Downing Street Years - Margaret Thatcher [531]
Ken Baker went on to report that the position had deteriorated since we had spoken that morning. He had found between ten and twelve members of the Cabinet who did not think I could win. And if they thought that, there would not be enough enthusiasm to carry the day. Even so he believed that I should carry on. But he floated Tom King’s suggestion — which I was myself to hear from Tom a little later — that I should promise to stand down after Christmas if I won. The idea was that this would allow me to see through the Gulf War. I could not accept this: I would have no authority in the meantime and I would need all I could muster for the forthcoming battles in the European Community.
After John and Ken had left, Norman Lamont came in and repeated the formula. The position, he said, was beyond repair. Everything we had achieved on industry and Europe would be jeopardized by a victory for Michael Heseltine. Everything but Robertson Hare’s ‘Oh Calamity.’
John MacGregor now appeared and somewhat belatedly gave me the news that I lacked support in the Cabinet which he had felt unable to convey to me earlier in the day. He too eschewed any originality and stuck by the formula. Tom King said the usual things, though more warmly than most. He added the suggestion trailed by Ken Baker that I should offer to stand down at a specific date in the future. I rejected this suggestion, but I was grateful for the diversion.
In all the circumtances, it was a relief to see David Waddington enter and sit down on the sofa. Here was a steadfast friend but, as I quickly saw, one in the deepest distress. All David’s instincts were to fight on. For him the argument that battle should not be joined because defeat was likely had none of the attraction that it did for some of his colleagues. It was not an evasion, nor a disguised threat, nor a way of abandoning my cause without admitting the fact. It was a reluctant recognition of reality. But as a former Chief Whip — and how often in recent days had I wished that he still held that office — he knew that support for me in the Cabinet had collapsed. David said that he wanted me to win and would support me but could not guarantee a victory. He left my room with tears in his eyes.
The last meeting was with Tony Newton who, though clearly nervous, just about managed to get out the agreed line. He did not think I could win, etc., etc. Nor, by now, did I. John Wakeham came in again and elaborated further on what he had earlier told me. I had lost the Cabinet’s support. I could not even muster a credible campaign team. It was the end.
I was sick at heart. I could have resisted the opposition of opponents and potential rivals and even respected them for it; but what grieved me was the desertion of those I had always considered friends and allies and the weasel words whereby they had transmuted their betrayal into frank advice and concern for my fate. I dictated a brief statement of my resignation to be read out at Cabinet the following morning. But I said that I would return to No. 10 to talk to Denis before finally taking my decision.
I was preparing to return when Norman Tebbit arrived with Michael Portillo. Michael was Minister of State at the DoE with responsibility for local government and the community charge. He was beyond any questioning a passionate supporter of everything we stood for. He tried to convince me that the Cabinet were misreading the situation, that I was being misled and that with a vigorous campaign it would still be possible to turn things round. With even a drop of this spirit in higher places, it might indeed have been possible. But that was just not there. Then another group of