Part 21 - Some Day We Shall Return (Wednesday, 4 June, 1969.) A group of senior Labour politicians were standing near the lake in Regent's Park. It was a good place to avoid any bugs. A gaggle of special branch officers were a discrete distance away. Two special branch officers were closer but also discretely positioned out of earshot. As bodyguards to the Leader of Her Majesty's Opposition, they did not carry the cameras with telephoto lenses wielded by their colleagues. The bodyguards took care not to look obviously at the other officers. There was a pattern to the meetings Mrs Wedgwood Benn, as she now insisted on being named, called before each shadow cabinet meeting. First a few close allies. Then the front benchers in the Programme. Then the full Left membership of the shadow cabinet. These three meetings always preceded the shadow cabinet meeting. But that there were these three meetings was only known to Mrs WB's close allies and the security services. Michael Foot was not a happy man. He still hadn't quite worked out why, as titular leader of the Left, he had not been chosen parliamentary leader after Harold's shock resignation. Friends for decades had come up to him during the leadership campaign and told him reluctantly that they had to support Peggy. Many had given a one-word explanation, solidarity. Solidarity! As if that explained anything. Where was the solidarity after the years of encouragement, advise, campaigning and hard work that he had provided for these ingrates? How sharper than a serpent's tooth! Still, he was now shadow Foreign Secretary, which was better than a slap in the face with a wet fish. Generally the party had taken Peggy's defeat of Jim quite well, only George Brown and what's-his-name[1] had walked out. Oh, Peggy wasn't all bad. She had savaged the new value-added tax proposals the government had laid out in the Queen's speech. "All this is fundamentally wrong for Britain. It is a step not merely towards fascism but nazism. The VAT inspectorate will become a latter-day Gestapo." Foot had asked her about that afterwards. She laughed and said, "There may have been a touch of hyperbole."[2] But why had Peggy insisted on this meeting in Regent's Park? Certainly it was early summer but the weather looked like it could turn nasty at any minute. That was the problem with these leftists - too prone to paranoid conspiracy theories. As if MI5 would bug parliamentarians! "Once again we have lost a general election," said Mrs Wedgwood Benn, "this time by heart-breakingly small number of seats and with a plurality of votes." There was assent from the group, the claque of Programmers nodding earnestly. "It would seem that we have two choices. We can go by the constitutional process, and await the next general election. The government's small majority may mean they are forced to go to the country well before their five years are up. But there is no guarantee that we shall be more successful this time than in the last five general elections under the bourgeois system where our strength is tied up in safe constituencies and the Tories win the marginals." More nodding. This was familiar ground. "Our second choice is to play to our strength and bring about the Revolution by our industrial power. As those of you who have read history know, this path is fraught with risk also." Well, hurrah! thought Foot. It had been years since Harold had spoken of any revolution save the white-hot and scientific. And nice to see Peggy's realistic appraisal of it, too. "What I propose to do is both," she said. My God! thought Foot. She really is like Harold. Some of his colleagues were looking bemused but the Programmers were still claquing away. "We shall use the muscle of our trade union allies, sparingly at first. The escalation will always be shown as a response to provocation. But in six months time there will be so many targeted rolling strikes that Britain will experience what could be called a winter of discontent." The claque nodded knowingly, "That's Shakespeare, that is." The claque had become to much, even for Mrs WB, "If you'll just let me continue. The government will be forced to the polls. And the questions will be, 'Who can run Britain?' and, 'In an industrial democracy, who commands the allegiance of the majority of workers?'" It was eventually Foot's turn to speak. He pointed out the failure of the General Strike. While he recognised that the proposed Industrial Winter was a different kettle of fish he did not feel the plan as presented was sufficiently well thought out, nor likely to command the support of the majority of Britons, nor probable to succeed. But at he conclusion of the debate Foot and his like-minded comrades were outvoted. Yet he would support the plan at tomorrow's shadow cabinet meeting as it now had the democratic support of the Left shadow cabinet. Solidarity. The second agenda item was the by-election in Wales, now only a fortnight away. It was then that the rain fell. It was gentle but persistent. While the birds in the trees were still singing it was impossible for the caucus to continue. The meeting broke up. The Left would go into the shadow cabinet meeting tomorrow without an agreed position on the by-election unless there was a series of phone-calls that night.

