Party Games (24 page)

            “I SAID NO!”

            Jeremy grabbed his tennis bag and flung it over his shoulder.  It had been a disaster and he was furious with himself for causing an unproductive row. 

“Then I give up.  I give up trying to be a decent colleague to you, making excuses for you, trying to patch up that so-called friendship we once had.  Every time any of us try to reach out to you, you throw it right back in our faces!  You have to accept that Alice is dead, Oxford was a long time ago and that Rodney is leader!  Unite behind him with everyone else and tackle the real enemy out there!”

            “I can’t!”  Colin shouted desperately.  “I
need
to do this, and not just for me!  It’s for the greater good!”

            “Bollocks to that!”  Jeremy retorted.  “It’s for you, and you alone!  I’m done, you’re on your own!  Pretty soon Rodney will tell you to put up or shut up, and I won’t be there to help you!”

            Colin shook his head, fighting back what Jeremy thought to be tears.  “I don’t need your help, I never have!  You just
think
I’ve needed it!”

            “Then it’s just as well!  Just deal with your demons, Colin, before you take the whole damn party down with you!”  Jeremy headed for the hall’s exit, but turned one final time to the colleague he felt he had failed. “You’re going to end up a lonely, friendless old man, with a life full of regrets!  Bit of advice, get yourself a girlfriend.  Find someone to love, if that’s even possible for you these days, then perhaps that coldness in your soul might melt and you’ll finally see what a complete narcissistic bastard you’ve become!” 

Eleven

Monday evening

“Just stay calm, everyone will be here in a minute.”

            “I’m telling you now, Matthew, Jeremy Cheeser can go fuck himself.”  Colin poured himself a glass of wine in his office and handed the bottle to Matthew Gaines, the only colleague he felt he could completely trust.  Matthew was a troublemaker to Richmond, a loyalist to Colin and someone he needed if he were to succeed.  “The way he spoke to me, all high and mighty, full of psychobabble and crap about broken friendships!  I could bloody spit!”

            “I did suggest you cancel, remember.” Matthew said sagely.  He topped up a row of glasses and pinched a crisp.  “You really will have to start listening to me if you want to take on Richmond.  But just forget what Cheeser said, he’s just trying to unnerve you.  Richmond will have sent him to try to stop you and he blew it so the Leader’s Office will be even more twitchy now.”

            “How are the numbers looking?”  Colin asked, calming himself. Matthew was right, as always. 

            “Better than I initially thought.  A quick tally round the tea room should give you support of around thirty colleagues at the moment, with around twenty or so coming tonight, and it sounds as if support out in the associations is reasonably strong. But you’re going to need those final few nominations to take it to twenty if you’re to stand.  I’m working on it.”

            Matthew’s estimation turned out to be near accurate, with twenty-five specially selected potential supporters squeezing into the Deputy’s office, chatting, drinking his wine and waiting expectantly for him to declare civil war.  The final attendee burst into the office and surveyed the scene like a predator may keenly observe its weak and helpless prey.  Over six foot and broad-shouldered (which was a good job, some muttered privately, so he could carry round his the weight of his incredible ego with ease), the Deputy Chief Whip cut quite a dominant figure in his pin-stripe and Cambridge University tie; a slightly portly stomach but with a slim face which indicated that he might have been quite the catch in his younger days, for a submissive woman who didn’t mind his views about her gender, of course.   Colin smiled, but most eyed the arrival of David Fryer with an air of suspicion. 

            “Thank you for coming tonight,” Colin began after calling everyone to order. “I know it’s late, and a Monday, but I hope you have been having useful discussions.  It’s very important to be able to talk freely about policy, and the direction of the party in general, and I’m delighted to hear you sharing your….opinions.”

            There was a low ripple of knowing laughter, but Tristan’s expression remained stony at the back of the room.

“This is a very critical time for us,” The Deputy continued importantly. “The Europeans are next year and there are issues which will need to be discussed honestly and openly with the British electorate.  Most of you will know my position on UK membership of the EU and I can no longer hide my...
concern
about the lack of a promise of a referendum by our party – unlike over the quasi-important issue of Cornish devolution….”

