Party Games

by E J Greenway

  “He’ll come through, it’s just a bad patch. None of it is politically lethal, I’m hoping Colin will see sense and pull back.” Jeremy said reassuringly. He could usually think of something positive to say about every situation, his job called for it, but even his interminable buoyancy couldn’t carry him through this one. They could hear Rodney’s muffled yells from behind two thick wooden doors and Deborah winced.

  “Geoffrey Dickenson.” She said simply. “He insisted on speaking to him himself, wanted a good bollocking to carry more authority than any of us getting on to the higher echelons of the Bulletin. We tried to tell him it wouldn’t do any good but he’s in one of those moods.”

  ‘One of those moods’ was a phrase used with a nod and a wink; he wasn’t listening, went against advice and ended up wallowing in a sulk until Jeremy, Robert or Anthea could shake him out of it. The Party Chairman grimaced and ventured into the lion’s den, mouthing “morning” to Rodney’s PA Valerie who was trying to do ten things at once but as ever looked calm and collected about it.

  “You can go in. He shouldn’t be long.” She whispered, smiling.

  “I would appreciate it, Geoffrey, if you would actually tell my office what you were intending to print so we could at least…no, that’s not what I’m saying...Goddamnit…I didn’t think …look I’m Leader of the bloody Opposition so I think your journalists could grace my Press Secretary with a phone call for my side of the effing story, don’t you think?” Rodney ushered Jeremy into the office as he stood behind his desk looking enraged. “Half of what she’s said is complete crap...no you can’t quote me on it…it’s a shame our working relationship had to come to this, Geoffrey, it’s a cheap trick on your part! No I’m not commenting on that, maybe you should concentrate on some real news rather than something I may or may not have done years ago!” With that Rodney slammed down the phone on his former boss. “Son of a bitch!” He growled, but shook his head apologetically as Jeremy’s eyebrows flew up. “I’m sorry, pardon my language, but he was bloody well gloating! And his filthy rag isn’t the only one to dump on me this morning!”

  It occurred to Jeremy that it was the same ‘filthy rag’ for which Rodney worked so diligently once upon a time but thought it best not to comment.

  “Yes I know, I saw all of them earlier.” Jeremy said, clearing his throat. It was incredibly difficult not to mention Rosie and the fresh allegations. If his boss had asked him his opinion on his misdemeanours he might have been forced to be honest. Only weeks after his second passionate liaison with Rosie had Rodney struck up a relationship with her daughter but Jeremy daren’t ask if that had been at all…weird for him.

  Throwing himself back into his chair Rodney tossed a copy of the Engager in the Chairman’s direction. “Not surprisingly the Engager is the only one to stay quiet, although as you can see from “My love for Laura” Rosie’s still quite happy to keep splashing Martin Arnold all over her front page to try to compensate. If the others aren’t accusing me of misjudgement they’re reporting anything except my speech – oh apart from our faithful friend the Bulletin which has an editorial making Friday look like undying loyalty!”

  “I’ve said it before, as has Robert, you shouldn’t engross yourself in the papers, you can drive yourself mad if you read everything they print about you.” Jeremy kept his voice low. Ears were everywhere.

  “And if I don’t then I’m accused of being ‘out of touch’!” Rodney snorted, casting his eye over the Bulletin’s report: ‘How randy Rodney likes to keep it in the family’. The following pages were dedicated to Anthea and Jenny’s brutal assessment of her friendship with Rodney: ‘The rumours about Rodney and Anthea aren’t true: but he IS in love with her’. Jeremy had read through the article and couldn’t help but understand Jenny’s feelings towards Anthea. She was, indeed, quite correct, but there was little to be gained by dragging it all up and criticising. Rodney had been in the right and had remained professional about it, whereas Jenny had behaved appallingly.

  Rodney slumped in despondency, smoothening down his dark purple tie and closing his eyes. “I’ve got a crime initiative launch with Steven, and to cancel that really would look like a crisis. Anyway, what have you heard about Colin’s get-together? And how was tennis yesterday?”

