Party Games (32 page)

“You’re a doctor, and you know him...”

“I hardly know him at all – I mean, I’ve known him a long time, but he’s Jeremy’s colleague, I’m not his friend.  I doubt he has many of those.” 

Kathryn found her words of little comfort, and this seemed to register with Linda, who suddenly took a more sympathetic approach.  “My immediate concern, both as a doctor and human being, is for you and your unborn child, but you must understand the gravity of all of this.”   Linda may have added that this could be the smoking gun which could bring Colin down, but Kathryn stared at her with hopeful, pleading eyes.  “Do you want to keep your baby?”  She asked softly, taking Kathryn’s hand.  “Because he can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” 

Kathryn felt distraught.  “I’m about to sit my exams, I have finals, I don’t...I don’t know, I would have to tell my parents, but I’d have to say it was a one night thing, I don’t know who he was...”

“Why would you lie?  Why not tell the truth?”  Linda suggested. 

“Sell my story, you mean?”  Kathryn asked in a small voice.  “I can’t do that to him – or to me.  I want a career in politics.”

 “But Kathryn, you can’t let him get away with it!”  Linda said, exasperation slipping into her tone.  “The man’s in a position of authority – you seem a clever girl, you’ll have seen the papers lately, what they’re reporting he’s up to in the party...”

“But I love him!”

Linda’s mouth snapped shut and Kathryn, while defiant, felt surprised at her own admission. They had been said, those words Linda was obviously dreading to hear.

“Your love for him won’t stop him abandoning you, or stop him trying to force you into an abortion, or leaving you on your own with a baby and no job.  I hate to sound like a parent, but you need to be realistic about your future.  You do what is right for you, and you alone.”  Linda said, as gently as she could, but Kathryn was shaking her head vehemently.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, and impossible, but I just want to be with him.  I’ve seen him a few nights a week for the past three years, and he’s become part of my life.”

“Yes, but now he’s told you he doesn’t want to see you anymore, and why do you think that is?  I’m afraid I have to be blunt – if he doesn’t care about the baby then he doesn’t care about you, either.  I know it’s not what you want to hear.” 

Kathryn slipped her cold hand away from Linda’s, allowing her gaze to rest on the trees in the distance.  “I want to have the baby and not tell anyone who the father is.  I’ve decided.”

“You’ll need a lot of support from your family, so I hope they’re understanding.”  Linda sighed.  “And he needs to give you money – more than he has been doing.  You may need the Child Support Agency, but I doubt he’ll let it get that far.  He won’t want his name on their database.”

It was then that Kathryn broke down, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably as she sobbed into Linda’s chest, the loss of the man she loved, and she had hoped loved her, overwhelming her.  Linda comforted, but didn’t once ask her to stop the tears. 

“Please help me.”  Kathryn gulped.  “I can’t do this alone, I just can’t.  But please don’t tell your husband.”  She blew her nose on a scrunched tissue fished from her pocket.

“I won’t...for now.” 

            Kathryn’s face was streaked with tears. 

“Look, this is
not
your fault, it is all his.”  Linda said firmly.  “He’s pushing fifty and should know better.  I realise you love him, and I’m sure you do, but...does your mobile have a recording facility?”

Kathryn wiped her face, confusion replacing her distress.  She nodded, with a small “why?”

  “You need collateral, my dear.  A bargaining chip, that’s all.  Colin Scott doesn’t do subtle or nice.  You need to play him at his own game, get tough.”  Linda explained calmly. 

Kathryn didn’t feel tough.  She wanted him to love her, come to her and hold her, so she could feel his warmth melt the chill in her bones.  “What do you think I should do?” 

“I know this will be hard, but you need him on the record talking about you, about the baby.  You’ll need it if he’s not willing to give you any support.” 

Kathryn continued to look nonplussed.  “What, for the CSA?”

“Err, yes, exactly.  For the CSA.”  Linda said.  “And I have an idea of how to catch up with him.”

