by E J Greenway
“Tristan Rivers?” Linda exclaimed, her hand shooting over her mouth. “Really? I had no idea he was still single, but wow Anthea. I hope I should be pleased for you, if you want me to be?”
A sheepish smile crept across Anthea’s lips. “Yes, I think I do. We get on really well, I haven’t felt this way about anyone for a long, long time.”
“How long’s it been going on?” Linda asked, her eyes wide with a need for answers.
“Since he resigned.” Anthea said. “Early days, so we want to keep it quiet. You’re the first person to find out. To everyone else it’s unsubstantiated rumour thanks to David Fryer. Still, makes a change from Rodney and me, I suppose.”
“Not long, then! You just taking it slow with him?” Linda gave her a knowing glance.
Anthea looked shocked. “Linda! How nosey of you!”
“Oh, you have! You dark horse, Anthea Culverhouse! I’ve only ever met him a few times; he is quite dashing, if a little short for my taste. I’ve a thing for tall men, as you will have noticed. What a whirlwind romance, though. It took me ages to even bother noticing Jeremy, let alone anything else!”
“Tristan’s so exciting and so enigmatic, but that’s the thing, really. There’s a fly in the ointment.” Anthea shook her head. She was going out of her mind and all the colleagues she trusted the most were Richmond loyalists. Linda was the only friend who could possibly understand her predicament, hovering somewhere between being on the inside and the outside of politics. She was a wonderfully objective thinker. “There’s not just one rumour flying round about Tristan, the other is far more…serious. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, if it’s true.”
Linda nodded. “Jeremy mentioned to me something about, well, a disloyal feeling within the party which goes beyond just Colin Scott up to his usual tricks. Although it’s got sod all to do with him, Rodney won’t like you seeing Tristan.” Anthea assumed Linda didn’t wish to venture any further and she decided not to press her friend on what she did or didn’t know. The last thing she wished to do was make Linda choose between loyalty to her husband and loyalty to her friend. She had heard that David Fryer was spending his time chasing members of the Shadow Cabinet to warn them, ‘privately’, about a potential Rivers challenge. It all wreaked of Colin Scott.
Anthea carefully explained the delicacy of her situation.
“D’you think he’s capable of it? Tristan, I mean?” Linda asked.
“No, I don’t think so.” Anthea lowered her eyes to her hands. “I just couldn’t...couldn’t contemplate the consequences.”
*****
Jeremy decided it was best to change his suit; Rodney’s disapproving looks had told him enough. He leapt into the waiting Prius at the Commons, a clutch of policy papers under one arm, his BlackBerry occupying his free hand. He acknowledged his driver, Albert, with a distracted smile, but felt he owed him an apology.
“So sorry about this, I know this was unexpected, but I need to change.” He explained, flipping idly through a document.
“It’s ok by me, ser, that’s what I’m ‘ere for.” Albert said, more than a hint of Liverpudlian to his accent. He pulled the vehicle away with a quiet hum and glanced in the mirror. “You don’t need spectacles, do yer, ser?”
Jeremy cleared his throat, lowering the paper which was a few inches from his nose. “Er, no, the print’s just so small, that’s all.” He said weakly, knowing Albert’s observation was probably correct. His brother and parents had worn glasses for as long as he could remember, so was probably only a matter of time. He sighed heavily.
“Not ‘avin’ a good day? You don’ have to tell me, although I reckon us northerners need to stick together. I just wondered whether you’d heard wha’ I just heard from one of me colleagues? What she saw just happen to Martin Arnold in one of the dinin’ rooms? If you think you’ve had a bad day...he’ll definitely ‘ave to go home to change!” Albert shook his head and a whistle passed through his teeth. “He’s screwed up good an’ proper, that fella.”
Suddenly the documents seemed unimportant. Jeremy shook his head, slackening his seatbelt so he could lean forward. “No, I haven’t heard anything. What happened?”
