The Storytellers (29 page)

As quickly as the flakes had come, they left. The trio were approaching the middle of the field now. But still Stanley could see no hare. Then suddenly an animal got up only a few yards ahead of him. The whippets were unleashed and he stood transfixed as the chase ensued. The speed of it was breathtaking. Both dogs converged on the hare from either side, their legs pounding the ground like pistons and the hare looked done for. But then it jinked, completely jinked, and the two dogs crashed into one another.

“Oh fookin' 'ell, they dosey 'ounds,” cursed Randolph.

But the dogs recovered and got back into the race and were on the hare's tail by the hedgerow. The most heart-rending squeals reached them through the blustery squalls, indicating that the beast had not quite made its escape. The whole thing could not have lasted more than 30 seconds. Stanley looked shocked. The closest he came to nature were the robins in his back garden. Although these could be quite aggressive at times, especially to each other, they largely kept their feelings to themselves.

“Noisy blighters, 'ares,” muttered Randolph. “We'd better get to whippets afore t' bugga thing's torn t' shreds.”

Back at the van the dogs were caged and the dismembered animal was popped into a plastic bag. As they were about to drive off, a police car pulled alongside and the officer driving lowered his window.

“You boys wouldn't be 'are coursin' would you?” he asked when a nervous Stanley had lowered his.

“Certainly not offsa,” replied Randolph, leaning across as Stanley dissolved himself into the passenger seat. “Just strollin' t' dogs.”

“That's what I like to 'ear, boys. Keeping thy animals 'ealthy,” the officer said. And then to Stanley Preston's surprise and relief, he drove off.

“That was close,” Stan exhaled.

“Not so close,” Randolph assured him. “That were Tommy Jackson. He's a great fan o' whippets. Its t' Metropolitan Police we have to watch up 'ere.”

C
HAPTER

T
HE NUM EXECUTIVE left the offices of ACAS without an agreement. Its members, however, felt that the Coal Board Chairman, Ian MacGregor, was showing signs of wanting to find a way out of the deadlock. This was just as well, because the executive knew its members could not hold out indefinitely. And with the High Court having fined the union £200,000 (and its president £1,000 personally) for contempt on 10th October because no national ballot had been called to authorize the strike, the union's ability to cover picketing and organizing costs was being degraded.

Along with all the other journalists following the talks, Harvey had elicited only stone walls of ‘no comments' from both sides. However, he'd noticed from earlier disputes he'd covered that when neither side wished to rubbish the other in public, compromise was often being considered.

The Advisory, Conciliation and Arbitration Service, better known as ACAS, could trace its roots back to 1896 when the government had launched a voluntary service to help unions and employers resolve disputes. By 1976 it had become a statutory part of the nation's labour relations process. But the body had its critics and Harvey thought
they had a point.

The core of their argument seemed to revolve around the basis of the body's objectivity. In order to uphold its perceived usefulness to both sides (and thus its existence), wasn't it likely, they suggested, that ACAS would opt for a strategy of ‘splitting the difference' – of accepting some of what each side wanted so as to cement a deal? What this amounted to was that when a union asked for a wage increase of 20% and management offered 5%, ACAS might suggest 12.5%; the figure would be grudgingly accepted by both sides and ACAS congratulated. But, these critics wondered, how objective was that? Wouldn't such a process merely bake into the status quo an inflationary bias?

The problem, they felt, had been hatched when governments took ailing industries into public ownership at a time when market forces appeared to be making whole swathes of British businesses uneconomic so that they were closing down, shedding workers and disrupting entire communities. Had the government motive been to ease the transition from uneconomic to economic practices, then perhaps, just perhaps, these critics conceded, a period of public ownership might have been warranted; although, they added, it would almost certainly have been cheaper and more effective in the long run to have simply let the business owners go hang and to have given every displaced worker a fat redundancy cheque.

But this is not what happened, they pointed out. What happened was that business owners were bought out at a time when market forces would have destroyed many of them. Jobs were saved, certainly, but complex businesses were brought under the control of elected parliamentarians, most of whom had never run anything in their lives, on the overconfident promise that they would protect workers and their communities. What happened, of course, was that they did neither.

