Party Games

by E J Greenway

  Colin studied the faces around the room, his eyes wide with an excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “Oh, I’m prepared for the fight, alright. Richmond has sidelined our views for long enough and I’m determined that my campaign will be as slick and smoothly operated as his. I mean, what the hell does he stand for? We’ll tear him apart like he’s bloody tissue paper.” His hands and shoulders moved as if he had finally found his cause; far more natural, some observed, than his grandiose speech at Party Conference only weeks earlier in which his hollow, dispassionate praise for the Leader had set many a right-wing jaw for his hypocrisy and Richmondite tongues wagging about his loyalty.

  “I want none of the mistakes of last time, no wallowing in self-pity when it appears as if he is controlling the agenda. We won’t let him control the agenda, I want Richmond wondering why on earth it has gone so wrong for him, and so quickly. The past two weeks have merely been a catalyst, he knows his leadership has been in trouble for a while.”

  Expectant faces smiled and heads nodded earnestly. “As for my resignation…” He patted the inside pocket of his jacket, “that will come soon enough tomorrow. I know your associations won’t be ripping down the official photograph of our glorious leader just yet but when the campaign gets into full swing I hope they’ll see differently. As for my own association, I’ve been as open with my members as much as possible.”

  As Matthew Gaines began to talk through the strategy for the weeks ahead, Colin felt more at ease with himself than he had done for as long as he could remember. He privately delighted at the thought of Rodney Richmond’s perfect complexion flushing, his chin quivering in horror now his malcontent of a deputy was finally carrying out the unthinkable. Making Colin his number two had kept him quiet for only so long. Now he would take immeasurable joy from being one step ahead of Richmond, in front of the cameras, setting out his vision for a renewed Conservative Party under his reign. Colin’s lip curled as he revelled in his fantasy. He wanted to see her, feel her, hold her next to him, share that moment with her. But, in that split second, it wasn’t Alice he thought of. Colin buried his weakness and found his resolve. He felt unstoppable.

  Twenty

  9.15pm

  “Look, we need to be saying a whole lot more. People will just think all I’m about is Cornish devolution, if they listen to Colin, but I have so much more to say. I want to start making two speeches a week, at least; Colin’s been far too much of a distraction lately for all of us, the policy-making process has stalled and we need an open debate in the party about public services, the economy, and how the party’s changed while staying true to our intrinsic Conservative values. It just seems that at every turn we’re fighting a battle with the media.” Rodney paused, hands on his hips, gauging the reaction from three of his closest confidants. Jeremy nodded, casting a glance at the document in Deborah’s grasp. They had worked hard on it, but that didn’t prevent the nagging guilt about its contents. Colin had pushed them to it.

  “That just helps highlight the point I was about to make – why battle with the media?” Deborah sank into a chair. “We have successfully played it at its own game for months following your election, and that’s just what we should do again. In the face of a new contest we need to utilise you even more, run it very similar to the successful campaign of last time, show the big differences between you and Colin.”

  “What, Debs, make it really obvious we’re split right down the middle?” Williams asked acerbically. He indicated to the document as Deborah looked put out. “What’s that you’ve got?”

  Deborah handed it to Rodney, and Jeremy suddenly felt worried. Rodney would hate it, despise such a personal attack, even on Colin Scott, but as he watched the leader flick through it, his brow furrowed, Deborah continued in her usual confident voice.

  “I know it shouldn’t get personal, but he’s made it so, and you outshine him by miles both in marketability and experience. You’re in a strong position to hit him from all sides over the next couple of weeks – he has absolutely nothing new to say in terms of policy. We need to get you out there, away from Westminster, to the associations. We can do it with much greater publicity than the Scott camp will be able to manage.”

  “Don’t forget the MPs though, Debs.” Robert said. Jeremy noticed that the man hadn’t pulled his gaze away from Deborah for quite some time. “They’ll be Rodney’s starting point. There’s great support amongst colleagues but it still won’t do harm to butter them up, have as many one-to-ones as he can, do a circuit or two around the tea room.”

