No job causes a greater amount of stress upon the holder than that of Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. It is a position which lends credibility, but also a high standard that must be strenuously kept up lest the respect of the officeholder diminish in the eyes of the public. This task is, as can be observed, by no means the easiest, and one often forwent during particularly mind-numbing periods. This was one of those moments, as the current occupant of Number 10 swiftly strolled through the corridor in an unusual tick-tock rhythm. Following her was Gavin, who was what the know-it-alls of power called a flunky, clutching a neat cluster of freshly printed paper. After seconds of scouting about, she had found the empty room she had been looking for to escape the grief causers that peppered her cabinet.
As she took out the rusting brass tube of a lighter lighter (a gift from her predecessor), Gavin set the papers onto a table with a rickety leg, and began separating them. The Prime Minister lingered in the corner, whipping out the lightly rolled cigarette and lighting it. Minutes that felt like hours passed before a word was uttered, as the two concentrated on their respective activities.
"Day not going brilliantly, I take it?" blurted Gavin, ever the Obvious Ollie, finally raising his head from the collection of papers in front of him. She wasn't taken aback at that, but it took her a second to respond as she let out a wry cough and a tut. "I suppose you could think that." She tapped a little excess ash out of an ajar window. "Tories -" who else? "running again with that 'Helen Smith' nonsense." She shook her head, expecting Gavin to find himself in agreement. To her mild consternation, he did not, instead raising an eyebrow. "What d'you mean by Helen Smith?"
The PM was quick to reply. "Oh yeah, you're probably not caught up. See, they're running with this little campaign against me", she expanded, "saying things like 'ooh if her name was Helen Smith she wouldn't be PM' and all that tat. Absolute pap." "Ah, I see," responded Gavin, who was quick to jump back in with another question. "So - again? They've done this before?"
She sighed as her cigarette burned out. She lit another one, explaining as she did so. "Look, during that 2010 business, they forgot that they were the Tories" - Gavin let out a laugh - "and ran with a 'look at the Liberals' narrative, trying to paint us as a bunch of high and mighty barons just because I'm related to someone. Put it on billboards and everything. And they said that - no one believed them - and they dropped it. I know it's their job to make me out as horrific, but I think they could've done better than that."
Gavin stopped shuffling the papers and leaned against the wall opposite to her. "I don't think relatives are a bad thing in politics either. Surely it's better to have them than not?" he said, in a vain attempt to get her to laugh. It worked, and her laugh led into another small rant. "I suppose so, Gav. And it's still silly beyond all reason - especially from the Tories, who are this close to nudging Nick bloody Soames onto their benches. So farcical." She opened the window a little more, as the smoke began to envelop the room to the point where Gavin was putting his mouth to his sleeve. "Sorry." she said. Gavin smiled to show his thanks as the sudden influx of light bounced off the thin rim of his glasses.
"It's not as if families are some new invention either. Tories, Liberals. God, even the socialists have got them, though god knows what the Lansburies have been up to. I'm not really an Asquith, either." She stopped for a moment for another puff. "Well, I am. Obviously. But it's not on my name. I'm a Bonham-Carter, through and through." Another puff, with a motion towards Gavin to see if he wanted one. No dice.
"That's not to say I disown the name. It's a lovely name. Has all the right sounds -" The laugh that followed was very meek. "- And let's face it, it certainly isn't the worst name in the world when you're in the party. But, I don't know, feels very rude to only be known on my name alone. Surely my government's got to be more important than that." Silence clouded the room as Gavin backed off from the wall and folded his arms. He looked her straight in the eye, as the ash fell to the floor. "Helena, we shouldn't lose track of what you've done for this country. It's not just chance that the Tories are back on their heels." She appreciated the words, and cast the cigarette out the window.
"Thanks, but let's get to business before the cabinet snoop about. Things have been heating up."
Gavin fiddled with his glasses to give the appearance of action while making out the words on the paper below. "Highwater Healthcare" - Helena butted in. "That's the insurance firm. They've been going through dire straits. Correct?" Gavin refrained from showing annoyance at the interruption. He picked up the paper and flipped it so Helena could see. "It's worse than that. We got this little document about two hours ago from them. They'll be wound up within a week. They sound -" Helena did it again. "-desperate? They should be."
