Party Games (40 page)

 Jeremy was looking at his wife with concerned blue eyes.

“I just think Colin’s out to cause trouble.  Rodney needs to sack him, and quickly.”  Linda advised.

Jeremy nodded sagely.  “I know, just a bit longer now.  I love you so much, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  He kissed her one last time and ruffled George’s curly blond crop, telling him to be a good boy.  With a brief greeting to the nanny as she entered the hallway, he snatched up his case and hurried out into the autumn sunshine where Albert was waiting at the kerbside.

*****

1pm

“The numbers are looking good; very good, in fact.  Sounds like we could do it – narrowly.”  Peter handed Anthea the final draft of her speech as they headed along the corridor in Portcullis House.  “I think this is about as perfect as it’s going to be now. Just say make sure you lay on thick the spiralling costs of it all, no matter how much time you get.”

 “Yes, indeed.”  Anthea smiled, but she felt exhausted, and the debate hadn’t even begun.  It would be a long afternoon and even longer evening, but there was light at the end of the legislative tunnel and her mood was buoyant.  “Right, off to the tea room I think.  Need some brain food and to feel the mood.  Let me know as soon as we get wind of Harvey’s speech – oh, and make sure the press office is doing its job. I want a lot of media after this, should it go our way.”

            The mood, as Anthea quickly discovered, was one of defeatism by the Government whips and quiet optimism on her own side.  Devolution Secretary Ian Harvey, eating with his PPS in the tea room, waved with a sly smile as he saw her.

            “It’s still in the bag, you know.”  He called briskly.

            “Don’t let your own MPs here you say that, Ian, or you may have an even bigger rebellion on your hands.”  Anthea mocked.  “Anyway shouldn’t you be memorising your big speech, you’re going to need all the persuasion you can muster.  Just remember to wipe your shoes before coming into the Chamber.”

Harvey’s chiselled smile turned slightly sour as a group of Tory MPs nearby laughed heartily.   It was a few tight-lipped Labour MPs who appeared to be making him most edgy before he made a swift exit.  Anthea chuckled quietly to herself as she scanned the menu, noticing Robert Williams hopping from one colleague to another, quite obviously reigning in pre-challenge support for Rodney.

“All set, then?”  A voice boomed from behind her.  Jumping, Anthea looked over her shoulder to see David Fryer carrying a tray heaped with gammon and potatoes, a wry grin etched on his flushed face.  “For the debate?  It’ll be a late one, no doubt.  We’ll be here till midnight if everyone has their say, it’ll be like old times.”

Anthea sniffed out a laugh but the contempt in her eyes screamed at Fryer to back off.  She moved away, snatching up the first sandwich she came to, but her bumptious colleague followed her and took a can of Coke.

“So is Rodney worried?  If not, he should be.”  Fryer hissed in her ear, standing close.  She shook her head, taking a yoghurt as Fryer’s eyes raked over her.  “He needs to do a lot better than looking sincere on television if he’s going to survive a leadership challenge.”

Anthea refused to turn to look at him as she was barely in the mood to eat as it was.  “To be honest, David, I think it’s all blown up in Colin’s face in the past twenty-four hours.  Rodney did a great interview last night and nothing –
nothing
– is going to prevent me from supporting him, and you can take that back to your boss, telling him where to shove his threats while you’re at it.” 

“Oh dear, a bit tetchy this afternoon Anthea?”  Fryer sneered, drawing himself up to his full height.  Only the width of his tray stood between them.  “Worried about a Government win?”

Anthea kept her composure, and her voice low.  “No actually, I’m looking forward to fighting a battle we really can win for once, although it’s no thanks to you.  If anyone should be
tetchy
, surely it should be you after what I read this morning on a certain blog.  Your Association Chairman indeed, dear me!    Does that poor wife of yours know what an utter bastard she married?”

“That’s slander, I should have you for that!”  Fryer’s salacious smile fell as Anthea raised her eyebrows incredulously.

“Sorry David I’ve got better things to be doing right now than chat to you, lovely as it is.”  She sighed, glancing at his plate then his portly stomach.  “Anyway you’d better eat that before it goes cold, we wouldn’t want you wasting away now would we?  You’ll need all that strength of yours to twist all those arms into supporting Colin.”

