Making Enemies

by Francis Bennett

  ‘In that case,’ Charlie said, ‘no one’s going to take this piece seriously. If we ignore it, it will fade away in its own good time.’

  That touched Watson-Jones on a raw nerve. ‘Read what he’s said about me and you’ll see why I can’t let the bastard get away with it.’

  ‘We’ve both read it, Simon,’ Charlie said coldly. ‘More than once.’

  ‘It’s lies, Charlie.’ Watson-Jones was shouting again now. ‘I don’t like people spreading lies about me. Is that understood?’

  ‘All right,’ I said, trying to steer a course between them. ‘It’s malicious. Let’s look at how we handle it.’

  ‘Gelfmann should be here by now,’ Watson-Jones said, with signs of growing irritation. ‘I shall sue if he lets me.’

  Charlie gave me a despairing look.

  ‘Why not let others come to your defence?’ I said. ‘MPs who mean something to the public. The big boys. Get them to speak for you. I am sure we can rally the troops to put the boot into Naismith. It might be more effective that way.’

  ‘Danny’s right, Simon. Leave this thing with us and we’ll sort it out for you. No harm done.’

  ‘No.’ Watson-Jones was adamant. ‘I want blood.’

  ‘I think that’s very unwise.’

  ‘You’d think differently if you were the victim of smears like these.’

  ‘You’re falling into his trap,’ Charlie said. ‘If you show him it hurts, he’ll know he’s hit the target. Show some dignity and take no notice.’

  ‘I am not going to be pushed around by some little bastard from Barnsley, Charlie.’

  We heard the doorbell ring. ‘That’ll be Gelfmann,’ Charlie said. ‘Let him in, will you, Danny?’

  I’d met Gelfmann before. He’d struck me as a competent solicitor, though too much in awe of Watson-Jones. He looked hot and breathless.

  ‘Couldn’t get a taxi for love nor money,’ he said. ‘Had to run most of the way. I came as fast as I could. Hardly had time for a shave. I gather there’s a flap on.’

  ‘How much do you know?’

  ‘Only what Charlie told me on the telephone and that wasn’t much.’

  ‘A Tory MP has gone into print attacking Simon,’ I said. ‘Not surprisingly he’s taking it badly.’

  ‘Bound to,’ Gelfmann said, mopping his head and face with a large handkerchief. ‘Bound to.’

  ‘We’ve got to put it right for him.’

  ‘I take it that’s an instruction?’ Gelfmann asked. We were standing outside Charlie’s room.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He’s very upset. The first task is to calm him down and do nothing precipitate. This is cooling-off time. So, no decisions, just options.’

  ‘I’m your man,’ Gelfmann said conspiratorially. ‘Count on me.’

  I led the way in. Gelfmann didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. I didn’t know why Watson-Jones used him.

  ‘Christ, Bernard,’ Watson-Jones said. ‘You took your time.’

  ‘No cabs, Simon. Sorry.’

  ‘You should have run.’

  ‘I did. It nearly killed me.’

  ‘Well, don’t die on me yet. You’ve got work to do. Read this and then tell me what I can do.’

  Charlie beckoned me. I leaned across the desk as he whispered: ‘We’ve got to work out how we keep this problem under control. I’ll speak to you when Simon’s gone. Nothing of importance is going to be decided now. I’ll see to that.’

  I left them to it. I trusted Charlie, and I hoped in the end Simon would too. He always said Charlie was a wise old bird. Now he had to show whether he meant it or not.

  *

  We had a few phone calls during the morning, all from well-wishers expressing astonishment at Naismith’s outburst. No one was any the wiser about the motive, and Naismith himself had gone to ground. I thought the papers would be on to us but for a few hours at least they ignored us, and I was thankful they did. Gelfmann stayed until mid-morning. Simon spent another half-hour with Charlie after that, then I saw him leave just before twelve. Charlie lent him Thomas and the Rolls to take him to the House. When Charlie’s buzzer went soon after I raced upstairs with my papers. Beryl stopped me before I went in.

  ‘He’s not well, dear. I want him to go home but he won’t listen to me. He’s not up to all this, not in his state. Will you say something? He may listen to you.’

