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As the car drew to a halt, Collingridge emerged from the rear seat and turned to wave to the crowd and the cameras. Urquhart tried just a little too hard to get to him to shake his hand, and instead managed to get in the way. He retreated apologetically while on the other side of the car Lord Williams, with the chivalry and familiarity which comes of many years, carefully assisted the Prime Minister's wife out of the car and planted an avuncular kiss on her cheek. A bouquet appeared from somewhere along with two dozen party officials and dignitaries who all wished to get in on the act, and the whole heaving throng somehow managed to squeeze through the swing doors and into the building.
Similar scenes of confusion and congestion were repeated inside as the Prime Minister's party tried to push its way upstairs through the workers, pausing only for. a traditional word of thanks to the staff from the stairs, which had to be repeated because of the press photographers had not managed to assemble themselves quickly enough.
Once upstairs in the relative safety of Lord Williams' suite, the signs of strain which had been so well hidden all evening began to appear for the first time on the Prime Minister's face. The television set in the comer was just announcing that the computer was predicting a still lower majority, and Collingridge let out a long, low sigh. His eyes wandered slowly round the room.
'Has Charles been around this evening?' he asked quietly. Charles Collingridge was nowhere to be seen. The Prime Minister's eyes met those of the Chairman.
Tm sorry,' the older man replied.
Sorry for what?' thought Collingridge. The fact that my brother's a drunk? Sorry that I seem almost to have thrown away our parliamentary majority? Sorry that you will have to carry the can along with me? But anyway, thanks for caring.
He was suddenly feeling desperately tired as the adrenalin ceased to flow. After weeks of being hemmed in on all sides by people and without a single private moment to himself, he felt an overwhelming need to be on his own and he turned away to find somewhere a little quieter and a little more private. Instead he found his way blocked by Urquhart who was standing right by his shoulder. The Chief Whip was thrusting an envelope at him.
I've been giving some thought to the reshuffle' he said. 'While this is hardly the time, I know you will be thinking about it over the weekend so I have prepared some suggestions. I know you prefer some positive ideas rather than a blank sheet of paper, so I hope you find this of use.'
Collingridge looked at the envelope and raised his exhausted eyes to Urquhart. 'You're right. This is scarcely the time. Perhaps we should be thinking about securing our majority before we start sacking our colleagues'
The sarcasm cut deep into Urquhart, deeper than the Prime Minister had intended, and he realised he had gone too far.
I'm sorry, Francis. I'm afraid I am a little tired. Of course you're quite right to think ahead. Look, I would like you and Teddy to come round on Sunday afternoon to discuss it. Perhaps you would be kind enough to let Teddy have a copy of your letter now, and send one round to me at Downing Street tomorrow - rather, later this morning'
Urquhart stood rigid with embarrassment at the semi-public rebuke he had received. He realised that he had been all too anxious about the reshuffle, and cursed himself for his folly. His natural assurance seemed to desert him when it came to Collingridge, a grammar school product who in social terms would have had trouble gaining membership of his club. The role reversal in Government unnerved him, unsettled him, and he found himself acting out of character when he was in the other man's presence. He was frustrated with his inadequacy, and quietly loathed Collingridge and all his kind for undermining his position. But now was not the time, and he retreated into affability.
'Of course, Prime Minister. I will let Teddy have a copy straight away.'
'Better copy it yourself. Wouldn't do to have that list getting around here tonight,' smiled Collingridge as he tried to bring Urquhart back into the conspiracy of power which always hovers around Downing Street. In any event, I think it's time for me to depart. The BBC will want me bright and sparkling in four hours' time, so I shall wait for the rest of the results in Downing Street'
He turned to Williams. 'By the way, what is the computer predicting now?'
It's been stuck on 24 for about half an hour now. I think that's it.' There was no sign of pleasure or sense of victory in his voice. He had just presided over the Party's worst election result in nearly two decades.
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