you.’
‘Why?’
‘You want to join the most bankrupt Government since …’
‘The economy’s a mess, sure, but …’
‘I’m not talking money,’ she bit back, her voice raised. ‘Whateverhappened to principle? To all those promises that Bendall conned us with at the last election? About education? About the environment? About the future?’ She was trembling, her half-drunk cappuccino spilling into the saucer. ‘I thought you cared about all that. And now you want to climb into bed with those sleazeballs?’
‘It’s precisely because I care that I want to help. Make changes. Push the system along from the inside.’ He had been taken aback and was grasping for suitable words to explain. ‘A wise old Tibetan once said that a single drop of rain upon the desert …’
‘Dad, this isn’t sodding Tibet,’ she butted in, shoving her way past his words. ‘You’re selling out.’
‘I’m not. Be reasonable, for God’s sake. There has to be a bit of give and take.’
‘What – like last time?’ There were tears brimming in her eyes, now they were tumbling down her cheeks. ‘Haven’t we given enough? Mummy? Stevie …?’ She could say no more, choking back the pain, scrabbling for a tissue from the bottom of her bag.
Goodfellowe found himself utterly lost in the midst of this sudden blizzard. Hadn’t he given enough, too? What was he supposed to do, give up his ambition, his desire? Turn his back on the new life he had embarked upon, with its influence and its authority? And with Elizabeth? Simply because the Prime Minister had the scruples of a timeshare salesman?
‘Sorry, Darren,’ he apologized for the family scene. ‘Politics are all about passion.’
‘I agree.’ His voice had remarkable authority for his years. ‘That’s why I voted for Bendall. He talked about all the things I feel so passionately for.’ He shrugged. Broad shoulders, athletic. ‘But perhaps I’m naïve. I agree with Sam. Above all politics should be about principle. And for Bendall to take a stand on principle is about as likely as Scunthorpe hosting the next Olympics.’
‘That’s a little harsh …’
‘A very flexible man, is our Prime Minister. He promised us the earth at the last election. Trouble is, we’re still waiting for it. Bit like a drunk in the bar who promises to buy a round but always has to borrow the money to do it. Well, if he won’t pay, he’ll just have to be forced to pay. And if that means screwing up TrafalgarSquare and every other part of London, so be it. Nothing personal, you understand, Mr Goodfellowe.’
‘Hang on, I thought you were in business studies,’ Goodfellowe offered breathlessly.
‘I am. I’m also chair of the university Environmental Alliance. That’s how Sam and I met.’
‘Well, I suppose it’s all very wonderful being young and able to ride two horses at once. Business. Environmentalism. But, sadly, life forces us to make choices – yes, even to make compromises. Just like politics.’ He knew it was patronizing crap a millisecond after it’d left his mouth.
‘I don’t see why. One day I want to run a major corporation. Where better to be if you’re passionate about the future of the planet? Or are you still locked in that time warp where all environmentalists wander around in dreadlocks and live in some sweaty tunnel beneath a motorway?’
‘Somehow I feel I’m the one who’s just been digging himself a hole.’ He looked across at Sam, moved his hand towards her. ‘I need help. Should I send for a shovel?’ It was meant to lighten the moment, a peace offering. She threw back a look of bloodshot betrayal.
Once again Goodfellowe’s life had turned into a battlefield upon which the two halves of his being, family and politics, were waging war. Stevie had drowned while Goodfellowe was attending to his red boxes. Too busy to play dad. No one’s fault, really, just one of those bloody unfair things. No one had said anything, but Goodfellowe
‘Why?’
‘You want to join the most bankrupt Government since …’
‘The economy’s a mess, sure, but …’
‘I’m not talking money,’ she bit back, her voice raised. ‘Whateverhappened to principle? To all those promises that Bendall conned us with at the last election? About education? About the environment? About the future?’ She was trembling, her half-drunk cappuccino spilling into the saucer. ‘I thought you cared about all that. And now you want to climb into bed with those sleazeballs?’
‘It’s precisely because I care that I want to help. Make changes. Push the system along from the inside.’ He had been taken aback and was grasping for suitable words to explain. ‘A wise old Tibetan once said that a single drop of rain upon the desert …’
‘Dad, this isn’t sodding Tibet,’ she butted in, shoving her way past his words. ‘You’re selling out.’
‘I’m not. Be reasonable, for God’s sake. There has to be a bit of give and take.’
‘What – like last time?’ There were tears brimming in her eyes, now they were tumbling down her cheeks. ‘Haven’t we given enough? Mummy? Stevie …?’ She could say no more, choking back the pain, scrabbling for a tissue from the bottom of her bag.
Goodfellowe found himself utterly lost in the midst of this sudden blizzard. Hadn’t he given enough, too? What was he supposed to do, give up his ambition, his desire? Turn his back on the new life he had embarked upon, with its influence and its authority? And with Elizabeth? Simply because the Prime Minister had the scruples of a timeshare salesman?
‘Sorry, Darren,’ he apologized for the family scene. ‘Politics are all about passion.’
‘I agree.’ His voice had remarkable authority for his years. ‘That’s why I voted for Bendall. He talked about all the things I feel so passionately for.’ He shrugged. Broad shoulders, athletic. ‘But perhaps I’m naïve. I agree with Sam. Above all politics should be about principle. And for Bendall to take a stand on principle is about as likely as Scunthorpe hosting the next Olympics.’
‘That’s a little harsh …’
‘A very flexible man, is our Prime Minister. He promised us the earth at the last election. Trouble is, we’re still waiting for it. Bit like a drunk in the bar who promises to buy a round but always has to borrow the money to do it. Well, if he won’t pay, he’ll just have to be forced to pay. And if that means screwing up TrafalgarSquare and every other part of London, so be it. Nothing personal, you understand, Mr Goodfellowe.’
‘Hang on, I thought you were in business studies,’ Goodfellowe offered breathlessly.
‘I am. I’m also chair of the university Environmental Alliance. That’s how Sam and I met.’
‘Well, I suppose it’s all very wonderful being young and able to ride two horses at once. Business. Environmentalism. But, sadly, life forces us to make choices – yes, even to make compromises. Just like politics.’ He knew it was patronizing crap a millisecond after it’d left his mouth.
‘I don’t see why. One day I want to run a major corporation. Where better to be if you’re passionate about the future of the planet? Or are you still locked in that time warp where all environmentalists wander around in dreadlocks and live in some sweaty tunnel beneath a motorway?’
‘Somehow I feel I’m the one who’s just been digging himself a hole.’ He looked across at Sam, moved his hand towards her. ‘I need help. Should I send for a shovel?’ It was meant to lighten the moment, a peace offering. She threw back a look of bloodshot betrayal.
Once again Goodfellowe’s life had turned into a battlefield upon which the two halves of his being, family and politics, were waging war. Stevie had drowned while Goodfellowe was attending to his red boxes. Too busy to play dad. No one’s fault, really, just one of those bloody unfair things. No one had said anything, but Goodfellowe
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