  I said I doubted I’d succeed where she’d failed and went in. Charlie looked frail, his face a leaden grey and his body sunk into his wheelchair in exhaustion. For the first time I saw that his spirits were low too. I wondered if Watson-Jones had thought what all this might do for Charlie’s health.

  ‘How did it go?’ I asked.

  ‘What with Simon’s paranoia and Gelfmann’s willingness to roll over and agree with every crackpot idea he comes up with, not well. I despair of Gelfmann. Simon naturally won’t hear a word against him. We managed to avoid taking any decisions, so I suppose we can count that a plus. Jesus, I’m tired.’

  ‘Why don’t you take a break? I can come back later.’

  ‘For God’s sake, that’s Beryl talking. Don’t listen to her, the woman’s fussing over nothing. I’d far rather talk it over with you than brood on my own but she doesn’t seem to understand that.’ He smiled at me. ‘What I need is a large gin.’

  ‘What’s the damage?’ I asked, pouring a drink for both of us.

  ‘Naismith’s been very clever. He knows what he’s talking about and he’s hit where it hurts. He pours doubt over Simon’s probity, painting him as a man not to be trusted. That suggests he’s not trying to destroy him, so much as discredit him. His aim is to wound, not kill.’

  ‘Do you agree with Simon that someone’s behind it?’

  ‘I can’t see Naismith doing this on his own because I can’t see what he’s got to gain. But I can’t see any grounds for a conspiracy either. Simon may speak his mind on some issues but he doesn’t upset the top brass in the Party. I’ve seen to that, and I know the Party managers rate him. He’s able, ambitious – they like that. Goes a bit too far sometimes but his heart’s in the right place, so small excesses are easily forgiven. A man to watch. That’s the verdict.’

  ‘Until today.’

  Charlie pulled himself together then. It was a huge physical effort, and gave me an insight into how ill he really was.

  ‘Until today, yes. Something seems to have gone badly wrong and I’ve missed it. That’s what’s worrying me. This is about silencing Simon. The problem is, I don’t know what needs to be silenced. I fear I’m losing my touch.’

  *

  It was a warm afternoon as I cycled over Chelsea Bridge, down Prince of Wales Drive and into the heart of Battersea. I couldn’t get rid of the thought that this incident had come about because Simon was being unfaithful to Charlie: that some opportunity had come up, he had seized it and got in over his head before he had time to talk it over with Charlie. That was the charitable explanation. Now his actions had blown up in his face, he had to keep any knowledge of it away from Eccleston Street. That explained his angry posturing, outrage and hurt vanity. He’d cleverly offered no opinions as to why all this had happened. If I was right, we were going to get no real help from Simon, but a series of blustering performances to keep us off the scent.

  ‘What do we do now?’ I’d asked Charlie as we reviewed the situation. I didn’t mention my theory to him because I knew his loyalty to Simon wouldn’t let him agree.

  ‘The only person who’s likely to tell us anything is Naismith,’ he’d said, giving me the address of a flat in Battersea. ‘See if you can make him talk. If he’s not in, wait. I don’t want to hear from you until you’ve cornered him.’

  Naismith wasn’t in when I arrived at his flat, or at least no one answered the doorbell. There was a café opposite and I went in and read the paper. I’d had a good round of spam, sausages in gravy and fried bread by the time a woman showed up about three, but there was no sign of Naismith until well after five by whic
h time I had drunk more cups of tea than was good for me. I went across the road and rang the bell. The woman answered and I asked for Naismith.

  ‘Who are you, dear, the press? I can’t make him come to the door if you won’t tell me who you are.’

  ‘I’m a friend of Charlie Faulkner’s.’

  She went in, leaving me on the doorstep. The door was opened a couple of minutes later by a small round man in his early sixties, balding and with a florid face. He had taken off his jacket, his stiff collar and tie. He stood before me, bright red braces holding up dull brown tweed trousers, the top of his shirt open where the stud had been. He had undone his cuff links and rolled up his shirt-sleeves to the elbow.

  ‘Old Charlie Faulkner sent you, did ’e?’ He spoke with a strong Yorkshire accent.

  ‘That’s right. I work for him.’

  ‘You’d better come in then, lad. We go back a long way, Charlie and I do. Cup o’ tea?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘This lassie makes a grand cup o’ tea. I’ll have a cuppa, Vi. Sit yourself down. Now then, what’s all this about?’

