard. In retrospect, I can see that my resolve had been weakened by these meetings. As yet I was still inclined to fight on. But I felt that the decision would really be made at the meetings with my Cabinet colleagues that evening.

Before then I had to make my statement in the House on the outcome of the Paris summit. Leaving No. 10 I called out to the assembled journalists in Downing Street: ‘I fight on, I fight to win,’ and was interested to see later on the news that I looked a good deal more confident than I felt.

The statement was not an easy occasion, except for the Opposition. People were more interested in my intentions than in my words. Afterwards, I went back to my room in the House where I was met by Norman Tebbit. It was time — perhaps high time — for me to seek support for my leadership personally. Norman and I began to go round the tea-room. I had never experienced such an atmosphere before. Repeatedly I heard: ‘Michael has asked me two or three times for my vote already. This is the first time we have seen you.’ Members whom I had known well for many years seemed to have been bewitched by Michael’s flattery and promises. That at least was my first reaction. Then I realized that many of these were supporters complaining that my campaign did not seem to be really fighting. They were in a kind of despair because we had apparently given up the ghost.

I returned to my room. I now had no illusion as to how bad the position was. If there was to be any hope, I had to put my whole campaign on a new footing even at this late stage. I therefore asked John Wakeham, whom I believed had the authority and knowledge to do this, to take charge. He agreed but said that he needed people to help him: physically, he had never entirely recovered from the Brighton bomb. So he went off to ask Tristan Garel-Jones and Richard Ryder — both of whom had been closely involved in the 1989 leadership campaign — to be his chief lieutenants.

I now saw Douglas Hurd and asked him formally to nominate me for the second ballot. This he agreed to do at once and with good grace. Then I telephoned John Major at home outside Huntingdon. I told him that I had decided to stand again and that Douglas was going to propose me. I asked John to second my nomination. There was a moment’s silence. The hesitation was palpable. No doubt the operation on John’s wisdom teeth was giving him trouble. Then he said that if that was what I wanted, yes. Later, when urging my supporters to vote for John for the leadership, I made play of the fact that he did not hesitate. But both of us knew otherwise.

I now went to the Palace for an audience with the Queen at which I informed her that I would stand in the second ballot, as indeed I still intended to do. Then I returned to my room in the House to see the Cabinet one by one.

THE VIEWS OF THE CABINET

I could, of course, have concentrated my efforts for the second ballot on winning over the back-benchers directly. Perhaps I should have done. But the earlier meetings had persuaded me that it was essential to mobilize Cabinet ministers not just to give formal support, but also to go out and persuade junior ministers and back-benchers to back me. In asking for their support, however, I was also putting myself at their mercy. If a substantial number of Cabinet colleagues refused their backing, there could be no disguising