Gavin found himself taken aback by this shrugging off. "Sorry?" he said, not at all sure about what he had just heard. Helena wasn't a devotee of the healthcare industry by any means, but she had never reveled in the failure of a business. "Gavin, are they even worth saving? Look at what's happened with them - they've done a terrible job, and it's not just a current happening. The last government had to practically bribe investors to keep them open." Helena's explanation did not assure her bespectacled aide.
"But isn't this a rather callous attitude? There are a multitude of people on Highwater. You let them sink, they'll be out." His tone became ever more frank, but not direct. She took a pause before setting her hands on the table. "Gav, are you aware of the British Health Service? It's a Labour thing, but it's been talked about with our people too." Gavin responded. "Isn't that like socialized medicine? Don't they have that in the States?" Helena had a very slightly unsure look - it wasn't particularly her ideal model. "Sort of. It's...different over there. But the point is that the system we have now - it's broken. Bad. If you want to put it bluntly, crap. As is, we can barely put up with all these insurance companies. We need to do something, and we can't just roll out the red carpet for the BHC or whatever the bloody hell it's called unless we can get a catalyst. This is the greatest opportunity we've had in years."
Gavin pocketed his pen, and put one arm to his forehead. "Helena, I know what you intend, but this is beyond unethical. People could die -"
"- they'll die anyway when Highwater hikes their premiums and all of a sudden they can't pay. I'm not playing politics, it's something that needs to be done. A chance like this won't arrive for a while, and when it does, I will be long gone." Gavin strewed the notes, trying to avoid noting how heated the conversation had become. "You said I've done a lot for this country. I want to do more. And look, I see that this will be testy, if not more so. I hope this doesn't cause a rift between us, for what it's worth. You've been very trustworthy." Gavin begrudgingly smiled, accepting the appreciation. "No hard feelings, Helena. Just keep what I said in mind." he said with his teeth ever so slightly gritted. She flashed him a smile. "That's good to hear."
She took a few steps to the door. "Got to head out now. Business with the cabinet, of course. I'll see you in a few hours, and get a draft of a letter to Highwater out, if you could." He nodded.
Before Helena could shut the door, Gavin leapt over to ask her a question. "This whole affair with Highwater - won't it be awfully theatrical?"
She shrugged her shoulders, and let out an indifferent parting phrase. "Politics is theatre." Gavin was left to ponder while she marched down the hallway.
He began muttering it to himself. "Politics is theatre..."
As she took out the rusting brass tube of a lighter lighter (a gift from her predecessor), Gavin set the papers onto a table with a rickety leg, and began separating them. The Prime Minister lingered in the corner, whipping out the lightly rolled cigarette and lighting it. Minutes that felt like hours passed before a word was uttered, as the two concentrated on their respective activities.
"Day not going brilliantly, I take it?" blurted Gavin, ever the Obvious Ollie, finally raising his head from the collection of papers in front of him. She wasn't taken aback at that, but it took her a second to respond as she let out a wry cough and a tut. "I suppose you could think that." She tapped a little excess ash out of an ajar window. "Tories -" who else? "running again with that 'Helen Smith' nonsense." She shook her head, expecting Gavin to find himself in agreement. To her mild consternation, he did not, instead raising an eyebrow. "What d'you mean by Helen Smith?"
The PM was quick to reply. "Oh yeah, you're probably not caught up. See, they're running with this little campaign against me", she expanded, "saying things like 'ooh if her name was Helen Smith she wouldn't be PM' and all that tat. Absolute pap." "Ah, I see," responded Gavin, who was quick to jump back in with another question. "So - again? They've done this before?"
She sighed as her cigarette burned out. She lit another one, explaining as she did so. "Look, during that 2010 business, they forgot that they were the Tories" - Gavin let out a laugh - "and ran with a 'look at the Liberals' narrative, trying to paint us as a bunch of high and mighty barons just because I'm related to someone. Put it on billboards and everything. And they said that - no one believed them - and they dropped it. I know it's their job to make me out as horrific, but I think they could've done better than that."
