Fanfic: (Don't) Regret the Mistakes Part 1
Arthur Pendragon watched himself in the mirrored wardrobe door, as he tied a light blue silk tie into a Windsor Knot. Cross over, loop up, back down, to the right, loop through again, across, up through loop and down. Done.
He appraised himself carefully. Smooth cheeked, his blond hair barely skimming over the edge of his blue shirt with faint white pinstripes, a contrast against a dark grey wool silk suit, the crease in the trousers sharp as a blade edge. He looked calm, measured, clean, conservative, uniform, reassuring, faceless, the power of being the elite, in control, born to rule. Born to govern.
It promised to be another long day, and the election campaign had not even officially begun. That was likely to be called within the next few weeks. Arthur had his first appointment at 8:30am, with his media relations officer, and then an hour with his campaign manager, which was his own formidable half-sister Morgana LaFey. Arthur shook his head, remembering that at his father's insistence, Arthur had requisitioned Morgana's services even prior to his official endorsement by the Conservative Party. Uther had deemed it necessary as Arthur would be contesting a particularly tough constituency.
Arthur strode into the kitchen, and gave Gwen a peck on the cheek. She proffered a plate of ham and cheese croissants, Arthur collected one and continued out through the front door. Gwen called after him, "Love you, Arthur. Don't forget to come home, okay. Sometime before midnight would be lovely."
Arthur sighed, and closed the front door behind him. Was there any point in even saying to himself that he would "make it up" to Gwen, once, if, he was elected as an MP. Arthur knew the demands on his time would become more urgent, unrelenting, perhaps even irrational to an extent. Arthur knew Gwen would have to adapt to this way of life, or come to a determination that being the wife of an MP was not for her. Arthur would not be able to promise that it would be easier once he was elected.
His driver, George, was waiting for him out the front. "Mr Pendragon, Sir, I have your large latte here."
"Thank you, George. Do you think you might start calling me Arthur today?"
"I think not, Mr. Pendragon."
Arthur and Vivian ran through the appointments which would keep him in the public eye for the week. He would be visiting three primary schools, each an opportunity to spruik his party's agenda for improving standards in state funded schools. The Conservative Party had never been reputed to especially care for the standards of taxation funded schools, but with the result of the election likely to teeter like a wobbly gymnast on a balance beam, all the stops had to be pulled out to convince the wider public to vote for them.
"Right, well, any speeches to look through?"
Vivian riffled through her pages of notes, finding three separate clipped documents, each one being a speech Arthur would deliver, important points indicated with some removable labels.
Arthur read through the first speech, which was to be delivered at the schools. It listed various initiatives: -
Doubling the size of Teach First, which attracts top graduates to the teaching profession.
Introducing Troops to Teachers for former members of the armed forces and Teach Next for high fliers working in other sectors.
Allowing schools to reward good teachers and deal with under-performing teachers.
Developing a network of Teaching Schools on the model of teaching hospitals.
Stopping funding for teacher trainees who do not have a lower second degree or better.
Reducing opportunities for teacher trainees to retake basic literacy and numeracy tests.
"It will be important to emphasize the positive initiatives, Teach First and Troops to Teachers, I think these ideas will really resonate with most voters, who want to see the overall skill level of teachers improved," Vivian said.
Arthur nodded, he agreed that the positive initiatives would always sell better than punitive ones like taking some trainee teachers out of their chosen profession.
Arthur would also be attending the BETT Trade Fair, which would be showcasing education technology. He would be meeting various manufacturers and presenters, who would be vying for attention and new contracts, while Arthur would be there to show the Conservative Party's support for the economic opportunities created by such trade gatherings, and the necessity to ensure that the UK, and London in particular remained a hub for such events.
Vivian handed Arthur his schedule for the week, there was not a single hour in his diary which had not been specified as belonging to some particular event, appointment or press opportunity.
Vivian noticed Arthur's slightly raised eyebrow at the overfull diary, and drawled, "Arthur, for the next month or so, you'll probably need my say so to so much as take an unscheduled toilet break. We need to keep you in the public eye, and for you to be seen to be competent in inquiring into all manner of issues. An MP must have an eye on national, international and local issues of concern and importance. You can have time for yourself when you retire." Vivian laughed haughtily at her own proclamation, except that it wasn't really a joke as far as it concerned Arthur.
Arthur consoled himself with the thought that Vivian and Morgana would also have no lives of their own, if Arthur was successful in contesting for his constituency of Brentford and Isleworth.
The constituency of Brentford and Isleworth was currently held by the Labor Party, but the Conservative Party would be campaigning very hard to convince voters that a change was now needed, that thirteen years of Labor in Government was enough.
"Well, Vivian, once more unto the breach, once more. We'll get this seat this time."
"Absolutely, Arthur. Do you think I agreed to be your Media Relations Officer, so that you could lose to Labor, or the Liberal Democrats. I am the best of the best at this, so you have to trust me when I say that every single publicity opportunity, you need to take with both hands. And you need to be on the ball the entire time. One slip up, and the press will be onto it like a dog licking up spilt gravy."
Vivian was leaning into Arthur's personal space, waving her pen aggressively, a little too like a stabbing dagger for Arthur's liking. He leaned back in his chair.
Even with someone as talented as Vivian on board, Arthur would still need to be able to think on his feet, and have the answers which accorded with the Conservative Party Manifesto uppermost in his mind at all times, so that each issue was dealt with cohesively in the media.
