After the Dream

by Stan Mason

  You mean you need cannon fodder. Someone who’ll stand in a constituency they have no chance of winning. You say you need me badly...well give me a better constituency...a marginal seat,’ she reproached.

  ‘Sadly there’s a system operated by the Party,’ he informed her. ‘We need to line up people we think are suitable for the future. You’re brand new on the circuit. If you don’t succeed this time, you’ll be in line for a seat next time.’

  Diana weighed up the pros and cons in her mind swiftly. If she agreed, the Conservatives would be off her back. As she was certain not to win the seat she really had nothing to worry about. She would be involved in a few weeks of work in the hustings before the General Election took place and then her task would be over. The situation was very simple really and, in that moment, the die was cast.

  ‘Very well,’ she returned curtly. ‘I’ll stand for your Party, Mr. Weaver. Please arrange for details to be sent to me about when your Area Board wishes to see me and inform me what I need to do.’

  ‘By the way,’ he added finally. ‘I saw the video of your performance on Speak Your Piece. I have to say you were excellent. If only some of the members in our Party had as much spunk we might have a great chance of winning the next election.’

  The line went dead and Diana smiled to herself. It was indeed a compliment from someone so eminent in politics. She had been honoured by a major politician.

  Later on that evening, after thinking about it, she was annoyed with herself for having agreed to a no-win situation. She wasn’t a very good loser and it went very much against the grain. She would need to leave the Red Cross shop and spend a great deal of time and energy in the hustings, talking to hundreds of people and distributing leaflets containing the Party’s manifesto through countless doors in the constituency. It would take her away from everything that made her comfortable and she now regretted it. Entering the political scene was going to be a mighty task to perform... a mighty task... and in the end it would be all for nothing!

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jane, Samantha, Diana and Dr. Martin met once again at the hospital to play their regular game of bridge. By this time, Gloria was long forgotten....a relic of the past....her name was never mentioned. The four women sat down at the green-baize table preparing to play and Diana was highly delighted on this occasion for some of her memory had returned. It had been quite sudden, almost as though she experienced a click in the head, and everything began to fall into place. Within an instant, she was feeling quite normal again. All the fears and trauma which had dogged her for so long were gone and her mental attitude improved immensely. She could remember all the incident which had occurred in her past life without effort and she knew that she was ready to face the world as she had done before. She recognised the images of her husband, Charles, as he looked in the past but despite that she still didn’t like the look of him.

  ‘I understand you’ve been approached by the Tory Party to stand in one of their constituencies,’ began Dr. Martin as Jane began to shuffle the cards.

  ‘Yes,’ returned Diana dryly. ‘They asked me and I agreed but there’s no chance of me winning the seat....it’s a Labour stronghold. It was last won with a majority of twelve thousand votes.’

  ‘Things change over a period of five years,’ commented Samantha wisely, trying to give her friend some element of hope.

  ‘And pigs have wings!’ retorted Jane still shuffling the cards. ‘Twelve thousand votes in front means you’ve got a great hill to climb. I’d say it’s impossible.’

  ‘Nothing’s impossible,’ snapped Samantha curtly. ‘We even got a man on the moon!’

  Surprisingly, Diana took umbrage at Jane’s remark. ‘I see,’ she countered irately. ‘You’re the expert, are you? You think it’s impossible!’

  ‘A mission impossible,’ stated Jane adamantly. ‘I’m surprised you let yourself go in for it. You haven’t got a dog’s chance!’

  ‘Well I’m going to give it my best shot, I’ve a number of ideas I could put into place...’

  She stopped as the doctor burst out laughing. ‘I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a few things up your sleeve. Do you know, Diana, you’re so refreshing...you’re a marvel. I’m really glad to know you.’

  ‘Well there’s been quite a change over the past five years in that particular constituency. Immigrant have been flooding into the area....Poles, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Czechs and so on. Most of all are the people from those countries joining the European Union. There must be a way to influence their votes.’

  Jane should her head refusing to relent. ‘Twelve thousand votes,’ she muttered. ‘That’s a really big swing!’

  ‘Many people were swayed at the last election because the Conservative Government had been so weak. Now Labour seem to have made a mess of it. Who knows what will happen this time?’

  Jane placed the cards down on the table and Samantha cut them, then the four women carried on playing bridge. During the tea break, Jane looked into a mirror fixed to one of the walls to examine her face closely.

  ‘I must be getting old,’ she said almost in a whisper. ‘Look at the crow’s feet round my eyes. I’m getting old.’

  ‘Aren’t we all,’ concurred Samantha sadly. ‘They say that death and taxes are inevitable but they forgot about a woman’s good looks.’ She stared at Diana’s face as she sipped her tea and became thoughtful. ‘I’ve known you for many years, Diana,’ she went on, ‘yet you never look a day older. Do you know something that we don’t? How do you do it?’

  ‘I apply the make-up advertised on television,’ came the reply. ‘You know, the one that makes you look years younger.’

  ‘I’m not buying that!’ retorted Jane sharply, looking more closely at Diana’s face. ‘You’re not wearing make-up. I’d like to know how you do it. I mean you’ve been looking about twenty-eight years old for ever.’