  Jeremy had heard far more about Colin’s drinks party than he felt comfortable with, but he owed it to Rodney to be truthful. He sat down, brushing his loose blond curls off his forehead as Rodney’s line of vision trailed to the stain on his jacket. “I spoke to Robert this morning; he had words with a few colleagues who were there last night, although he’s hoping to get more information from tea room gossip later.”

  Jeremy knew Rodney was aware he was stalling, keeping the bad news at bay. The Leader’s eyebrows knotted together in a worried frown as Jeremy told him about the tennis match, about how he stormed out after calling his old university friend a ‘narcissistic bastard’. Rodney listened, nodding, his fingertips rubbing his eyebrows.

  “Colin’s busying himself with a merry band of followers and last night he was very much flaunting his views, I’m afraid. It’s the same old story, but he’s getting louder and louder.”

  “On Cornwall?”

  “Err, well, everything, really. Cornwall, Europe, taxation.”

  “If he thinks he’s going to undermine me I won’t stand for it, it’s time he got over himself.”

  “But that’s not all Robert told me, he’s had his eye on Tristan lately. He was at the drinks too, but he didn’t leave with everyone else. He was in Colin’s office for about half an hour, somebody – I don’t know who – saw him leave.”

  “I knew Tristan would be involved in this somewhere.” Rodney said darkly. “He wouldn’t say boo to a bloody goose while he was Chief but now he’s loose he’s running wild.”

  “I’m not convinced Tristan isn’t being used. Colin can be extremely manipulative.” Jeremy offered thoughtfully, but Rodney’s look didn’t change. “Tristan’s just the sort of disaffected backbencher he would need to spread his word.”

  There were voices from the adjoining office, one of them distinctly Deborah’s.

  “Debs agrees we should carry on as normal, be wary of over-reaction.” Rodney said, nodding towards the door.

  “It may even improve your ratings rather than put people off.” Jeremy offered. “We’re hoping that a new poll out soon will clarify that.”

  “Tell it to me straight, though, Jeremy, what are my chances of survival if Colin challenges me?” Rodney winced as he spoke and Jeremy felt aggrieved on his friend’s behalf. He had done nothing to warrant such awful treatment.

  “Your chances couldn’t be better, Colin’s not got a snowball’s chance in hell, his support consists of a handful of malcontents. The ones who voted for him last time, basically.”

  “And Tristan.” Rodney added ruefully.

  “Possibly. Colin looks likely to walk out of Shadow Cabinet if you don’t sack him first. But he won’t win.”

  “I really wish I could be as sure as you.” Rodney hauled himself from behind his desk and wandered over to the large table in the corner of the room. He began furiously signing letters, left prominently by Valerie. A couple of House of Commons champagne bottles, bought by some colleagues for their local fundraisers, were also left for him to scrawl a legible ‘Rodney Richmond’ across their labels. “Our poll ratings are still down and we’re far enough away from a General Election for him to make a good go at leading the party if he was able to force me out. And now, with scandal dictating the news ever since it came out about Martin, it is his first real opportunity to try.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “All leaders go through rough patches, Rodney, it doesn’t give anyone the right to challenge you just because you have a couple of days of discomfort. You’ve got the Prime Minister by the balls over Cornish devolution, you’ll turn this round, soon your private life will be forgotten.”

  The Leader slammed down his pen and leant on the table, hanging his head
.

  “It’s not just discomfort, though, is it? It’s my integrity which has been called into question and the Bulletin portrays me as a man who rants and raves about his colleagues then sleeps around when I’ve only been with two women in nearly ten years! Actually, make that three. I think.” Rodney frowned, pondering the numbers.

  Jeremy raised an eyebrow at Rodney’s frankness. “I’m sure Deborah’s right. I don’t mean you should be dismissive, just don’t be a victim to Dickenson, or to Colin Scott.”

  “I don’t think people realise what an uphill struggle leadership can be, asserting myself in people’s minds as a future Prime Minister. It doesn’t help that the party still thinks it’s in government.” He walked back and placed a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and smiled weakly. “I’m just so glad I’ve got true friends to support me. I don’t thank you enough for everything you do.”