For the CSA
.  Linda wished she didn’t feel so guilty as she watched the girl walk away into the wind.
For the Sunday Engager, more like.
  She thought Kathryn so incredibly young, foolish - and genuine. She had seen many patients in her profession and had become sensitive to the body language of those who may not be totally honest.  Kathryn, she could tell, was terrified.  If this was a con, she was a first rate actress.  However, nothing she had said about Colin would be in any way out of character.  If true Colin Scott was, in Linda’s estimation, an even more first rate bastard than she had thought.  How could she get involved with Colin Scott of all people – an intelligent, ambitious young woman with a good education?  Anger and disgust bubbled inside the Chairman’s wife, and the baby began to kick furiously, sensing her mood. Linda’s mind had turned to retribution early in their conversation.  It might take time, but she was sure she could convince Kathryn to go public, even if she remained anonymous.  It could be done, through a decent publicist.  But it was too early for that. 

As she rose wearily to her feet, longing for a hot bath and a one of Jeremy’s amazing massages, her thoughts turned to her husband – what could she tell him?  Linda knew what an awkward position Jeremy would find himself in if she breathed a word at this stage.  Part of her wanted to tell him everything, kiss him and recommend he did his worst, but she felt this poor girl’s welfare more important.  She considered patient/doctor confidentiality and thought it best to justify it that way.  For now.

She knew she was putting Kathryn’s fragile emotional wellbeing into danger, but Kathryn had to get evidence somehow.  Colin would deny ever seeing her in his life if it saved his skin, and by the time a DNA test was possible, there was no guarantee he would agree to one.  The press would annihilate her, turn her into every stereotype in the book, claim she was trying to sleep her way to the top.  If that had indeed been her initial intention, it had got way out of hand. 
He
should be ashamed of himself.

Fifteen

Tuesday, 11.30am

Feeling sympathy for a fellow human being had never been one of Colin Scott’s strong points, and as David Fryer ranted around his office, his head looking as if it were to explode off his broad shoulders, the Deputy Leader was thinking far beyond any personal grievance his friend felt towards the current leadership.  Fryer’s sacking might have actually been a
good
thing, there were enough ‘waverers’ out there who had just needed that little nudge in the right direction.

            “There she was, quite obviously thinking she could work her feminine cunning on me, charm me into taking it lying down, pardon the pun!  Compromising the impartiality of the Whips Office, she said!  Not being neutral, for Christ’s sake!  I’m just bloody well outraged!”

            “Yes, you’ve already said that.”  Colin’s cool voice did nothing to lower Fryer’s temperature and the Deputy was already fed up with him clogging up his comfy furniture and drinking
his
alcohol.  Rocking backwards in his chair Colin twirled a pencil between his fingers, feeling the tension in the wood.  “It’s alright, David, just another few days and light will suddenly appear at the end of the tunnel.”

            Fryer grunted and ran a finger around his sweat-drenched collar.  “I don’t know why you just don’t declare.  All this waiting business – it should have nothing to do with the Cornish Bill.”

            “You’re as bad as Dickenson.”  Colin said flatly.  “But you know as well as I do Richmond’s hanging an awful lot on this vote tomorrow night, and if it goes the Government’s way, we’ll have him by the balls.”

            “Some might say you’re simply abandoning your principles to become leader.”  Fryer chanced.

            Colin suddenly looked abhorred.  “Are you on my side or not?  It is a short-term solution for a long-term gain!  I am trying to rescue this party, sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who can see Richmond for what he really is; if anyone’s lacking fucking principles it’s him...!”

            “I know, you don’t need to tell me!  And yes I’m on your side, I want you to be leader just as much as you do!”  Fryer snapped back, killing the brewing confrontation.  Colin breathed deeply and glanced at his watch.  He had every reason to be jumpy and fed up; Fryer and Gaines just hadn’t been able to pull in as much support as he might have liked and so many of his colleagues were pussy-footing around, not making up their minds, scared of the consequences of failed treason.

“And now we’ve got all this Harvey shit to consider.”  Colin gestured towards the television, turning up the report on
News 24
.  “Harvey and his big bloody mouth, don’t they learn?  The tape is
never
off!”

