Party Games (51 page)

Thank you for your time.

Colin Scott glanced up from the statement on the lectern, scanning the sea of faces.  Sat at the front, Jeremy noted that Colin’s statement, while attempting to make reassurances about the here and now, had left enough room for speculation.  Not once had he actually said he hoped Rodney would recover so he could continue to lead the party. 
Now is not the time for conjecture over the leadership; we must pull together
.  Colin’s words may have been seen as sincere enough to most in the packed room but Jeremy knew his colleague, and that look in his eyes, all too well.  It was the same look he had seen during a very different press conference, fifteen months earlier, when Colin sourly congratulated the victor on his decisive win, unable to hide his intense jealousy and loathing.  The thought of Colin Scott’s joy on hearing about the shooting revolted him.  For a moment he closed his eyes, briefly engrossing himself in his fourth private prayer of the morning. 
I pray for Rodney’s swift recovery...that Colin may find it in himself to lead for the good of the party and not for the good of himself...I pray for your forgiveness and mercy if I should take it upon myself to stop Colin through any means necessary...

Jeremy looked over at Colin, talking to Gaines and that girl he had with him while busily avoiding further questions.  Had he not had far more serious things to consider he would have cared who this young woman was, but although it was clear their relationship was personal and they were used to each other’s company, it appeared a little awkward.
Not used to being together in public, perhaps?

Jeremy glanced at his watch.  All eyes would now be back on the hospital, surrounded by a media circus which would be camped in the bitter chill for as long as necessary.  He would have to get back over there and speak to Rodney’s Aunt Jane, and Linda, but it was far too early to think about any difficult decisions Jane might have to make as next of kin.  Colin approached him alone, a conceited expression on his face.

“You going back to the hospital?”  Colin asked. “If there’s no improvement in Rodney’s condition I’ll chair an emergency Shadow Cabinet meeting at four.”

            “This is bloody serious, Colin.”  Jeremy hissed in his ear, turning his head so to avoid direct eye contact.  Colin barely reacted.  “It’s not one of your games this time, our leader and my best friend is fighting for his life and here you are, swaggering around like you’ve won some sort of victory!  Find some humanity, and humility, for once in your life.  The situation is bigger than just you and right now everyone is worried about Rodney so I’d advise you to play it safe.”

            Colin’s eyes darted about the room uncomfortably.  “Are you threatening me?  Because I don’t think you’re in any position to do so.”  He replied pompously.

            Jeremy’s expression darkened.  A determined resolve had replaced the initial shock.   “You are in no way able to take what I say lightly, regardless of any power you think you might have.  Some things go beyond status, nobody is untouchable.  You know your own vulnerability and that you can’t change a thing.  You’re leader in name only.”

“To an extent, yes, but before I forget, Deborah’s now on gardening leave.  I’m taking on my own Chief of Staff, which I think I’ve deserved for a long time, a new press secretary and I’ve got someone interested in becoming my policy advisor.  Michael Bennett, you may have heard of him.”

“You can’t appoint someone just like that, you know you can’t!” Jeremy couldn’t believe the man’s gall, trying to benefit from another’s personal tragedy. He even appeared to be smiling.  “Michael Bennett?  That UKIP advisor who masterminded their last campaign?”

“Yes, that’s the one.  I think I can poach him with the right offer.”

“But you can’t employ
him
, he’s a
UK Independence Party
advisor, Colin, the clue’s in his bloody job title!  He’s out of line with party policy, it’s ridiculous, Rodney would never hear of it!”

Colin glanced around him then pursed his lips.  He spoke quietly, his voice barely a murmur.  “Well, I don’t see him here, do you?  He’s going to be out of the game for a very long time, and I intend to make a difference.”

“The Policy Board would never hear of it,
I
won’t hear of it, and I will stop you at every turn...”

            “Colin – we need to get on.  The police say you may be able to go over to the Leader’s Office late this afternoon now they have declared the threat over.”  Gaines had moved swiftly to cover Colin’s back, a condescending glare thrown heavily in Jeremy’s direction.  The Chairman drew up his tall frame but Colin had already nodded and waved Gaines away.