“Well,” Albert began, obviously relishing the opportunity to gossip. “She’d just been to the Terrace, for a bacon butty like, an’ she was on her way back when she went past the dinin’ room and saw whatsername, Arnold’s wife, emptyin’ a whole bottle ‘a champers all over her hubby’s ‘ead! It went everywhere, all over ‘im, all over the carpet, the walls, and he just stood there apparently, takin’ it!”
Jeremy blinked in disbelief. He had no idea whether to laugh or feel abhorred. “Good grief! Then what happened?”
“Apparently his wife was dead calm abou’ it, like, and he was standin’ there, drenched in champagne, everyone just starin’ at the poor fella. She said to him somethin’ like ‘now yer know what humiliation really feels like’, gave ‘im the empty bottle and walked off!”
Jeremy knew that the story would be all over the blogosphere before he had even arrived home. Sarah Mortimer was obviously not the sort of woman to be trifled with and he wondered what she might do next.
The Chairman’s car eased up to the kerb outside the Cheeser’s three storey town house in South London. He had already received texts from lobby journalists about the latest Arnold ‘development’, but chose to ignore them. He did not feel it his place to comment on what was essentially a domestic, he just wished they did it a little more privately. Still, it was always the children one had to feel most sorry for.
Completely forgetting Linda’s lunch date with Anthea, he walked through the front door as he checked Hornby’s blog for gossip. Immediately Jeremy paused in the doorway, aware of voices. Anthea. He crept along the hallway up to the closed living room door, muttering for forgiveness as he listened up against it.
“If it is true, and Tristan is somehow implicated in any of Colin’s doings,” Linda shifted position on the sofa, resting a packet of biscuits on her bump. “I hate to be blunt with you but I should say it, as a friend, not the Chairman’s wife - do you think it’s wise to be involved with him?”
“But I just don’t think he is implicated. He’s calmed down considerably since last week, he even seems happy, for want of a better word.” Anthea said, determined to hide any doubts.
“But Anthea, you’ll have to think of not just your heart but also your career. Rodney is currently the only route to a Cabinet post, and you need to stick with him.”
Anthea wanted advice but Linda was being harsher than she anticipated. “But I am sticking with him – even after all the Fisher stuff.”
“The worst that could happen is that Tristan contests the leadership, which let’s face it is quite unlikely, but if he did then, well, following your heart is very admirable but you will need to choose between your best friend and leader and the man you have feelings for.” Linda stared at her, then said poignantly, “Unless, of course, that happens to be the same person?”
Anthea swept a hand across her blonde bob nervously. “Oh, don’t you start! I thought I could at least count on you not to turn into Fergus McDermott on me!”
“I’m sorry.” Linda said, but a sympathetic smile crept across her lips. “You know what Rodney’s like, he’ll never tell you himself. Intelligent bloke, PM material definitely, and he’s pretty yummy, not that I’d tell Jeremy I thought that,” Linda winked naughtily.
Behind the door, Jeremy frowned.
“But Rodney really is a total stuffed shirt when he’s not in front of the cameras.” Linda munched into her fourth Digestive. Anthea found it comforting to be with a woman who actually dropped crumbs. “He loves you, Anthea. Even soulless ice-maidens like Jenny Lambert can see it.”
“I love him too, but as a friend. I will remain loyal to Rodney as long as he needs, but my feelings are growing for Tristan. And now with the Cornish vote creeping up, the pressure’s really on. Tristan just makes everything...well, seem right, I su
ppose. I’m not sure I’d be happy without him.” Anthea surprised herself. Realisation washed over her. She was falling in love, and it wasn’t with Rodney Richmond.
“You can’t have it all, Anthea.” Linda said firmly in a tone that suggested ‘friend knows best’. Anthea felt her euphoria slip horribly away. “This is what happens when you mix business with pleasure. If Tristan has leadership ambition of his own and the rumours are true, then you’re going to have to break someone’s heart. You want my advice, stick with Rodney, and nothing romantic. He might not be thrilling, but you just might find yourself Home Secretary.” The growing distress on her friend’s face caused Linda to reach out and take her hand.
“You can’t afford to be stuck in the middle, otherwise you’ll end up with nothing. Make your decision, and fast. My husband has amazing political instinct and it’s not often he’s wrong.”