  “When did you intend to put this out?” Rodney asked, waving the document. His voice was tired, snappy. He looked at Jeremy for clarification.

  “Whenever is needed.” Jeremy replied. Deborah nodded.

  “God, it’s a smear campaign. I’m not into those, you know that.”

  “Desperate times, Rodney.” Deborah muttered. “He’ll only do it to you first.”

  “But that doesn’t make it right!” Rodney checked his watch with an edgy flick of the cuff. “What I don’t want to do is put all the blame on Colin, I need to be seen to be publicly shouldering some of it. I misjudged the situation, misjudged him and our capacity to work together, etcetera.”

  “Although, Rodney, we don’t want it to look like that he’s just misunderstood and you’re a poor judge of character. It’s not your fault he acts like a spoilt child who’s had his toys taken away.” Deborah remarked.

  “Can we really call him ‘Scott of the Anarchic’?” Rodney mused, re-reading the document’s title. He stifled a smile, but Williams looked aghast. “I’m not so sure we should say ‘A ‘Captain Scott’-led Conservative Party would be chaotic and disorderly, leading an ill-fated expedition to the polls from which very few would return.’”

  “It could be worse, we could put it about that it would be ‘all pain and no gain’ under Scott. Unless you’re Rosie Lambert, of course.” Deborah sniggered.

  “Look, I still think you need to sack him tonight.” Robert interjected. He wasn’t one for humour at the expense of others.

  The Leader looked his PPS straight in the eye. “Tomorrow. I know what you’re going to say, but I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t agree. You should do it tonight. Sooner the better.” Williams said with an edgy grimace, but Deborah shot him a disparaging look.

  “Don’t be stupid.” She said admonishingly, much to Jeremy’s surprise. He pondered that perhaps it was her way of showing Robert affection, although from the look on his face he didn’t appear to agree. “Tonight’s a terrible idea. We need to revel in our victory just for tonight, let the media focus on some good news for us for a change, and wait till it gets out, with a little encouragement from us of course, that Colin has abstained.”

  “I agree with Debs.” Rodney said emphatically. “It’s Anthea’s night, we’ve all worked hard towards this victory. I’m not going rise to his bait, let him stew a little more.” The PPS looked outdone and nodded. “I want him shut out completely, not a single bit of strategy is to leak from anywhere; it needs to be a watertight ship as far as the Scott camp is concerned, let him know how it feels to be really left out in the cold. People can say it makes a martyr of him if they like but I think it will piss off his local association no end and he’ll face a revolt.”

  The meeting drew a natural end, but with a wave Rodney indicated to his Chairman to remain behind. Robert stole a glance at Deborah as they left the office; a longing, perhaps, Jeremy wasn’t quite sure.

  “Those two, are they an item?” Jeremy said quietly once he and Rodney were alone. 9.30pm. The vote would be soon.

  “I don’t know, I’ve wondered for a while. But to be honest, I’ve got far bigger concerns than whether my PPS is screwing my Chief of Staff.” Rodney said irritably.

  Jeremy was surprised at this comment, he knew Rodney cared very much for both Deborah and Robert, but he decided against further observation on this sensitive topic. />
  “Look, I’ve come to a decision.” Rodney spun round to face Jeremy. “My leadership is being poisoned, and I’m sick of it. You’re the first to know, but tomorrow I’m going to force a leadership election, a ‘back me or sack me’, ‘put up or shut up’ thing. I’m not going to have Colin resign then stall, trying to cause more damage for God knows how long. I’m going to beat him to it, steal the spotlight back from him.”

  “You’re going to resign?” Jeremy felt the panic rising.

  “Yes. I’m seeing Fergus first thing, I’m going to give him the exclusive post-resignation interview for the following day.” Rodney’s voice was steady.

  “McDermott? I’m not so sure...”

  “I’ve made up my mind.”

  “But you’ve made it alone, not with advice, what if it all goes wrong?”

