SIXTY-SEVEN

The live images were beamed across twenty-four-hour news networks worldwide. Every inch of the green benches that filled Britain’s House of Commons was obscured by braying politicians. All were determined to be a part of history. The noise coming from them drowned out the chimes of the world-famous Big Ben as it sounded the passing of 1 a.m.

It had been decades since British politics had been of interest to the world. Who ruled a faded imperial power held little relevance to anyone outside its borders. But the public shooting of a former US president had changed that.

The UK Parliament operated under a system of conventions. Outdated but eye-catching ceremonies that sat uneasily with modern, televised politics. The introduction of cameras into the chamber had revolutionised some aspects of that system, creating a world in which image was everything. It was a minor miracle that someone as charisma-free as William Davies should have risen to power in such times. It was poetic that the world would be glued to its screens as this anomaly was rectified.

The turnout of Members for the occasion was almost unprecedented. They competed for the few available seats and for the lenses of the cameras. Tonight they would all play a part in ending William Davies’ time in power, by voting on their confidence in his government’s policies in Northern Ireland. With public interest galvanised, every one of them was determined to be seen.

The two major political parties – Labour and Conservative – were seated on either side of the historic house. A vote on any contentious matter would usually be supported by one side and opposed by the other. On this occasion, there were no such clear lines.

From the moment he had turned his intellectual attentions to the Northern Irish problem, Davies had not just divided the nation. He had split his own party. The Conservatives were the traditional champions of patriotism and strength. Yet here was their leader, negotiating with terrorists and making concessions to end the conflict. Although not welcomed by many members of his party, they had been silenced by Davies’ initial successes.

The resurgence of terrorism and the rise of Anthony Haversume as an opposing figurehead had seen those critics return with a vengeance. Tonight would be their ultimate victory.

The vote that was to take place tonight had its beginnings in Haversume’s televised comments after the tragedy of Trafalgar Square. He had then taken the decisive step by officially calling for a motion of no confidence in Davies’ leadership. This was a point of no return from which neither man could step back.

To the outside world it seemed dramatic. But within politics it was recognised as the finishing line after years of passionate moral dissent. Haversume had walked away from a ministerial career in protest at Davies’ policies. It was an unusually principled stance for any politician, one that gifted Haversume a foundation of strength unavailable to any other candidate for leadership.

The vote itself was one of Parliament’s oldest traditions, but one that had not been used in decades. The vote Haversume had called for – a motion of no confidence – outwardly concentrated on the government’s Northern Irish policies, but in reality it amounted to much more. The fact that a loss for the government would inevitably lead to Davies’ resignation made it nothing less than a vote of confidence in his overall leadership of the state.

If this made the question posed to the Members of Parliament more difficult, it was one they proved more than willing to answer.

Haversume felt a knot of anticipation in his stomach as he watched the Speaker of the House rise to his feet. Appointed as a cross between a referee and a judge to keep Britain’s rowdy politicians under control, it was the Speaker who would lead the short voting process to decide the future of his country. All eyes would usually be on him. But not today. Today they were on the man of the hour, sitting in what should have been the inconspicuous back benches.

Haversume knew that both the room and the world were watching. He did his best to look professional. Impassive. It was a Herculean effort as the vote for his political future began.

For the first time that evening the House grew silent. All eyes now turned to the Speaker. The hushed atmosphere was maintained as he stepped forward.

Michael French wore the ceremonial robes and ruffles of office, designs that were a throwback to the nation’s past. Somehow his authority was not diminished by the absurdity of his seventeenth-century clothing. Nor by the words that followed, as he addressed the House in the language of yesteryear.

‘The question is that this house has no confidence in Her Majesty’s Government’s policies as they apply to the paramilitary situation in Northern Ireland?’

For centuries the same form of words had been the only acceptable preamble to the open-house vote. French continued, ‘As many as are not of that opinion, say “aye”.’

It was the responsibility of the Speaker of the House to count the ‘ayes’ that followed. He alone would then contrast the number with the ‘noes’ that would come later. Once done, he would decide which of the two possible answers was supported by the majority. It was a monumental responsibility. But on this occasion it was one the Speaker could discharge without fear of mistake.

French could count the responses to his first question on his fingers and toes. From that moment the result of the motion was beyond doubt. But a thousand years of parliamentary history demanded that the vote be seen to its end.

As the murmur of ‘ayes’ trickled to silence, the Speaker spoke again.

‘And of the contrary, “no”.’

French’s voice was this time far louder, in anticipation of what was to follow. Still he was drowned out by the response. Almost six hundred politicians from every party spoke as one. French could say only one thing.

‘The noes have it!’

Despite the specifics of the vote, those four words brought the leadership of William Davies to an end. His resignation now had to follow. And for Anthony Haversume, it could not come a moment too soon.