Party Games

by E J Greenway

  Fifteen

  Tuesday, 11.30am

  Feeling sympathy for a fellow human being had never been one of Colin Scott’s strong points, and as David Fryer ranted around his office, his head looking as if it were to explode off his broad shoulders, the Deputy Leader was thinking far beyond any personal grievance his friend felt towards the current leadership. Fryer’s sacking might have actually been a good thing, there were enough ‘waverers’ out there who had just needed that little nudge in the right direction.

  “There she was, quite obviously thinking she could work her feminine cunning on me, charm me into taking it lying down, pardon the pun! Compromising the impartiality of the Whips Office, she said! Not being neutral, for Christ’s sake! I’m just bloody well outraged!”

  “Yes, you’ve already said that.” Colin’s cool voice did nothing to lower Fryer’s temperature and the Deputy was already fed up with him clogging up his comfy furniture and drinking his alcohol. Rocking backwards in his chair Colin twirled a pencil between his fingers, feeling the tension in the wood. “It’s alright, David, just another few days and light will suddenly appear at the end of the tunnel.”

  Fryer grunted and ran a finger around his sweat-drenched collar. “I don’t know why you just don’t declare. All this waiting business – it should have nothing to do with the Cornish Bill.”

  “You’re as bad as Dickenson.” Colin said flatly. “But you know as well as I do Richmond’s hanging an awful lot on this vote tomorrow night, and if it goes the Government’s way, we’ll have him by the balls.”

  “Some might say you’re simply abandoning your principles to become leader.” Fryer chanced.

  Colin suddenly looked abhorred. “Are you on my side or not? It is a short-term solution for a long-term gain! I am trying to rescue this party, sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who can see Richmond for what he really is; if anyone’s lacking fucking principles it’s him...!”

  “I know, you don’t need to tell me! And yes I’m on your side, I want you to be leader just as much as you do!” Fryer snapped back, killing the brewing confrontation. Colin breathed deeply and glanced at his watch. He had every reason to be jumpy and fed up; Fryer and Gaines just hadn’t been able to pull in as much support as he might have liked and so many of his colleagues were pussy-footing around, not making up their minds, scared of the consequences of failed treason.

  “And now we’ve got all this Harvey shit to consider.” Colin gestured towards the television, turning up the report on News 24. “Harvey and his big bloody mouth, don’t they learn? The tape is never off!”

  “....Secretary of State for Devolved Affairs, Ian Harvey, has been caught on tape calling the Labour rebels an expletive ‘on his shoes which needs scraping off on the pavement of worthless rebellions’. In an extraordinary interview, caught by an under-cover journalist, Mr Harvey said he was sure enough rebels could be persuaded to vote down the Opposition amendment. He says in the interview ‘we have things on many of those [expletives] who think they can disrupt government business without facing the consequences. Certainly, a number will think twice before doing anything stupid. They think the whips don’t know what some of them get up to, but they do. If they value their careers, they’ll be on board. It sounds nasty, but that’s politics.’ Mr Harvey’s comments will come as an embarrassment to the Government as it tries to head off a rebellion over Cornish devolution, while the Liberals have hinted heavily they now intend to vote with the Opposition...”

  “The wet bastards.” Colin muttered gruffly. “After all they said, and now they cave to vote against a Bill which they have been calling for. Talk about U-turns; just because their leadership can’t handle a few rebels. Should’ve known it though, they can’t even hold their own water let alone a policy position.”

  Fryer nodded, rubbing his generous chin. “Jesus, the Government’s screwed.”

  “Rather than pointing out the blatantly obvious, David, I think the best thing is for you to be out there, maybe catching up with those unfortunate wretches called into the Chief’s office for a bollocking then working your magic. Oh, and making sure Rivers is staying on message is a priority.” Colin removed his whisky bottle from Fryer’s sweaty grasp and opened the door. “Let’s just remember to hold our nerve. It’s not long now.”

