Party Games

by E J Greenway

  “You won’t get away with talking to me like I’m not your superior!” Fryer clenched his fists.

  Tristan shrugged, screwing up his lips. “What you going to do? Run crying to Bronwyn? I bet she hates you, she’s only made you her deputy so she can keep an eye on you, and I bet she’s doing just that, isn’t she David? Eh?”

  Fryer didn’t reply, too furious to even spit out a word of malice.

  “Now piss off and crawl back under the rock you came from! Colin and I have business!”

  Colin’s eyebrows flew up as he wondered why Tristan hadn’t dealt with him in such a way when his boss. He could almost hear the man’s teeth clashing together as he stormed towards the office door, flinging it open then stepping out into the corridor. He tried to slam it hard behind him but it caught on the carpet and all he managed was a pathetic click. Colin stifled a laugh, noting Fryer had forgotten his coat and wondered whether Tristan secretly hoped the bastard froze to death on his way home.

  “I think you’ve just upset my campaign mastermind.” The Deputy Leader said acerbically, waving at Tristan to sit. “Anyway, you wished to discuss something? It’s good timing, actually, things are moving quickly. More wine?”

  *****

  Anthea had given up waiting for Tristan. He wasn’t going to turn up, that much was obvious, so after a late-night scan of her e-mails she climbed into bed. The next day was to be another full one and it was probably a blessing that Tristan wasn’t distracting her from her sleep, she had to look her best. She had agreed to do a feature for one of the women’s Sunday newspaper magazines; a glossy effort with full length posed photos and a ‘lifestyle’ interview, although it wasn’t just going to be her but also Bronwyn and Heidi Talbot. She had nearly declined, but thought it would just seem petty.

  Worries about the Bill, the next day’s Bulletin revelations and lurid thoughts of Rodney with Rosie played on her mind more than she thought they might. Everything always seemed worse in the lonely darkness of the bedroom but she couldn’t help the tears which pooled in her eyes and ran silently onto her pillow. She sent one final text message, then drifted into sleep.

  *****

  Colin couldn’t have been more correct. Tristan felt invincible after standing up to his nemesis, like he had discovered a super-power he hadn’t known he possessed. Nothing could destroy that feeling of euphoria, not even Colin Scott.

  “I won’t beat about the bush here,” Tristan began. He breathed deeply. “But I’ve come to a decision.”

  Colin’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh? I wasn’t aware you had one to make.”

  “Yes, I….I don’t want to cause trouble for Richmond, I’ve changed my mind.”

  Looking him straight in the eye, Colin drew breath and snarled. “You’ve changed your mind? You don’t get to change your mind, Rivers!”

  Tristan felt his blood run cold. He knew his colleague wouldn’t take it that well but thought his reaction a little dramatic. “Richmond’s still popular, I’d never win, be realistic.”

  “Be realistic?” Colin spat indignantly, pacing the carpet. “I’ll tell you what’s realistic, losing the next election with even worse results than last time, finding ourselves in political oblivion for years to come, that’s being realistic! The Jeffers legacy hangs around our party like the stench of a rotting corpse and Richmond’s far too up our glorious former PM’s arse to notice! Yes he says he wants to turn us around, make us electable again, but when it comes down to it he’s nothing more than a caretaker leader who looks good!”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, and your speech tonight was….admirable, but I’ve spoken to Bronwyn and I should be on the Public Accounts Committee within the week.” Tristan sighed, trying to keep his voice low and calm. He just couldn’t bring himself to agree with Colin’s damning analysis of Richmond. Colin, meanwhile, was rubbing his forehead firmly with the tips of his fingers in obvious frustration.

  “Don’t you understand? You have to contest the leadership!” He snapped angrily.

  “I’ve made up my mind, Colin, you’ll have to do it yourself! And I never, ever suggested to you that I would challenge Richmond!” Tristan surprised himself with his own forthright attitude but from the look of sheer fury on Colin’s face he hadn’t won the argument quite yet. “I’m not going to do your dirty work for you, if you want to take on Richmond I can’t be part of it, I’ve got too much to lose.”