  ‘I read your piece about Watson-Jones. You were pretty hard on him.’

  ‘Toffee-nosed bastard. ’Bout time someone put ’im in ’is place. I’ve been a member of the ’Ouse of Commons for more than twenty-five years and ’e won’t so much as give me the time of day. I’ve no liking for the man. I can’t say plainer than that.’

  ‘Why put your dislike in print?’

  ‘Free country. I can say what I like about who I please within the law. That’s what we were fighting for, wasn’t it, lad? Freedom of speech. You said you worked for Charlie Faulkner. Seems to me you’re carrying the flag for Watson-Jones.’

  ‘I’m here on Watson-Jones’s behalf.’

  ‘Then I’ve nothing more to say to you, son. Good day.’ He got to his feet.

  ‘I think we’ve got things to talk about,’ I said weakly.

  ‘I don’t give a horse’s arse what you think, lad. I want you out of ’ere now. Do I make myself clear?’

  The woman who’d opened the door reappeared, holding a mug of tea. ‘I’d hear the young man out, Nat,’ she said. ‘It never harms to listen.’

  She came into the room and sat down on the sofa. She patted the seat for Naismith to sit next to her. ‘His bark’s worse than his bite, dear, don’t mind that. I expect you’re something to do with Mr Watson-Jones, are you, dear? Yes, I thought so. Money, Nat. Money and power have been in bed together since the world began. Never spit at money, I say, if you know what’s good for you. Now come and sit down, Nat, and stop being a silly boy.’

  ‘Women,’ Naismith said to me. But he sat down none the less and took his mug of tea.

  ‘My name’s Vi, dear. You can call me Vi. Everyone does.’

  Her comforting, motherly appearance and the sweetness of her smile made her an unlikely ally. I sat down and began again.

  ‘I wondered why you wrote that article,’ I said.

  ‘Never ’ad to work for anything in ’is life,’ Naismith said. ‘Born with so many silver spoons in ’is mouth it’s a wonder ’e didn’t choke to death in ’is ’igh chair. ’E’s everything I despise, that man.’

  ‘Now, that’s not right, Nat, is it?’ Vi turned to me. ‘He likes to think he’s a great hater, does Nat. But he’s a real Cadbury when you get to know him. Hard on the outside and all soft and gooey inside. Aren’t you, love?’

  ‘You keep your mouth shut, Vi.’

  ‘Nat.’ A silent battle of wills was going on. I waited. ‘Why not tell the young man what happened,’ she said.

  Naismith gave her a look which was a mixture of affection and despair. ‘It wasn’t my idea, that piece, I’ll admit that. I was asked to write it.’

  ‘Who asked you?’

  ‘I don’t tell tales out of school, lad.’

  I didn’t like Naismith. He was too pleased with himself to listen to any opinion that didn’t agree with his. What baffled me was how a sweet woman like Vi could put up with his bluster.

  ‘What are you after, dear?’ Vi asked. ‘You want something, don’t you? I can tell. You aren’t Sagittarius, are you?’

  ‘Have you seen this article?’ I asked.

  Vi shook her head. ‘All this politics stuff goes right over my head, dear. I leave all that to his lordship here.’

  ‘It takes an axe to Watson-Jones. Blood all over the place. You can’t expect him to ignore it. He’s not that kind of man. You know he’ll come after you and anyone else involved. He’s got the money and the will and you’ve made him angry enough. I can’t believe that’s what you want him to do.’

  ‘I ’ardly started in that piece,’ Naismith said. ‘I could say ’ell of a lot more in the ’Ouse and there’s bugger all you could do about that.’

  ‘He’ll come after you outside the House. That’s what his lawyers are advising.’ It was a reckless statement, but I had to puncture Naismith’s confidence somehow if I was to scare him into telling me who was behind the article and why.

  ‘’E can do what ’e likes. I’ll be ready for ’im.’

  It was bravado and Yorkshire stubbornness, I was sure, but I didn’t know how to shake it. I appealed to Vi. If there was a weakness in his armoury, I hoped it was her.

  ‘I’m here to see if we can close this thing down as quickly and quietly as we can,’ I said, trying to sound conciliatory. ‘Surely you can see the sense in that?’

