Stef Newton

Stef Newton is a writer and figure skater. She was born in post-communist Romania and makes obscure jokes about the Russian Social-Democratic Labour Party, circa 1904. By 2018, if everything goes according to plan, she will have graduated from Goldsmiths three times. She is also training to qualify as a psychotherapist. No, she can’t read your mind. No, it’s not cute or quirky when you ask.
Contact: en201sr [at] gold [dot] ac.uk

Reform

 

Chapter 12: Confetti

When her name is finally read out, Avi’s victory comes as a surprise to Judith. She makes eye contact with Price, who frowns as though confused and then looks away quickly. The applause of the crowd is not scattered and awkward, but immediate and confident. Judith can sense the energy in the room. The skin on the back of her neck tingles, like lying down on the grass in Iowa. Quite a few people have been expecting this election result, with the notable exceptions of the Reform Party leadership clique and probably Avi Jäns herself. The now former RP leader stands quite stunned, as though she does not remember how to clap or cannot bring herself to do it.

‘Farrah,’ Price says, nudging her. 

‘What,’ she scowls and pulls her arm as far away from him as possible. Her clapping is a small frantic movement, like the flutter of wings from a dying moth. 

Judith looks at Farrah. For a couple of seconds, the moment appears to be stuck on a loop, and she feels detached from it somehow. Then she remembers to do her job, and tweets the results of the leadership race from the RP’s official account. @RP_UK JUST ANNOUNCED: Avigail Jäns is the new Leader of the Reform Party #RPleadership. She watches as retweets and favourites start pouring in, from celebrities and regular users alike. Although she has written and sent the tweet, she almost finds it hard to believe that she has not fallen into some alternate reality. @RP_UK Congratulations to our new Leader @RP_AJ and re-elected Deputy Leader @jprice #RPleadership.

Avi is ushered onto the stage and has a microphone shoved into her hand, and although she smiles graciously at the people she passes on her way, she seems quite tense. Judith smiles. A balloon full of confetti is broken, and small circles of shiny paper descend upon the main hall, getting stuck in people’s hair and the collars of their shirts. A small metallic blue square lands on Judith’s phone, momentarily obscuring the tweet she is working on. @RP_UK Results of Reform leadership election – won in first round by Avigail Jäns. Avigail Jäns 55.2% Farrah Kennedy 44.8%. Price brushes off a few stray bits of confetti from his suit, and then resumes clapping for Avi. 

‘Fuck,’ he mutters through his teeth, so that others can't read the word on his lips. He has clearly not been expecting the outcome either, although Judith knows that he approves of it. He must be more surprised than anything else. Farrah ignores him, drinking from a glass of Prosecco which has been handed to her by someone in the Manchester delegation. Judith suspects that many more glasses are forthcoming, although she is pretty sure their hiring agreement explicitly forbids drinking in the hall. Not that Farrah cares. They watch the stage, where the new party leader stands behind the lectern, looking even smaller than usual. 

‘Thank you,’ Avi says, or at least that’s what Judith assumes. She is not able to hear Avi above the noise of people clapping, because her microphone isn't on. Avi fiddles with it, before one of the tech guys steps in to help. The crowd whoops, and Judith thinks she is the only one experiencing secondhand embarrassment from watching their struggle with technology. Everyone else is standing up, cheering, rejoicing. ‘Can you hear me?’ Avi says, and this part resonates throughout the room. 

There is a big cheer, which Judith feels like joining, but she imagines Farrah would not be very happy about it if she did. They also decide to stand, because many people in the front rows have chosen to do so, and it now obstructs their view of the stage. Besides, they remain some of the party’s key people, and they have an image to maintain, especially for newly re-elected Deputy Leader Price. He goes up on his tiptoes to watch Avi’s speech, even though he is tall enough to see comfortably.

‘I’d like to start with a big thank you to all of you, up and down the country, who campaigned and voted in this election. Ten years ago, I went to my first RP conference in Sheffield. We held this in a lecture hall at Hallam University; there were about a hundred of us. I want to take this opportunity to thank the founders of our Party, those who took to the streets in the 60s to create a better society for those of us who came after them. When my grandfather Sebastian Lockwood and his comrades founded the Reform Party, they took turns meeting in each others’ houses,’ Avi says, and there is laughter from the audience. ‘Look at us now, at our largest, and at our strongest. I want to also congratulate Jonathan Price on his re-election. Jonathan has been a committed Deputy Leader for the past five years, and I am pleased to be taking on this role alongside him.’

‘Bullshit,’ Farrah mutters, chewing her fingernails and the sleeve of her cardigan. 

‘Shh,’ Price says. Although nobody actually pays them attention, they shouldn’t be making a scene. 

