Party Games

by E J Greenway

  Anthea tried to argue again; if she or Bronwyn took the heavy-handed approach with Fisher then it could all backfire. Caution was needed to keep it low key and allow the Government to wallow in its own complacency a bit longer. Rodney, however, stood his ground until finally there was an uneasy stalemate between him and his favourite Shadow Secretary of State. Nobody else had seen them disagree in public before, neither of them budging an inch. Anthea knew that it was Rodney’s and the Chief Whip’s business if a Government defeat was possible, but the Cornwall Devolution Bill was Anthea’s territory and her leader was trying to muscle in rather than trusting her. Anthea realised that the Bill, and Fisher, were about to be hijacked. She fell silent, bitter at her treatment, feeling foolish in front of her colleagues. Couldn’t it have been discussed in private?

  Anthea glanced at Colin. If anyone leaked the exchange to a journalist or two, she would know just where to point the finger. She thought of Tristan. She would ring him straight after the meeting and arrange lunch. Sod Rodney bloody Richmond.

  Rodney clasped his hands on the table, his dark brow furrowed. Faces stared at him expectantly, sensing something bad was about to be aired.

  “Just before you all go, I thought it courteous to let you know that the story involving Martin Arnold is going to break in the Sunday Engager this week…”

  *****

  Tristan had hoped that the papers would have made a lot more of it than they did, but the comment that appeared in even the Bulletin supported Richmond’s appointment of Bronwyn – ‘Rivers of Blood, or a Victory for Parliamentary Democracy?’ Probably, he thought, the paper’s retaliation for him turning down an interview. He had come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t have done him any good at all to speak out publicly. A quiet life seemed far more appealing. The London Chronicle hinted that maybe Tristan’s dismissal had been for more than professional reasons, but he soon forgot about that – his wife wouldn’t have talked, she knew better than that. She had money and a nice life now, all the heartbreak was done with. That reminded him, he had better remember his son’s birthday. Perhaps he and Nicole could discuss the little matter they had been putting off for seven years. Tristan wanted his life back, he had done his penance, made the ultimate sacrifice, and now he wanted out, for good. Especially now he had a chance of happiness. He had put Anthea’s reluctance for intimacy down to nerves, rather than down to Rodney Richmond. She had told him the rumours weren’t true, and he was desperately inclined to believe her.

  He hadn’t made the decision to go to the meeting with Colin Scott lightly. He knew full well that the man was a potential trouble-maker and that both he and Colin had their crosses to bear as far as Richmond was concerned, but that certainly didn’t mean that the two men had to like each other, or indeed have mysterious evening meetings. However, Tristan felt compelled to go even just to satisfy his own curiosity. After stuffing down a sandwich, he ambled over to the Deputy Leader’s suite just along the corridor from his own new, cramped office, keeping a firm eye out for anyone who may snitch to the Leader.

  “Ah, come in, come in.” Colin beamed as Tristan peered around the door.

  “Thanks.” Tristan muttered, studying Colin closely with a suspicious eye. He sat himself down on a straight-backed chair as Colin waved his bottle of whisky at him.

  “A glass of the strong stuff?” Colin asked, a bitter-sweet smile spread across his face.

  “Err, no thanks, I shouldn’t really…” Tristan began, but trailed off after Colin ignored his decline and poured him a generous double shot, plonking the glass down in front of him on the table with such a clatter Tristan gave a jump.

  “Come on, get that down you. I bet you need it after everything that’s been going on the past day or so.” Colin said, throwing himself into an easy-chair opposite his colleague. Tristan shifted uncomfortably and began to spin the glass around in his hand, nodding in agreement and wondering when he was going to cut to the chase. He swore blind that he would never let Colin Scott intimidate him, he had seen him at work in recent months and decided that he was an unpleasant individual whom he needed to give as wide a berth as possible. He just hoped that perhaps Bronwyn would be able to deal with him in a more upfront manner than he had been able.

  “Is there something in particular you wish to discuss, Colin?” Tristan asked a little tersely, sitting further back in his chair. “I thought we had said all we needed to say yesterday.”