  Jeremy doubted he would be thanking him in a moment. It was time for him to bring up the other, even more sensitive issue which had been playing on his mind. He had thought long and hard whether to tell him the rumour, but he needed to hear it from someone he could trust rather than reading it in the papers. How Rodney would take it, he wasn’t sure, especially in his current state of mind.

  “Listen, Rodney, Robert also says…I wouldn’t mention it if I didn’t think you should know…he also says Tristan’s been spotted being rather cosy with Anthea since he went. He’s often seen chatting with her and people are beginning to say things. They’re no longer talking about you and her, but her and Tristan. You know how shrewd Robert is, he picks things up from one end of the tea room to the other.”

  “It’s not true, of course.” Rodney said dismissively. “Bloody Rivers, he’s probably spreading that rumour himself, only in his wildest dreams would she have anything to do with him. She’s way out of his league.”

  The Party Chairman was amazed he could be so sure, but then again it might be natural for him to slip into denial.

  “They left the Savoy together after the patron’s dinner.” Jeremy said.

  “For God’s sake Jeremy, it’s a bloody lie, pedalled by Rivers himself!”

  Jeremy recoiled slightly at the outburst. Deborah had been right, he was being quite impossible. “Why would he do that? To get at you, perhaps? Surely he would have no other motive.”

  Rodney fell silent, his jaw set. Jeremy felt it best to return to the issue of Colin.

  “You’re going to have to do something about the plotters sooner rather than later. I suggest Bronwyn begins asking questions, having calming one-to-ones with the prime suspects. It’ll certainly be a test of her mettle, especially as David Fryer was also there, the idiot.”

  “I want you to deal with Tristan.” Rodney instructed tersely, ignoring the incredulous look on his friend’s face. “I don’t mean go in there, all guns blazing, I want you to use your subtlety. Take him out for a few drinks, relax him, become his best friend, get him to open up. You did well with Fisher no matter what Anthea says; if anybody can get information out of Tristan it’s you. If Bronwyn tries he’ll either deny it or not reveal a thing. As for Fryer, well, that’s Bronwyn’s domain. David may be good at his job but he’s not indispensable. No Deputy Chief Whip of mine is going to go round making a fool out of me.”

  It was obvious to Jeremy that he didn’t just mean to tease out the truth about Colin. From the determined look in Rodney’s eyes his instructions to his Chairman were unambiguous: Get Tristan drunk, find out about Colin, find out about Anthea. If he confessed to at least one of the crimes of which he stood accused then he would be hung out to dry.

  “What about Colin?”

  Rodney pulled on his suit jacket and fixed his collar. “We’ll see what he does next. I’ll speak to Robert myself. There’s no point fanning the flames at this stage now is there?” He combed his hair in the office mirror, making sure not a strand was out of place and his tie was perfectly straight. All it would take would be one camera to snap a picture of him with his tie askew and he would have officially ‘let himself go’.

  “I can see your point, but as I say, sooner rather than later, Rodney.” Jeremy said in exasperation. “If you’re wanting to wait until after the Cornish vote, it may be too late.”

  Jeremy leant his tall, lean frame against the door and felt his head beginning to throb. Combining Party Chairman with young family life was beginning to take its toll and his characteristic enthusiasm just hadn’t got up with him that morning. He tried to meet Rodney’s stare as the Leader finished grooming himself, but Rodney’s need for perfection meant he couldn’t help but look again at the stain on Jeremy’s jacket.

  “I really, strongly advise you pull Colin up for this now, otherwise it’ll only escalate.” Jeremy urged. “I’m sure Bronwyn would agree with me.”

  “Now that would ensure a leadership crisis.” Rodney retorted bluntly, scooping up a briefing document as Jeremy stepped out the way of the door. “Letting him know that I’m worried, giving him the upper hand. No, we’ll wait. He won’t try anything until after the vote. After that, if he wants a fight, then he’s got one.”

  Jeremy couldn’t help admire his friend’s resilience but he knew that Colin Scott could play dirty – very dirty – and for all Rodney’s political instinct and brute determination he had a terrible gut feeling that somehow that the man who would seek to challenge him was already one step ahead.