            “I very much hope we can work together, for the greater good, Jeremy.  I would hate to think we might fall out because it would be tragic to see you, or anyone else, leave the Shadow Cabinet, just because we couldn’t agree.”  The unwavering hatred behind Colin’s eyes spoke louder than his mellowed tone.  “The Board will see sense – with your help.”

Jeremy’s jaw set, refusing to rise to his bait.  If Colin wanted a war, then it would be a cold one.  He looked over at Colin’s new PPS, who was now busy cruising the journalists, maintaining a sombre air.

            “I won’t be intimidated by you, Colin, I’ve known you too long.  Surround yourself with who you like.”  He whispered, ready to leave.  “But the Shadow Cabinet remains untouched until Rodney gets back to the job.”

            “
If
he gets back to the job.  Oh, and give Linda a message from me, would you?  Tell her ‘thank you’.”  Colin Scott then patted his acquaintance of twenty five years on the arm, smirked, and turned his back.

*****

8pm

Peter had already managed to get sight of the next day’s papers for Anthea.  Curiously, the only paper not to carry that awful picture of Rodney was the
Engager
.  Anthea could only assume it was Rosie’s way of paying her respect to the man with whom she had once shared a bed, and a cupboard, however fleetingly.  The
Bulletin
hadn’t produced an issue for the first time in 35 years.  Dickenson had released a statement saying he was shocked and saddened and the paper would skip an issue due to the unforeseen circumstances of the day.

Anthea saw Rodney’s Aunt Jane leaning against the wall outside Rodney’s private room.  She hated hospitals, they reminded her of all those visits to her father before he died, and now she had another reason.  Jane looked tired as she clutched a plastic cup, sipping the contents thoughtfully.  She produced a relieved smile on seeing Anthea approach.

            “Oh, my dear, you’re here!”  Jane whispered.

            “Yes, finally.”  Anthea replied.  “I desperately wanted to come sooner but they kept us in the building for hours, and then I had Shadow Cabinet, and to be honest I was scared to see him...but I’m here now.  How’s he doing?”

            Jane took her arm, as if to steady herself as much as reassure Anthea, and shook her head as her puffy eyes filled with more tears.  “You’ll get a shock, so prepare yourself.  They’ve put him in an induced coma so he’s covered in tubes, and as the doctor told the journalists, he's still critical.  I don’t know if he can hear, but they tell me to talk to him anyway.  I’ll leave you two alone; if anyone can make a difference to him right now, it’s you.”

            Anthea wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone, but nodded nonetheless.  Her eyes were instantly drawn to Rodney as she entered the clinical surroundings of the room, his body shrouded in semi darkness, the blinds closed tight to prevent unscrupulous photographers. He seemed peaceful, simply asleep, but Anthea was glad he had no idea how he looked. He would hate it, she thought, a man who prided himself so much on his appearance.  The ventilator clicked mechanically, his artificial breathing rhythmic and steady, yet she crept up to his bed as if not to disturb him. She lowered herself into the nearby chair - a chair she wondered she may have to get used to - and tentatively touched his arm.

“I'm here.” She said softly. “I'm so sorry I couldn't come earlier.”

His skin was pale, almost translucent and his head and left shoulder expertly bandaged. She felt the strange urge to touch the bandage and she rested her fingers delicately on the gauze.

            “You’ve had us all bloody worried, Rodney.  This is all a bit dramatic just to get out of a leadership battle. Don’t you dare go anywhere, don’t you leave us with Colin.”  Anthea smiled sadly.  “We can fix everything, everything between us, when you wake up.  I promise.”  She leant down and kissed his temple, cool against her lips, and stroked his lifeless fingers, carefully avoiding the canular buried in his hand.  “It’s being reported that you were quite the hero today, that you saved Clare.  But I’m so sorry, this should never have happened, I should have protected you.”  She rested her head on the edge of his pillow and closed her eyes. “Forgive me.”