"I need a cigarette." Vivian pushed the speeches into Arthur's hands, and grabbed her lighter, Dunhill cigarettes and was out the door as Morgana swept in, a picture of contrasts, dark flowing hair, unearthly pale complexion, blood red lips and a dress that matched her lipstick in its shade of intimidating red.
"Wow, Vivian, why don't we just put your desk on the footpath, so your work doesn't interrupt your smoking."
"Shut up, princess precious, we all know you only got this job because Uther forced Arthur to hire you."
"Ladies," Arthur interrupted, before they could continue their bitching, a daily, nay hourly event, "important business to attend to, let's focus on that."
"Focus on your own job, Morgana, instead of poring over my peccadilloes."
Morgana smirked at Vivian, but said nothing. She liked to rattle Vivian's cage.
Arthur waved his hand in front of Morgana's face. "Morgana, what are we doing here? Wasting my time?"
Morgana answered him with a draft letter, to be sent to all households in his constituency, setting out the problems that the current Government had inflicted on the UK.
Our economy is overwhelmed by debt, our social fabric is frayed and our political system has betrayed the people.
The letter also addressed various local issues of concern, particularly shortages of school places.
Overall, Arthur was pleased with the phrasing of the letter, and only had some suggestions regarding the layout, wanting the headings to be in bold red so that they would catch a person's attention, and persuade the voter to actually read the thing, and not just toss it straight into the waste paper basket.
It was time to push on, Arthur grabbed his speeches, jacket and telephone, and paced out the door, waving cordially to his other staff, heading to the car.
George was waiting patiently, and opened the car door for Arthur, before wordlessly reoccupying the driver's seat. Arthur knew he'd spent the hour hovering outside the car. Most drivers would have just sat back and caught up on some talk-back radio.
"To your first appointment then, Mr. Pendragon. I believe it is Isleworth Town Primary School?"
"That's correct George."
"Will you be visiting many schools in the area, sir?"
"Yes, I believe I'll probably visit them all."
"May I suggest then sir, that you allow me to purchase some anti-bacterial gel, for your hands. Children and schools are brimming with diseases, which while not usually fatal, are not especially pleasant when one must work such long hours."
"Thank you, George, I think that's an excellent idea. Perhaps though, a small, pocket size bottle would be appropriate for me to carry, leave the one liter bottle in the car."
"Yes, Mr Pendragon. It would be rather difficult to carry that around."
Arthur had to admit it to himself, the kids were alright. The little ones bounced around him like he was Santa Clause, and the older ones were just happy to have a reason to muck around during the special assembly. Arthur spoke amiably to some of the teachers, some of whom were sitting at the front of the assembly, making meaningful eye contact with some of the more unruly students.
Immediately after his formal presentation, five of the students from Year Six asked him questions which they had written on cards.
A young girl, dark long hair in a neat braid, her voice both girlish and serious, asked, "Hello Mr Pendragon, my name is Eva. Mr Pendragon, if you are elected as the Member of Parliament for Brentford and Isleworth, will you try to arrange for every student attending school to receive his or her own laptop computer?"
"Thank you very much, Eva, for your question. I would say that we are committed to ensuring that all schools are properly equipped, so that every student has sufficient access to computers. All students in this day and age should leave school with a high level of competency and literacy with regards to using computers. However, I believe it is unlikely that the Conservative Party would use taxpayer money to equip individual students with a laptop computer. We believe that public monies should be used to build better facilities in schools."
The next boy introduced himself as Benjamin. "Mr Pendragon, will you build a skatepark in our constituency? Because we really need one, everyone hates us skating in the normal parks and the footpaths. We need somewhere good to skate, Mr Pendragon?"
"Thank you for your question, Benjamin. I believe there is already a proposal for one to be built in Elthorne Park, and I believe there is about £200,000 set aside for this project. It's a very worthwhile endeavor, as public access to health and recreation facilities is imperative for the physical and mental well-being of all members of the community. So, as your MP I would be doing whatever I could to assist the local council, to see that this proposed skatepark is built."
After the assembly, there was a small morning tea, during which Arthur continued to converse with the teachers, while sipping tea and eating biscuits. Before long though, it was time to leave, for the next appointment.
It was nearly five in the afternoon when Arthur returned to his office. He had spent most of the day talking to people, and actually wanted nothing more than a few minutes to himself, but that was unlikely. Vivian brandished some papers at him the moment he stepped in.
"Arthur, we've just received an email from Conservative Campaign Headquarters. Gordon Brown has called a press conference at 10 Downing Street for tomorrow."
"Ah, so he's finally realised that he can't avoid it forever, that the populace of Britain won't just go away and let him continue being Prime Minister if he ignores petty things like time limits on terms of office."
"Arthur, save it for the press conferences," Vivian retorted. It was nearly 5:30pm, and they needed to review a leaflet that would be delivered to every household in the constituency within the next forty-eight hours. When the election was called tomorrow, the starter's gun would go off, and there would be no second chances if they stumbled, and fell.
It was nearly 8:00 pm when Arthur and Vivian had finished the draft of the letter. Morgana would have a final read over tomorrow morning, before it would be sent to Conservative Campaign Headquarters to have a final review before thousands of leaflets were printed and posted out.
As Arthur left his office, he checked his mobile, and found six voice mails. Sighing, he listened.