‘I have just been informed that the author of 50 Shades of Grey has joined the Party,’ Avi says with a bemused expression. There is laughter from the audience, and someone whistles loudly. ‘I cannot take any credit for this, as the news was posted online before the election results were announced, but I am wondering if some of you will be seeing her at your branch meetings this month.’ 

More laughter and applause. Farrah bounces from one foot to the other. The looks that Price gives her have stopped being enough to contain her annoyance, which radiates from her body like an aura. Judith has never been able to see auras herself, but she once had a classmate called Jess, who insisted she possessed this skill. She wonders whether, if Jess were here tonight, she would claim that Farrah’s aura is a deep dark colour – swamp green, maybe.

‘I would also like to thank my fellow leadership candidate Farrah Kennedy, for her absolute commitment and passion, and for her dedication to the Party for the past two years. Farrah’s determination to fight for a fair and equal society comes through in everything she has done and I am sure in everything she will choose to do in the future.’

Judith and Price turn to look at Farrah, as do several delegates around them. Thankfully, she smiles and gives Avi a wave. If Judith can sense her absolute bitterness, it is probably because she has gotten to know her too well.

‘We are seeing the biggest movement of resistance to the system as we know it, and it is a difficult moment for Britain. Our party has stepped in to provide an alternative to the bankrupt leadership we have in place today. Ordinary people are getting involved in fighting back against this bankrupt government, the government of the 1%.’ 

The sound of pictures being snapped fills the pauses in between Avi’s sentences. Journalists have been asked to refrain from using flash photography, but some do anyway. Judith imagines it must be quite uncomfortable, having blinding lights going off in your face every other second. One cannot predict where they might strike next, so Avi Jäns is quite helpless to look away from them. Judith recalls what it was like to see the crowd of delegates from the stage during her brief election speech for the National Council, and she thinks about how different standing up there must be to someone who has just been elected leader.

It is more of a testament to Price’s glares that Farrah manages to stay in the room until the end of Avi’s speech, and even applauds for a few seconds afterwards. Looks don’t have the power to kill, and Farrah seems miffed about it. Judith cannot think of anything to say to her, or at least nothing that could guarantee a safe reaction. She doesn’t particularly fancy being the one to set her off tonight. 

‘I need a cigarette,’ Farrah announces when Avi begins to climb the steps down from the stage. She exits the hall along with an outpour of delegates, and a few photographers snap shots of her as she leaves. Price looks like he is praying that she doesn’t say anything to damage their reputation. Judith wonders, briefly, how things will change in the office after tonight.

‘She actually did it, huh,’ Price says, once Farrah is out of sight. He leans in conspiratorially, as though he is afraid of being overheard stating the obvious too loudly. 

‘I know, who saw that coming?’ Judith says. 

‘Nobody. The Tories are probably shitting themselves.’

‘Never mind the Tories, half our party will be shitting themselves.’ 

‘That's true.’

‘Farrah okay out on her own?’ Judith asks.

‘She's a big girl, she can handle losing an election.’

‘That’s… yeah, not quite what I meant. It was more like, I hope she doesn’t actually speak to anyone. Especially the press,’ Judith says.

‘Think we should go after her?’ 

‘Yeah, maybe. Give it a few minutes.’ 

They watch Avi making her way through the crowd and shaking hands with everyone and their mother. Someone announces a fifteen-minute break before the closing plenary, but very few people are actually still listening. To most delegates here, this is the close of conference, and the beginning of a new era. Judith and Price look at each other. Price nods. They grab their coats and go looking for Farrah, as much for fresh air as for the purpose of damage control. 

The front of the building is packed with delegates, smoking and waving their arms at each other, ostentatiously discussing politics. There are a number of sour-faced people trying to flog socialist newspapers, and a light rain has started. They find Farrah in relatively good spirits, chatting away to a delegate from Leeds. By the looks of it, she has not yet gone on an angry rant about Avi and the election, but the night remains young. 

***

The first split from the Party happens at around 11pm. The statement of the new Reform Party (Marxist-Leninist) is posted on a WordPress site, which Judith scrolls through on her phone at the conference afterparty. ‘It is with sadness that we the undersigned note that the Party has been slowly moving away from the principles we have upheld for the past four decades,’ it begins. A brief scan of the list of these undersigned reveals that only two out of the thirty-five names belong to people who have actually been members for more than six months. ‘We do not believe in compromising our tradition for the sake of electoral success,’ it continues. 

‘Have you seen this?’ Judith says, passing her phone to Price, who also gives it a quick overview. He frowns. 

‘We haven’t left the party, the party left us? For goodness’ sake,’ he mutters. 