  Tristan rose from his seat, suppressing his intoxication, but before he could move away Colin leapt up and took him by the shoulders, forcing him back down into the chair.

  “LISTEN!” Colin stared into Tristan’s wide eyes, his voice threatening. “I will tell my supporters to back you; once they know you’re going to wield the knife, start the ball rolling, plenty of them will want me to run too. I’ll say that, despite the Bulletin interview, I’m biding my time, so if they want to show support for me they should vote for you in an initial ballot. Yes there are Richmond loyalists but as you know there are many ‘waverers’, and I suspect their vote will be split because they won’t consider you a worthy enough candidate. I don’t expect you to win the majority vote of the Parliamentary Party, let alone get the 15% clear majority to force Richmond out, but with my calculations you could cause enough damage, with my private assistance, to weaken Richmond substantially enough to cause a second ballot. I will publicly abstain in the first ballot, but behind the scenes, well, I can be a powerful ally.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?” Tristan’s breathing had become slightly laboured and he was suddenly grateful he was sitting down. His phone was vibrating in his pocket and he guessed it was Anthea, but he didn’t react. “What’s the point of me going on to a second ballot if I know I’m not going to win? I’m not about to be used in some game of yours, when there appears to be bugger all in it for me!”

  Scott’s weight bearing down on Tristan’s shoulders lightened as he patted him on the arm and spoke coolly. “You’re more perceptive than I gave you credit, but there’s no question of you going on to a second ballot.”

  “Then the whole thing is bloody pointless from my point of view. I can see what your plan is, and I say again, I want no part of it.” Tristan looked into his colleague’s eyes and saw fury and determination. “Why do you hate Rodney quite so much? I don’t get it.” Instantly Tristan saw he had hit a nerve. Colin’s jaw set, as if trying hard to think of the words, but instead he moved away from Tristan and stalked over to the window.

  “There will be a second ballot.” Colin said quietly. “But you will have nothing whatsoever to do with it. I will enter the race and you will concede defeat; you have done what you intended, opened up the competition, begun the debate on the taboo subject of Richmond’s failing leadership, and now you are standing aside for more worthy candidates. Well, one worthy candidate. Me.”

  Tristan sniffed out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s pure insanity. I’m going to be on the PAC, all I want is...”

  “Oh, listen to yourself!” Colin retorted scornfully, spinning around and looking at Tristan with an air of pity. “No wonder you were so weak as Chief! I will have to come to the rescue of a party crying out for strong leadership. I want to be seen as the unifier, not the opportunist. I’ll reward you with a decent post – Shadow Foreign Secretary, perhaps?”

  “You’re bloody delusional, you really are, Colin! What if another person declares in a second ballot? Steven Sharkey?”

  Scott shook his head. “No, no he won’t. He’ll either stay loyal to Richmond, or, well...let’s just say I haven’t lost all hope of a deal.”

  What complete bullshit. Tristan wished he was anywhere but sat in Colin Scott’s office at nearly midnight.

  “It’s a huge risk for me, I can’t do it, no matter what empty promises you make! Yes I was furious with Richmond at first, of course I was, but on great reflection he probably did me a massive favour. I hope to be sitting around the Cabinet table one day, of course, but a Richmond-led Cabinet. I’m sor
ry Colin, I have different priorities now.” Tristan thought he’d put his point across succinctly so made a weary move from the chair. There was nothing Colin could say or do to make him change his mind; he didn’t believe him and he didn’t trust him. He was going straight.

  “Is one of your priorities Anthea Culverhouse?”

  Tristan froze. Colin’s words had been said so calmly, but it was if dynamite had been strapped to Tristan’s heart and detonated. His throat was dry but he managed to speak. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Oh I think you do.” Colin smiled furtively, stepping towards him. “What is it about her, hey, Tristan? Is it the fact the Leader’s got the hots for her that makes her such a lovely challenge or is she just a minx in bed?”

  “Like I say, I don’t know what you mean!” Tristan repeated forcefully. Colin sickened him as he surveyed him through cold, unfeeling eyes.

