Lost in Manchester - 17. Manoeuvring. February 2010. Thomas.

Thomas sat across the table from Cameron, tapping his fingers on the acrylic table surface, in the backroom of the Loom Inn. In stark contrast to the fine Victorian public space out front, this room was an alarming collage of funky design catalogue pictures. The walls were bold, black and white flock, and two pink freestanding lamps paraded themselves in opposite corners of the room. The chairs they sat on were matching luminous pink, plastic things that you would assume must at least be comfortable given the horror of their appearance, and yet weren’t.

“So what’s this all about again?” Cameron asked, breaking the silence.

Thomas stopped tapping his fingers.

“I really need a sounding board. It’s something I can’t speak to anyone in the party about yet, so I just wanted to bounce a few ideas.”

“It’s just that, you know, if you’re looking for advice on your love-life or something, then, of course I’m your man…”

Thomas raised a doubting eyebrow.

“… but if you’re looking for a political strategist, it’s probably not my strong suit.”

The door opened and Adam’s face appeared.

“They told me just to come straight through. You guys weren’t in the middle of something were you?”

“No, no, come on in” Thomas said warmly and Adam joined them at the table.

“Sorry I’m so late. Whole issue with my flatmate. I’ll tell you about it later. So this is about the coup is it?”

Thomas smiled. “Let me tell you where I’ve got to”.

Adam settled into a seat and he and Cameron both looked to Thomas.

“Ok, you both know that I’ve been looking at how I might get rid of the dead wood in the party and start to shift the direction back on course”. He waited for their nods.

“Well, I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking it through, and I know that if I’m going to go for this, then I have to go all out, because those two guys at the top are so deep rooted in the party, they’re like dandelions, and I’m going to need to dig deep to get rid of them.”

“Ok” Adam said.

“My plan is to use the election as an opportunity to present a different vision, and I want to do that through a series of public talks. Gordon and Peter have always shied away from speeches, but if I offered to arrange them and lead them, I couldn’t see why they’d say no. And then the speeches would give me the chance to publicly set out a new vision, garner support so that people in the party could see me as a real alternative, and then challenge and take the two of them on”.

“Sounds like you have it all planned” Adam said brightly. “You don’t need us at all.”

“Well” Thomas replied, “Not quite. Yesterday I approached the two of them after the policy meeting and I put the idea to them. I offered to lead it, sort everything out, and promised them it would open up new audiences for us. But Gordon waved the idea away. He didn’t even hear me out”.

“Bugger”.

“Yes. So basically, this has given me three questions that I’m struggling to answer. First is whether the strategy makes sense – whether I should focus on the speeches? Second is how can I convince Gordon and Peter that it’s a good idea. And third is, if they do agree, how should I go about setting them up? Who should I speak to?”

Adam nodded, and looked at Cameron who opened his eyes wide as he shrugged. The three questions hung in the air.

“Any thoughts at all guys?” Thomas said, opening his palms.

Adam shrugged too. “I want to give you some kind of useful insight, but honestly, I have no clue about politics.”

Cameron fixed Thomas with a stare. “I can tell you who you should speak to.”

“Don’t even start” Thomas replied, knowing exactly what Cameron was going to say and raising his hand to stop it.

“We’re not campaign managers Thom. We’re useless to you on this sort of thing.”

“Come on, we can solve this between us” Thomas said, determined.

Cameron gestured to the blank looks on his and Adam’s faces.

“Come on, you’re asking Scooby Doo and Shaggy here to solve the murder on the orient express”.

Thomas looked at Adam.

Adam reluctantly nodded. “It’s kind of true. We can advise on the sandwiches.”

“Just give her a call” Cameron urged.

Thomas looked from one to the other and back again. He put his pen down in resignation.

“Oh crap, I’m going to have to aren’t I?”

He lay in bed for hours that night unable to sleep, playing over in his head the last bitter time they had spoken. He wasn’t sure he could approach her again, or whether she’d still be mad.

The next day though he tried to call. At the first attempt, he dialled to the last digit, breathed in, then couldn’t face it, put down the phone and went to make coffee. Half an hour later he tried again and this time managed the full eleven digits and the call button. It rang for a few seconds before he heard the sound of the call diverting.

Hi, this is Jenny’s answerphone. Leave a message and, if I like you, I’ll call you back.

It rang for such a short time that he assumed she must have seen the number and rejected it. He had to persist though. Cameron was right. He called twice again later in the day and again both times it diverted to answerphone. Perhaps she didn’t want to take the call at work though, he reasoned optimistically.

That evening he tried calling for a fourth time. It rang for a little longer this time, but the familiar sound came in again.

