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The TV screen promptly announced the loss of another Government seat, a Junior Minister with responsibility for Transport who had spent the last four years earnestly visiting every motorway crash scene in the country and who had quite convinced himself of the human race's unquenchable capacity for violent self-sacrifice. It did not help him, however, to accept their demand for his own self-sacrifice, and he was finding it very difficult to put on a brave face.
'More bad news for the Government,' commented Burnet, 'and we shall see how the Prime Minister is taking it when we go over live for his result in just a few minutes. In the meantime, what is the computer predicting now?'
He punched a button and turned to look at a large screen behind his shoulder. 'Still around 30 by the look of it.'
A studio discussion then began as to whether a majority of 30 was enough to see a Government through a full term of office, but the discussion was interrupted by more results which now began to flood in. O'Neill excused himself from the group of businessmen and fought his way through a growing and steadily more voluble group of admirers which had gathered around Penny. In spite of their protests he drew her quickly to one side and whispered briefly in her ear, as the ruddy face of Sir Alastair intruded once more into the celebrations to announce that the Prime Minister's own result was just about to be declared.
A respectful if not total silence grew over the revellers, and O'Neill returned to the industrial captains. All eyes were fixed on the screen. No one noticed Penny gathering her bag and slipping quietly out.
The screen announced another Government win, but yet again with a reduced majority. While the commentators analysed and sought to be the first to get in with their view that the Government were indeed having a less than splendid night of it, a loyal roar of approval arose from all the agency staff present, most of whom had by now totally forgotten their own political convictions and were ready to celebrate at the slightest excuse. After all, it was only an election.
The Prime Minister waved back from the screen, his stretched smile indicating that he was taking the result rather more seriously than was his audience. The festive mood began to drown out his speech of thanks to the returning officer and local police, and by the time he had left the platform to begin his long drive back to London two agency art directors were pronouncing the official demise of the battered fig trees.
A shout from across the room reached through to O'Neill's group.
'Mr O'Neill. Mr O'Neill. Telephone for you.' The security guard held the telephone up in the air and pointed dramatically to the mouthpiece.
'Who is it?' mouthed O'Neill back across the room.
'What?' queried the guard, looking nervous.
'Who is it?' he mouthed again.
'Can't hear you,' the guard yelled above the hubbub, gesticulating wildly.
O'Neill cupped his hands around his mouth and once more demanded to know who it was.
It's the Prime Minister's Office!' screamed the frustrated guard, unable to restrain himself and not quite knowing whether he should be standing to attention..
His words had an immediate effect, and the noise of celebration subsided into an expectant hush. An avenue to the telephone suddenly opened up in front of O'Neill, and he slowly and obediently made his way over to the phone, trying to look modest and matter of fact.
It's one of his secretaries. She will put you through,' said the guard, obviously grateful to hand over the awesome responsibility.
'Hello. Hello. Yes, this is Roger.' A brief pause. 'Prime Minister! How are you? Many, many congratulations. The result is really very good in the circumstances. A victory is sweet whether you win 5-0 or 5-4 ... Yes, yes. Oh, that's so kind. I'm at the advertising agency as it happens.'
The room was now so hushed they could almost hear the fig trees crying. 1 think they have performed marvellously, and I certainly couldn't have done it without their support ... May I tell them that?'
He put his hand over the mouthpiece and turned to the totally enraptured audience. The Prime Minister just wants me to thank you all on his behalf for helping run such a fantastic campaign. He says it made all the difference.' He went back to the phone and listened for a few seconds more. 'And he's not going to demand the money back!'
With that the room erupted into a great roar of applause and cheers, and O'Neill held the phone aloft to catch every last sound.
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