  “By the elevation of your voice and your rather animated body language I suspect you may be fibbing just a teensy, weensy bit. Oh, and these are possibly another hint too. Just a selection for you to browse, I’ve plenty more.” Fishing into his breast pocket, as Tristan looked on astounded, Colin pulled out an envelope and roughly pulled out the contents. He thrust each damning photograph under Tristan’s nose. “Now are you beginning to rethink your answer to my offer?”

  Colin’s voice was dripping with triumphant sarcasm but Tristan barely noticed. He stared hard at the photographs as the sickness in his stomach worsened. Where the hell he had got hold of such intrusive pictures Tristan had no idea, or why anybody had taken them in the first place, but he wasn’t going to be bullied.

  “Of course I’m not reconsidering! Go ahead and tell everyone if you like, you’ll be hated for it! It won’t damage me but it will sure as hell damage you!”

  “You’re right, the pictures on their own don’t mean much. It’s everything else – your wife and the fact you’re still married, what you did, your lies.” Colin scoffed.

  Tristan hung his head, his mind blank. He simply couldn’t think fast enough to win.

  “And what d’you think Rodney would say, knowing you’ve been screwing his precious Anthea?” Colin continued with glee. “Somehow I think Chairman of the Public Accounts Committee would suddenly be a long, long way off for you. If you don’t stand then the Bulletin will publish the lot, once I hand it all over. I won’t lose out because if you don’t agree to stand then you’re useless to me anyway. You can’t prove it was me.”

  “So it was you; you were behind Fergus McDermott’s call to me the other night, asking all those questions about Martin Arnold and what I did or didn’t know?” But Tristan’s assumption caused a shadow of doubt to flicker across the deputy’s flushed face. It was then Tristan realised Colin might not have been in as much control of the situation as he made out, but that one crumb of hope wasn’t enough to suppress the desperate worry.

  “I don’t understand why you would want to ruin me, you don’t have any sort of axe to grind with me!” Tristan demanded.

  Colin rolled his eyes, snatching back the photographs. “One thing I really hate in a man is self-obsession, Tristan. It’s not about you, it’s about me and destroying Richmond. You and your stupidity is just a means to an end, and one way or another you’re going to challenge Richmond and I’ll clear up the mess.”

  “There are privacy laws to stop anyone from printing those pictures!” Tristan found the resolve to stand and jabbed his finger close to Colin’s chest. “You wouldn’t bloody dare, I know you wouldn’t! I’ll gag it if I have to!”

  “You two were predictable from the start and it’s in the public interest, naturally. I can’t believe you don’t want to oust Richmond without me having to resort to blackmail, and you don’t have nearly that kind of money for a gagging order – didn’t you gamble it all away?” Colin snorted malevolently. “I mean, surely you should hate Richmond, he’s a rival for Anthea’s affections for a start.”

  “Don’t mention her! She’s not to be brought into this, over my dead body, Colin!” Tristan growled, his blue eyes ablaze.

  “How chivalrous of you, protecting her from your own failings and lies.” Colin leant back against his desk, a mocking smile playing about his mouth as Tristan’s face drained of colour. “But the longer you continue to see her, the more dragged into it she’ll become. Before long she’ll know the truth about you, because I doubt you’ve told her, have you?”

  “Would you really go to the papers with this?” Tristan’s hard stare turned pleading in a desperate attempt to appeal to the small bit of humanity he hoped Colin could find, tucked away in the recesses of his mind. “Anthea’s innocent in all of this, she doesn’t deserve to find out like that and she’s incredibly loyal to Richmond.”

  For a moment he wondered whether the message had got through. Colin lowered his eyes and Tristan waited.

  “I am most disappointed that you are being so difficult to persuade.” Colin said darkly, thumbing the photographs. “I really don’t want to have to contact the Bulletin....”

  “Would you guarantee Anthea wouldn’t be involved, both during and after my leadership bid?” Tristan asked, his heart heavy. But he now knew what he had to do, and the despondency gnawed away at him.