‘Fucking idiots,’ Farrah shouts, reading over his shoulder. She is quite drunk by now, and is leaning against Jonathan out of either a poor sense of personal space, or literally for support. 

‘McLeod, Harris, Fisher,’ Price reads the list of names. ‘No one relevant,’ he declares. 

‘Think lots of people are going to join them?’ Judith asks. 

‘No. I’m more concerned who’s going to join us. Now that, well.’

‘Now that what?’ Farrah says, turning to him with a scowl on her face. He doesn’t say anything. ‘Now that she’s leading the Party? You can fucking say it.’

He tuts. Judith uses the moment to step away in order to update the RP Twitter account, and escape the scene that may or may not be in the process of unfolding. Farrah is prone to displays of more or less rational anger, and Judith doesn't want to be asked to weigh in. She thinks that Price is perfectly capable of taking one for the team.

Judith has been walking back and forth around the corner from the building when she receives a text from Avi. Come up on the roof, it reads. What? she replies. A few minutes later, Avi comes to get her, appearing seemingly out of nowhere behind one of the large stone pillars. They climb an outdoor fire exit stairway up to the roof. Judith feels slightly uneasy going up the stairs, as she can see the ground below them through the metal steps. 

‘Aren’t you supposed to be at your victory party?’ Judith says, having to struggle a little to keep up with Avi’s pace. 

‘I’m taking a break,’ she replies, climbing the last two steps at once and stepping onto the roof. ‘Look,’ she says, pointing down from the edge. ‘This is where I saw you smoking from.’ 

‘Hmm,’ Judith says, looking down but trying not to lean over too much. Truth be told, the view makes her feel sick, even though they are only about four stories up. She pulls out another cigarette, and offers the pack to Avi. 

Avi looks at it for a few moments, and then finally takes one. Her face is serious. She looks like she is contemplating it, and is slightly taken aback when Judith offers to light it for her, as though that part of the process had not crossed her mind. She allows Judith to light it, and then takes a drag. Her expression remains quite dark, and the air is heavy around them. 

‘Disgusting habit,’ she says, exhaling, and there is a small smile.

They watch delegates stepping outside the after party venue in order to either smoke, or chat to each other in small groups. It’s like having an overview of an ant colony in a glass box. Judith finds it amusing that they are being observed by the newly elected leader of the Party, whom they are most likely discussing amongst themselves at this very moment. Judith is not sure whether she should say something, or what to say if she does decide to speak. The more seconds go by, the harder it gets to break the silence. 

‘Congratulations,’ she settles on. 

‘Thank you,’ Avi nods, raising her eyebrows. The air is cold, and their breath is visible alongside the smoke. 

‘I think you’re going to be Prime Minister,’ Judith says. 

Avi Jäns tilts her head, studying her face. Her expression reminds Judith of someone trying to work out how severe their symptoms are by studying the doctor’s frown. 

‘There’s a thought,’ Avi says. Judith smiles, recognising her line from one of their first real conversations. 

‘I’ve already got dozens of requests for you to speak at various meetings across the country. I think you should do a few of the big London ones this week, and we can hit Manchester, Sheffield, Liverpool and Newcastle by the end of the month. After that we should probably get you up to Scotland as well, and–’

‘Jude,’ she says, stubbing her cigarette out on the edge of the roof. ‘We can think about it tomorrow.’ She leans against Judith’s shoulder, the cold faux leather of her jacket brushing against the skin on her neck. Judith leans her head against Avi’s slowly, tentatively. She tosses aside her own half-finished cigarette; it lands a few metres away, and begins to burn itself out. 

‘Okay,’ Judith says, and it comes out as a half-whisper. The cold November air surrounds them, and in less than seven hours it will be time to think about whether Avi should wear a poppy for her public appearances or not. Her body is tense against Judith’s, and they look out towards the buildings next to theirs or the people below. Judith notices that the sky is cloudy, and there are no stars to be seen. 

‘Where is Farrah?’ Avi says, after a while. 

‘Drowning her sorrows. I mean, literally.’ 

Avi actually laughs at this, and Judith can feel her body relaxing with the movement. She’s shaking now. Her head is bowed, and her hair obscures her features. 

‘I’m not sure I want to be Prime Minister.’

‘Yeah, it’s terrifying. I’m sending the press release over first thing in the morning,’ Judith says. Avi nods, and shivers a little. 

Judith runs her hand down Avi’s back, and pulls her closer. Her jacket is cold, and Judith can feel the top of its pocket, slightly raised, like the head of a snake. She presses harder with her fingers, and feels Avi’s shoulders. Her frame is small and her bones protrude – Judith can feel them even with the material in the way. She would like to look at her, but Avi is busy staring directly ahead, and Judith is afraid that if she turns to face her it will make her run away. She imagines the multitude of journalists, delegates, and assorted weirdos downstairs, and realises that, in all fairness, for Avi Jäns there is nowhere left to run.