  “You know Matthew and I both agree you should resign now? Screw Rivers, you don’t need him, we can get you the numbers to launch a challenge, and you’re popular in the party. There really is nothing for you to lose.”

  Colin eyed his campaign manager, trying to ignore the feeling that, for once, Fryer may have been right. His Bulletin interview had enjoyed wider interest and speculation than he had anticipated, and he was surprised at receiving so many positive messages from colleagues. Still, even the rumour of a possible challenge by Rivers was enough to cause Richmond’s circle sufficient panic so to appear out of control.

  As Fryer left, an abhorrent stench of sweat in his wake, Colin took a trip beyond Westminster. It hadn’t been an easy decision, to visit her grave. His annual visit seemed harder this year somehow, but his need to visit was every bit as strong as before. She had been buried in her beloved birthplace of London; a city girl through-and-through who had found Oxford adorably quaint compared to the concrete mass of the capital. With a shiver, the Deputy Leader wrapped his coat around himself and battled through the rising wind, the swirl of brown leaves gathering pace around him as grit irritated his eyes.

  It was the only time he could find in his busy day to venture up to his wife’s resting place, the urge to be near her greater than at any point over the last twenty six years.

  The clouds darkened and threatened a heavy downpour, Colin’s fingers turning numb with the chill as he stuffed a hand in his pocket, a small bunch of red roses in his other grasp. He continued walking past the weathered tombs, each slow footstep crunching on the dead remains of summer. The thought of her here appalled him; this was no place for someone who had been so incredibly beautiful and full of life. He hated himself for allowing it to happen. Colin followed the path round as angels and cherubs watched him through grey, pensive eyes, the first drops of early winter rain splattering his cashmere coat and trickling through his windswept hair. Finally, after the longest walk of his life, he found the modest marble slab which told him what he was so painfully aware of.

  ALICE HARRIET SCOTT, LOVING WIFE AND DAUGHTER, DIED AGED 20 YEARS

  The bold, black words sliced through his heart as he knelt down on the moist grass, annoyed he hadn’t tended the grave like he should. Her mother used to come regularly but he wasn’t sure if she had continued to do so. They never talked, there had been no need for twenty-six years. The awful memory of the funeral forced itself to the front of Colin’s mind. The memory was as fresh as the morning after, when he had wished he too were dead. The day had been remarkably similar to that afternoon, the elements battering the mourners as they gathered round the hollowed earth to pay their last respects to a young life so tragically destroyed by carelessness. Alice and Colin’s mutual university friends, Linda Watson, and a young Jeremy Cheeser, had been there to support him, eyeing Colin with the same pitiful look which had continued to etch itself on the now Party Chairman’s face ever since.

  He removed his gloves, and with frozen fingers he tore away straggling weeds from the base of the gravestone, carefully placing the roses against it to shelter them from the wind. The rain fell in heavier drops as Colin’s eyes pooled with tears which should have been shed many years ago.

  “I’m so sorry – it’s been a while.” He said softly. “I’ve been so busy, but I suppose that’s no excuse. I’m close again, Alice. Closer than last time, I can feel it.”

  Colin breathed in deeply as he rose to his feet, feeling his cheeks stinging while trying desperately not to think of her lying beneath his feet, her precious body horrifically violated by the passing of time. The icy rain drops beat against his face like sharp, stabbing pins and he fumbled for his wa
llet from which he pulled out the faded photograph. This was how he would think of her; smiling and happy, just as she had been on their wedding day.

  “One day, my darling husband, when this lot are in Parliament and lounging on the back benches, you’ll be the man they all aspire to be.” Alice had whispered in his ear during their first dance. They locked gazes while the rest of the world was shut out, her hazel eyes captivating him, and she smiled naughtily. Colin never did know if she had meant it. He liked to think so, and he didn’t want to let her down.

  “There’s something else, though. Someone else.” Colin continued, hanging his head. His irrational shame at his involvement with other women meant he felt he owed her an explanation; a confession of some sort at least. “It’s just...sometimes I feel I can’t do this alone anymore.”