Hi, this is Jenny’s answerphone. If that’s Thom then you can piss off. If not, then I’m ever so sorry, and I’ll call you back.

Ok. She was still mad.

Maybe if she knew the problem though, she might reconsider. He sat down at his laptop and drafted a long email explaining what had been happening with the party, why he wanted to shake things up and those three big questions. He pressed send and just hoped.

A few days passed and there was no reply. He knew though if he could speak with her one to one, he would have a chance at convincing her.

The following day, he decided to try to catch her coming out of work. She had always been a routines person, and for a long time Thomas had planned his life around her rigid workday, regularly meeting for coffee at 6pm, when she finished up.

He took to a bench at 5.50pm, directly across the courtyard from the entrance to her offices. The block was based in the new-build financial district, which still had the glossy showroom feeling that such new places have before everyday life properly inhabits them. The cold central square sat like a moat between the surrounding castles of legal and financial office blocks and the buildings created wind tunnels along concrete pathways adorned with forced looking greenery.

Sure enough though, at a few minutes after 6pm, Jenny appeared in the doorway and headed out in the direction of home. He stood and started briskly following her.

As she reached a crossing, she glanced back over her shoulder and did a double take before fully registering it was him. When she did, she rolled her eyes, turned and walked quickly away over the crossing. He chased a little and called out to her as he reached the far side of the road. She stopped and turned round, realising he wasn’t going to give up, and he got to within a few metres of her.

“I’m not interested” she said simply and turned to walk away.

“Jenny, give me two minutes”

She turned again.

“You’re a total areshole. I’m not interested”.

“Jenny, come on…”

She turned and raised her voice. “Get away from me. I don’t want to talk to you”.

He could see people looking. There was no choice but to back off.

He returned the following day, and once again, she emerged from the building exactly on 6pm. He approached more quickly this time.

“Jenny”

She scanned around before registering the figure walking across.

“Oh Jesus, not again.”

“Jenny, talk to me.”

“No.” she said and again began trying to walk away.

“Jenny, come on. It’s been four years, can’t we…”

“Yeah, four years when you haven’t called me.”

“Well that’s because I knew you’d be like this. Did you read my email?”

“No. I don’t care.”

She turned again and walked on. He followed after her once again.

The streets were busy with commuters heading home, and this was not the kind of public speaking he had in mind.

“Jenny, I’m only asking because you’re the best at this. At least read my email. Please.”

She stopped again and turned, moving a few steps closer, so she could speak in a quieter tone.

“For fuck’s sake, will you then leave me in peace?”

“Of course”.

“Ok. Number one. Yes. Public speeches are the best tactic. You need a platform, you need to demonstrate separation from the status quo, and speeches don’t look too threatening from the outside, so you can get away with it. It’s perfect. It’s brilliant. Two, the answer is Peter. You’re such a prick to not remember that – one of the first things we learned is that you can only change Gordon’s mind by changing Peter’s. That weird, quiet little man has Gordon wrapped around his little finger. And I think we both know he has a lot of time for you. And three, you need research and you need someone with contacts who knows what they’re doing. Basically, you need me, but you can’t have me.

She adjusted the bag strap on her shoulder.

“I’m going back to my life” she said, and turned again to head on her way.

“Jenny.”

“What?” she growled.

“At least come for a drink with me”.

She laughed bitterly. “You’re incredible.”

He looked around and spotted a cocktail bar across the road. “Come on, mojitos. My shout”. She had never been able to resist a mojito back at University.

She looked at him sternly, arms crossed over her chest.

“One mojito, come on, it’s all I ask”

“Fine.” she conceded eventually. “One mojito”.

They walked into the quiet, charming cocktail bar across the square from where they’d stopped and Jenny took a seat by the window, as Thomas went to order.

He returned to the table with the two drinks and could see she was trying not to let her guard down.

“Tell me one thing Thom. What happened? How did I get cut out?”

He shook his head. That was way too big a question to get into.

“God, I’m not sure I even remember what happened” he bluffed. “Isn’t it all ancient history?”

“Not for me. We were doing great, it was working. You as the bold speaker, the man of the people. Me operating behind the scenes, checking things out, lining things up, reading the situations. Then all of a sudden we stop meeting for coffee, you forget to return my calls. You start listening to bloody Brian and the other party hacks.”

“I was trying to do the right thing.”

“Yeah, only you went and joined the policy group, like a great big stupid bear walking into a great big stupid bear trap.”

“I see you haven’t lost that exquisite tact.”

“You know I’d have warned you against it. You should’ve seen what they were up to.”

“Yes.”

