Again he agreed, and told Bernard to be sure he make a note of ‘children’s children’.
‘Who are you serving, Humphrey?’ I asked. ‘God or Mammon?’
‘I’m serving you, Minister,’ he replied.
Quite right. I told Bernard to show Glazebrook in, and Sir Humphrey said to me: ‘Minister, it’s entirely your decision. Entirely your decision.’ I think he’s getting the idea at last! That I’m the boss!
Desmond Glazebrook arrived with an architect named Crawford, complete with plans. They began by explaining that they would be making a formal application later, but they’d be grateful for any guidance that I could give them at this stage.
That was easy. I told them that I had grave misgivings about these tower blocks.
‘Dash it, this is where we make our profits,’ said Sir Desmond. ‘Six extra storeys and we’ll really clean up. Without them we’ll only make a measly twenty-eight per cent on the whole project.’
I stared at him coldly. ‘It’s just profits, is it, Sir Desmond?’
He looked confused. ‘Not
‘Do you ever think of anything except money?’ I asked him.
Again he looked completely blank. ‘No. Why?’
‘You don’t think about beauty?’
‘Beauty?’ He had no idea what I was driving at. ‘This is an office block, not an oil-painting.’
I persevered. ‘What about the environment?’ I enquired.
‘Well . . .’ he said, looking at Humphrey for help. Sir Humphrey, to his credit, gave him none. ‘Well, I promise you we’ll make sure it’s part of the environment. I mean, it’s bound to be, once it’s there, isn’t it?’
I had reached my decision. ‘The answer’s no,’ I said firmly.
Crawford the architect intervened. ‘There is just one thing, Minister,’ he said timidly. ‘As you will remember from the papers, similar permission has already been given for the Chartered Bank of New York, so to refuse it to a British bank. . . .’
I hadn’t realised. Bernard or Humphrey should have briefed me more thoroughly.
I didn’t answer for a moment, and Sir Desmond chipped in:
‘So it’s all right after all, is it?’
‘No it’s not,’ I snapped.
‘Why not, dammit?’ he demanded.
I was stuck. I had to honour our manifesto commitment, and I couldn’t go back on my widely-reported speech yesterday. But if we’d given permission to an American bank . . .
Thank God, Humphrey came to the rescue!
‘The Minister,’ he said smoothly, ‘has expressed concern that a further tall building would clutter the Skyline.’
I seized on this point gratefully. ‘Clutter the skyline,’ I repeated, with considerable emphasis.
‘He is also worried,’ continued Sir Humphrey, ‘that more office workers in that area would mean excessive strain on the public transport system.’
He looked at me for support, and I indicated that I was indeed worried about public transport. Humphrey was really being most creative. Very impressive.
‘Furthermore,’ said Humphrey, by now unstoppable, ‘the Minister pointed out that it would overshadow the playground of St James’s Primary School here . . .’ (he pointed to the map) ‘and that it would overlook a number of private gardens, which would be an intrusion of privacy.’
‘Privacy,’ I agreed enthusiastically.
‘Finally,’ said Humphrey, lying through his teeth, ‘the Minister also pointed out, most astutely if I may say so, that your bank owns a vacant site a short way away, which would accommodate your expansion needs.’
Sir Desmond looked at me. ‘Where?’ he asked.
I stabbed wildly at the map with my finger. ‘Here,’ I said.
Desmond looked closely. ‘That’s the river, isn’t it?’
I shook my head with pretended impatience at his stupidity, and again Humphrey saved the day. ‘I think the Minister was referring to
Sir Desmond looked again.
‘Is that ours?’ he asked.
‘It is, actually, Sir Desmond,’ whispered Crawford.
‘What are we doing with it?’
‘It’s scheduled for Phase III.’
Sir Desmond turned to me and said, as if I hadn’t heard, ‘That’s scheduled for Phase III. Anyway,’ he went on, ‘that’s at least four hundred yards away. Difficult for the Board to walk four hundred yards for lunch. And impossible to walk four hundred yards back afterwards.’