"Arthur, this is Uther. Please have your assistant contact my secretary tomorrow, to arrange for a convenient time to have a conference. I'll expect Morgana and Vivian to attend of course, so that we can discuss your strategy and how you will need to present yourself to give the Conservative Party the best chance of winning Brentford and Isleworth."
"Arthur, my secretary has contacted Leon, and I'll be expecting you, Morgana and Vivian for dinner tomorrow at 7:00 pm, to be followed by the campaign discussion I referred to in my earlier message."
"Arthur, please pass on my invitation to Guinevere, as obviously she also needs to be aware of the main points your campaign should be emphasizing."
One was from Gwen.
"Arthur, please call Uther. He's already called twice today, he's quite desperate to talk to you, because he's heard that the election is going to be called tomorrow. See you tonight."
One from his old university buddy, Lance.
"Pendragon, we need to catch up. Starting a new job in London soon, so I thought we could grab a pint or two, like old times. Don't be a stranger, pick up that phone, bye."
Another one from Uther.
"I've had my secretary contact Leon, to forward your campaign flyers to me. We'll discuss these tomorrow night."
Arthur groaned at this. Yes, his father, Baron Uther Pendragon if you please, was an appointed life peer, in the House of Lords, having been appointed five years previously on the advice of the House of Lords Appointments Commission. He had been familiar with the parliamentary system and the workings of Westminster since that time, and so theoretically, was a valuable resource to Arthur in his bid to win a seat currently held by Labour for the Conservative Party.
In theory. In practice, he had no experience of running a campaign to be elected as a Member of Parliament in the House of Commons. To be a Member of Parliament was to maintain a delicate balance between being accomplished enough that people would have confidence in you as their elected representative in Westminster, but also having enough of the common touch, so as not to be seen as overly intellectual, theoretical or upper class, which would earn you the ire and scorn of the people you were trying to convince to vote for you.
What would be the point of Uther lecturing Arthur, Morgana and Vivian on the contents of the constituency letter tomorrow night, when the deadline for Conservative Campaign Headquarters was tomorrow morning. Arthur flung his head back, frustrated, but knowing that he would have to nonetheless bear up under Uther's scrutiny and comments the following night.
He called Uther.
"Father, it's Arthur."
"Arthur, I've been trying to reach you all day. Why didn't Leon get you to call me back earlier?"
"I don't know, Father, I've been out the whole day, and when I got back to the office, Leon had left for the day, and I didn't get around to checking my messages."
"Well, never the less, the election is going to be called tomorrow, so I thought we needed to get together to speak with Morgana, Vivian, Leon and yourself about the direction of your campaign."
"About that Father, the first deadline is tomorrow morning, 10:00 am, so that headquarters have enough time to vet our proposed letter..."
"Arthur, that's why I needed to hear from you earlier today. You must check your phone, or have your assistant contacting you regularly, so that this doesn't happen again. I'll expect to see you all 7:00 pm sharp tomorrow night."
Uther rang off, obviously annoyed that Arthur was proceeding into the campaign without his influence in this first step.
In many ways, Arthur did have Uther to thank for his first steps into political life. His position as life peer in the House of Lords had allowed Uther to influence and pull strings with the Brentford and Isleworth constituency committee, to allow Arthur to be approved as their candidate. Arthur was young, twenty-seven, some thought too young, but there was a prevailing feeling the the Conservative Party had to embrace new possibilities, which meant being more inclusive of younger party members and allowing some to campaign for seats.
George dropped Arthur at his front door.
"Have a pleasant evening Mr. Pendragon."
"Yes, and you, George. Please be here by eight tomorrow."
"Yes Mr Pendragon. My brass wares collection will have to gather a little dust these next few weeks I fear."
"Oh, George, why is that?" Arthur just managed to suppress a yawn. George was a little obsessive about his apparently very rare collection of brass wares. He even apparently had a few items of medieval era armour, which he seemed to derive great pleasure from polishing.
"Well, I usually polish a few items each day after breakfast, but during these next few weeks, I fear that I might be restricted as I will need to prioritize my duties as a driver."
"Yes George, well I imagine the next few weeks will require sacrifices from us all."
"Indeed Sir."
George opened the door, Arthur trailed into the front door at just on 8:30pm. Exactly twelve hours from when he'd left.
Gwen was sipping on a cup of tea in the kitchen, looking comfortable in her pjs and slippers.
"Kettle's just boiled, want a cuppa?"
Arthur sank into the chair opposite. "Thanks, that'd be lovely."
Gwen pottered around, reboiling the kettle and popping a tea bag into a mug.
"I presume you called Uther back?"
"Yes, just now, and he's pissed off that I didn't get back earlier today. We're going Avalon Hall tomorrow, dinner starting at 7:00 pm for a war council. Uther would like you to be there, and I have to tell Leon, Morgana and Vivian to come as well."
"Arthur, they'll hardly be surprised at that. They'll be expecting long days and nights for the next few weeks."
Gwen came up behind Arthur, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple.
"You have a great team there, they are all very loyal to you."
Arthur smiled up at Gwen, clasping his hand over hers. "The next few weeks are going to be really demanding. This might be my only chance at this, to prove to the party, and my Father, that I can do this. You'll have to forgive me if it seems sometimes like you don't have a husband anymore."
"Well, it seems to me like now's as good a time as any to remember why you became my husband."