  “You don’t need to.” A high, frightened voice spoke nervously behind him.

  Colin’s senses, dulled from the cold, suddenly leapt into action and he spun round in the muddy earth. His vision was blurred from the tears, a mixture of emotion and weather, but he could make out a petite, lone figure standing only a few feet away from him. The young woman didn’t move but as his mind began to process the situation she appeared to cower slightly, pulling her scarf tighter around her pretty head.

  “What the hell are you doing here? Have you followed me?” Colin hissed, his rage building. This place was sacred, a private moment which she had destroyed.

  “I’m sorry. I had to see you again, I didn’t think you were coming back.” Kathryn looked terrified. Colin knew she had never really witnessed the full ferocity of the temper he had become so infamous for in Parliamentary circles, but as he grabbed her firmly by the arm and dragged her lightweight frame around the back of a nearby tomb, he did not consider that she might be terrified she was about to add to the number of bodies littering the earth beneath them.

  “How dare you come here, I was going to arrange to come over to get the invoice, not speak to you - see you - in the middle of the bloody day!” Colin shook her arm and she almost cracked her head against the ageing lid of the tomb. Her face crumpled into a sob, Colin hating the irritation within him.

  “But I needed to see you,” Kathryn whimpered. “I went to your house and saw you get the flowers, so I jumped to conclusions and thought you may be going to visit me…”

  “Jesus, you know where I live? I come to you, you don’t stalk me, and you certainly don’t hang around my home, that’s a fucking dangerous game to play! You’ll get me found out, is that what you want to happen? See me ruined?”

  “N...no, but…”

  “It could have waited, just to give me a damn invoice, surely?”

  Colin released his grip on Kathryn’s upper arm and she slumped against the mossy tomb, frantically wiping away her tears with a shaking finger. A strong gust of wind swept over them and Kathryn shivered.

  “There isn’t an invoice. I didn’t go through with it. I’m still pregnant.”

  Without a word, Colin took a step closer to her as she slid further down the tomb, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Mumbling into her knees she continued, obviously trying to say everything before he exploded at her. “I want to keep the baby. I was hoping maybe we could…I don’t know…I was sitting in the clinic and I realised I wasn’t ready to just do what you want…”

  “Oh, so you made it as far as the clinic waiting room then? Get up from down there!” Colin moved to pull her up from the ground, but suddenly the urge not to hurt her entered his consciousness and he took a step back.

  “Why the hell don’t people do what I tell them to do? I find you one of the best private clinics in London, say I’ll pay the bill, then you go against my wishes! All apart from the bloody good money I pay you on a regular basis! What more do you want from me, girl?” It was a decision he had taken, knowing the facts and the consequences, and there had been nothing more to discuss. Surely, deep down, she agreed with him, the child wasn’t wanted, it would be an inconvenience at best, so why was she looking at him like that, with such hurt etched on her beautiful face?

  “I want…maybe I want you to love me. Not like you loved your wife, I realise that, but I think you feel something for me. You could grow to love your child too, we could be a family…”

  Colin shook his head, holding up his hands. “We can’t, I’ve already told you! Christ, if this gets out, I’ll be finished completely, don’t you see?” The paranoia of being seen forced him to take action and he crouched down, joining her at the back of the tomb, overshadowed by a garish winged creature perched on top of an obelisk. Colin shivered.

  “But I’m in love with you, and you talk to me so much about your politics and how you’re feeling! Please listen to me, Colin, please!” Kathryn pleaded.

  “There’s a difference between love and lust! You don’t love me, you instead have motives, and I just like sleeping with you because it makes me feel good, it gives you money to study and I stupidly thought I could trust you, it’s as simple as that!”

  Kathryn stared up at him as drops of rain splashed into her eyes. The Deputy Leader of the Conservative Party was reminding her that she was still a nobody who should know her place, and that certainly wasn’t by his side at political functions.