Gavin stopped shuffling the papers and leaned against the wall opposite to her. "I don't think relatives are a bad thing in politics either. Surely it's better to have them than not?" he said, in a vain attempt to get her to laugh. It worked, and her laugh led into another small rant. "I suppose so, Gav. And it's still silly beyond all reason - especially from the Tories, who are this close to nudging Nick bloody Soames onto their benches. So farcical." She opened the window a little more, as the smoke began to envelop the room to the point where Gavin was putting his mouth to his sleeve. "Sorry." she said. Gavin smiled to show his thanks as the sudden influx of light bounced off the thin rim of his glasses.
"It's not as if families are some new invention either. Tories, Liberals. God, even the socialists have got them, though god knows what the Lansburies have been up to. I'm not really an Asquith, either." She stopped for a moment for another puff. "Well, I am. Obviously. But it's not on my name. I'm a Bonham-Carter, through and through." Another puff, with a motion towards Gavin to see if he wanted one. No dice.
"That's not to say I disown the name. It's a lovely name. Has all the right sounds -" The laugh that followed was very meek. "- And let's face it, it certainly isn't the worst name in the world when you're in the party. But, I don't know, feels very rude to only be known on my name alone. Surely my government's got to be more important than that." Silence clouded the room as Gavin backed off from the wall and folded his arms. He looked her straight in the eye, as the ash fell to the floor. "Helena, we shouldn't lose track of what you've done for this country. It's not just chance that the Tories are back on their heels." She appreciated the words, and cast the cigarette out the window.
"Thanks, but let's get to business before the cabinet snoop about. Things have been heating up."
Gavin fiddled with his glasses to give the appearance of action while making out the words on the paper below. "Highwater Healthcare" - Helena butted in. "That's the insurance firm. They've been going through dire straits. Correct?" Gavin refrained from showing annoyance at the interruption. He picked up the paper and flipped it so Helena could see. "It's worse than that. We got this little document about two hours ago from them. They'll be wound up within a week. They sound -" Helena did it again. "-desperate? They should be."
Gavin found himself taken aback by this shrugging off. "Sorry?" he said, not at all sure about what he had just heard. Helena wasn't a devotee of the healthcare industry by any means, but she had never reveled in the failure of a business. "Gavin, are they even worth saving? Look at what's happened with them - they've done a terrible job, and it's not just a current happening. The last government had to practically bribe investors to keep them open." Helena's explanation did not assure her bespectacled aide.
"But isn't this a rather callous attitude? There are a multitude of people on Highwater. You let them sink, they'll be out." His tone became ever more frank, but not direct. She took a pause before setting her hands on the table. "Gav, are you aware of the British Health Service? It's a Labour thing, but it's been talked about with our people too." Gavin responded. "Isn't that like socialized medicine? Don't they have that in the States?" Helena had a very slightly unsure look - it wasn't particularly her ideal model. "Sort of. It's...different over there. But the point is that the system we have now - it's broken. Bad. If you want to put it bluntly, crap. As is, we can barely put up with all these insurance companies. We need to do something, and we can't just roll out the red carpet for the BHC or whatever the bloody hell it's called unless we can get a catalyst. This is the greatest opportunity we've had in years."
Gavin pocketed his pen, and put one arm to his forehead. "Helena, I know what you intend, but this is beyond unethical. People could die -"
"- they'll die anyway when Highwater hikes their premiums and all of a sudden they can't pay. I'm not playing politics, it's something that needs to be done. A chance like this won't arrive for a while, and when it does, I will be long gone." Gavin strewed the notes, trying to avoid noting how heated the conversation had become. "You said I've done a lot for this country. I want to do more. And look, I see that this will be testy, if not more so. I hope this doesn't cause a rift between us, for what it's worth. You've been very trustworthy." Gavin begrudgingly smiled, accepting the appreciation. "No hard feelings, Helena. Just keep what I said in mind." he said with his teeth ever so slightly gritted. She flashed him a smile. "That's good to hear."
She took a few steps to the door. "Got to head out now. Business with the cabinet, of course. I'll see you in a few hours, and get a draft of a letter to Highwater out, if you could." He nodded.
Before Helena could shut the door, Gavin leapt over to ask her a question. "This whole affair with Highwater - won't it be awfully theatrical?"
She shrugged her shoulders, and let out an indifferent parting phrase. "Politics is theatre." Gavin was left to ponder while she marched down the hallway.
He began muttering it to himself. "Politics is theatre..."