He grinned at her, as she straddled his lap. "I am a great admirer of many of your skills. You make an excellent cup of tea."
"Come upstairs. The tea's going cold anyway." She kissed him lingeringly, to which Arthur decided carrying her upstairs really was the only response that made sense.
Morgana paused before speaking. "It's not that there's anything actually wrong with it, it will meet all the criteria, and CCHQ will definitely approve it. I don't know, Arthur, I know Vivian comes with all the right credentials and that you have a lot of faith in her. She just never seems to be able to write material that will really connect with people. It's all political speak."
Arthur huffed, "I'll connect with the people with the visits and public appearances."
"Everyone in the constituency will receive one of these letters. You'll be lucky if you meet one percent of the voters who live in it. You know that Arthur. Why are you so defensive about Vivian anyway."
"Morgana, I hired her because she has one of the best reputations in the Conservative Party, and she knows what she's doing. She's been instrumental in other campaigns, you cannot just dismiss her."
"I'm not dismissing her, Arthur, I'm just saying that in this instance, I think you need to display more connection with the people that you want to represent."
"Well, we'll be doing more of these..."
"Yes, and every single one counts, Arthur, especially the early ones, before the voters become so sick of the whole thing they just turf it into the bin. You cannot bombard the voters, too many letters is as bad as not enough."
"Morgana, we've got half an hour. Get Vivian in here, we'll do what we can."
Morgana pushed herself away in the swivel chair, and strode briskly to invite Vivian in. Vivian was conferencing with CCHQ, trying to lock in a visit from David Cameron to Brentford and Isleworth to show his support for Arthur Pendragon. Vivian death stared Morgana, for attempting to interrupt such an important conference. Morgana waited with a thin line of a mouth, until Vivian finally finished the call.
"Morgana, you don't have any idea do you? It's going to be so hard to pin down David Cameron once this campaign really kicks into gear, if I don't lock in a time now, it might not happen at all. What's so important anyway, that you have to hang over me."
"You need to come to Arthur's office to rework the constituency letter with us."
"But Arthur's already approved it. What imaginary failings does it have, that it needs to be rehashed? Can't bear to send out something that you haven't got your paw prints all over?"
"Vivian, it's lacking the ordinary touch, it's so full of political speak, people won't read past the first line."
"Whatever, Morgana. I've done two campaigns, how many have you done? Oh, that's right, none! Why don't you just defer to someone who knows better on this score."
"Just because I haven't done a campaign before, doesn't mean I'm wrong. This letter makes Arthur seem impersonal, unapproachable. It can't just all be about policy and platforms, we have to communicate the type of man Arthur is, that he has integrity, that he wants what's in the best interests of his constituents, that's he's not in this just for power and glory, but he wants to make a difference, make peoples' lives better."
"The best way to do that is to outline clearly how he's going to do that, not just make fluffy statements about why he's going to make a difference. People are interested in what he's going to do, not why." Vivian looked at Morgana with disdain, "You can dance around here in your fancy power suits and designer shoes, but you haven't got a clue how to run a campaign. You ought to be grateful that you're here to watch and learn, instead of thinking you know it all."
Morgana was speechless for a moment, before collecting herself. "The letter will be reworked, with your input or without it. I was just being courteous and professional by inviting you to be involved. I could have just reworked the whole thing without even informing you Vivian."
Morgana stalked back to Arthur's office, angry that Vivian had to try to make every disagreement they had about Arthur's campaign into a petty, personal attack. The woman came highly recommended, but she thought Morgana was beneath her, and that therefore her opinion counted for nothing.
She looked at the clock. She had fifteen minutes, she went back into Arthur's office, and made him open up the document. In the end, she could only tweak a sentence here or there, a complete overhaul could not be done in such a short space of time. She would just have to ensure that she was more involved in the drafting process the next time, no matter how much Vivian despised her for interfering.
The Morgana/ Vivian confrontation made the office atmosphere Arctic. The rest of the day was spent with each woman pointedly ignoring the other. When they gathered around the television set to watch Gordon Brown make his announcement that the Election was to be on May 6 2010, they stood as far away from each other as was possible, while still being in a position to see the screen.
Arthur knew he had to make them work cooperatively or his whole campaign would be a disaster. They at least would have to feign some kind of united front tonight, or Uther would be frothing at the mouth. Most likely Arthur would bear the brunt of it, Uther had only recently discovered he had a daughter from a fling earlier in his life, and would be reluctant to criticize the daughter he was only beginning to form a relationship with.
Arthur would be expected to be a leader, by Uther, to pull together disparate people into a cohesive, well-functioning entity. If he couldn't control his own staff, what chance did he have of running a constituency.
These thoughts in mind, Arthur ordered them both into his office. He felt like a bloody school principal, about to threaten them with detention. Unfortunately, barring some major indiscretion, he could not sack either of them. He did not want to sack either of them. He just wanted them to bloody well pretend for his sake that they could get on, just enough to not claw each other's eyes out over every little disagreement.
Arthur was just grateful he had Leon as a personal assistant. Arthur could always rely on Leon to be sensible. He was rarely upset by anything, got on with his job, almost never made mistakes, and was a good friend to boot.
Arthur decided that being direct was the best option.
"Morgana, Vivian, we all know why we're here. The Election's been called, we're having a campaign meeting with my father, Uther Pendragon tonight, and we need to all be on top of our game. I respect you both enormously, otherwise I would not have you on my staff. I just ask that during this campaign, that you please respect each other."