‘Hashtag “savvi” is trending. Get it? Savvy? But with an “i”,’ Judith says. 

‘Yes, I get it,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘Some people are just…’

‘Hilarious, is the word you’re looking for. Check this one: “Avi Jäns can reform me any day of the week, amirite or amirite?” Spelled r-i-t-e of course. Hashtag bae.’

Avi buries her head in Judith’s shoulder. 

‘Oh my God,’ she mumbles.

Judith thinks about her and her subdued, business-like personality. For as long as she has known her, Avi has given off the impression that she has been holding back. On Twitter though, trending in London as of forty minutes ago and still going strong, teenagers and young people are declaring her some sort of sex symbol, and it appears to be provoking a feeling that Judith has never seen Avi express before: embarrassment. 

‘I think we should tweet “I can’t even” out from your account, hashtag RPleadership,’ Judith says. This gets Avi to finally look at her, if only to communicate exactly what she thinks of the idea. 

‘Should we also go drink WKD and take selfies?’

‘Actually, now that you mention it,’ Judith says, but Avi’s smile has turned from quiet amusement to something else entirely. She is studying Judith’s face as though she were seeing it for the first time, and she cannot recall which famous actress she bears a resemblance to. She touches her left cheek with her thumb. They move closer to each other. 

‘No,’ Avi says. 

‘No?’ Judith repeats. ‘You’re the one getting all handsy.’

‘I am sketching you in my mind,’ she says, leaning her forehead against Judith’s. 

‘Are you in the picture?’

‘I am behind the pencil.’

‘Do people remember the artist or the work of art?’ Judith says.

‘It depends who you ask. Is the Mona Lisa more well known than da Vinci himself?’ 

‘I don’t want to be remembered,’ Judith says.

‘I don’t believe either of us gets to choose.’ 

‘Everything is made up of choices. Join the RP – choice. Work for the RP – choice. Put an “X” next to your name on the ballot–’

There is a sharp intake of breath from Avi, and she moves away. The space she used to occupy is filled by cold air. 

‘You voted for me,’ she says. 

‘Everyone did. Hell, Price voted for you. None of us expected you to actually win it, but stranger things have happened. And it’s not like anyone is complaining.’ 

‘Apart from those who have left the Party,’ she says. ‘Jonathan voted for me?’

‘Who did you think made you VP in the first place?’

Avi looks like she is struggling with what she is about to say, and is thinking about it carefully. 

‘Why,’ is the only thing that comes out in the end. She says this is a small voice, quite uncharacteristic for her. 

‘Farrah is a liability,’ Judith says. 

‘Your partner Farrah?’

Judith laughs, and it comes out very high pitched and unusually loud. She quickly puts her hands over her mouth, lest she be heard by the people downstairs. It is a ridiculous fear, of course. 

‘Yeah, no,’ she says. ‘Plus, this may surprise you, but it’s actually about the politics, not who’s fucking who.’ 

‘Don’t they say the personal is political?’ Avi says, challenging. 

Judith wants to grab her by the hair and kiss her, and judging by Avi’s expression she is aware of this fact. She gets the impression that it is something they would both like to do, but only one of them is a potential new world leader who cannot afford a scandal. The realisation that she believes herself to be in love with Avi has been present for a while. She wonders whether someone who loves her truly should have given her that ‘X’ on the ballot paper, not that it counts for anything after the fact. Judith tries to move closer. Avi pauses for a long moment, then leans away. The sounds of traffic and drunken voices travel up from downstairs. 

‘When you’re Prime Minister, can I have a street named after me?’ Judith says. 

‘I believe you have to be dead for that,’ Avi says, in a whimsical tone, as though she is explaining something to a primary school child. 

‘Bollocks. Well, I’m working on it. Might be a few decades.’ 

‘Take your time,’ Avi smiles. ‘I’m afraid I must get back to my… what was the word you used? My victory party.’

Judith is slightly disappointed, but manages to laugh it off. 

‘Can I just say, you dragged me up here.’

Avi tilts her head, as though to allow the comment. 

‘Right, let’s go,’ Judith says, clapping her hands together. Avi jumps a little. ‘Be careful about getting back into the venue, I’ll wait a bit before joining so we don’t end up with a scandal on our hands. I don’t want to be dealing with an excessive amount of press about you first thing in the morning, I’ve had way too many of your victory drinks so far.’

‘Noted,’ she says, and walks off. Judith watches her go. Avi does not turn around.