Fryer opened his mouth to utter a retort, but Robert Williams was staring at him accusingly from a distance.  All she needed now was Colin Scott to strut in like some mob boss demanding respect.  Without wanting to get stuck in the middle of a tea room turf war between the two men Anthea hurried away before she could be engaged in any further conversation.

Nineteen

3.15pm
  

Ian Harvey was finally winding up his opening speech after thirty five minutes, buoyed by a large number of loyal Labour MPs gathered together by their whips for solidarity – and the cameras.  The packed Conservative benches jeered and shouted “what about the cost?” while Anthea had never felt more nervous in her life. 

“He’s had it.  He’s not convinced them, just look at their faces.”  Her team colleague muttered to her on the front bench, eyeing the Government rows.  Anthea nodded, carefully observing the rebels.  Jack Fisher looked cool as he thumbed through his own notes, quite obviously determined to have his say.  Anthea was so distracted she failed to notice one particular backbench MP slip into the Chamber and take up a seat behind her, two rows from the back.  Tory heads turned when the Opposition Leader made an unexpected appearance from behind the Speaker’s chair, Robert Williams sweeping in behind him like a close protection officer ready to jump in front of any stray verbal bullets which might head Rodney’s way.  A murmur of interest swept over the Government benches and a frown appeared fleetingly across Harvey’s brow, his words slowing.

“How come you’re here?”  Anthea whispered, leaning in as Rodney slid next to her.   She was pleased, of course, to have the leader there, to highlight just how seriously he was taking the issue, but it increased the pressure she felt under, both politically and personally.  Last night was still very much fresh in her mind.

“I decided this was more important than a strategy meeting, although Deborah’s already bursting a blood vessel.”  He murmured.  “Thanks for our little chat last night, it meant a lot…”

“…it is also the first step towards Cornish self-determination and will be the flagship of regionalisation in England – this is why I call on the support of Honourable and Right Honourable Members in the lobbies today and I commend this Bill to the House!”

An over-enthusiastic roar reverberated around the Chamber from the steadfast loyalists on the Government benches as Harvey fell back onto the bench. Anthea’s heart leapt in her chest.  Arms folded defensively, the band of hard-line rebels appeared to be trying to strike Harvey down with glares of disapproval and up in the Press Gallery sketch writers were busy putting their pens to paper in absolute glee at the impending carnage below. Harvey’s briefest of glances towards his ministerial team said it all.

“Anthea Culverhouse!”

“Good luck.”  Rodney smiled, catching Anthea’s eye for the first time, but in the next second she was on her feet.

“Thank you, Mr Speaker, and thank you to the Right Honourable gentleman the Secretary of State for an advanced copy of his speech…”

Minutes later, Anthea noticed, out of the corner of her eye, one of her own colleagues rise to their feet to intervene on her speech.  Turning she opened her mouth to grant the intervention, but the words temporarily left her.  They hadn’t spoken since that horrible night by the Thames and for a second Anthea let her emotions get the better of her.  She may very well have headed off McDermott and his threats to publish their relationship, but his words and the new revelations about Tristan ran deep. 
He was still married
.  Their intense affair, however brief, had been built on lies from the start.

“Err, I…I give way to my Right Honourable Friend.”  She muttered, indicating to Tristan.  She dared not chance a look at him, nor Rodney, as ‘stalking horse!’ was shouted in Tristan’s direction, a neighing noise erupting, before a sharp reprimand from the Speaker cut the noise to a rumble.

Tristan shrugged off the insults with a smile.  “I thank my Honourable Friend for giving way, I will be brief.  I know she has already spoken of the soaring costs for a Cornish assembly, so does she agree with me, and my Honourable Friend the Member for Devon North, that public money could be better spent on more housing for the South West rather than on one, grossly expensive building?”

Back on her feet, Anthea leant on the despatch box and turned only slightly in Tristan’s direction.