Both women nodded, looking at Arthur but not at each other. Arthur supposed it was a start.
He appraised himself carefully. Smooth cheeked, his blond hair barely skimming over the edge of his blue shirt with faint white pinstripes, a contrast against a dark grey wool silk suit, the crease in the trousers sharp as a blade edge. He looked calm, measured, clean, conservative, uniform, reassuring, faceless, the power of being the elite, in control, born to rule. Born to govern.
It promised to be another long day, and the election campaign had not even officially begun. That was likely to be called within the next few weeks. Arthur had his first appointment at 8:30am, with his media relations officer, and then an hour with his campaign manager, which was his own formidable half-sister Morgana LaFey. Arthur shook his head, remembering that at his father's insistence, Arthur had requisitioned Morgana's services even prior to his official endorsement by the Conservative Party. Uther had deemed it necessary as Arthur would be contesting a particularly tough constituency.
Arthur strode into the kitchen, and gave Gwen a peck on the cheek. She proffered a plate of ham and cheese croissants, Arthur collected one and continued out through the front door. Gwen called after him, "Love you, Arthur. Don't forget to come home, okay. Sometime before midnight would be lovely."
Arthur sighed, and closed the front door behind him. Was there any point in even saying to himself that he would "make it up" to Gwen, once, if, he was elected as an MP. Arthur knew the demands on his time would become more urgent, unrelenting, perhaps even irrational to an extent. Arthur knew Gwen would have to adapt to this way of life, or come to a determination that being the wife of an MP was not for her. Arthur would not be able to promise that it would be easier once he was elected.
His driver, George, was waiting for him out the front. "Mr Pendragon, Sir, I have your large latte here."
"Thank you, George. Do you think you might start calling me Arthur today?"
"I think not, Mr. Pendragon."
Arthur and Vivian ran through the appointments which would keep him in the public eye for the week. He would be visiting three primary schools, each an opportunity to spruik his party's agenda for improving standards in state funded schools. The Conservative Party had never been reputed to especially care for the standards of taxation funded schools, but with the result of the election likely to teeter like a wobbly gymnast on a balance beam, all the stops had to be pulled out to convince the wider public to vote for them.
"Right, well, any speeches to look through?"
Vivian riffled through her pages of notes, finding three separate clipped documents, each one being a speech Arthur would deliver, important points indicated with some removable labels.
Arthur read through the first speech, which was to be delivered at the schools. It listed various initiatives: -
Doubling the size of Teach First, which attracts top graduates to the teaching profession.
Introducing Troops to Teachers for former members of the armed forces and Teach Next for high fliers working in other sectors.
Allowing schools to reward good teachers and deal with under-performing teachers.
Developing a network of Teaching Schools on the model of teaching hospitals.
Stopping funding for teacher trainees who do not have a lower second degree or better.
Reducing opportunities for teacher trainees to retake basic literacy and numeracy tests.
"It will be important to emphasize the positive initiatives, Teach First and Troops to Teachers, I think these ideas will really resonate with most voters, who want to see the overall skill level of teachers improved," Vivian said.
Arthur nodded, he agreed that the positive initiatives would always sell better than punitive ones like taking some trainee teachers out of their chosen profession.
Arthur would also be attending the BETT Trade Fair, which would be showcasing education technology. He would be meeting various manufacturers and presenters, who would be vying for attention and new contracts, while Arthur would be there to show the Conservative Party's support for the economic opportunities created by such trade gatherings, and the necessity to ensure that the UK, and London in particular remained a hub for such events.
Vivian handed Arthur his schedule for the week, there was not a single hour in his diary which had not been specified as belonging to some particular event, appointment or press opportunity.
Vivian noticed Arthur's slightly raised eyebrow at the overfull diary, and drawled, "Arthur, for the next month or so, you'll probably need my say so to so much as take an unscheduled toilet break. We need to keep you in the public eye, and for you to be seen to be competent in inquiring into all manner of issues. An MP must have an eye on national, international and local issues of concern and importance. You can have time for yourself when you retire." Vivian laughed haughtily at her own proclamation, except that it wasn't really a joke as far as it concerned Arthur.
Arthur consoled himself with the thought that Vivian and Morgana would also have no lives of their own, if Arthur was successful in contesting for his constituency of Brentford and Isleworth.
The constituency of Brentford and Isleworth was currently held by the Labor Party, but the Conservative Party would be campaigning very hard to convince voters that a change was now needed, that thirteen years of Labor in Government was enough.
"Well, Vivian, once more unto the breach, once more. We'll get this seat this time."
"Absolutely, Arthur. Do you think I agreed to be your Media Relations Officer, so that you could lose to Labor, or the Liberal Democrats. I am the best of the best at this, so you have to trust me when I say that every single publicity opportunity, you need to take with both hands. And you need to be on the ball the entire time. One slip up, and the press will be onto it like a dog licking up spilt gravy."
Vivian was leaning into Arthur's personal space, waving her pen aggressively, a little too like a stabbing dagger for Arthur's liking. He leaned back in his chair.
Even with someone as talented as Vivian on board, Arthur would still need to be able to think on his feet, and have the answers which accorded with the Conservative Party Manifesto uppermost in his mind at all times, so that each issue was dealt with cohesively in the media.