  Colin fixed his gaze on the other man, a hollow smile betraying a spark of genuine excitement in his eyes.

  “I give you my word.”

  *****

  Her intercom beeped. Tristan. She flicked on the light, checking the time. It was nearly 1am and her heart was racing; she hoped to God that it was him. She was thankfully right, a surprisingly weary voice asking to be let up. Hurriedly she checked her hair and changed her baggy pyjamas for a short satin nightdress in record time.

  He was still in his suit when she opened the door, looking physically and emotionally drained. “Tristan, are you alright? You look terrible, and you stink of smoke. Do you really smoke? I called and left a message.”

  Anthea looked startled at the strange expression on Tristan’s face; he was staring at her intently but it was as if his mind wasn’t completely there, in her hallway.

  “Take me to bed.” He said in quiet urgency. “I’m sorry it’s so late, but I need you. More than you could ever know.”

  Anthea took him by the hand and pulled him beyond the door. Something awful must have happened. “But wouldn’t you rather talk?”

  “Anthea, please. No talking; not now, not yet.” Tristan cupped her face and it struck her that he was staring at her just as Rodney had done earlier that day. “Except – are you falling in love with me?”

  Of course I am, she was desperate to utter, but taken by surprise, and unsure how it would sound, she settled for kissing him tenderly on the lips, as if it were their first time all over again.

  Twelve

  Tuesday

  The Party Chairman had read through as many newspapers as he could in between a breakfast meeting and his hurriedly scheduled audience with the Party Leader, but by the time he had tossed the last broadsheet onto the pile he faced the rest of the day with a heavy heart. Jeremy thought perhaps he should pray yet again, but considered God may be losing His patience.

  He desperately didn’t wish his short-notice request to see Rodney to be viewed as an ‘emergency’ meeting, but in essence that was just what it was. Yet he had no idea what to say to a man who would have woken up to more lurid headlines about his private life, let alone tell him the rumours which had been flying around and about his disastrous unfinished tennis match with Colin.

  Jeremy approached the Leader of the Opposition suite with caution in his step and was fortunate to pass a painting with a glass frame. He caught sight of himself and gasped – cornflakes had appeared on the breast of his jacket from George’s little ‘accident’ with his cereal bowl that morning. Cursing, he brushed off the crumbs and dried milk as best he could, but the more he rubbed the worse it became until he was left with a scummy, slightly dubious-looking mark. With a sigh he resolved to
either hurry home to change or quickly find a cause to support.

  He was just in time to catch Rodney’s senior advisors filing out of the office suite looking remarkably glum and harassed to death, chattering in low voices. It was obvious that their boss had been having strong words during their morning meeting and Deborah’s expression told him that he had better tread carefully, but as she saw the Chairman she produced a welcoming smile. One might have even thought it was a smile of relief; Jeremy was the rock of stability in the party when things weren’t going too well, although by Jeremy’s reckoning this had to be the darkest day of Rodney’s leadership yet and it was only 10.55 am.

  “He’s not great, Jeremy.” Deborah muttered, taking him aside as the other senior staff greeted him before filing down the stairs. “The Bulletin’s certainly excelled itself today; that shit McDermott really is a self-serving bastard.”

  Jeremy nodded, watching Clare as she bustled past, her mobile pressed between her shoulder and chin and more newspapers in her awkward grasp than she could possibly hope to carry successfully.

  “You will have seen that the speech didn’t get the press coverage we’d have liked.” Deborah continued, her voice tired. Jeremy liked his own staff to work hard, but he knew Rodney’s work ethic and Deborah looked as if she had been up all night. “Chris has even suggested resigning as speech writer, but I told him not to be so ridiculous, it wasn’t his fault. The speech was perfect, the setting was perfect, it’s just these bloody Lambert women, and now today’s stuff has put everyone in a foul mood. Rodney’s wavering, thinks he’s finished if he can’t ride it out. He’s never talked like this before. It’s never-ending shit hitting the fan at the moment and I don’t think we’ve ever seen him so…despondent.”