  “I’ve been hiding behind advice for so long I’ve forgotten about the real world, and, privately, perhaps Colin has a point. Day in, day out I’m cocooned inside these walls while being told over and over that I’m well-loved by everyone, and by God, Jeremy, it’s frightening that I’ve even started to believe it myself!”

  “But that’s no reason to resign...!”

  “Jeremy, please!” Rodney held up his hands. “Do you remember our discussion after that Shadow Cabinet photo, right after I won?”

  Jeremy remembered it well, like it was merely hours ago, when Rodney was riding high after his win and Jeremy might well have promised him the world had he asked. Colin was to be watched carefully, Jeremy and Robert reporting his every move to their leader, but they had quickly realised that paranoia could be far more dangerous than mere ignorance. Silence over the blackmail had been for the best.

  “You said we might need to destroy Colin once and for all. He hasn’t backed down, nor has he any intention of doing so. Now is the time, we can send him to the backbenches for a long time assuming this works. You’re an excellent Chairman and my best friend, and I hope you’re with me.” Rodney gripped Jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy watched as moistness sprang to Rodney’s eyes.

  “I’m with you, every step of the way.” Jeremy replied. He felt a failure that it had come to this under his watch. Their BlackBerrys buzzed – it was nearly time. Rodney would be facing his colleagues and cameras, he had to look calm, authoritative, determined to win. The division bell began to sound, a shrill ring warning every MP in the vicinity to get to the lobbies.

  “You do realise, if this goes pear-shaped and I don’t get enough for a second ballot, or if the next election is a disaster for us, I want you to run against Colin, and win?”

  Jeremy blinked in surprise, both at the meaning and at Rodney’s timing. He let go of the door handle.

  “Me? But you’ve always said Heidi.”

  “Heidi would make a very good leader, I’m convinced, but could she win against Colin? I’m not so sure, now he’s showing he can pull support out of a bloody hat. You, on the other hand…you could beat him. The grass roots love you, our colleagues hold you in great esteem, and you know I’m pretty fond of you, too. I want you to at least promise you’ll think about it.” Rodney’s words might have seemed desperate if his voice hadn’t remained calm. The Chairman took a deep breath and held it.

  “Not as many people as you think want…” Jeremy paused. “…want to be leader. One day, perhaps, but right now it’s unthinkable.”

  “I like to think after all these years we’re both on the same wavelength, that you would be able to carry on where I’d left off. It’s only natural I’d want to have this discussion with you.” He patted Jeremy firmly on the shoulder as they left, smiling. Perhaps, Jeremy concluded, anointing a successor gave Rodney a strange sense of relief, which he certainly did not share. “Now let’s get to the lobby, otherwise I don’t think I’ll survive a lynching for missing the vote.”

  *****

  “But I thought you said that we needed a member of the Shadow Cabinet to support you, otherwise you wouldn’t be credible…”

  “Are you still here, talking to me?” Colin hissed depreciatingly to his colleague as they entered Central Lobby. “Sharkey’s going to cave, this time tomorrow we’ll be doing a joint press conference, you’ll see. Matthew says...”

  “Matthew doesn’t know bloody everything!” Fryer snapped, but Colin glared at his campaign manager over the outburst. They ground to a halt on hitting a throng of noisy MPs and journalists. Fryer hesitated, frowning, his bulky frame rocking slightly. The Deputy Leader was about to berate him, Matthew was brilliant and Fryer certainly was not, but he suddenly replaced his annoyance with his trademark air of self-confidence on noticing a throng of journalists. He forced a smile.

  “Actually, David, don’t go anywhere, we’re on.” His arms swinging grandiosely by his side, Colin strode forward into the skirmish of news cameras. Zoë Simpson noticed him coming into view as she recorded a piece to camera and, as he predicted, cut the recording, turned and seized her opportunity.

  “Hope you’re saying nice things about me, Zoë.” Colin said with a sickening smile. The professional in her brought out a light-hearted laugh at his quip as Fryer came up behind him, dwarfing his width.

  “Hello, Colin.” She drew him slightly to one side. “Didn’t expect to see you here, changed your mind on abstaining?”