  Colin leaned forward and Tristan noticed that his ears were turning slightly pink. He was still gripping the whisky bottle. “Oh, I just thought a friendly drink was in order, between colleagues. I don’t mean to sound rude, but I thought you might be a little...lonely. I thought you would also be curious to know how Shadow Cabinet went today without you.”

  “Oh yes?” He asked, shifting in his chair. His interest was certainly piqued, but the last thing he wanted to do was to hint to Colin he was desperate for information. It worried him, how Colin was doing his best to sound casual. Casual was one thing Colin Scott most certainly wasn’t. He sipped the alcohol and felt it burn his throat on contact.

  The Deputy rubbed his temple. “Between you and me, I think it’s all falling apart already. I mean, Rodney was just so, well, distracted. I think that the reshuffle has had quite an effect on him. And you should have seen him, having a go at poor Anthea. He was giving her such a hard time...”

  Tristan cut in. “A go at Anthea? Why?” He had spoken to her, briefly, only a few hours ago. She thanked him for the note and agreed to meet him for lunch, but although she had seemed slightly abrupt, he assumed leaving her apartment so early may have offended her - he had merely wished to avoid more awkwardness.

  “Oh, you know, the Cornish Bill.” Colin said, sighing. “Argument over Jack Fisher, and whether he should be approached, and by whom. I mean, Anthea did have a good point.”

  “And you spoke up for her, then, I suppose?” Tristan queried. He noted a sudden flicker of annoyance across Colin’s face, but he appeared to suppress it.

  “Well, you know, I did try and all that, but Rodney just wasn’t willing to listen to my point of view, or indeed Anthea’s. She seemed most upset, and a tad jealous of our new Chief Whip, I may add. It must be hard for her, knowing that she was passed over for the job when she, and others, thought she would get it. What’s the point in having friends in high places if they’re no use?” Colin laughed, but Tristan wasn’t about to laugh with him, he was too deep in thought. Colin was still talking. “So now it appears Anthea and Rodney aren’t on speaking terms. I think she’s pissed off with him, if her best friend won’t give her a promotion...then to go and humiliate her in front of the whole Shadow Cabinet. Even Barty paid attention through that little stand-off.”

  Colin finally paused. Tristan felt the anger welling up inside him and he focussed his gaze at the bottom of his glass where the remaining golden liquid swirled in front of his eyes. Seconds later, he had drained it. Sourness flashed across Tristan’s face; how he hated the stuff. Colin poured him another. A second drunken night in a row beckoned.

  “But, do you know what concerned me the most?” Colin whispered, glancing around the office as if it might be bugged. Tristan shook his head. “I was worried for Rodney more than Anthea, he just wouldn’t listen to reason, he wasn’t...himself, let me put it like that.”

  “Wasn’t himself?” Tristan asked, puzzled.

  “Well, I shouldn’t say any more, especially not to you.” He produced a look of concern and doubt.

  “If something’s…wrong with Richmond, Colin, then we all have a right to know.” Tristan argued. Not even Colin Scott, he thought, would make up something like this, and even if he did why would he tell him of all people?

  Colin hung his head and sighed, as if incredibly reluctant to be so unethical as to discuss their leader’s mental health without any proof whatsoever.

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say mentally wrong.” He began slowly. “Well, I don’t think he’s completely l
osing it. Not yet. But I have a responsibility as Deputy Leader to watch the leader for tell-tale signs of…slight instability, paranoia, erratic behaviour, lack of concentration on the job, not listening to good advice from colleagues and senior advisors. I mean, are you completely happy with the way policy has been developed lately? I certainly have my reservations, Tristan. I feel I have a duty to this party, and to Rodney himself, to keep an even more watchful eye on him from now on. Last thing we need in our fragile state in the polls is the leader saying or doing something he shouldn’t. But the signs are there, that’s all I’m saying. I mean, no right-minded Richmond would ever have raised his voice to teacher’s pet Miss Culverhouse, especially not in front of colleagues like that.”

  “What, he actually shouted?” Tristan asked, alarmed.