  “I don’t believe you! And I can’t believe you wouldn’t care for your own child!” Kathryn shouted, determined. “I saw that look on your face when we were last together, before you left, and I saw vulnerability and feeling, but all that has now been buried again with your wife!”

  “This is just some silly idyllic notion you’ve got in your head, that we could be together as one happy family, when it’s not – it cannot happen!” Colin had risen to his feet and was pacing frantically, hardly noticing the cold which had stiffened his joints. He couldn’t even admit to himself, let alone her, that if she had the child with his full knowledge it would tear him up inside. There would always be the threat of her causing trouble, blackmailing him for money – huge sums of money which he didn’t have. Journalists would want their share of the pickings, like sewer rats on rotting flesh. His doubt and turmoil didn’t explain why he was staring into her eyes, why he was stroking her pale cheek with a gloved hand, why he was allowing her to kiss him, sensually, deeply, in plain sight to the world as light, icy raindrops stung their lips.

  “No, we must stop this!” Colin pulled away, finding his senses. “Look, if you do what is necessary, then...then I can guarantee you a job once you graduate. Our agreement will have to end, but it will put you on the right path. That’s my offer, and I give you my word.”

  “Get rid of my baby in exchange for a job? Romantic gesture.” Kathryn mocked, her eyes piercing.

  “I suggest you take my offer!” Colin had always adored her forthrightness, but now was not the time. “If you choose to have the baby, then don’t expect to get very far while I’m around.”

  Colin’s own mobile rang shrilly in his pocket. He needed to answer it, he was about to become embroiled in a leadership battle and should have already left the graveyard rather than being told by his secret that she was out to see him ruined. He turned his back on Kathryn, and exhaled sharply when he saw who the caller was. Gaines.

  “Matthew, how is everything?” His voice was strained. “Nineteen names? That’s great, but it’s not quite twenty, is it? There must be someone else, Tristan’s a bloody martyr now, people are almost feeling sorry for the silly sod.” He gave a wry smile, but his mood was far from humorous. “David doesn’t need my permission to break a collar bone or two. Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Look, I’ll see you at six, and I’ll work on a few others who are vulnerable to persuasion…I’ve got to go.” Colin ended the call abruptly on turning round again to see that Kathryn had gone, only a patch of disturbed mud left in her wake.

  “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” Frantically he ran onto the path and strained his eyes to see to the gate but it was no good. Now he knew how Tristan felt, having reputation and career in someone else’s hands. M
aybe he could rely on the fact that she was in love with him, so wouldn’t really want to hurt him, as long as he left her alone now.

  Just as he was about to say his farewell to Alice, Colin caught sight of something white flapping underneath the bunch of roses. Grunting he snatched up the note:

  Jeremy Cheeser will know soon. I’ve told his wife everything. I still love you.

  Scrunching up the note Colin stood alone at Alice’s grave. Oh, fuck. FUCK. He was so distracted as he staggered away that he almost forgot to glance behind him and blow a kiss into the wind.

  *****

  1pm

  Clare suggested it should have been cancelled; he should have been in Westminster, saving his leadership, not visiting the local hospital in his constituency on a damp Tuesday afternoon. Rodney Richmond was not, however, about to shirk the very people who had elected him as their MP and stay in London, allowing the whole world to see just how worried he was about his future.

  Clare waited for him in the car after a semi-friendly word with the gathered journalists, who were now closing in on him like a pack of hyenas on his way out from touring the new cancer wing. She groaned when she saw her charge shaking hands with the clinical director who appeared somewhat disgruntled to see a media scrum interrupting their farewell small-talk.

  “Think you’re needed.” Fred grumbled, nodding out of the window. Uttering an expletive, Clare tossed her hairbrush onto the seat, grabbed her mobile and leapt out of the car as quickly as her skirt – and decency – would allow.

  “Mr Richmond, have you any comment to make about rumours of a leadership challenge? Are you hiding away from the crisis?”

  “What are your plans now, Mr Richmond, will you be going back to London for a meeting with your Deputy?”