  He kept his smile fixed. “No, I just thought I’d come and make sure you lot knew I was around, not skulking in the corner.”

  Fryer shifted uneasily, his small eyes darting about the Lobby as MPs of all parties hurried towards the Commons Chamber, the threats of their whips ringing in their ears along with the division bell. Zoe turned and Colin’s gaze fell upon Rodney Richmond, accompanied by the Party Chairman and his ultra-sober PPS, a number of other sycophants snapping at his heels like overeager Jack Russells. Colin felt his pale complexion flushing and his jaw set; for a moment Richmond drew to a halt and their gazes met, locked in battle. A small group of Labour MPs had stopped to mock the obvious animosity across the Lobby, but Colin simply sniffed and turned his back.

  Zoë Simpson flicked her stare back to Colin; considerably more bombastic, and considerably less easy on the eye than his rival.

  “And when exactly are you handing in your resignation to Richmond? Before he sacks you, I assume?” She continued. Her tone became slightly more goading. “His people have indicated that tomorrow morning you’ll be gone.”

  “We have yet to speak, although I cannot as yet confirm anything.” Colin replied carefully.

  “But you are not going to deny you are on the cusp of resigning, and challenging Richmond for the leadership?” Zoe pushed. “There are heavy rumours that you have only secured the twenty names to launch a challenge and you have a mountain to climb if you are to challenge Richmond and win...”

  Colin waved her questioning away and simply shook his head, noticing Matthew moving across the Lobby. He had heard that Anthea’s team were going round telling the press gallery that his attitude towards the Cornish Bill was ‘immature’ and ‘brazenly self-serving’, but he knew that he was the master of negative briefing and that Simpson was very much aware of the rumours about Rodney’s state of mind.

  Colin flashed a smile, but stuck to the agreed line. “As you’ve already been briefed, Zoe, tomorrow morning’s press conference will be of great importance so I assume you’ll be there. If you want the first interview afterwards, I suggest you speak to Matthew Gaines.”

  Richmond had ventured through to Members Lobby while Colin kept his distance. Colin’s cheerleaders, Gaines and Fryer, had gone ahead to scout, carefully watching as the Party Leader courted his colleagues, shoring up support for the battle ahead. Robert Williams hung around him like a human shield. Colin knew that the figures were tight, but that the odds on the Government winning were lengthening by the minute. It had all been too much to hope for, but still, it was only a minor setback.

  He could see that his mere presence was making Richmond uneasy, no matter how many hands he shook, or supportive pats
he received on his well-presented shoulders. Richmond reminded him of a young foal, shielded by its herd from the ever-present danger as it grazed the cud. But, eventually, darkness would fall, and the foal may wander from its protection, only to be caught alone by a stalking predator, a big beast with a bite so ferocious it could effortlessly snap a delicate neck.

  But, for now, the foal was safe. Tomorrow however, drawn from the shadows and into the broad light of day, this big beast was moving in for the kill.

  *****

  9.45pm

  The vote was cast. Anthea and the Chief Whip poured over the figures again – without Colin Scott and David Fryer, they simply weren’t sure they could do it. The numbers had changed by the hour the past few days, with Labour rebels either declaring themselves or deciding, with a little help from the powers-that-be, to cave and hurry behind the Bill. The Labour rebels who were standing by their principles in public still couldn’t be trusted not to be spotted in the ‘No’ lobby when it came down to it.

  The anticipation in the Chamber was high as Anthea seated herself on the front bench after casting her own vote. She noticed that Ian Harvey and the Government Chief Whip had at this late stage given up on steering rebels in the right direction and were talking furiously to each other by the Speaker’s chair.

  “I think we might have done it – just.” Bronwyn Davies told her quietly from across the bench. “By one or two. But I can’t say for certain, it depends on abstentions.”

  “Harvey looks worried enough.” Anthea said, glancing at the Secretary of State. Her outer calm hid her nerves and she hadn’t eaten for hours. Although she had seen Rodney heading to the lobby with Jeremy she darted out of his sight. She simply didn’t feel up to talking to him, to see that look she knew he would give her.