"I need a cigarette." Vivian pushed the speeches into Arthur's hands, and grabbed her lighter, Dunhill cigarettes and was out the door as Morgana swept in, a picture of contrasts, dark flowing hair, unearthly pale complexion, blood red lips and a dress that matched her lipstick in its shade of intimidating red.
"Wow, Vivian, why don't we just put your desk on the footpath, so your work doesn't interrupt your smoking."
"Shut up, princess precious, we all know you only got this job because Uther forced Arthur to hire you."
"Ladies," Arthur interrupted, before they could continue their bitching, a daily, nay hourly event, "important business to attend to, let's focus on that."
"Focus on your own job, Morgana, instead of poring over my peccadilloes."
Morgana smirked at Vivian, but said nothing. She liked to rattle Vivian's cage.
Arthur waved his hand in front of Morgana's face. "Morgana, what are we doing here? Wasting my time?"
Morgana answered him with a draft letter, to be sent to all households in his constituency, setting out the problems that the current Government had inflicted on the UK.
Our economy is overwhelmed by debt, our social fabric is frayed and our political system has betrayed the people.
The letter also addressed various local issues of concern, particularly shortages of school places.
Overall, Arthur was pleased with the phrasing of the letter, and only had some suggestions regarding the layout, wanting the headings to be in bold red so that they would catch a person's attention, and persuade the voter to actually read the thing, and not just toss it straight into the waste paper basket.
It was time to push on, Arthur grabbed his speeches, jacket and telephone, and paced out the door, waving cordially to his other staff, heading to the car.
George was waiting patiently, and opened the car door for Arthur, before wordlessly reoccupying the driver's seat. Arthur knew he'd spent the hour hovering outside the car. Most drivers would have just sat back and caught up on some talk-back radio.
"To your first appointment then, Mr. Pendragon. I believe it is Isleworth Town Primary School?"
"That's correct George."
"Will you be visiting many schools in the area, sir?"
"Yes, I believe I'll probably visit them all."
"May I suggest then sir, that you allow me to purchase some anti-bacterial gel, for your hands. Children and schools are brimming with diseases, which while not usually fatal, are not especially pleasant when one must work such long hours."
"Thank you, George, I think that's an excellent idea. Perhaps though, a small, pocket size bottle would be appropriate for me to carry, leave the one liter bottle in the car."
"Yes, Mr Pendragon. It would be rather difficult to carry that around."
Arthur had to admit it to himself, the kids were alright. The little ones bounced around him like he was Santa Clause, and the older ones were just happy to have a reason to muck around during the special assembly. Arthur spoke amiably to some of the teachers, some of whom were sitting at the front of the assembly, making meaningful eye contact with some of the more unruly students.
Immediately after his formal presentation, five of the students from Year Six asked him questions which they had written on cards.
A young girl, dark long hair in a neat braid, her voice both girlish and serious, asked, "Hello Mr Pendragon, my name is Eva. Mr Pendragon, if you are elected as the Member of Parliament for Brentford and Isleworth, will you try to arrange for every student attending school to receive his or her own laptop computer?"
"Thank you very much, Eva, for your question. I would say that we are committed to ensuring that all schools are properly equipped, so that every student has sufficient access to computers. All students in this day and age should leave school with a high level of competency and literacy with regards to using computers. However, I believe it is unlikely that the Conservative Party would use taxpayer money to equip individual students with a laptop computer. We believe that public monies should be used to build better facilities in schools."
The next boy introduced himself as Benjamin. "Mr Pendragon, will you build a skatepark in our constituency? Because we really need one, everyone hates us skating in the normal parks and the footpaths. We need somewhere good to skate, Mr Pendragon?"
"Thank you for your question, Benjamin. I believe there is already a proposal for one to be built in Elthorne Park, and I believe there is about £200,000 set aside for this project. It's a very worthwhile endeavor, as public access to health and recreation facilities is imperative for the physical and mental well-being of all members of the community. So, as your MP I would be doing whatever I could to assist the local council, to see that this proposed skatepark is built."
After the assembly, there was a small morning tea, during which Arthur continued to converse with the teachers, while sipping tea and eating biscuits. Before long though, it was time to leave, for the next appointment.
It was nearly five in the afternoon when Arthur returned to his office. He had spent most of the day talking to people, and actually wanted nothing more than a few minutes to himself, but that was unlikely. Vivian brandished some papers at him the moment he stepped in.
"Arthur, we've just received an email from Conservative Campaign Headquarters. Gordon Brown has called a press conference at 10 Downing Street for tomorrow."
"Ah, so he's finally realised that he can't avoid it forever, that the populace of Britain won't just go away and let him continue being Prime Minister if he ignores petty things like time limits on terms of office."
"Arthur, save it for the press conferences," Vivian retorted. It was nearly 5:30pm, and they needed to review a leaflet that would be delivered to every household in the constituency within the next forty-eight hours. When the election was called tomorrow, the starter's gun would go off, and there would be no second chances if they stumbled, and fell.
It was nearly 8:00 pm when Arthur and Vivian had finished the draft of the letter. Morgana would have a final read over tomorrow morning, before it would be sent to Conservative Campaign Headquarters to have a final review before thousands of leaflets were printed and posted out.
As Arthur left his office, he checked his mobile, and found six voice mails. Sighing, he listened.
"Arthur, this is Uther. Please have your assistant contact my secretary tomorrow, to arrange for a convenient time to have a conference. I'll expect Morgana and Vivian to attend of course, so that we can discuss your strategy and how you will need to present yourself to give the Conservative Party the best chance of winning Brentford and Isleworth."