“It hurt me a lot.”

Thomas dipped his head. “I know.”

She took a sip of the mojito.

“So why now?”

“I thought you read the email?”

“Yeah I read the email. But let’s face it, you could have done this three years ago. Why bring them down now?”

He spread his palms. “I wasn’t sure of myself before. I thought maybe they were right and maybe I just needed to understand their way of thinking”.

“And are you sure of yourself now?”

“No, not completely. But i’m more sure that they’re wrong. And my political life is going nowhere, so I’ve got nothing to lose”.

She looked like she needed to hear more. He paused for a second. However close they had been in the past, it seemed strange to spill out his guts to her now.

“The whole thing is taking my life down with it.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow.

“You remember back in third year at uni I went through that depression?”

He could see across her face the memories returning from the archives in the back of her head.

“There were all the saunas and one night stands.”

Jenny tried to cover a smile. “You gave that impromptu speech on stage in the nightclub…”

“Oh Jesus” he said covering his eyes and smiling.

“…where you announced to the crowd that…” she adopted a mock Irish accent, “men are bullshit, and politics is bullshit and drugs are bullshit, and you might as well all go home, watch Countdown, and wait for the grim fucking reaper.”

“I’m glad my oratory is memorable.”

“Oh yeah.”

The smile dropped from his face.

“Well things haven’t quite got to that stage yet, but I’m on that track.”

Jenny paused and reflected.

“Thom, I have another life. I have a man, I have dinner parties, I grow vegetables and make chutney. I’m sorry for you, but all of this just isn’t my…”

“Please”. He implored her with his eyes. “A few weeks. For the old times?”

His mind drifted back to glorious lazy summer days at University. Jenny, Ciaran and him sitting round in the park eating picnics in the sunshine, drinking vodka red bulls at the student union, singing karaoke at Diva bar, and whiling away their days happily bitching, reading philosophy and dancing. It was such a good time. No stresses, no grown up decisions, no lined diaries.

Her face softened.

“Ok. A few weeks. For old times. But I’m telling you, if you ever treat me again like you did before, I’ll be making chutney with your chestnuts next time, ok?

Thomas smiled. “Deal.”

After speaking with Jenny, Thomas knew exactly what he needed to do next.

Saturday quickly came around and it was an icy morning. He wrapped up warm and made the twenty minute trek south of the city to Peter’s. As he approached the house he was relieved to see the lights on, and after a couple of knocks Peter came to answer the door.

“Hello Thomas” he said, not overly welcoming. “I wasn’t expecting you” he said uncertainly, “was I?”

“No Peter, no” Thomas said smiling. “Look, i’m sorry to drop in on you like this, but I was wondering if we could have a quick chat?”

Peter looked at him for a few seconds before seeming to snap back to life. “Well yes, of course, certainly we can” he said, stepping back and to the side. “Please, come in”.

Thomas followed him inside and then was forced to shuffle awkwardly around him in the narrow corridor, as Peter stopped to block the doorway to the study.

“Do go and grab a seat in the lounge, i’ll be with you in a moment”.

Thomas went through and sat down on a large black sofa in the time warp lounge. The wallpaper and carpet must have been there more than 20 years and the TV was still one of those enormous crate-sized structures that had existed before television was flattened. He half expected to see a mangle in the corner of the room. He could hear from next door the sound of a computer being shut down.

Peter returned to the room. “Would you like a tea?” he asked.

“That’d be lovely.”

Peter returned a few minutes later with tea served in china cups and a plate of lemon drizzle cake, which Thomas happily accepted.

“My god, this is delicious.” he said, taking a bite.

Peter looked genuinely pleased. "The joy of bachelorhood I suppose – plenty of time to bake.”

“Indeed” Thomas said with a nod, acknowledging their common ground. He shivered slightly as the thought crossed his mind that this is what he might become.

“Peter, I wanted to talk to you about stepping up our election campaign”.

Peter nodded slowly. “I have a feeling that you’re coming back to campaign speeches” Peter said, narrowing his eyes a little.

“Peter, we need this. We need to get out there and we need to say something new. Our creeping electoral improvements over the last few years aren’t going to change anything”.

Thomas maintained eye contact as he spoke, and he saw that Peter was making no attempt to argue or disagree with him.

“Peter, i’ll do all the work on this. I’ll set them up, I’ll sell it, I’ll front the talks. I’m already seen as one of the senior members of the party so it wouldn’t look strange and it won’t undermine you or Gordon. But it will give the party a boost”.

He could see Peter was wavering.

“I’m only asking you to give me a shot. Let me get two or three speeches set up, then we can review, and if it’s working, we can see about getting a few more. What do you say?”