  Colin nodded gravely. “We all just couldn’t believe it, I didn’t know where to look. He was thumping the table, interrupting. I didn’t realise that he was going to pin so much on Cornish devolution until recently, you know as well as I do that he sees the issue as make or break.”

  “Has anybody else said anything? Has anyone else been talking?” Tristan asked, nonplussed. “Although I do agree with you on Cornish devolution and suspect it may be taking up too much of Rodney’s precious time, I haven’t noticed erratic behaviour. He remained incredibly calm during my...resignation.”

  Colin simply smiled sourly again. “There has been talk, yes, people worried that he may be…losing touch with reality, but I don’t wish to name names right now. I don’t want to say too much, not at this stage anyway.”

  “Of course not.” Tristan replied, his striking blue eyes narrowing in slight suspicion. For someone who didn’t wish to say very much, Colin was doing an awful lot of talking. It was well known that Rodney was prone to dark moods at times, but for the Deputy Leader to be waging a private war by briefing against him to a sacked colleague was incredibly suspicious. A word or two with Derek Bradbury wouldn’t hurt.

  “But why tell all this to me? I’m out, I’ve no influence over him anymore, not that I really did in the first place.” Tristan said.

  “I’m sure you’re shrewd enough to realise exactly what this could mean, Tristan.” Colin said smoothly, but Tristan said nothing. “Ok let me stop beating around the bush here. Perhaps we need to start thinking about the future, the direction we want the party to take. You and I are not that much older than Rodney, and the Party is much bigger than one man. I doubt that you wish to just sit back and watch it all go pear-shaped.”

  “So you do want us to form an alliance?” Tristan was tired of Colin’s games. In fact, Tristan was tired full-stop. He didn’t really feel like thinking about the party’s direction at that moment, his brain was awash with alcohol and exhaustion. He just wanted to go home and crawl into bed, thinking of a certain someone. He hoped she was ok after her run-in with Rodney. It sounded ghastly. Perhaps she would confide in him at lunch?

  “‘Alliance’ makes it sound so – so formal, as if there is a common enemy to face.” The Deputy produced a smooth smile. Tristan blinked and held his breath, trying to stay focussed on Colin’s brewing plot. Colin stood and stalked the perimeter of his office. “I would like to think of it more as a joining of talents, nothing official, just colleagues keeping an eye on the situation, keeping our ears to the ground.”

  Tristan raised a lazy eyebrow. His second double whisky had now found its way to his stomach and he felt strangely queasy. “Right. So, you’re gathering evidence for a new leadership bid, then?”

  Colin feigned shock. His hand drifted casually along the edge of his desk until it reached the drawer. He turned the lock and pulled out the key. Tristan’s vision blurred slightly.

  “Leadership? Oh, well, I wouldn’t go quite that far, Tristan. Not yet, anyway. I couldn’t do anything alone, and I would hate the Party to think that I hadn’t given Rodney a fair crack of the new Chief’s whip.”

  Tristan flushed.

  “Have you any...leadership ambition yourself?” Colin mused, almost mumbling the words. Tristan opened his mouth, frowned, then shut it again. “I mean, it wouldn’t be unreasonable, an intelligent, experienced man like yourself. All that time spent in the City, making nice amounts of cash, then you come into Parliament, taking a pay cut, thrust into the public eye, just to get treated like – well – like shit, I suppose, by Richmond.”

  Tristan felt his face burning up. Whatever Colin was trying to do, it was working. His mouth was dry and he needed a drink. A cool one, without a single trace of alcohol.

  “I don’t know, from what I see Rodney still seems pretty popular, even if what you suggest about his mental state is true. Leadership isn’t really something I’ve given much thought to, I’m not sure if it’s me. I really want that space on Public Accounts...”

  “Oh Tristan, that’s not ambition!” Colin suddenly spat.

  Tristan blinked at the interruption, his eyes coming back into focus. Who was Colin Scott to tell him what ambition is?

  Colin’s face relaxed again, and he drew breath. Tristan looked at him closely, noting that he appeared to be counting, his eyes closed for a brief moment. He then looked at his watch. The Deputy seemed surprised at the lateness of the hour, and began to draw the drinking session to a close. Tristan noticed Colin hadn’t touched a drop of his own whisky.