            A murmur passed the lips of a few present as the implications of Colin Scott’s words sank in. 

            “But isn’t it the case, if you excuse me playing Devil’s Advocate,” one MP, a budding new recruit to the Scott cause, piped up.  “that the official line is that Cornish independence is an issue of vital importance; one of the Government’s flagship policies and symbolic of Harvey’s desire to force regionalisation and create yet more bureaucracy?”

            Colin smiled, nodding.  “Indeed, you are completely correct.  But I can’t help but feel Richmond’s taking his eye of the more important balls out there – I think Richmond missed a big opportunity today with his education speech.  What about our position on health, or even cut-backs on defence spending?  I feel these issues are being ignored, and the time is coming to make our voices heard.  When did you last see Richmond in the tea room?  He ignores the party at his peril.”

            Colin continued as his audience watched him, captivated.  “We must not forget the issues which concern our voters the most; taxation, decent public services, the right to own their own homes and to enjoy low interest rates.  It is true that our great party is at its best when at its boldest, at its worst when we are cowardly.  The opinion polls are telling us we are certainly not being the former.”  The Deputy Leader spoke as though he were in the throws of a leadership campaign, canvassing his colleagues’ support, and a bizarre feeling of déjà vu swept over the guests.  As his speech drew to a close, he hoped many were beginning to think the unthinkable.  Matthew Gaines was a big beast in the growing rebel camp and many seemed keen to bend his ear.

Nice speech,
Fryer indicated to Colin with a small smile of approval. The Deputy may have not been the most charismatic or charming man on a one-to-one level but to a general audience he had a way with words and was a better orator than he gave himself credit.

            Once they had heard Colin speak most of his colleagues hung about politely for a short while until they began to drift away.  Some looked faintly incredulous as they left his office having had their fill of free alcohol, while others muttered their private support to Matthew and Colin himself on the way out. 

            “You know they’re taking their political lives in their hands.”  Matthew said with a chuckle.

If Colin had been selling himself, he wasn’t quite sure if he was running at a loss or not, but he had enough spies to get a realistic assessment of their reaction once they had digested what he was heavily hinting at.  Chinese Whispers could be dirty, deceitful and downright inaccurate at Westminster, so he had no idea what exactly would reach Richmond’s ear.  The Leader’s bodyguard Robert Williams would no doubt be on the case.

            Colin caught Tristan’s eye as his office emptied.  There was an acknowledgement between the two men but Fryer was still hanging around, quite obviously wishing to catch Colin on his own.  Tristan shot Fryer a suspicious glance as just the three of them were left, each with their own egos, each with their own agendas. 

            “There’s something we need to discuss.”  Tristan announced dryly to Colin after he drained his glass, ignoring Fryer who continued to stare at him like a paid-up minder.

Colin’s lip curled.  “Of course there is.”  He could sense Tristan’s unease at Fryer’s presence, watching as he turned on Fryer so he could feel the full force of his fury through a hateful glare, but Fryer snorted and folded his arms to indicate he wasn’t going anywhere.

            “You still here?”  Tristan enquired frostily.  “Haven’t you got someone to go and humiliate?”

            “Carry on, don’t mind me.”  Fryer retorted as Colin raised a sly smile. “I’m quite enjoying myself.”

            Tristan took a step towards him, thunderous.  “Bugger off, David, this doesn’t concern you.” 

            “Where the hell d’you think you get off talking to me like that?”  Fryer growled, the veins in his neck bulbous under his skin.  “Remember who I am, Rivers, and who you are!  You’re not in charge around here anymore, I’m Deputy Chief and you’re…you’re..!”

            “I’m what?  Hmm?”

            “You’re a nobody,
sacked
as Chief Whip for being
shit
at your job!”    

“I
resigned,
I wasn’t sacked!  And I resigned because I got fed up of having to deal with utter scum like you!  And d’you know what?  It feels great to be free of it – free of
you
!”  Tristan hissed triumphantly.  Fryer was rocking from one foot to the other, his face contorted with bitterness.  Colin knew his campaign manager wasn’t used to being talked down to, nobody would
dare
. Except for Colin himself, of course.  He would soon put him in his place.