*****

Gone midnight, the Leader’s private office was dark and silent.  Through the gloom, the moon providing the only hint of light through the parted nets, Colin stared at the washed patch of carpet where Rodney had fallen.  The smell of bleach nauseated him, but the cleaners had done an excellent job.  It appeared not a shred of evidence remained of the drama that had unfolded that morning.  He thought he should care that he was sitting in Richmond’s chair, running his hands along the smooth wood of his desk while the man lay critically ill in hospital; he thought he should care that most – if not all – of the Shadow Cabinet loathed him.  Yet he did not. 

His eye caught a mark on the far edge of the desk.  Colin reached out a wiped a finger across it, only to see on further inspection that it was a spot of blood.  He rubbed it carefully between his thumb and finger, his gaze fixed upon the red hue on his fingertips, his mouth twisting into a cold smile.

The faded picture of his dead wife, placed carefully in front of him, beamed up at him through the grey light, the young face full of a life long gone and an unwelcome reminder of the person Colin had once been.

            “Well, Alice, today has been a very good day.  Please understand about Kathryn, I love her and she will be a marvellous asset to me, in time.”  He said gently, casting an eye to her frozen image.   “Today just shows that careful planning is meaningless, events are out of your control no matter how you try to manipulate.  Then, if you’re in the right place at the right time, it can all come together nicely without even lifting a finger.”  He stared at the blood.  “Well, almost.”

            He sneered at the Shadow Cabinet photograph hung on the wall next to him.  “Look at them, bunch of idiots.  They can all go to hell, especially Jeremy Cheeser and his idle threats. They’re all just hypocrites, out for themselves like the rest of us.  The way they all sat there, hating me, wanting me to cock it all up, silent fury in their eyes as if it had been
me
who had pumped bullets into their precious leader. Could they honestly say they hadn’t already considered how Rodney’s bad luck – or, perhaps, stupidity – could affect their own careers?   Sharkey’s just jealous, he thinks it should be him saving the party in its hour of need just so he can give his own ego a good massage.  It was obvious dear Anthea had been sobbing for hours.  Barty Phillips couldn’t even look up. I would have laughed if I hadn’t felt so incredibly pissed off with the lot of them.  At least I will acknowledge I’m a pragmatist, none of those damn crocodile tears.”  Picking up his wallet he drew the picture into close focus.  “Oh, I know what you’re wondering, my darling.  You’re wondering whether Richmond will survive his injuries and how I will feel.  Well, I know how I feel right now.  I deserve to be here, for both of us.  It’s more than luck.  This was meant to be.”

For a moment Colin considered whether he could have pulled that trigger himself; imagining how McDermott might have felt, whether he may have perversely enjoyed the power the weapon had given him. He doubted Richmond would have begged for his life, the man didn’t possess enough raw emotion for that, but the thought of him at someone else’s mercy, on the floor, a loaded gun in his face, was enough to satisfy Colin.  He has no idea why McDermott had felt compelled to actually try to kill his former boss, but Colin couldn’t help feeling awe and admiration. 
Shame he took the coward’s way out.
  Colin’s eyes narrowed as he considered his darkest thought yet.  It was also a shame, if Richmond was to live, after a reasonably successful career McDermott’s notoriety would be because he had, at the very end, been a failure. Colin might have respected him more had he been a better shot.

Taking a piece of Leader of the Opposition note paper, the Acting Leader carefully, deliberately, spread the dried blood over the embossed letters.  He smiled at the red streak and picked up Richmond’s favourite engraved pen, the one he once lost then notoriously yelled at his staff about until it was found, the one his mother had given him only weeks before she died. 
My darling R.  Love Mum. 
The pen produced a satisfying click.  He caressed the sterling silver casing, then put pen to paper.

The list of names, of policies, of changes to the party had been only in Colin Scott’s mind until now.  He began to write. 

The waiting was over.

About the Author

E J Greenway has worked for Conservative MPs since 2001 and has been writing political stories since she was first excited by politics at the age of 11.  She lives with her husband and two children in Winchester.