Julia Matthews sat behind her desk, dipping a teabag into a cup. She closed her eyes and placed her hand to her temple. Just a few days before, she was "Julia Matthews, The New Face of Labour" or "Julia Matthews, Labour's Rising Star." Known for her far-left politics, the 35-year-old was regarded as a name on the rise. Even though Tony Blair was certainly a moderate, he looked fondly upon her. But in order to gain a seat on his cabinet, or perhaps even need set the stage for a run at PM years from now, she wanted to make a big charge now. Her critics passed her off as a fad. But she thought that a big push through the workings of Parliament would rise her star further.
Her idea? To extend rights to striking workers. Her thought process was simple. She was well-known in the gentrifying centers of London and other cities filled with highly educated, young liberals. But in the areas where the working class still toiled? She was just another pretty face talking about issues like gay marriage and civil rights that mattered not to them on a factory line.
She thought her idea may gain traction. She met with Tony early on. He said that he could not outwardly lobby for the plan, not with needing to balance business concerns, but that he was not against it. And, plus, he wanted her to earn her spot, as he put it. And a victory, or a strong showing, among Labour ranks would show that she did have what should be lasting support, as opposed to just the latest fancy on the pages of The Guardian.
She was not expecting such fury from the Tories. She knew they would be against the measure. But she did not expect to see the full weight of the conservative machine against her - multiple Telegraph columnists, scathing remarks on interview shows and the like. But what shocked her the most was when Conservative Leader Michael Howard repeatedly struck against her and her measure in the press.
"We should only hope she is the new face of Labour," Howard said during one interview. "For if she is, then we'll have a majority of the house until the continents are reunited."
Their attack was ruinous to her legislation. The more moderate of Labour turned against her. Even those who had expressed at least some semblance of public support backed away. Tony could only offer private condolences and a wish that he could only have advised her not to make her move so quickly. Headlines like "laughingstock" and phrases like "permanent seat on the back bench" were bandied about within minutes of the results.
The headache pounded. She thought she was sharp. Top honors throughout her schooling. But she showed herself to be naïve and a novice in this game. Her career, as she had dreamed it could become, was over.
She put on her office TV to once again see a headline about the results of her vote. And next to it was a picture of Michael Howard's smirking face with the phrase "Victory."
Just as she saw it, a strange grip seemed to go over her body. A huge pit in her stomach followed. Her breath increased. She felt outside of herself. Her skin had goosebumps. The thought of her humiliation at his hands... It soon controlled her, but in a way she could not understand.
She called her aide and asked for him to contact Right Honorable Michael Howard's office to see if he would meet with her that week.
***
Howard, in all his years, could not fathom such a request. Sure, members of the other party had called to meet with him before. Usually it was to gauge his reaction to certain issues before they were proposed. Much of politics, he and most realized, was theater. But sometimes it wasn't. It was very real.
Delores, his long-time secretary, peeked her head into his office.
"It's been 15 minutes, Sir," she said. "Miss Matthews has sat the entire time. Hasn't blinked."
He chuckled to himself.
"Poor dear must very much want to chat. Very well. Send her on her way in."
He sat down, with his hands on leather armrest of his chair. He grabbed his wireless eyeglass frames and started to polish them off as his foe entered into the room.
"Ah, Julia, it is so lovely to see you today," he said, a bit snidely. "Of course, it's a bit... unique... to see someone enter into your office after you caused their demise. Perhaps a meeting earlier with me earlier would have spared you some of the sting of your defeat."
She froze in place. Her hands were cupped before her, as if she was before the headmaster. Michael leaned back, one leg crossed over the other.
"That... that's what I wanted to discuss with you," she said, her voice sounding so unsure of herself.
"Exactly what do you want to talk about? Do you think we'll now be open to negotiate your silly little idea to return us to the dark ages? When the unions ran our mines and factories?" He rolled his eyes. "If so, then I must say—"
"No, Mr. Howard," she said. "I didn't come to negotiate. I came..."
She paused and collected herself. He looked on curiously.
"I came to tell you that I deserved everything that happened to me. You win. I lose." She paused again. "I came to offer my surrender."
Michael let the words dangle for a second as he processed them. Foes had been humbled before. Usually, those who did sat off to the side before attempting to regroup themselves or, more likely, faded into obscurity. But this? This he hadn't seen before.
"Please," he said. "I assume this is some half-witted attempt at a trap? Some sort of game? Or is this you here for me to give you a loving speech telling you to buck up and hang in there? Because, either way, it is not happening. Miss Matthews, you attempted to make a name for yourself. And we have ended that for you permanently. Now unless you have other business to attend to, I must ask you leave."
She paused again. Now a shiver went over her spine being lectured to like this.
"No," she said, almost whimpering. "I mean what I said. You have utterly ruined my career, Mr. Howard. And the only way I know to salvage it... is by offering my capitulation to you personally."
"I see," he said. He wasn't sure where she was going with this. But if she was serious, this could mean many things. "Well, Miss Matthews, if you are serious about it, then my terms are unconditional. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
He paused one second to calculate. There was no need to be soft or dangle. This was a now-or-never moment for her.
"I demand you right here to ask me to join my party. Ask me for permission to serve out the rest of your career as a Tory."
She took a huge, deep breath. Howard's feet were planted on the floor. He was a bit nervous himself. No matter her seriousness, he managed to state an order like this to a rival. It was certainly cause for a little bemusement. He noticed her gulp.
"Mr. Howard, Sir..." Her voice was so pathetic.
"Mr. Howard, Sir, may I please pledge myself to the Tory party?"
He tried and failed to repress his gloating smile. He did manage to stifle a laugh.
"Miss Matthews, in order to belong to this grand party... my party... will require a lot. This is a unique situation. A borderline socialist is now here to ask to join the conservative party. Most, including myself, will question your loyalties. As such, you will need to be fully obedient to the party line. And, most importantly, to my orders. If you are serious about this, state this to me right now. Swear your allegiance to me."
His voice was serious. So was his face.
She looked down.
"Mr. Howard, Sir," she said again, as if she was asking. "Please, I beg you. I promise to you that if I am allowed to join your party, I will be fully loyal and obedient to the Tory cause." She then stared up at him. "And I hereby swear my fullest allegiance to you personally and will honor any of your orders."
He now could not suppress his evil grin.
"Very well, dear," he said. "We'll make your first task nice and simple. Please fetch me a brandy. Two ice cubes. The bar is just over there."
His voice dripped with daring condescension. Would this strident feminist dare being talked to like this?
