The Headphones

It was getting on for 10:00, and Councillor Habton hadn't appeared. The other Scrutiny Committee members topped up coffee cups at the machine outside the appointed chamber, chatting merrily with the opposition (whoever it was for them) before their performance of combative animosity would begin. Administrators pulled hastily prepared agendas and previous minutes from the copy machines, distributing the packs among the elected crowd. There was a general milling about by members of the public, shy figures come to watch the open proceedings and ready to feel that most delightful and diverting rage in their bellies that only politics of any scale can provide.

The Deputy Chair, Councillor Rudston, tugged at his cuffs, eyeing the time and then glancing around. It was unlike Councillor Habton to be late. She was universally praised by all parties for her diligence and commitment to her electorate, the firm sense of duty she felt in representing them – something many of her peers lacked, seeing their position as merely the natural order of things among men, trading on their community standing to cash publicly-funded honorariums month-by-month and letting loose any du jour opinion they read about in the Daily Mail that day.

But Councillor Habton was different. At one-to-one surgeries, of which she held many more than any other councillor, she was known to cry alongside residents after hearing their stories of woe, sharing out a box of tissues and saying she'd find a way to help. Hers was always the first hand extended in greeting to all, homeless or highborn, an extra bottle of water in the other hand because she thought you might be thirsty. They said she woke at 5:00, began work by 6:00 and didn't finish until 22:00, conceding at day's end that sleep – though it got in the way – was a means to an end in serving the people she represented. And today, hadn't she said she was planning to return to work just one day (perhaps as little as 12 hours) after her and her wife's baby died hours after birth?

Regardless, time was pressing on: if nothing else was achieved in the committee meeting, Councillor Rudston thought, at least it would start on time... with or without its chair. He asked the administrators to open the doors, flicked his head at the door while making eye contact with the other committee members, welcomed the small group of public spectators and told them to find their seats at the back. The meeting was about to begin.

There were some palms-up, shoulders raised looks between the committee members, as they took their seats along a squared configuration of tables – the many small tables creating one large one – and made awkward glances towards the empty Chair's seat, Councillor Habton's seat. Councillor Rudston gave a meaningful nod to the committee aide, a sign to start the video function that would immediately send the live recording across the internet: transparency in government. His mouth, a little drier than usual, was about to speak, to say something about the Chair's understandable absence given the sad loss of the baby she'd carried for nine months and given birth to the day prior. He hadn't prepared it but was ready to deliver it with tragic pathos. Not a word had left his lips when Councillor Habton closed the chamber door behind her and made her way to her chair as usual, carrying a small wooden box in her hands.

She apologised earnestly to the other members for the delay, placing the box on the table before her, and opened the meeting, giving all due care to the formalities expected. She thanked the members of the public for their interest. She outlined the agenda for the day. She asked the committee aide to read out any apologies. She surveyed the minutes of the last meeting, seeking agreement from members that they were an accurate reflection of the conversations from eight weeks before. She then turned to the meat of the meeting, asking for motions to carry and seconds, etc. In short, she did everything she was supposed to do and everything she had always done, and she did it with her usual adroitness and friendly air.

But the effect was different. When she first entered the room, Councillor Rudston was amused to find that his colleague was wearing a large set of headphones over her ears, the chunky and noise-cancelling variety popular amongst the several generations below his own. It humanised her in his mind, made him think that perhaps she enjoyed listening to music in the hours not steadfastly working on behalf of her residents. She was, after all, likely only in her mid-30's.