The Gatekeeper

It is still too early to call, but it looks as though we have fallen short of the golden number needed to form a government on our own. There are 650 seats in Parliament, so strictly speaking, we need 326. But historically Sinn Féin have never turned up to Westminster, as they refuse to say the oath to the Queen, so you can achieve a working majority with 323. At 6 a.m. we are some way off that and heading for the first hung parliament for thirty-six years. No party commands a majority in the House of Commons, so no party will be able to get their legislation through (in other words, govern) without an alliance of some sort with another party.

We consider our options. There is the possibility of a ‘confidence and supply’ agreement with the Lib Dems, which guarantees their support for key votes (such as the Finance Bill) without actually forming a government with them. But we all fear the instability that comes with a minority government. The country is in crisis and fixing it will be a nightmare with no majority. We would have to chase every vote, including within our own party. This feels too precarious when we can see the difficult things which need doing. This points towards striking a more formal agreement with the Lib Dems …

In the early hours of Friday morning, with results still to come in, David does not want to make any decisions. He wants to return to the hotel, await the final numbers, and then regroup after he has had some sleep. So, we head back to the bleak Westminster Bridge Plaza and agree to meet again in just over an hour. I set my alarm so that I will have time for a shower. I feel surprisingly rejuvenated after it, despite my lack of sleep.

The morning bulletins declare a hung parliament. The country is already in economic turmoil and now we seem to be in political stalemate. The markets open and react badly to the lack of firm leadership. The news then turns to Greece, where people are rioting on the streets as the Eurozone crisis continues. The world feels very fragile. My phone is filling up with a barrage of texts – some from friends and family being supportive, others from anxious MPs and journalists wanting to know what is going on.

The end result has us on 36 per cent, with 306 seats in Parliament. Labour are on 258 and the Lib Dems on 57. In just one Parliament, as Leader of the Opposition, David has pulled the party out of its rut. For about a decade, the Tories consistently polled at around 33 per cent; last night, we won 97 new seats, the biggest Conservative gain since 1931 and the end of thirteen years of Labour rule. It is certainly a defeat for Gordon Brown. However, it seems it was simply too big a stretch to reach an all-out victory in one go. We are 20 seats short of a majority, with too few to form a government on our own.

Now we are stuck in a no-man’s land at the Plaza. I wander down the corridor to David’s suite. I don’t feel despondent though. Looking out over the river Thames, my coffee in hand, it seems like the game is not yet over.

‘I’ve thought about it overnight,’ says David, as we reassemble for breakfast in his suite. ‘I want to form a coalition.’

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