"Arthur, my secretary has contacted Leon, and I'll be expecting you, Morgana and Vivian for dinner tomorrow at 7:00 pm, to be followed by the campaign discussion I referred to in my earlier message."
"Arthur, please pass on my invitation to Guinevere, as obviously she also needs to be aware of the main points your campaign should be emphasizing."
One was from Gwen.
"Arthur, please call Uther. He's already called twice today, he's quite desperate to talk to you, because he's heard that the election is going to be called tomorrow. See you tonight."
One from his old university buddy, Lance.
"Pendragon, we need to catch up. Starting a new job in London soon, so I thought we could grab a pint or two, like old times. Don't be a stranger, pick up that phone, bye."
Another one from Uther.
"I've had my secretary contact Leon, to forward your campaign flyers to me. We'll discuss these tomorrow night."
Arthur groaned at this. Yes, his father, Baron Uther Pendragon if you please, was an appointed life peer, in the House of Lords, having been appointed five years previously on the advice of the House of Lords Appointments Commission. He had been familiar with the parliamentary system and the workings of Westminster since that time, and so theoretically, was a valuable resource to Arthur in his bid to win a seat currently held by Labour for the Conservative Party.
In theory. In practice, he had no experience of running a campaign to be elected as a Member of Parliament in the House of Commons. To be a Member of Parliament was to maintain a delicate balance between being accomplished enough that people would have confidence in you as their elected representative in Westminster, but also having enough of the common touch, so as not to be seen as overly intellectual, theoretical or upper class, which would earn you the ire and scorn of the people you were trying to convince to vote for you.
What would be the point of Uther lecturing Arthur, Morgana and Vivian on the contents of the constituency letter tomorrow night, when the deadline for Conservative Campaign Headquarters was tomorrow morning. Arthur flung his head back, frustrated, but knowing that he would have to nonetheless bear up under Uther's scrutiny and comments the following night.
He called Uther.
"Father, it's Arthur."
"Arthur, I've been trying to reach you all day. Why didn't Leon get you to call me back earlier?"
"I don't know, Father, I've been out the whole day, and when I got back to the office, Leon had left for the day, and I didn't get around to checking my messages."
"Well, never the less, the election is going to be called tomorrow, so I thought we needed to get together to speak with Morgana, Vivian, Leon and yourself about the direction of your campaign."
"About that Father, the first deadline is tomorrow morning, 10:00 am, so that headquarters have enough time to vet our proposed letter..."
"Arthur, that's why I needed to hear from you earlier today. You must check your phone, or have your assistant contacting you regularly, so that this doesn't happen again. I'll expect to see you all 7:00 pm sharp tomorrow night."
Uther rang off, obviously annoyed that Arthur was proceeding into the campaign without his influence in this first step.
In many ways, Arthur did have Uther to thank for his first steps into political life. His position as life peer in the House of Lords had allowed Uther to influence and pull strings with the Brentford and Isleworth constituency committee, to allow Arthur to be approved as their candidate. Arthur was young, twenty-seven, some thought too young, but there was a prevailing feeling the the Conservative Party had to embrace new possibilities, which meant being more inclusive of younger party members and allowing some to campaign for seats.
George dropped Arthur at his front door.
"Have a pleasant evening Mr. Pendragon."
"Yes, and you, George. Please be here by eight tomorrow."
"Yes Mr Pendragon. My brass wares collection will have to gather a little dust these next few weeks I fear."
"Oh, George, why is that?" Arthur just managed to suppress a yawn. George was a little obsessive about his apparently very rare collection of brass wares. He even apparently had a few items of medieval era armour, which he seemed to derive great pleasure from polishing.
"Well, I usually polish a few items each day after breakfast, but during these next few weeks, I fear that I might be restricted as I will need to prioritize my duties as a driver."
"Yes George, well I imagine the next few weeks will require sacrifices from us all."
"Indeed Sir."
George opened the door, Arthur trailed into the front door at just on 8:30pm. Exactly twelve hours from when he'd left.
Gwen was sipping on a cup of tea in the kitchen, looking comfortable in her pjs and slippers.
"Kettle's just boiled, want a cuppa?"
Arthur sank into the chair opposite. "Thanks, that'd be lovely."
Gwen pottered around, reboiling the kettle and popping a tea bag into a mug.
"I presume you called Uther back?"
"Yes, just now, and he's pissed off that I didn't get back earlier today. We're going Avalon Hall tomorrow, dinner starting at 7:00 pm for a war council. Uther would like you to be there, and I have to tell Leon, Morgana and Vivian to come as well."
"Arthur, they'll hardly be surprised at that. They'll be expecting long days and nights for the next few weeks."
Gwen came up behind Arthur, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple.
"You have a great team there, they are all very loyal to you."
Arthur smiled up at Gwen, clasping his hand over hers. "The next few weeks are going to be really demanding. This might be my only chance at this, to prove to the party, and my Father, that I can do this. You'll have to forgive me if it seems sometimes like you don't have a husband anymore."
"Well, it seems to me like now's as good a time as any to remember why you became my husband."
He grinned at her, as she straddled his lap. "I am a great admirer of many of your skills. You make an excellent cup of tea."