Suddenly they heard a bleeping from behind the door and a harsh “oh, shoot!” Linda struggled up and flung the door open, a cross look on her face as she realised instantly her husband had been eavesdropping. She challenged him with angry eyes but his gaze locked with Anthea’s and at that point the two women knew. He had heard enough.
Thirteen
Tuesday evening
“Just remember, if you back out now then your whole sorry life is going to be splashed all over the papers!”
Colin Scott’s threatening words, ringing out in his high voice, played over in Tristan’s mind as he headed towards the Victoria Tower gardens where he was to meet Anthea. Tristan felt in no position to negotiate with the Deputy Leader; he felt useless and far more of a hindrance than a help to the woman he had fallen so desperately in love with. Liaising in the darkness of the gardens, overlooking the moonlit Thames, rather than anywhere inside Parliament or the surrounding bars, was for the best. He was conscious they would be watched everywhere and their houses would be particular targets; the whispering would only escalate until it exploded onto the front pages.
He couldn’t tell Anthea anything. She would panic, ask him too many questions and he would be forced to reveal far more truth about himself than he was willing. The shame he felt about everything, his weakness, his treatment of Nicole, would devastate her. No, although this way would hurt for a while, he would make sure she despised him. She needed to be pushed far away from him, drive her firmly back into Richmond’s camp – and into his arms, if that was the consequence of sacrifice. Tristan would take the blame for his alliance with Scott so she wasn’t implicated. It was the hardest thing he would ever have had to do in his life, apart from his decision to abandon his fight for Daniel. Nicole had driven a hard bargain, but it had meant his shameful past had stayed, up to now, where it belonged. He now knew what he must do to stop Colin, to try to make amends for everything. This was the first step.
Anthea was already there, waiting for him in anticipation as Big Ben struck 9.45 pm. She wore the maroon coat Tristan loved, her arms folded as she tried to stay warm in the late evening autumnal breeze. The first hints of winter had begun to chill the skin as the oranges and reds of the trees turned cold and barren and leaves turned to slush under trampling feet. A week may have been a long time in politics but nature’s own cycle meant that almost nothing felt the same for Tristan. Seven days ago he had been sitting in his car outside Anthea’s apartment, wondering whether to pluck up the courage to approach her for comfort, now he was about to end something which had become surprisingly special in such a short time.
Her face lit up through the darkness when she saw him striding towards her across the damp grass. Little did he know that Anthea had decided upon one more night together before she was to confront him about the plotting rumours.
“Hello, you.” Anthea purred. He didn’t reply, but that seem to hardly matter as she reached around his neck and pulled him into an embrace, their hot breath mingling in the coolness of the strengthening wind. For a long moment Tristan gave in to the temptation of her as the Thames lapped gently below them.
“We had unfinished business this morning. You left so early, and so quickly.” Anthea whispered, running her gloved fingers up the back of his neck. “I tried to get back to sleep but couldn’t; your scent was on the pillow so I hugged that instead…”
“Anthea,” Tristan said seriously, grasping her fingers and lowering her hand. Anthea’s comforting smile faded when he refused to meet her wide gaze. He closed his eyes; Anthea’s face was making it far too difficult.
“I’m so sorry, Anthea, but…I don’t think it’s working.”
Anthea searched his face for clarification. “W…what’s not working?”
“Us. It’s not going anywhere, it can’t go anywhere, we both know it.” Tristan’s voice was hard and final.
Anthea frowned, taking a step away. “But...you just kissed me! I thought we had something special, that we connected, but now you’re dumping me?”
“We did have something special, but I can’t be in a relationship with you right now. Please don’t call it ‘dumping’ you, it sounds so crude.” Tristan felt utterly sick. In that moment he hated Colin Scott with a passion and loved Anthea with the same intensity.
“But that’s what it is, Tristan! You can dress it up how you like, but you’re dumping me with some pathetic excuse!” The tears sprang to Anthea’s green eyes and Tristan’s heart ached to see it. Her voice became angrier and he couldn’t blame her; he hoped she would shout just so he could yell back, hurt her enough so she wouldn’t try to continue to love him after this awful business.