 “You won’t get away with talking to me like I’m not your superior!” Fryer clenched his fists. 

Tristan shrugged, screwing up his lips.  “What you going to do?  Run crying to Bronwyn?  I bet she hates you, she’s only made you her deputy so she can keep an eye on you, and I bet she’s doing just that, isn’t she David?  Eh?”

Fryer didn’t reply, too furious to even spit out a word of malice. 

“Now piss off and crawl back under the rock you came from!  Colin and I have business!” 

Colin’s eyebrows flew up as he wondered why Tristan hadn’t dealt with him in such a way when his boss.  He could almost hear the man’s teeth clashing together as he stormed towards the office door, flinging it open then stepping out into the corridor. He tried to slam it hard behind him but it caught on the carpet and all he managed was a pathetic click.  Colin stifled a laugh, noting Fryer had forgotten his coat and wondered whether Tristan secretly hoped the bastard froze to death on his way home.

            “I think you’ve just upset my campaign mastermind.”  The Deputy Leader said acerbically, waving at Tristan to sit.  “Anyway, you wished to discuss something?  It’s good timing, actually, things are moving quickly.  More wine?”

*****

Anthea had given up waiting for Tristan.  He wasn’t going to turn up, that much was obvious, so after a late-night scan of her e-mails she climbed into bed.  The next day was to be another full one and it was probably a blessing that Tristan wasn’t distracting her from her sleep, she had to look her best.  She had agreed to do a feature for one of the women’s Sunday newspaper magazines; a glossy effort with full length posed photos and a ‘lifestyle’ interview, although it wasn’t just going to be her but also Bronwyn and Heidi Talbot.  She had nearly declined, but thought it would just seem petty.

Worries about the Bill, the next day’s
Bulletin
revelations and lurid thoughts of Rodney with Rosie played on her mind more than she thought they might.  Everything always seemed worse in the lonely darkness of the bedroom but she couldn’t help the tears which pooled in her eyes and ran silently onto her pillow.  She sent one final text message, then drifted into sleep.

*****

Colin couldn’t have been more correct.  Tristan felt invincible after standing up to his nemesis, like he had discovered a super-power he hadn’t known he possessed.  Nothing could destroy that feeling of euphoria, not even Colin Scott.

“I won’t beat about the bush here,” Tristan began.  He breathed deeply. “But I’ve come to a decision.”

            Colin’s eyebrows flew up.  “Oh?  I wasn’t aware you had one to make.”

            “Yes, I….I don’t want to cause trouble for Richmond, I’ve changed my mind.”

            Looking him straight in the eye, Colin drew breath and snarled.  “You’ve
changed your mind?
  You don’t
get
to change your mind, Rivers!” 

Tristan felt his blood run cold.  He knew his colleague wouldn’t take it that well but thought his reaction a little dramatic.  “Richmond’s still popular, I’d never win, be realistic.”

“
Be realistic?
”  Colin spat indignantly, pacing the carpet.  “I’ll tell you what’s realistic, losing the next election with even worse results than last time, finding ourselves in political oblivion for years to come, that’s being realistic!  The Jeffers legacy hangs around our party like the stench of a rotting corpse and Richmond’s far too up our glorious former PM’s arse to notice!  Yes he says he wants to turn us around, make us electable again, but when it comes down to it he’s nothing more than a caretaker leader who looks good!”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, and your speech tonight was….admirable, but I’ve spoken to Bronwyn and I should be on the Public Accounts Committee within the week.”  Tristan sighed, trying to keep his voice low and calm.  He just couldn’t bring himself to agree with Colin’s damning analysis of Richmond. Colin, meanwhile, was rubbing his forehead firmly with the tips of his fingers in obvious frustration.

“Don’t you understand?  You
have
to contest the leadership!”  He snapped angrily.

“I’ve made up my mind, Colin, you’ll have to do it yourself!  And I never, ever suggested to you that I would
challenge
Richmond!”  Tristan surprised himself with his own forthright attitude but from the look of sheer fury on Colin’s face he hadn’t won the argument quite yet.  “I’m not going to do your dirty work for you, if you want to take on Richmond I can’t be part of it, I’ve got too much to lose.”