“....Secretary of State for Devolved Affairs, Ian Harvey, has been caught on tape calling the Labour rebels an expletive ‘on his shoes which needs scraping off on the pavement of worthless rebellions’.  In an extraordinary interview, caught by an under-cover journalist, Mr Harvey said he was sure enough rebels could be persuaded to vote down the Opposition amendment.  He says in the interview ‘we have things on many of those [expletives] who think they can disrupt government business without facing the consequences.  Certainly, a number will think twice before doing anything stupid.  They think the whips don’t know what some of them get up to, but they do.  If they value their careers, they’ll be on board.  It sounds nasty, but that’s politics.’  Mr Harvey’s comments will come as an embarrassment to the Government as it tries to head off a rebellion over Cornish devolution, while the Liberals have hinted heavily they now intend to vote with the Opposition...”

“The wet bastards.”  Colin muttered gruffly. “After all they said, and now they cave to vote against a Bill which they have been calling for. Talk about U-turns; just because their leadership can’t handle a few rebels. Should’ve known it though, they can’t even hold their own water let alone a policy position.”

Fryer nodded, rubbing his generous chin. “Jesus, the Government’s screwed.”

“Rather than pointing out the blatantly obvious, David, I think the best thing is for you to be out there, maybe catching up with those unfortunate wretches called into the Chief’s office for a bollocking then working your magic.  Oh, and making sure Rivers is staying on message is a priority.”  Colin removed his whisky bottle from Fryer’s sweaty grasp and opened the door.  “Let’s just remember to hold our nerve.  It’s not long now.”

“You know Matthew and I both agree you should resign now?  Screw Rivers, you don’t need him, we can get you the numbers to launch a challenge, and you’re popular in the party.  There really is nothing for you to lose.”

Colin eyed his campaign manager, trying to ignore the feeling that, for once, Fryer may have been right.  His
Bulletin
interview had enjoyed wider interest and speculation than he had anticipated, and he was surprised at receiving so many positive messages from colleagues.  Still, even the rumour of a possible challenge by Rivers was enough to cause Richmond’s circle sufficient panic so to appear out of control. 

As Fryer left, an abhorrent stench of sweat in his wake, Colin took a trip beyond Westminster.  It hadn’t been an easy decision, to visit her grave.  His annual visit seemed harder this year somehow, but his need to visit was every bit as strong as before.  She had been buried in her beloved birthplace of London; a city girl through-and-through who had found Oxford adorably quaint compared to the concrete mass of the capital. With a shiver, the Deputy Leader wrapped his coat around himself and battled through the rising wind, the swirl of brown leaves gathering pace around him as grit irritated his eyes. 

It was the only time he could find in his busy day to venture up to his wife’s resting place, the urge to be near her greater than at any point over the last twenty six years. 

The clouds darkened and threatened a heavy downpour, Colin’s fingers turning numb with the chill as he stuffed a hand in his pocket, a small bunch of red roses in his other grasp.  He continued walking past the weathered tombs, each slow footstep crunching on the dead remains of summer.  The thought of her here appalled him; this was no place for someone who had been so incredibly beautiful and full of life.  He hated himself for allowing it to happen.  Colin followed the path round as angels and cherubs watched him through grey, pensive eyes, the first drops of early winter rain splattering his cashmere coat and trickling through his windswept hair.  Finally, after the longest walk of his life, he found the modest marble slab which told him what he was so painfully aware of.  

ALICE HARRIET SCOTT, LOVING WIFE AND DAUGHTER, DIED AGED 20 YEARS

The bold, black words sliced through his heart as he knelt down on the moist grass, annoyed he hadn’t tended the grave like he should.  Her mother used to come regularly but he wasn’t sure if she had continued to do so.  They never talked, there had been no need for twenty-six years.  The awful memory of the funeral forced itself to the front of Colin’s mind.  The memory was as fresh as the morning after, when he had wished he too were dead.  The day had been remarkably similar to that afternoon, the elements battering the mourners as they gathered round the hollowed earth to pay their last respects to a young life so tragically destroyed by carelessness.  Alice and Colin’s mutual university friends, Linda Watson, and a young Jeremy Cheeser, had been there to support him, eyeing Colin with the same pitiful look which had continued to etch itself on the now Party Chairman’s face ever since.

He removed his gloves, and with frozen fingers he tore away straggling weeds from the base of the gravestone, carefully placing the roses against it to shelter them from the wind.  The rain fell in heavier drops as Colin’s eyes pooled with tears which should have been shed many years ago.