“Please don’t make this any harder than it is.”
“Harder for you, you mean? How could you do this to me, let me fall in love with you, allow you to share my thoughts, my bed, my body! Then turn round and tell me we’re through?” Anthea continued to back away as the moisture escaped from her eyes. “I thought...stupidly I thought you were developing feelings for me. For God’s sake, Tristan, I was beginning to think this was the real thing, and now this!” Tristan looked on, helpless to prevent the well of fury as it exploded from her. It was time for him to get tough.
“No, it’s not the real thing, I’m sorry! I won’t deny the sex was great, but I don’t love you. We get on well, I respect you, but I’m sorry Anthea, that’s as far as it goes.”
“Respect? How could you respect me if you just string me along, use me for sex and no doubt getting information about Rodney..!”
“Oh, I was waiting for you to bring him into it!” Tristan snorted. But mention of Richmond gave him another excuse, to get at deep feelings through confession brought on in the heat of a row.
“Well it’s true, isn’t it?” Anthea threw her arms open and rolled her streaming eyes in exasperation. Only a few minutes remained before a vote was imminent and the moment, and their relationship, would be lost for good. “You thought ‘I know, I’ll shag Anthea and then she’ll tell me all about what Rodney really thinks about everything,’ is that right? How could you be so cold and calculated?”
“Ok, I’m not going to say that it didn’t cross my mind! I wanted comfort, yes, but if we continue to see each other then I’ll never get a Cabinet post if we win next time and it could damage you. Rodney won’t stand for it. I’m sorry, I don’t feel strongly enough about you - the relationship isn’t worth the risk.”
“Not worth the risk? I know you have a City background, Tristan, but to make us sound like some stock market floatation is just bloody crass! I feel like I’m on autopilot these days when I say to people that I do not have feelings for Rodney Richmond!” Anthea said the words slowly, deliberately. Almost, Tristan thought cynically, as if she believed them.
“Oh come on, Anthea, who the hell are you kidding, eh?” Tristan felt the controlled emotion gripping his chest and rising up, frantic and confused. Part of it wasn’t real, getting her to hate him, while the other part meant every word. “You know exactly what I mean! Now the rumours have started I’ll look a fool, messing round with the woman the leader is so desperate for
; we both know it’s true!”
“I love you for Christ’s sake!” Anthea caught Tristan’s gaze for the first time but he pulled away, their brief romance fading. “Let them bloody talk, I don’t care! They’ll all get bored in the end, move on to someone else, they always do!”
“It doesn’t matter, don’t you see? It’s not about the media; if this gets back to Rodney - and no doubt it already has thanks to Fryer ruining my life at every turn - then who knows what he might say or do. We were seen leaving the Savoy now the bastard’s telling everyone who will listen!”
“Rodney knows he can’t have me the way he wants, why would he make me unhappy if he loves me like you say he does? Do you really see him as that much of a monster?” Anthea pleaded.
“Where you are concerned, Anthea – you’re capable of driving any man to madness.” Tristan’s voice was suddenly low, but he kept his expression inscrutable.
Anthea studied him. “What are you not telling me, about yourself, about your ambition? I’ve heard other rumours; that you’re plotting with Colin.” She said dangerously quietly, but when his response faltered she began to yell. “You owe me the truth, for Christ’s sake, Tristan! I’m sick of rumour!”
Tristan suddenly felt cornered. His pretence was slipping and he could feel her soaking into him, as if she were reaching in and pulling his true feelings to the fore. He knew he couldn’t hold it for long. He found his resolve.
“I’m not…all you need to know if that I don’t want the leadership, and I never will, but Colin does – and soon - and will do anything to get it. Take that back to the leader, I know you’re now desperate to run to him and tell him all about me and what a bastard I am!”
“I’m so fucking stupid!” Their BlackBerrys sounded. A division was imminent, a three line whip. “First Ben, now you, although I thought you were different! Maybe I would be better off with Rodney after all, at least he treats me with some respect!”