  “Look, I love this party, as I am sure you do too.” Colin said. He leant across the back of his chair and looked Tristan straight in the eye. “I don’t want to see history repeating itself at the next election. I think Richmond has done more harm to himself than he realises by making an enemy out of you. We could work together on this, Tristan. Just – just think about it.” He walked round and patted Tristan on the shoulder, eyeing the door. The former Shadow Cabinet colleague was about to overstay his welcome and Colin seemed suddenly keen to be doing something else. Heaving himself out of the chair, Tristan felt instantly light headed. He nodded at Colin, but found it difficult to talk.

  “Ok, I’ll think about it. But I doubt we could get enough support for a leadership challenge, though.” He garbled.

  “Leave all that to me.” Colin said flatly. With a jolt he opened the door, but grabbed Tristan by the arm before he could leave. “Just don’t leave me waiting for long. I need an answer, and soon. I would hate things to get a little...awkward between us. No guts, no glory, as they say.” Another pat on the back, and Tristan found himself outside Colin’s office, Colin now half way down the corridor and heading towards the lift. Tristan thought about following him, but his heart suddenly began to race as an unsettling warmth spread under his tongue. Finding the nearest toilet was suddenly an urgent priority and he ran across the corridor and into the men’s, reaching his target just in time.

  He felt better, once it was out of his system. As he flushed and slumped down the wall, he vowed never to touch whisky again. Unable to think straight, Tristan leant his head on his knees, taking deep gasps of stagnant air. No guts, no glory. Colin was a man difficult to say no to, and now he was terrified he had committed himself to a course of action he genuinely did not wish, or think, he could pursue. Aware he was on the cusp on unconsciousness, Tristan knew he would have to get himself home somehow. With a further deep breath, he hoisted himself off the floor. Sleep, when it finally came, would be most welcome.

  *****

  This wasn’t going as he had planned. Colin had hoped Rivers would leap at the chance of trying to get his revenge on that jumped-up journalist, but he could see now that the guy was going to prove a problem. He was a little concerned that he would have to resort to Plan B, and that – he knew – could get very nasty indeed. No, he had to try to stick to Plan A at all costs for maximum impact. Colin had been so nice for so long that evening it had made his head hurt, but as he drove the short distance through Holborn towards the familiar destination, his stress began to ease. He parked around the corner so to be inconspicuous. Snatching up the bunch of roses from the passenger seat, he straightened his tie
in the wing mirror. With a quick scout of the quiet street, he walked quickly to the door and pressed the doorbell. Colin felt mildly twitchy when no answer came. After two minutes and no answer, he began to wonder. Where was she? The sound of a cab rattling down the street reached his ears and he ran back around the corner, keeping watch from a distance. He heard a voice, laughing, as a young woman climbed out of the cab in heels and a short black skirt. Moments later it zoomed off, turning sharply at the end of the road, then vanished into the darkness.

  Colin continued to watch as the woman stumbled up the stairs to her front door. She had to be out of sight before he could approach. A photograph of the two of them together, perhaps taken subtly on a mobile phone by anyone passing who may recognise him, and he might find himself gracing that Patrick Hornby’s offensive blog. That would never do.

  With more nervousness than before, Colin rang the doorbell again. He had been outside for far too long and his paranoia was setting in. Finally, the woman buzzed him up.

  “What, you went out? Like that? For God’s sake, Kathryn, you’ll draw attention to yourself!”

  The young woman rolled her eyes, trying to arrange the roses in a large mug of water. “I love the flowers, sweetie, but I’m a student, I’ve told you before that I don’t have vases.” She spun round and pecked Colin on the cheek. “But thank you anyway, it’s very romantic.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said?” Colin was exasperated and jealous - jealous that his secret was flaunting herself around London in the smallest items of clothing she could find, young male students eyeing her beautiful figure.

  “Oh Colin, don’t be silly!” The girl scalded, grinning. She propped the roses against a cupboard. “I’m allowed out once in a while, you know! I hate it when you chide me like a child. And you can’t tell me how to dress, you’re not my bloody dad!”