  ‘Yes,’ cut in Samantha suspiciously. ‘Your face is as smooth as a baby’s bum. You’ve no sign of wrinkles at all. It’s as though you’ve remained young for all these years.’

  Diana’s heart beat a little faster when she realised that she would have to come up with a realistic answer.. What better than the truth? ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ she advanced cautiously. ‘In Morocco, I go to a scientist who gives me these special pills and they keep me young.’

  ‘What pills are these?’ demanded Jane sharply, hardly believing the story.

  ‘They’re extracted from the essence of exotic plants in North Borneo,’ continued Diana frankly. There...the secret was out and she could have bitten her tongue for revealing it. God only knew what Dr. Mahmoud would say when he discovered that she had betrayed him!

  ‘Yes.’ snapped Samantha. ‘As Jane says, pigs have wings I don’t believe a word of it but it’s a good story. I only wish such tablets were available.’

  Diana felt very relieved that they hadn’t believed her even though it was true. However Dr. Martin looked at her in a strange manner. She knew that her bridge partner took tablets made by a scientist in Agadir and her suspicious were aroused when Diana told her story. It was clear in her mind that an experiment of some kind had been taking place. She hadn’t known Diana for all that long but the comments made by the two other women started her thinking that something odd was going on.

  ‘Let’s get on with the game,’ insisted the doctor realising that further discussion on the subject would get them nowhere except to embarrass Diana.

  They finished their tea break but failed to continue playing cards. Instead they sat facing each other across the table discussing their colleague’s strategy and tactics for winning the seat in her constituency. Diana sighed with relief that no one mentioned her youthfulness again although Dr. Martin decided she would watch her much closer in future. If Diana had stumbled on to a process which would keep women looking younger she wanted to b
e in on it. There was a fortune to be made and, as far as she was concerned, the centre of it was focussed in Agadir.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two weeks later, Diana faced the Conservative Area Board. The interview was a done deal and it became obvious as that from the start. All the previous candidates had been dismissed and she discovered that she was the only person to be interviewed.

  ‘Your husband is the Deputy to the Minister of Health,’ began one board member who could do with a measure of dieting to reduce his obesity. ‘Do you have any concerns that he’s in the Labour Government....in opposition to the role you wish to undertake?’

  ‘I can’t see the problem,’ she responded candidly. ‘We’ve been separated from each other for many years. I haven’t seen him in all that time.’

  ‘How do you feel about standing in a Labour stronghold?’ asked another board member bluntly. ‘You have very little chance of winning.’

  ‘You think that, do you?’ she retorted feistily, her anger rising swiftly. ‘What kind of a Tory Board are you to be so defeatist? Every seat is there to be won. Why don’t you think so negatively? Why should you suggest that I won’t win? An eight per cent swing will clinch it for the Party. My task is to overturn a majority of twelve thousand votes!’

  Her vehemence took all the board members by surprise. They were used to people cowing before them in the hope of being chosen for a constituency. This woman was a virago!

  ‘Will you support the policies in our manifesto without question?’ asked another member. She was slim and looked very smart but her face was covered with wrinkles. Diana considered that the woman would have benefited greatly from the experiment with Dr. Mahmoud.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ she retorted fiercely. ‘If I think your policies are against the British people I’ll oppose them with all my will.’

  ‘It was not the kind of answer they expected but the woman continued undaunted. ‘None of our policies are against the British people,’ she countered sharply. ‘Quite the contrary. Our aim is to make Britain a better place in which to live.’

  ‘I hope so,’ rattled Diana. ‘What are your policies on crime, immigration, the National Health Service, wars and the country’s finances?’

  ‘The board was astounded to be attacked with such a question from a brand new candidate who knew little about politics. It was as though the roles had suddenly changed. Instead of them questioning her, she was challenging the board!

  As the interview ended, they told her that she had been selected, although two members of the board indicated that they were reluctant. Diana went home thinking that it was the end of the road until the hustings. If she thought that she was in for a big surprise. The next morning, just after she had opened the Red Cross shop, one of her staff came bounding in excitedly waving a national newspaper in his hand.

  ‘You’re famous!’ she shouted continuing to wave the newspaper. ‘Famous!’ She placed the journal on the counter in front of the manageress to allow her to read the item. ‘Look at this!’

  Diana turned her attention to two photographs on the front page. The heading was “Husband and wife: Labour or Tory!” and the photographs were of her and her husband. It was clear that the Press were excited that they were on two different sides...contestants in the forthcoming election. Husband versus wife! It made a good story. Too much of a sensation not to hit the front page. There was even an editorial about the issue on one of the pages inside. Indeed, now that her photograph had been advertised to the general public she was famous. However the publication did not bring much joy for that evening Templeton visited her at her home. She hadn’t seen him in years and it was quite a shock to see how much he had aged.

  ‘How are you?’ he began politely, pouring himself a drink from the cocktail cabinet.

  ‘Fine,’ she responded uneasily. ‘My memory’s returned.’ She paused to reflect for a moment. ‘I know why you’ve come.’

