Party Games (10 page)

 “Anthea, would you like to briefly outline the main points of the Bill?” Rodney asked.  “I did my best at PMQs but I’m sure you’ve a much deeper knowledge on this than me.” 

“Right, of course.”  Anthea spread out her notes then glanced around the table.  For a terrible moment she thought Gregory was asleep, but a weary arm stretched out and shakily grasped his coffee cup.  Continuing, she gave the best outline of the Bill she could, from the overall cost to the wider democratic implications. 

“Has anyone actually spoken to Jack Fisher?”  Barty piped up.  He placed his gadget on the table.  It was the first thing he had said for nearly an hour and Anthea stopped in her tracks.  It was an excellent yet obvious question.  She shot a glance at Bronwyn, but neither woman knew the answer.  Anthea certainly hadn’t found the time and Bronwyn had only been in the job a day.

“Well, I doubt Tristan did.”   Rodney said dryly.  “Fisher could certainly be useful to us.  If we could find a mutual agreement with him then it is certainly possible we could get some Liberal support too, I hear they’re split down the middle on this issue.  Or an anti-Government alliance, I suppose we should really call it.”

“I’m not so sure.”  Anthea said warningly.  Rodney’s eyes widened in surprise as his deputy smirked.  Colin opened his mouth but then shut it again, indicating to Anthea to continue.  She eyed him suspiciously.  He seemed to have decided against pouring oil on the fire this time, obviously having too much fun.

“Fisher can be a prickly sort.”  Anthea continued, pushing her shoulders back.  “If we start trying to jump into bed with him then he might decide to back the Government out of spite.  Although he’s publicly said he’s taking issue with the whole Bill, I think he could conceivably simply choose to try to put down amendments at Report Stage.”

“So you don’t think we should speak to him?”  Rodney looked flabbergasted.  “It would be folly to leave Fisher out in the cold, no matter how temperamental he can be.”

  Eyes around the table flicked between them as if observing the end of a tense tennis match. Anthea shrugged, shuffling her notes into a neat pile.

 “I would say wait a week or so, maybe I could sound him out casually if I bump into him, but I don’t want Ian Harvey to know we’ve approached him, he’s far too sharp a Secretary of State for that and would smell a rat a mile off.  His Department would leap into action immediately and our plans could be scuppered.”  Anthea saw Colin sniff out a small laugh but continued his vow of silence.  She felt her cheeks flushing and glanced at Bronwyn, whose neatly plucked eyebrows were raised high into her auburn fringe, her green eyes cold and fixed.  Anthea sensed Rodney was backing her into a corner on purpose.

.   “Yes, but if we don’t do it soon support could slip through our fingers.  I was thinking we might offer him a deal on some amendments at committee stage in return for his support at Second Reading.”  She argued.

“I’m not convinced he will vote against in the end, Fisher’s often more bark than bite.”  Sharkey offered as Anthea’s frowned in disagreement. 
Was nobody going to back her up? 
Before she could speak again the Chief Whip cut in.  Anthea’s blood began to boil. 

“No, Rodney’s right.  He’s been spoiling for a fight with the PM since they were in opposition, and this is his perfect opportunity.  He’s a Devon MP, he’s bound to be crunchy over this, but I agree with Rodney.  We should pin him down now on his intentions.  That way, if we get positive noises, then my whips can get to work on those few colleagues of ours who are considering backing the Government.”  Bronwyn said smoothly.

Anthea knew the maths regarding a possible win was certainly stacked against them, and she could see Bronwyn scribbling down an initial working out of the numbers needed for the Bill to fall.  If Fisher and his rebels could be brought on board, the Opposition could score the support of the Liberals and smaller parties, then conceivably it could be defeated – by a margin of one. Numbers like that were usually seen as madness and wildly over-optimistic, but here they were, realistically discussing the possibility of victory.

Anthea tried to argue again; if she or Bronwyn took the heavy-handed approach with Fisher then it could all backfire.  Caution was needed to keep it low key and allow the Government to wallow in its own complacency a bit longer.  Rodney, however, stood his ground until finally there was an uneasy stalemate between him and his favourite Shadow Secretary of State.    Nobody else had seen them disagree in public before, neither of them budging an inch.  Anthea knew that it was Rodney’s and the Chief Whip’s business if a Government defeat was possible, but the Cornwall Devolution Bill was Anthea’s territory and her leader was trying to muscle in rather than trusting her.  Anthea realised that the Bill, and Fisher, were about to be hijacked. She fell silent, bitter at her treatment, feeling foolish in front of her colleagues. 
Couldn’t it have been discussed in private?

