Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Toby
Things To Do Today:
Reply to constituents’ email about the UFO they spotted landing in the local park (suggest that perhaps it was the council trialing their Christmas lights, and unfortunately, I am unable to put in a good word for them with the alien overlords)
Read briefing notes to prepare for meeting with the renewable energy investment sector
Give feedback to media team on slogans for new green infrastructure initiative (surely we can come up with something better than ‘Green is the new black’?)
Visit Oliver at Clarence House
Try to get over Harry (investigate counseling, hypnotism, meditation…anything that will help me to stop thinking about him every minute)
It’s for the best. I know that, yet somehow, no matter how many times I say it, I can’t make myself believe it.
No Harry, ever again. No Harry to talk to. No Harry to wrap his arms around me. No Harry to annoy by needling him. No Harry to watch break into a smile, to hear him laugh.
Instead, I will watch him as prime minister from across the Commons Chamber. I will watch Prunella standing by his side as his wife.
Harry believes it’s his destiny to be the prime minister.
Which means it’s my destiny to watch him from afar.
I remind myself of this as I travel from the Houses of Parliament to Clarence House.
Using a car for this purpose always seems ridiculous, given there is only one and a half miles between the two. It’s a beautiful winter’s day and St. James’s Park is showcased out the window, yet I feel like the weak sunshine is unable to reach me.
My car pulls up to the gates of Clarence House, and I lower the window to present my ID to the police officer. After a brief check, the gates swing open, and the car proceeds up the drive to drop me off at the door.
A butler swings the front door open, and as I come into the hallway, I almost collide with Prince Nicholas, Callum’s younger brother. He looks nothing like Callum, his brooding dark looks a contrast to Callum’s blond sunshine.
Prince Nicholas is followed closely by his bodyguard, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a stern expression.
Toby!” Nicholas exclaims, coming to an abrupt stop.
I got to know Prince Nicholas slightly when he was Callum’s best man at Oliver and Callum’s wedding because I was Oliver’s best man. His reputation as a playboy prince proceeds him, but from our interactions, he seems like a decent chap.
“Your Royal Highness.” I dip my head in acknowledgment.
When I straighten, Nicholas looks at me with a concerned expression, his head tilted.
“How are you after your ordeal?”
I shrug and try to inject some joviality into my tone. “Oh, plane crashes are just a minor inconvenience for us politicians. It’ll take more than that to get rid of me.”
Nicholas doesn’t look convinced by my bluster. “I’m so glad you are all right. It was a miracle when they found you and Harry Matheson alive after all that time.”
“Yes, the whole thing was definitely some kind of miracle,” I say.
Behind him, his bodyguard shifts, his gaze fixed on Nicholas. Nicholas glances back at him, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Anyway, I won’t keep you,” Nicholas says, turning back to me. “I’m sure Oliver and Callum are eager to see you. Take care, Toby.”
He gives me a strained smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Then he brushes past me, his bodyguard falling into step beside him. The air seems to crackle with unresolved tension as they head down the steps.
I turn my attention to Callum, who has appeared in the doorway of one of the rooms.
“Toby.” He greets me with a wide smile.
“Your Royal Highness.” I incline my head.
“It’s good to see you. Oliver’s expecting you. I’m just on my way out to a charity lunch for the Origami Enthusiasts Guild.”
“That sounds like fun,” I say.
“Oh, it will be so interesting to learn more about it,” Callum says seriously as he steps into the hallway and starts to button his coat. “I did some research about origami last night. Did you know that people compete to fold the smallest paper crane using tweezers and a microscope?”
And this is why Callum is such a fabulous member of the royal family. His genuine interest in everything, no matter how obscure.
“No. I didn’t know that.”
“I was just saying to Nicholas that I hope they don’t expect me to compete. I’m not sure my fine motor skills are up to it.”
“Talking about Nicholas, is everything all right with him?” I ask. “I saw him as I came in and he looked slightly stressed.”
“Between you and me, he’s upset because they’ve switched around the bodyguard assignments,” Callum says as he finishes adjusting the sleeve of his coat. “He’s not gelling particularly well with one of his new bodyguards.”
After the revelation about Paul and his involvement in our kidnapping attempt, the highly secretive Royal and VIP Executive Committee, commonly known as RAVEC, is under extreme pressure to prove they can actually keep public figures safe.
Especially as it was discovered that Paul had been investigated after the plane crash and cleared to work with Harry again.
It doesn’t help that despite the best efforts of our intelligence services, the ultimate perpetrators and motive behind our kidnapping attempt still remains unknown.
“Well, I hope Nicholas sorts out his bodyguard woes soon,” I say. “At least you’ll soon be able to advise him how he could use origami as a stress-reliever.”
Callum grins. “Hopefully, I will. Anyway, I must get going. Oliver’s in the library, by the way. He’s looking forward to seeing you.”
With a final wave, Callum heads out to his origami extravaganza, leaving me to navigate the halls of Clarence House alone.
I vaguely know the direction of the library, although whenever I’m in a royal palace, I feel like I should have a map and a compass, or at least a trail of breadcrumbs to find my way back.
I can’t help thinking about the last time I visited Clarence House. The morning of the plane crash. Right before my life was turned upside down in every way possible.