As organs of the state, these industries then had to be run by
bureaucrats anxious to satisfy their paymasters and so fell foul of endless political cross-currents rather than commercial reality. Not only did losses mount to such an extent that even the taxpayer could no longer be relied upon to underwrite them, but the state was forced to pretend that these industries were being run at arm's length by corporate bodies like British Steel, British Leyland, British Telecom, British Rail and the National Coal Board, whose primary remit was not to build great businesses, but to reduce their cost to the government. And to preserve a fig leaf of fair play, ACAS was empowered to act as honest broker between management and unions.

The upshot of all this, the critics maintained, was that not only were jobs still lost and communities still ruined, but the process took far longer and cost far more than it need have. Furthermore, while this agonizing adjustment was being drawn out by wanton political hubris in the United Kingdom, elsewhere in the world, in parts more attuned to commercial reality, new industries were being formed and old ones reconfigured, pushing Britain further and further behind. So to these critics, a body like ACAS was not just useless, but worse than useless because it helped to sustain an unsustainable fiction. The one thing it could not say, and which needed to be said, was that the government's model of cosy deals between unions, managers and politicians, sometimes called collective bargaining, was a cruel fraud on both employees and taxpayers alike.

What Harvey also knew was that amongst these critics was the Prime Minister herself. So if the smoke coming from the chimney at ACAS was hinting at a potential compromise, she, for one, would be profoundly unhappy.

* * *

At NUM headquarters, the president was in an ebullient mood. With the support of the Trades Union Congress and the Labour
Party, the president of NACODS had just put forward a plan that would prevent any pit closures without a thorough and wide-ranging review. All of NACODS' 16,000 members were balloted and had approved strike action if their executive deemed it necessary. Although NACODS had not joined the strike initially, it had agreed not to cross picket lines. Even at the Nottinghamshire pits, where miners had refused to strike and were continuing to work, there had been some unease amongst NACODS members. But now, with NACODS behind him, the NUM President felt confident he could force the Coal Board to back down and defeat the Thatcher Government.

Jack Pugh was not so sure. He had no love for the Labour Party or the Trades Union Congress, seeing both as bourgeois bastions of the status quo. Like his nemesis, Mrs Thatcher, he wanted a total transformation of the country, but what he wanted was a communist state. This would only come about, he believed, after Britain had been brought to its knees by a total industrial stoppage. Then, just as Lenin and his Bolsheviks had in Russia, a cadre of men like himself and his president, working though the shop stewards and their works councils, could seize control amid the chaos.

So he dashed off a memorandum to his president urging him not to accept any deal. Drawing on his hero, Lenin, he wrote:
The specific feature of the present situation is that the country must pass from the first stage of revolution, in which insufficient class-consciousness and organization of the proletariat has placed power in the hands of the bourgeoisie, to its second stage in which power is placed in the hands of the proletariat through the works councils we control
.

He placed the note in an envelope and rushed to headquarters.

* * *

Peter Betsworth was verging on the apoplectic. He had just heard about the NACODS strike ballot. This was a disaster. With NACODS behind the strike, the government would be finished.
Having just failed to prevent a bomb that came close to killing the Prime Minister and key members of her cabinet, MI5 was feeling vulnerable. A half-hearted attempt to blame MI6 for the lapse, on the grounds that the bomber might have originated in the Irish Republic and so outside the country, had not even convinced themselves and so was dropped. Police incompetence in failing to secure the hotel before the Conservative Party Conference would have to do. And now he had to call the cabinet office with this news.

“Adrian, it's Peter … No we haven't got a hard suspect yet, but at least the IRA are bragging, so we know where to start. But I am afraid something else has cropped up. NACODS have just balloted their members for strike action … Yes, I know that's bloody awful news … I realize the Prime Minister is not going to take this kindly … Well we are working on Nottingham. Most of the miners there don't want to strike. A number are near retirement and face losing generous redundancy payoffs if they do. It's even possible a breakaway union will be formed … Yes, I know that's good news. But it doesn't help us with NACODS … Fine, but what am I supposed to do about it? I can't just intimidate 16,000 men … That's their membership … No, it's not a large number. But it's their executive that matters. They have the final say … I don't think I heard that, Adrian. We don't live in a police state yet … You mean try a capitalist approach: out-and-out bribery? … Well you get the authorization and the bag of lucre and I'll see what I can do. But Frankly, Adrian, I'm pretty sure that would push the executive in exactly the wrong direction … Of course there are honest men in the trades union movement … Well don't sound so surprised. This is mostly King Arthur and his henchmen's fight. I don't believe there are too many, even within the Trades Union Congress, who want to see him anointed in Westminster Abbey … Yes, a troubling thought that. It almost makes one want to become a republican … Try reason, you mean? … OK, but what exactly is anyone supposed to say to the NACODS executive? Please don't, it'll
sink this government and raise Arthur to near sainthood … I agree. What a choice to have to make!”