Bobby had formed an alliance of convenience with Hank. Both felt McNamara was unsubtle and insufficiently appreciative of the human element. And so it was that the pair were meeting with John McCone the CIA Director. "I thought we agreed that Powell was a loose cannon and had to be replaced," Kennedy stated. "Yes," answered McCone, "Macleod, the Treasury Secretary[3] was an obvious choice. But then Powell called an election. It is impossible to trigger a party coup during an election." "So why didn't Powell lose the election?" asked Kissinger. "We would have got Wilson instead of Macleod but their politics are almost indistinguishable." "From an American perspective, yes," conceded McCone. "But our British cousins didn't see it that way. MI5 saw Wilson as a dangerous subversive, potentially a Communist. They ran interference. Their boy got up, ours didn't." Kissinger snorted. "They were frightened of Wilson and now they're going to have Wedgwood Benn, who is an honest-to-God Communist, as their next Prime Minister. Your 'cousins' are in-bred idiots." Kennedy was inclined to agree. Even Caroline, something of a parlour pink, had nothing but scorn for the far-left Lady Stansgate. "We have to shift Powell, he's a stumbling block to the whole Irish settlement. Macleod would turn everything around, people would more readily see Wedgwood Benn for the extremist she is. Now that the election's over, what's the problem? After all, Powell nearly lost." "It's not that cut-and-dried," said McCone, "His party sees him as a great saviour, winning an election that was all but lost. You'd have to blast him out of 10 Downing Street with dynamite." The meeting broke up, as all three men each had more important affairs to attend. Kennedy left discouraged. Kissinger looked thoughtful.

Jimmy placed his exhausted pipe in the attic ashtray next to his drained pint mug. He unrolled the letter to Bob and the carbon from the typewriter. His pipe-smoking was not the only bone of contention with Peggy these days, there was also his choice of music. Jimmy had always seen himself as having an especial connection with young people, the fighting lord who could talk to the youth of today. Whereas Peggy was becoming something of a sex symbol for the older revolutionary. So it was that Jimmy had installed one of these new transistorised wirelesses in the attic, permanently tuned to Radio One when he was there. So he could keep up with the hits the youngsters were listening to, like 'A Lovers Concerto' that was playing at the moment.[4]       How gentle is the rain that falls softly on the meadow       Birds high up in the trees serenade the clouds with their melodies If Peggy were listening she would just see it as a misapplication of Bach's Menuet in G.[5] Sometimes she could be as much of a snob as any middle-class arriviste. He opened the desk draw to retrieve envelope and stamp.       Some day we shall return to this place upon the meadow.       We'll walk out in the rain, see the birds above singing once again. He could hear Peggy's voice from the floor below, "Are you coming to bed now, Jimmy?" She wasn't such a bad old stick really.       You'll hold me in your arms, and say once again you love me,       And if your love is true, everything will be just as wonderful. [If you'll just let me continue.]

[1] Bill Rodgers [2] An OTL politician named Margaret Thatcher was similarly prone to hyperbole. In 1966 she described a payroll tax change as "a step not merely towards socialism but towards communism". Expect further search-and-replace quotes. [3] He means 'Chancellor of the Exchequer'. [4] In this one instance, Lord Stansgate is deluded. While this song was a hit for The Toys in 1965, the youth of he so desperately wants to connect with are more likely to be listening to something a bit more recent. On Radio Caroline. [5] Musicoligists today consider the Menuet in G to be by Christian Petzold rather than JS Bach. But Lord Stansgate couldn't have known that.