Sorry is the hardest word to say in politics

The political world this morning is boiling with a sense of urgency, and it is not hard to see why. Theresa May has to say something to the 1922 Committee today, and there are very few words left for her to utter, “Sorry” being one with which she is not acquainted. Yet the arithmetic of the election means the most likely upshot is that the British people will not be asked to vote again for five years. We seem to be forgetting the nation’s informal motto, “Keep calm and carry on”. In five years’ time, Jeremy Corbyn will be 73.

Ruth Davidson’s reaction to the proposed Tory alliance with the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) is the first disappointing thing she has done since she became the party’s leader in Scotland. She announced she had sought (and received) assurances from Mrs May that any deal would not damage gay rights. There was never any prospect of such damage. Marriage is a devolved issue in Northern Ireland, and therefore not a matter for the Westminster Parliament. Nor is there the faintest chance of interference the other way. The DUP has no possible interest in trying to reverse gay rights in the United Kingdom as a whole, nor the power to do so.

Ms Davidson must have known this, so why did she raise the objection? I fear she has succumbed to the curse of modern politics – signalling her own virtue. By doing so, she overplays her hand. She is popular for her sturdy common sense, not for being holier than thou.

It is true that the DUP had dark beginnings. Paisleyism as a political force in the Sixties and Seventies was not actually terrorist, but it was bigotedly sectarian and it stood on the edge of violence. Today, it remains narrow-minded, but it has become the main force of Ulster Unionism. In the process, it has calmed down.

So for 318 Tories to make a pact with the Democratic Unionists nowadays is not like admitting 10 Islamist jihadists to the Carlton Club. It is a deal stitched up with what is, in effect, a small trade union for Ulster Protestants. The price is simply more public money for non-jobs and wasteful projects. Westminster governments of both the main parties have paid this before to placate the province. The Tories need not be squeamish now that the price goes up a bit.

If there is trouble, it will not be about gay rights, but the Irish border, which potentially arises because of Brexit. Even this subject, though, discloses what is – by the standards of Irish history – a remarkable degree of common ground. All the main players, north and south, and including the DUP, speak in praise of a soft border. It only remains for us together to recreate the concept of the British Isles which, unfortunately, fell out of favour a century ago.

Much has been said in favour of the idealism of the young at this election, compared with the brute selfishness of the rest of us. Yet what seems to have persuaded many 18 to 25-year-olds to break the habit of a (so-far short) lifetime and actually vote was Jeremy Corbyn’s promise that they would no longer pay tuition fees.

In the London Bridge atrocities, a Spaniard called Ignacio Echevarría behaved very bravely. Returning from skateboarding with friends near Tate Modern, he ran into the attacks. He leapt off his bicycle, grabbed his skateboard and used it to hit a terrorist who was stabbing a policeman. This gave others the chance to get out of harm’s way. Unfortunately, he did not realise there was more than one terrorist. Another stabbed him in the back. He died.

So much has been reported. What has not been much noticed – here – is the sad story of what happened next. Mr Echevarría’s sister, who also lives in London, didn’t know what had happened and went looking for him at his flat the next day. Failing to find him, she rang the police.

For the next four days, the reply from the authorities was: “We don’t know yet.” They invoked strict protocols about identification.

This was strange. Mr Echevarría’s sister could surely have identified him if she had been offered the chance. There were seven corpses: it would not have taken her long to see which was her brother. The family’s wait was agonising and unnecessary.

Once the body was identified, there was a further delay. The authorities said they would not release it for a further six days. This provoked a culture clash: in Spain bodies are buried much more quickly than in Britain.

Spanish public opinion was in ferment, and on Saturday Britain decided to let the body go. Such was the strength of feeling that the Spanish prime minister, Mariano Rajoy, was there to receive it at the air force base near Madrid.

No doubt there were practical difficulties for the British authorities (especially about quick release of the body), but it seems immensely sad that more was not done to help the family. It was moving that a visitor sacrificed his life to save those of others and uphold our law. The official response was wrong.

By the way, Mr Echevarría’s job at HSBC in London involved checking the bank’s contracts to make sure its money was not finding its way to terrorists. Apparently, he sometimes clashed with his bosses because he was so rigorous in this work. In life and in death, he was this country’s friend. He should have a posthumous honour.