  ‘I knew you and I were going to get along,’ Vi said. ‘As soon as I saw you I did. Are you Taurus, then?’

  ‘You tell your boss ’e can do what ’e likes,’ Naismith said, raising his voice. He was angry with me now. ‘So long as ’is wife lets ’im use ’er money.’ He turned to Vi. ‘What kind of a man is that, eh? Sponges off ’is wife.’ I could hear disgust in his voice. That sort of thing wasn’t done in Yorkshire.

  ‘You come with something up your sleeve, don’t you, dear,’ Vi said, responding to my overtures. ‘It’s us, isn’t it? Me and this old hunk of Yorkshire pudding. I’m his fancy woman, dear, and I don’t mind who knows it. I care for the old bugger, which is more can be said for that Lady Muck in Yorkshire, I can tell you. I’ve looked after this old man for years now and I’m too old to be hurt by what anyone thinks.’

  ‘Are you?’ I asked Naismith, hoping I sounded unscrupulous and threatening. He took his time to reply. Putting Vi in the firing line was not what he was after.

  ‘I’ll be frank with you, lad. There’s many people know about Vi. It’s one of those secrets you get about Westminster. Everyone knows and nobody says. I’m not the only one, I can tell you. It would make your blood run cold if you knew the things I know.’ He was sounding chummy now – we were all boys together, we could keep our locker-room secrets dark, couldn’t we? ‘If I could ’ave married her all those years ago, I would.’

  ‘Get away with you,’ Vi said teasingly.

  ‘But I couldn’t and that’s a fact. Least, not without giving up my seat. So Vi and me, we came to an understanding. That’s all. No ’arm in that, is there?’

  His change of tone told me he feared that the rules of the club he’d joined so long before might not be shared by younger men like Watson-Jones. The cosy certainties he’d lived by could now be undermined, if not destroyed, by the harsher realities of the post-war world. Naismith was on soft ground. It was the only opening he’d given me, so I took it.

  ‘Watson-Jones is one of the new breed,’ I said, hoping I sounded convincing. ‘The old loyalties don’t apply any more. The world’s changing.’

  ‘Aye, lad. And not for the better, either.’

  ‘People like him are making the rules now.’

  ‘That’s what I’m told and I don’t like it.’

  ‘This isn’t your quarrel, is it?’ I said. ‘We both know that. Why not let those who want to pick a fight with him come out of the shadows to face him on their own?’

  ‘What are you saying, lad?’

  ‘I’ll g
uarantee Watson-Jones’s silence if you tell me who’s behind this business.’

  ‘Very clever, lad. Very nice.’ He smiled indulgently at me.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘That might put me in the clear with you, lad, but I’m in the shit with them, aren’t I?’

  ‘So there is someone behind all this?’

  ‘I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.’

  ‘No deal then?’ It was an appeal and he took it as such.

  ‘Not that I can see, son, no.’

  ‘That doesn’t seem right to me,’ Vi said. ‘My stars said I’d meet a handsome stranger today and he and I would get along.’

  ‘Then your bloody ’oroscope made a cock-up this time, didn’t it, girl?’ It was said with affection. Naismith put his arm round her shoulder and pulled her, unresisting, against him. ‘You wouldn’t want to hurt my little girl, would you?’

  ‘If I don’t go back to Watson-Jones with something,’ I said, my exasperation breaking through, ‘he’ll come after you like an elephant gone mad. I can’t stop him.’

  ‘I may have been a fool to put my name to this piece but if I say any more I’ll make an even bigger fool of myself. There’s too much at stake for that. I’d like to help Charlie, ’e’s a good man even if ’e does support the wrong cricket team. But there’s now I can do for you, lad. You’ll have to leave here empty-’anded.’

  He’d called my bluff and there was nothing I could do about it. I rang Charlie as soon as I got back to Strutton Ground. He sounded distant and reluctant to talk.

  ‘If you’ve got someone with you,’ I said, ‘I can ring back later.’

  I sensed a moment of hesitation. I was sure he was not alone. Perhaps Watson-Jones was with him again.

  ‘No. Go ahead.’

  I explained I had had no luck with Naismith. ‘He won’t talk. But he admitted he wrote this thing for a favour. So we know there is someone behind it, though not who.’