  *****

  The rumours about Rodney and Anthea aren’t true: but he IS in love with her’

  She stared at the headline, in succinct bold type, a few good minutes longer than the last time. It didn’t get any easier; it didn’t make any more sense. But there is was, for all the world to see, as if Jenny’s opinion was the only one to matter.

  Anthea had stopped taking calls from journalists hours ago, leaving her press officer to do what she did best. That just so happened to be wining and dining journalists rather than writing a decent press release, but today she was certainly worth her weight in gold as she kept the media intrusion at bay. “Miss Culverhouse has no comment to make; Jenny Lambert is entitled to her opinion.”

  She had read the lead story about Rodney’s affair – if one could call it that –but couldn’t face the details. It was Jenny’s one-sided and bitter view of her failed relationship with Rodney, and his alleged feelings, which kept Anthea reading over and over until she was sure she could recite the whole thing. It wasn’t necessarily the Rodney she knew, although Jenny was right when she said he could have dark, brooding moods, sometimes for days; part of his personality that Jenny just couldn’t cope with. Anthea, on the other hand, knew how to handle him – or she used to.

  Flipping the newspaper shut, Anthea then told her PA she didn’t wish to be disturbed so she and her team could thrash out a draft speech for the Cornish vote. She needed to take her mind off things, and it worked, for a few hours at least. The Labour rebels were gathering pace, the Secretary of State was openly furious and civil war within the Labour Party seemed inevitable. Fantastic news for Anthea and her team, but that meant being prepared.

  Jack Fisher had been more obliging and conciliatory than Anthea could have hoped for during their initial telephone call, buoying her mood significantly, and it very much seemed that a deal over the vote, including a Richmond-sponsored Motion calling for a referendum was very much on the cards. Anthea’s team would hope to seal such a deal within the next day, placing her firmly back in charge of the policy.

  Having done a decent morning’s work, Anthea was ready for lunch and a catch-up with her friend Linda Cheeser. Exactly what she would confide in her she wasn’t sure, she was very much aware of Linda’s delicate political position. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Linda, far from it, she was discreet and understood sensitivities, but she was married to the Party Chairman and it would be understandably unnatural for her to keep secrets from him. On the other hand, she desperately needed someone from whom to seek advice. David Fryer was spreading all kinds about Trista
n and her concern was growing.

  But by the time she had arrived at the Cheeser’s welcoming London home, littered with Lego and toy cars, the smell of washing powder and coffee drifting under her nose, she had begun to relax.

  “It’s been too long! God, we haven’t gossiped for months!” Linda smiled, kissing Anthea’s cheek. Anthea returned the greeting enthusiastically, hugging her friend as best she could with a large bump in the way.

  “Look at you! You look great.” Anthea said. “Can’t be much longer now.”

  Linda rolled her eyes but laughed. “No, only a few months. I can’t believe how quickly the time’s going. If I’ve not been visiting the doctor I’ve been being the doctor, then there’s George! I’m just so thankful for Charlotte, the new nanny! Anyway, come through, I’m so glad we decided to lunch here instead of the public show that would be the Village. Now we can have a decent chat away from prying eyes, and you can tell me everything. I’ve been out the loop for months and months, Jeremy tells me only some things, but that’s men for you.”

  It wasn’t until after a lunch of smoked salmon blinis and bruschetta that Linda sat Anthea down with a cappuccino and a large slice of cake and asked her the inevitable.

  “We’ve been talking about everyone else up to now, but not you. How are you? I’ve seen the Bulletin today, and I hope to God you’re ignoring it.” Linda said sourly.

  This wasn’t particularly an invitation for Anthea to discuss the fact her workload was huge, or that she was stressed about impending vote. She sipped her sweet coffee slowly. Anthea hadn’t even told her friend about Ben, but already that seemed a distant memory. Although she and Tristan were the subject of rumour, the words were to be spoken for the first time straight from her own mouth. Sighing, Anthea told Linda everything. She may have been the Chairman’s wife, but she felt she had nobody else to turn to.