Anthea glanced at Colin.  If anyone leaked the exchange to a journalist or two, she would know just where to point the finger.  She thought of Tristan.  She would ring him straight after the meeting and arrange lunch. 
Sod Rodney bloody Richmond.

Rodney clasped his hands on the table, his dark brow furrowed.  Faces stared at him expectantly, sensing something bad was about to be aired.

“Just before you all go, I thought it courteous to let you know that the story involving Martin Arnold is going to break in the
Sunday Engager
this week…”

*****

Tristan had hoped that the papers would have made a lot more of it than they did, but the comment that appeared in even the
Bulletin
supported Richmond’s appointment of Bronwyn –
‘Rivers of Blood, or a Victory for Parliamentary Democracy?’   
Probably, he thought, the paper’s retaliation for him turning down an interview.  He had come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t have done him any good at all to speak out publicly.  A quiet life seemed far more appealing. The
London Chronicle
hinted that maybe Tristan’s dismissal had been for more than professional reasons, but he soon forgot about that – his wife wouldn’t have talked, she knew better than that.  She had money and a nice life now, all the heartbreak was done with.  That reminded him, he had better remember his son’s birthday.  Perhaps he and Nicole could discuss the little matter they had been putting off for seven years.  Tristan wanted his life back, he had done his penance, made the ultimate sacrifice, and now he wanted out, for good. Especially now he had a chance of happiness.  He had put Anthea’s reluctance for intimacy down to nerves, rather than down to Rodney Richmond.  She had told him the rumours weren’t true, and he was desperately inclined to believe her.

He hadn’t made the decision to go to the meeting with Colin Scott lightly.  He knew full well that the man was a potential trouble-maker and that both he and Colin had their crosses to bear as far as Richmond was concerned, but that certainly didn’t mean that the two men had to like each other, or indeed have mysterious evening meetings.  However, Tristan felt compelled to go even just to satisfy his own curiosity.  After stuffing down a sandwich, he ambled over to the Deputy Leader’s suite just along the corridor from his own new, cramped office, keeping a firm eye out for anyone who may snitch to the Leader.

“Ah, come in, come in.”  Colin beamed as Tristan peered around the door.

“Thanks.”  Tristan muttered, studying Colin closely with a suspicious eye.  He sat himself down on a straight-backed chair as Colin waved his bottle of whisky at him.

“A glass of the strong stuff?”  Colin asked, a bitter-sweet smile spread across his face.

“Err, no thanks, I shouldn’t really…”  Tristan began, but trailed off after Colin ignored his decline and poured him a generous double shot, plonking the glass down in front of him on the table with such a clatter Tristan gave a jump.

“Come on, get that down you.  I bet you need it after everything that’s been going on the past day or so.”  Colin said, throwing himself into an easy-chair opposite his colleague.  Tristan shifted uncomfortably and began to spin the glass around in his hand, nodding in agreement and wondering when he was going to cut to the chase.   He swore blind that he would never let Colin Scott intimidate him, he had seen him at work in recent months and decided that he was an unpleasant individual whom he needed to give as wide a berth as possible.  He just hoped that perhaps Bronwyn would be able to deal with him in a more upfront manner than he had been able.

“Is there something in particular you wish to discuss, Colin?” Tristan asked a little tersely, sitting further back in his chair.  “I thought we had said all we needed to say yesterday.”

Colin leaned forward and Tristan noticed that his ears were turning slightly pink.   He was still gripping the whisky bottle.  “Oh, I just thought a friendly drink was in order, between colleagues.  I don’t mean to sound rude, but I thought you might be a little...lonely.  I thought you would also be curious to know how Shadow Cabinet went today without you.”

“Oh yes?”  He asked, shifting in his chair.  His interest was certainly piqued, but the last thing he wanted to do was to hint to Colin he was desperate for information.  It worried him, how Colin was doing his best to sound casual.  Casual was one thing Colin Scott most certainly wasn’t.  He sipped the alcohol and felt it burn his throat on contact.

The Deputy rubbed his temple.  “Between you and me, I think it’s all falling apart already.  I mean, Rodney was just so, well,
distracted.
I think that the reshuffle has had quite an effect on him.  And you should have seen him, having a go at poor Anthea.  He was giving her such a hard time...”