  He sat down in an armchair before replying, sipping at his drink. ‘You’ve seen the newspapers no doubt. How could you think about going into politics with the Conservatives? Why not Labour?’

  ‘The reason for that’s simple,’ she explained easily. ‘No one in the Labour Party asked me.’

  Her response set him back for a moment. ‘You cam see my position, can’t you? You’ll have to withdraw your nomination. There’s nothing else for it.’

  She resented his remark strongly. ‘I don’t think so,’ she told him angrily. ‘I’ve a right to do anything I want! Why shouldn’t I stand for the Tories?’

  ‘You’ll embarrass me greatly if you do,’ he uttered with a tinge of laughter. I’m already being ridiculed by some of my colleagues. It can’t go on!’

  ‘Well I’m not changing my mind!’ she said adamantly.

  ‘You have to,’ he insisted. ‘I’ve worked os many years to get where I am. You’re going to ruin my reputation overnight.’

  ‘Look,’ she reasoned. ‘I’m standing in a Labour stronghold. My chances of winning the seat are zilch. After the election, everyone will have forgotten about me.’

  He chewed on an olive thoughtfully. She was right but he was still uncomfortable with the issue, especially as the newspapers had got their teeth into it. ‘I’d like you to reconsider,’ he pressed firmly, even though he knew that his wife wouldn’t comply with his wishes.

  They discussed the matter for a little while longer without him changing her mind. When he left, Diana felt that she had made the right decision to separate from the man. Whatever had been between them in days gone by had disappeared completely. They were two separate people leading different lives that set them worlds apart. They were far better off without each other.

  * * *

  Carol Hemsley presented herself at Diana’s house two months later. She had been appointed as the main support to her protégé by the Area Board and she was ready to set to her task. It was going to be disappointing to lose the seat at the election to the favourite Labour candidate but it was necessary for the Party to provide someone in the contest regardless of the end result.

  ‘The Government’s just announced the date of the General Election,’ she informed the manageress. ‘It’s in just over two months time. I’ve been appointed to support you although there will be limited funds at your disposal. How you want to proceed is entirely up to you.’

  ‘I don’t suppose any well-known names will come to my constituency to support me.’ Diana was not hopeful of any help to her from the Tory hierarchy.

  ‘They’ll be going to all the marginal seats,’ came the reply.

  ‘Well I’ve worked out a strategy,’ declared Diana simply staring at the other woman. ‘I want to tour the area talking in different districts every day. All you need to supply is a wooden podium for me to stand on, a microphone and speakers, a white cloth with the Conservative logo, a British flag, and leaflets and badges. I want you also to find some musicians.’

  ‘Musicians!’ retorted Carol with surprise in her voice. ‘What are they for?’

  ‘The Americans find them very useful in their political campaigns. So why not us? People usually pass by the speakers but they’ll always stop to listen to music. If you could manage a brass band all the better.’

  Carol stared at her strangely. ‘You’re going down fighting this seat, aren’t you? You think you have a chance of winning.’

  ‘Of course I am. What do you take me for. I hate losing...even more I had time-wasting especially when it’s my own time.’ Diana’s attitude was very definite. ‘If I go into battle, I want a strategy to help me win. Remember the story in the Bible about David and Goliath. Now you know where I’m coming from.’

  Carol stared at her in amazement. ‘I don’t think the Board knows what it’s taken on. You’re the Minotaur in the Labyrinth. My God...I’m glad you’re not my opponent.’

  ‘W
e’ll start each time with me on the podium, the white sheet with the Conservative logo behind me so that everyone knows who we are. Leaflets will be available on a nearby table together with the badges. The musicians will start to play, the audience will be attracted, and when the music stops I shall speak. After ten minutes or so, the musicians will start playing again...something like the Battle Hymn of the Republic and we’ll finish with You’ll Never Walk Alone. Everyone knows that one. I’ll talk to them for another five minutes and then the musicians will play something again. I envisage each performance will last half an hour. After that we move on to the next place. There’s no point in ramming politics down their throats for any longer than that.’

  ‘Wow!’ exclaimed her supporter in awe. ‘How many talks do you think you can get through in one day?’

  Diana shrugged her shoulders. ‘Probably about eight. I think you should contact the supermarkets asking their permission if we can use their car parks for half an hour. That’s give us the edge to speak to crowds of people. Once they hear the music, they’ll come in droves.’

  Carol stared at her in wonderment. I think you’re brilliant. How is it we never picked you up earlier? ‘ She paused to stare at Diana’s face. ‘That’s a silly question. You’re only about twenty-six or seven.’

  Diana laughed at the comment. ‘No one’s asked me for my curriculum vitae yet. I’m fifty-seven.’

  Carol’s face dropped as she stared at Diana’s face again. ‘You’re kidding me, aren’t you!’ she managed to say.

  ‘It’s the truth. That’s my age.’

  ‘You must have a fantastic secret you’re not telling anyone else,’ retorted the other woman. ‘What is it?’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,’ stated her protégé tiredly. ‘Come on. We’ve got a lot to get through if we’re gong to make a real fist of it. To tell you the truth, I was dreading the idea of going into politics but now I’ve got the bit between my teeth I’m going hell for leather.’