Peter looked like he was almost sold.

“You’d let us okay the speeches in advance?” he asked.

“Every word.” Thomas lied.

Peter paused, put the fingers of his hands together and sat back in his chair thinking through the proposal.

“Ok.” Peter said at last. “I’ll speak to Gordon about it. It can’t do any harm I suppose”.

He saw the smile appear on Thomas’ face.

“I’m only saying I’ll speak to him Thomas. He was pretty firmly against the idea. And even if he okays it, this would all be on your head. If it blows up in our faces, you will take the hit for it.”

“Absolutely.”

“And I wouldn’t want to hear anything off message.”

“I promise you Peter, i’ll make this work for the party” Thomas said. He sipped the last of his tea and stood. Peter did likewise.

“Thanks for hearing me out Peter. It’s much appreciated.”

Peter nodded.

“I’m not promising anything. Only that I’ll speak with Gordon. I’ll let you know”.

Thomas met with Jenny the next morning at a coffee shop in the Northern Quarter. The place had a certain drug den vibe to it with naked brick walls covered in graffiti art and a clientele bestrewn with straggly beards, dreadlocks and sunken eyes, but they served one of the best fried breakfasts in the city.

“So supposing it’s a yes” Thomas speculated, “who do you think we approach?”

“I’ve already started putting feelers out.”

“Really? You don’t waste any time. Gordon is a stubborn dog you know.”

“They’ll say yes” she said, taking a sip of her coffee and not even looking up. “Trust me”

“They’re not the same guys they used to be Jenny.”

She fixed him with a gaze that was telling him to believe her.

“The problem is, there’s not a lot out there by way of larger events with possible speaking opportunities.”

He rolled his head from side to side. “I don’t mind. Anything with younger, receptive audiences is good.”

“Best I’ve got is the Women’s Institute”

He laughed. “Ok, great”

“I know. Bit risky, but they’re influential and they get reporters along. I know the event organiser and she thinks she could get us on. And if they hate you, well…they hate everyone, so it’s no big loss. And it’s coverage.”

“Ok, what else?”

“Not a lot. Lots of small business groups, school governors, social groups, but none of them give you enough of a platform.”

Thomas’ phone started to ring.

“Do you mind? It’s Peter.”

“Course not.”

She was watching his face, as he took the call.

“Mm hmm… right… yes, no of course…yes, I understand…ok, thanks…”

He looked up and only then smiled.

“Ok, you were completely right. I should trust you.”

“Great” she said and gulped down the last of her coffee, gathered her papers together and stood, ready to go.

“Back onto it”.

Thomas spent the next days pulling together ideas and arguments for his speeches. Without knowing his audiences, he couldn’t write anything in detail, but he needed to crystallise the messages. He needed his presentation to be flawless.

The third night after seeing Jenny, he was once again working late at the dining table, scribbling notes and piecing together ideas when his mobile rang and Jenny’s face flashed up on screen.

“Hi there” he answered.

“Hey Thom F Kennedy. How are the speech ideas coming along?”

“Good, thanks, yeah, making progress. How are the audiences coming along?”

“Hmm”

“Well that’s exactly the bubbling optimism I was hoping for.”

“Ok, other than the WI, I’ve got the Manchester business forum. I’m pretty sure I can get you in for a short slot.”

“Ok. More of a Tory audience but I can live with that. What else?”

She was quiet for a second or two, and he heard papers being shuffled.

“To be honest, that’s all, in terms of realistic options.”

“What, that’s all? Just those two?” he said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Tell you what, you could call me in another four years and we’ll see what else has come up” she snapped.

“Ok, ok, they’re good” he said, rowing back.

“Look, we’re not high profile enough for bigger events Thom. You’re not the leader, the Libs are not the ruling party, and no-one is all that interested in local elections anyway. I’ve tried to sell that this is a big speech, but we’re not getting many takers”.

Thomas went quiet.

“Thom, both events will have reporters from several papers – and I’ll make sure they know it’s worth turning up for. That’s what this is all about. The other bonus is that the two events are only a couple of days apart. If you can hold Gordon and Peter off from seeing the real speech, then we can hit both events before they even realise what’s happened”.

“This could go wrong” he said finally.

“We won’t know unless we try.”

Thomas contemplated this, leaving the line silent for a few seconds.

“Ok then” he said finally.

“Ok what?”

“Ok Jenny. Let’s do it. Get ‘em booked. Let’s get this show on the road”.

“Aye Captain” she said and hung straight up.

It was eight years ago, during the first election campaign that she last called him Captain. It felt good to have Jenny back.