I find Oliver in the library, reading a dusty tome potentially as old as the monarchy itself.
He stands and gives me a brief hug, which is definitely a new feature of Oliver’s and my exchanges since I returned. It’s like he needs to assure himself I am really here.
“Thanks for coming,” he says.
“When am I ever going to give up the chance to come to a palace and see you in all your splendor?” I ask as I sit in an elegantly carved armchair.
Oliver’s phone beeps, and he pulls it out, his usually stern face splitting open in a wide smile.
“Good news?” I ask.
He gives a sheepish grin. “It’s just Callum. He’s obviously bored in the car and peppering me with really bad origami jokes.”
He flashes the screen in front of me to show Callum’s latest joke.
I used to like origami as a hobby. But I gave it up as it was a lot of paperwork.
“You guys have a really weird form of sexting,” I say.
Oliver laughs, and something in his laugh strikes me. The sound of absolute contentment.
Seeing my old friend so happy causes a pang inside me.
He gave up politics for love. Why can’t you?
Because the problem is even if I give up politics, I still won’t be able to be with Harry.
“It works for us,” he says, putting his phone down. “So, how is everything going on the Climate Change Task Force?”
“Good. I think we’re making real progress, especially with the new renewable energy initiatives.”
“And have you kicked off your campaign for re-election yet?”
“Yes. I’ll be visiting my electorate more in the next few months, but the polling is looking good so far.”
I try to summon enthusiasm, but I don’t want to think about the looming election. I don’t want to consider how it will sweep the man I love even further out of my reach.
“Are you all right, Toby?” Oliver’s voice is gentle.
I’m tempted to joke in my answer, to cover up my feelings with humor like I always have.
But it occurs to me that this is what friendship is supposed to be, this give and take. Leaning on people for support when you need it. I’m not a lone wolf, no matter how the events in my past have made me want to be.
And if I’m going to get through this, get over Harry somehow, then I’m going to need all the support I can get.
“I wouldn’t say I’m particularly all right at the moment,” I reply.
“Is it adjusting back to real life that’s the problem?” Oliver asks, his dark eyes intent on my face.
I take a deep breath.
“It’s adjusting to life without him,” I say honestly.
Oliver’s eyebrows draw together. The silence stretches for a few heartbeats. “I thought I’d set the bar extremely high for being in a completely untenable relationship, but it appears you’ve outdone me,” he says finally.
“Well, I always do like to set the bar higher,” I say, rubbing my face.
“Harry Matheson.” Oliver’s lip curls up in distaste as he says the words.
“I know. He’s pompous and opinionated and the last person I ever thought I’d have feelings for.” I give a raw, brutal laugh. “He’s the fucking leader of the Conservative Party, for God’s sake. We can never be together. But he’s also…he’s…” I trail off.
“He’s what?” Oliver asks.
“He’s Harry,” I say helplessly.
“Do you love him?” Oliver asks, his voice gentle now.
And I manage to raise my eyes to meet his.
“Do you remember what you said when I asked if you had feelings for Callum?”
I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone.
I see Oliver replaying those words in his head, his eyes widening, mouth dropping open.
“Fucking hell, Toby,” he says finally, and I’m not sure if he’s done it deliberately or not, but he has echoed exactly what I said to him in reply.
Sometimes, there is nothing else to say.
I need to leave Harry alone. I vowed to do it, and I know it’s for the best despite the loneliness engulfing me.
But my resolve is being tested tonight when I see the footage of the Tory candidate for Kingswell and Norbridge, David Grantham, in a speech he gave at the British Family Values Coalition conference.
David’s face reminds me of a pit bull as he spews his diabolical rhetoric, claiming that the LGBTQ+ agenda is a direct threat to the moral fabric of society, and God intended for marriage to be between a man and a woman, and we need to protect our children from exposure to LGBTQ+ propaganda in schools and media.
It’s the same recycled bullshit I’ve heard so many times before. These guys don’t even bother to come up with anything original, they’re like a broken record player stuck on the Intolerance’s Greatest Hits album.
After I shut down the video of him in disgust, I look to see if Harry has issued a statement in response to his candidate’s remarks, but there’s nothing.
And inside me swells a new emotion I’ve never had towards Harry.
Disappointment.
Because the Harry I know is fundamentally a good person. I might disagree with his politics, but I can’t deny he’s doing what he thinks is right.
But I can’t imagine he’s happy with his candidate’s rhetoric.
He knows this is wrong, that if the Tories allow this to pass unchallenged, they’ll start a slide into intolerance and bigotry that we’ve seen happen to right-wing parties in other Western democracies.
It’s a slippery slope, and once a party starts down that path, it becomes increasingly difficult to turn back.
It’s a cancer that spreads quickly, poisoning the very foundation of a party until it becomes unrecognizable.
And it emboldens those pockets of society who view anyone different from themselves as a threat. If those people see their bigotry validated by the words of those in power, they become even more brazen and determined to roll back the progress we’ve found so hard to achieve.
I can’t help wondering what went through Harry’s mind when he watched David Grantham’s comments.
I mean, I’m a seasoned politician. I’m realistic enough to know sometimes you have to compromise to achieve what you want.
But at what point does compromise become complicity?