Munro next selected a tall, elegant man, dressed in tweed and wearing a striped tie.
“What do the Conservatives feel about the defense cuts proposed by Mr. Healey when he visited the constituency two weeks ago?”
Fiona smiled, but then Major Bennett had been well primed before he put his question.
“Perhaps you should answer this one first, Mr. Karpenko,” suggested Munro.
“Defense cuts are a contentious issue for any government,” said Sasha. “However, if we are to build more schools, universities, hospitals, and, yes, even sports facilities, either cuts must be made or taxes raised, which is never an easy choice. But it is one that can’t be sidestepped. I can only promise that as your representative, I would always weigh up the arguments for any cuts in the defense budget, before coming to a decision.” He sat down to a smattering of applause.
“If you could win a battle simply by blowing hot air on your opponents, clearly Mr. Karpenko would be commander in chief of the armed forces,” said Fiona. She had to wait for the laughter and applause to die down before she could continue. “Haven’t two world wars taught us that we can never allow ourselves to lower our guard? No, the defense of the realm should always be the first priority for any MP, and it always will be for me if you send me back to Westminster.”
Fiona basked in the prolonged applause before returning to her seat, leaving Sasha in no doubt who had won that round. The next question came from a woman seated near the back.
“How long are we going to have to wait for the Roxton bypass to be given the green light?”
Sasha realized this was another planted question, as a smile reappeared on Fiona’s face, and she didn’t even need to glance at her notes.
“The bypass would get the go-ahead tomorrow,” said Fiona, “if planning permission wasn’t being held up by the current Labour government, which as I don’t have to remind you is under Socialist control. I wonder why. Perhaps Mr. Karpenko will enlighten us. But if the Conservatives are elected, I can assure you the bypass will be a priority.”
Fiona smiled triumphantly at Sasha as she sat down to even warmer applause than before. But then she knew, if the bypass went ahead, the local council estate would be leveled to make way for it, which would turn Merrifield into a safe Conservative seat once again. She also knew that Sasha couldn’t admit that was the real reason he was backing the council on this issue.
“I’m in no doubt,” he began, “that Roxton needs a bypass. The only thing under discussion is where the route should be.”
“Not in your back yard!” shouted Fiona, to cheers and catcalls.
“I can promise you,” said Sasha, “that as your member I would do everything in my power to speed the process up.”
The applause, or lack of it, made it clear to everyone in the hall that Fiona had won another round.
Munro finally gave in and pointed to an elderly woman who had jumped up and raised her hand at every opportunity.
“What plans do the candidates have for raising the old-age pension?”
“Every Conservative administration has raised the old-age pension in line with inflation,” said Fiona. “The Labour government has always failed to do so, possibly because under their stewardship, inflation has risen on average by fourteen percent per year. So I say to anyone of pensionable age, if you hope to maintain, or improve, your standard of living, make sure you vote Conservative. Actually, I would say the same to anyone below pensionable age as well, because we’ll all get there eventually.” This suggestion brought a loud cheer from the Tory supporters, who clearly felt their candidate had come fighting back after her earlier setback, and was now ahead on points.
“I sometimes wish,” said Sasha, when he rose to reply, “that Ms. Hunter would, just for once, take a long-term view and look beyond next week’s election. The present average life expectancy in this country is seventy-three. By the year 2000, it will be eighty-one, and by 2020, when I will be sixty-eight, and eligible for the state pension myself, it is predicted to be eighty-seven. No government—of whatever color—will have the resources to keep raising the old-age pension year on year. Hasn’t the time come for Members of Parliament to tell the truth about such difficult and important issues as this, and not to spout platitudes, in th
e hope that they will scrape home at the next election? I’m an economist by profession, not a lawyer like Ms. Hunter. I will always tell you the facts, while she will always tell you what she thinks you want to hear.”
When he sat down, the applause suggested that there was no clear-cut winner of that round.
“There’s time for just one more question,” said Munro, pointing to a young man seated on the aisle.
“Do either of you think Merrifield United will ever win the FA Cup?”
The whole room burst into laughter.
“I’ve been a supporter of ‘The Merries’ since I was a child,” said Fiona, “and my father left me his season ticket in his will. But for fear of being told by my opponent that I’m only seeking cheap votes, I’ll admit that I think it’s unlikely we’ll win the cup, but I live in hope.”
Sasha took her place. “It was a magnificent achievement for Merrifield to reach the third round of the cup last year,” he said. “Joey Butler’s goal against Arsenal was a joy to behold, and no one could have been surprised when the Gunners offered him a contract. I was equally delighted that the board decided to use their cup windfall to build a new all-weather stand. But if I’m fortunate enough to become your member, don’t be surprised if you still find me standing on the terraces cheering on the home team.”
The young man who’d asked the question didn’t hide whom he’d be voting for, and Sasha felt the contest was back on an equal footing. Everything now rested on their closing remarks.
“As Mr. Karpenko spoke first at the opening of these proceedings,” said Munro, “I shall call on Ms. Hunter to make her closing statement.”
Fiona put aside her notes and looked directly at the audience.
“It seems I’m not allowed to mention the fact that I’m a local girl and that my opponent doesn’t come from this neck of the woods. I also mustn’t remind you that I beat Mr. Karpenko for the presidency of the Cambridge Union, and I beat him again at the by-election following my father’s death. And when winning this constituency became a tougher proposition for my party, I didn’t run away. But I can tell you, if Mr. Karpenko loses this election, you will never see him again. He will go off in search of a safe seat, whereas you know for certain that I’ll be here for the rest of my life. The choice is yours.”