“Yes, I certainly do agree, and I am grateful to my Right Honourable Friend for making such an important point.  The abhorrent estimated cost of the proposed building is a feeling shared by the overwhelming majority of people in the South West – indeed, the majority of the country.  I will return to housing in a moment or two, but firstly I would like to press on with the issue of a referendum, which should have been an important part of this Bill but has been mysteriously ignored by the Secretary of State…”  Her throat had gone dry and tight.  She
knew
that nobody in the Chamber had any idea but it didn’t prevent the curious feeling that she was being judged.

Fifteen minutes later, Jack Fisher was on his feet, ready to deal the Bill a fatal blow.  Rodney whispered “well done” in Anthea’s ear, then he was gone.  Leaning her head back on the bench, Anthea sighed in relief.  Now she had a good few hours of bottom-numbing speeches to sit through until the all-important division.  However, for the time being at least, she could let her mind wander to thoughts which, over the last twenty four hours, had been forced into her subconscious.

*****

Quite uncharacteristically, Robert Williams failed at first to notice his boss’ swift exit.  He darted behind the Speaker’s chair and out into the corridor, but the Party Leader was nowhere to be seen.  It was then Williams put two and two together, convinced he had come up with four.  Minutes before going into the Chamber, his expression like thunder, Rodney had muttered something about finally catching up with Rivers.  Williams noticed Tristan and the heavy look of annoyance Rodney had given him during Anthea’s speech, and he had been so focussed on watching Tristan leave that Rodney had escaped him.  Literally.

“Damnit.”  Williams muttered in frustration, striding along the corridor.  Rodney going off on his own was totally absurd.  He had wanted to restrain him, tell him to keep well away from Rivers and that he would speak to him, but here he was again, freelancing.  Rodney should have appreciated the need to remain on a tight leash while leaving others to clean up the mess behind the scenes.  His phone bleeped. 
Deborah. 
He smiled.  She would now even sign off the curtest of work text messages with ‘xx’. Not one to dither, Williams had decided weeks ago that he would marry her.  But, right now, he had to deal with a more immediate issue.

*****

Williams needn’t have looked far.  In fact, the nearest toilet would have done.  Tristan was washing his hands when Richmond walked in, inscrutable and flawless.

            “Hi, Rodney.”  Tristan mumbled cautiously, staring hard at his hands while suppressing the sudden panic.  He turned off the tap, unnerved by the lack of response, but as he reached for the hand towel Rodney bypassed the urinal and was staring at Tristan quizzically.

            “I’m glad I’ve finally caught up with you, I’ve wanted to speak with you since last week but you know how it is.”  Rodney was softly spoken and Tristan couldn’t quite tell his mood.  He did indeed remember how it was to be so incredibly busy, but he thought a facetious comment was hardly likely to help. 

            The Party Leader opened his mouth to speak, casting a glance towards the door.  “I’m sorry for the way it ended – the way the reshuffle went, I mean.  What happened and all that.” 

            Rodney was stumbling slightly, something Tristan had rarely seen in a man so controlled.  Tristan merely shrugged, making the sourness of his smile as sweet as possible.  He wasn’t quite sure why Rodney was apologising, convinced Jeremy would have told him that any potential challenge from him was off.  Although he looked a little sheepish, Rodney folded his arms defensively.

            “I feel I handled it badly; well, handled
you
badly.  It wasn’t intentional.” 

            “Water under the bridge, Rodney.”  Tristan surprised himself that he meant it.  “I now know you were right – I needed to go, it was only fair, on everyone.”

            “I hear you’re back on the PAC.”  Rodney said, smiling for the first time. 

            “It’s what I want now.  Life’s too short to – well, rock the boat.  Let me apologise for any
misunderstandings
over the past week or so.  To tell you the truth, I never wanted any of it.  I’m over it, and it helped me reassess where I was going, what I wanted from my career.”

            “Thank you for your honesty.  I don’t get to hear much of it these days.”  Rodney said, keeping his voice steady.   “I do hope though we might work together again at some point in the future, in a Shadow Cabinet, or even Cabinet, capacity.”

            There was a thick pause, thoughts of Anthea lingering between them.  Although he might have expected Anthea to have run to her best friend for support after their break-up, Tristan was no longer all that sure.  He hadn’t heard a whiff of rumour come out of the Richmond camp.  The gossip was that he and she were very much still together, but Anthea had done nothing, it seemed, to correct the assumption.