Tristan cut in. “A go at Anthea?  Why?”  He had spoken to her, briefly, only a few hours ago.  She thanked him for the note and agreed to meet him for lunch, but although she had seemed slightly abrupt, he assumed leaving her apartment so early may have offended her - he had merely wished to avoid more awkwardness. 

 “Oh, you know, the Cornish Bill.”  Colin said, sighing.  “Argument over Jack Fisher, and whether he should be approached, and by whom.  I mean, Anthea did have a good point.”

“And you spoke up for her, then, I suppose?” Tristan queried.  He noted a sudden flicker of annoyance across Colin’s face, but he appeared to suppress it.

“Well, you know, I did try and all that, but Rodney just wasn’t willing to listen to my point of view, or indeed Anthea’s.  She seemed most upset, and a tad jealous of our new Chief Whip, I may add.  It must be hard for her, knowing that she was passed over for the job when she, and others, thought she would get it.  What’s the point in having friends in high places if they’re no use?”  Colin laughed, but Tristan wasn’t about to laugh with him, he was too deep in thought.  Colin was still talking.  “So now it appears Anthea and Rodney aren’t on speaking terms.  I think she’s pissed off with him, if her best friend won’t give her a promotion...then to go and humiliate her in front of the whole Shadow Cabinet.  Even Barty paid attention through that little stand-off.”

Colin finally paused.  Tristan felt the anger welling up inside him and he focussed his gaze at the bottom of his glass where the remaining golden liquid swirled in front of his eyes.  Seconds later, he had drained it. Sourness flashed across Tristan’s face; how he hated the stuff.  Colin poured him another.  A second drunken night in a row beckoned.

“But, do you know what concerned me the most?”  Colin whispered, glancing around the office as if it might be bugged.  Tristan shook his head.  “I was worried for Rodney more than Anthea, he just wouldn’t listen to reason, he wasn’t...himself, let me put it like that.”

“Wasn’t himself?”  Tristan asked, puzzled. 

 “Well, I shouldn’t say any more, especially not to you.”  He produced a look of concern and doubt.

“If something’s…wrong with Richmond, Colin, then we all have a right to know.”  Tristan argued.  Not even Colin Scott, he thought, would make up something like this, and even if he did why would he tell him of all people? 

Colin hung his head and sighed, as if incredibly reluctant to be so unethical as to discuss their leader’s mental health without any proof whatsoever. 

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say
mentally wrong
.” He began slowly.  “Well, I don’t think he’s completely losing it.  Not yet.  But I have a responsibility as Deputy Leader to watch the leader for tell-tale signs of…slight instability, paranoia, erratic behaviour, lack of concentration on the job, not listening to good advice from colleagues and senior advisors.  I mean, are you completely happy with the way policy has been developed lately?  I certainly have my reservations, Tristan.  I feel I have a duty to this party, and to Rodney himself, to keep an even more watchful eye on him from now on.  Last thing we need in our fragile state in the polls is the leader saying or doing something he shouldn’t. But the signs are there, that’s all I’m saying.  I mean, no right-minded Richmond would ever have raised his voice to teacher’s pet Miss Culverhouse, especially not in front of colleagues like that.”

“What, he actually shouted?”  Tristan asked, alarmed.

Colin nodded gravely.  “We all just couldn’t believe it, I didn’t know where to look.  He was thumping the table, interrupting.  I didn’t realise that he was going to pin so much on Cornish devolution until recently, you know as well as I do that he sees the issue as make or break.”

 “Has anybody else said anything?  Has anyone else been talking?” Tristan asked, nonplussed.  “Although I do agree with you on Cornish devolution and suspect it may be taking up too much of Rodney’s precious time, I haven’t noticed erratic behaviour.  He remained incredibly calm during my...resignation.”

Colin simply smiled sourly again.  “There has been talk, yes, people worried that he may be…losing touch with reality, but I don’t wish to name names right now.  I don’t want to say too much, not at this stage anyway.”

“Of course not.”  Tristan replied, his striking blue eyes narrowing in slight suspicion.  For someone who didn’t wish to say very much, Colin was doing an awful lot of talking.  It was well known that Rodney was prone to dark moods at times, but for the Deputy Leader to be waging a private war by briefing against him to a sacked colleague was incredibly suspicious.  A word or two with Derek Bradbury wouldn’t hurt.