"Come upstairs. The tea's going cold anyway." She kissed him lingeringly, to which Arthur decided carrying her upstairs really was the only response that made sense.
Morgana paused before speaking. "It's not that there's anything actually wrong with it, it will meet all the criteria, and CCHQ will definitely approve it. I don't know, Arthur, I know Vivian comes with all the right credentials and that you have a lot of faith in her. She just never seems to be able to write material that will really connect with people. It's all political speak."
Arthur huffed, "I'll connect with the people with the visits and public appearances."
"Everyone in the constituency will receive one of these letters. You'll be lucky if you meet one percent of the voters who live in it. You know that Arthur. Why are you so defensive about Vivian anyway."
"Morgana, I hired her because she has one of the best reputations in the Conservative Party, and she knows what she's doing. She's been instrumental in other campaigns, you cannot just dismiss her."
"I'm not dismissing her, Arthur, I'm just saying that in this instance, I think you need to display more connection with the people that you want to represent."
"Well, we'll be doing more of these..."
"Yes, and every single one counts, Arthur, especially the early ones, before the voters become so sick of the whole thing they just turf it into the bin. You cannot bombard the voters, too many letters is as bad as not enough."
"Morgana, we've got half an hour. Get Vivian in here, we'll do what we can."
Morgana pushed herself away in the swivel chair, and strode briskly to invite Vivian in. Vivian was conferencing with CCHQ, trying to lock in a visit from David Cameron to Brentford and Isleworth to show his support for Arthur Pendragon. Vivian death stared Morgana, for attempting to interrupt such an important conference. Morgana waited with a thin line of a mouth, until Vivian finally finished the call.
"Morgana, you don't have any idea do you? It's going to be so hard to pin down David Cameron once this campaign really kicks into gear, if I don't lock in a time now, it might not happen at all. What's so important anyway, that you have to hang over me."
"You need to come to Arthur's office to rework the constituency letter with us."
"But Arthur's already approved it. What imaginary failings does it have, that it needs to be rehashed? Can't bear to send out something that you haven't got your paw prints all over?"
"Vivian, it's lacking the ordinary touch, it's so full of political speak, people won't read past the first line."
"Whatever, Morgana. I've done two campaigns, how many have you done? Oh, that's right, none! Why don't you just defer to someone who knows better on this score."
"Just because I haven't done a campaign before, doesn't mean I'm wrong. This letter makes Arthur seem impersonal, unapproachable. It can't just all be about policy and platforms, we have to communicate the type of man Arthur is, that he has integrity, that he wants what's in the best interests of his constituents, that's he's not in this just for power and glory, but he wants to make a difference, make peoples' lives better."
"The best way to do that is to outline clearly how he's going to do that, not just make fluffy statements about why he's going to make a difference. People are interested in what he's going to do, not why." Vivian looked at Morgana with disdain, "You can dance around here in your fancy power suits and designer shoes, but you haven't got a clue how to run a campaign. You ought to be grateful that you're here to watch and learn, instead of thinking you know it all."
Morgana was speechless for a moment, before collecting herself. "The letter will be reworked, with your input or without it. I was just being courteous and professional by inviting you to be involved. I could have just reworked the whole thing without even informing you Vivian."
Morgana stalked back to Arthur's office, angry that Vivian had to try to make every disagreement they had about Arthur's campaign into a petty, personal attack. The woman came highly recommended, but she thought Morgana was beneath her, and that therefore her opinion counted for nothing.
She looked at the clock. She had fifteen minutes, she went back into Arthur's office, and made him open up the document. In the end, she could only tweak a sentence here or there, a complete overhaul could not be done in such a short space of time. She would just have to ensure that she was more involved in the drafting process the next time, no matter how much Vivian despised her for interfering.
The Morgana/ Vivian confrontation made the office atmosphere Arctic. The rest of the day was spent with each woman pointedly ignoring the other. When they gathered around the television set to watch Gordon Brown make his announcement that the Election was to be on May 6 2010, they stood as far away from each other as was possible, while still being in a position to see the screen.
Arthur knew he had to make them work cooperatively or his whole campaign would be a disaster. They at least would have to feign some kind of united front tonight, or Uther would be frothing at the mouth. Most likely Arthur would bear the brunt of it, Uther had only recently discovered he had a daughter from a fling earlier in his life, and would be reluctant to criticize the daughter he was only beginning to form a relationship with.
Arthur would be expected to be a leader, by Uther, to pull together disparate people into a cohesive, well-functioning entity. If he couldn't control his own staff, what chance did he have of running a constituency.
These thoughts in mind, Arthur ordered them both into his office. He felt like a bloody school principal, about to threaten them with detention. Unfortunately, barring some major indiscretion, he could not sack either of them. He did not want to sack either of them. He just wanted them to bloody well pretend for his sake that they could get on, just enough to not claw each other's eyes out over every little disagreement.
Arthur was just grateful he had Leon as a personal assistant. Arthur could always rely on Leon to be sensible. He was rarely upset by anything, got on with his job, almost never made mistakes, and was a good friend to boot.
Arthur decided that being direct was the best option.
"Morgana, Vivian, we all know why we're here. The Election's been called, we're having a campaign meeting with my father, Uther Pendragon tonight, and we need to all be on top of our game. I respect you both enormously, otherwise I would not have you on my staff. I just ask that during this campaign, that you please respect each other."
Both women nodded, looking at Arthur but not at each other. Arthur supposed it was a start.