There was a brief pause before Peter heard Adrian's voice again.

“You've just had an idea? Well I hope to hell it's a good one … Have the NACODS executive take their proposal to ACAS? Is that it? … Adrian, you know what the Prime Minister thinks of that august body … Quite! … You mean use our dysfunctional system to devour itself? A sort of Marxist hybrid? … You might just have something there, you know. If I recall correctly, Citizen Robespierre, the French Revolution's leading light, ultimately fell under the blade of his own guillotine … Yes, I enjoy history, although it's a lot easier reading about it than making it … We certainly are living in strange times, Adrian. For once, I think there will be a before and after when this battle is over. Things won't be the same … She's had Ian MacGregor in? … How did that go? … He came out shaking? … God, I hope she doesn't want to see me!”

* * *

Members of the cabinet sub-committee concerned with the strike were grim-faced. As usual, the Prime Minister was in the chair.

“What can we do about NACODS, Robert?” she asked.

“We are hoping they will take their proposal to ACAS, Prime Minister.”

“You know my feelings about that talking shop.”

“Indeed I do, Prime Minister, but on this occasion, it might prove useful. If the choice is between every pit having to suspend operations and a compromise brokered by ACAS, the latter must be preferable.”

“If every pit suspended operations, that would save us a great deal of money,” observed the Chancellor wryly, “and spare the Coal Board from having to close them!”

“How are coal stocks holding up, Peter?”

“It might be touch-and-go over the winter, Prime Minister,” the Secretary of State for Energy reported. “If dock workers prevent coal imports, as they threatened earlier in the year, we would be in trouble.”

“We must isolate the NUM and get the public on our side,” the Employment Secretary urged. “Ian can be rather abrasive. I have spoken to him about this and suggested he consider offering bonuses to any striking miner willing to return to work. I have also told him not to mention additional pit closures, even as a negotiating tactic. Stoking up emotions again is not what we should be doing right now.”

“I understand, Tom,” the Prime Minister acknowledged, “but I have made it clear to Ian that only an unconditional return to work will do. We cannot have that man Scargill claiming any sort of victory.”

“How successful has the High Court been in seizing union funds?” the Chancellor asked.

“These have not been that easy to locate, apparently,” the Cabinet Secretary explained. “Also rumours have been circulating about the union getting funds from Moscow, or even Libya.”

“Oh my goodness, Robert,” the Prime Minister said. “Surely we can stop that?”

“Well, the security services are aware of the possibility,” Prime Minister, “but short of inspecting every suitcase and diplomatic bag that enters the country, it will mostly be down to luck if we pick out the one stuffed with notes destined for Yorkshire.”

“So back to NACODS,” the Prime Minister directed. “There must be something we can do?”

“I could have a word with the chairman of ACAS,” the Cabinet Secretary suggested. “He is a reasonable man.”

“Then why don't you, Robert,” the Prime Minister agreed. “It is about time he earned his salary.”

The meeting adjourned.

* * *

The NACODS strike was scheduled to begin at the end of the coming week. Harvey had learned that some members of the cabinet were anxious to have the Coal Board settle. It was feeling like the approach of a seminal moment when events could spin off in different directions towards different futures. Friday 26th October would either go down as a red-letter day for the NUM or for the government.

Added to which, George Gilder was due back on Monday – his sister had died while he was with her, which was a blessing – and Harvey felt a need to reflect. He would visit his mother in Islington Cemetery.

She hadn't been visited as often as he had intended, but suspected that was always the case with the departed. Lethargy aside, the need to attend a person's jumping-off point into eternity was deep-seated, even if only some simple marker was there to reflect their physicality. Perhaps it was no more than the reassurance one felt from knowing that they did exist and were not just a figment of one's imagination. Whatever the strictures against graven images and the admonishment given to poor Thomas, Harvey knew he related to the power of physical objects. They might only contain the trace of long-faded notes, but they were real.