There’s the sound of hooves falling on soft ground, the occasional whinny and the beating of wings from an eagle as it soars above us, but other than that, there’s silence.
Ben rides ahead, setting the pace. I try not to watch how he rides, trying to focus on what’s around us instead of his ass and the width of his back. The changes in the last decade shouldn’t surprise me, but I still struggle to understand how that beautifully rough boy has become this beautifully rough man.
The path broadens out as we descend the mountain, leading us into a glen that’s filled with wild flowers which have survived the summer so far. Ben moves to the side and allows me to catch up, turning his head to look at me.
“Have you packed?”
“Pretty much. This time tomorrow – Antigua.” Where there would be a hot sun, blue skies and no politics. No media. Three weeks of head space where I could read and swim and lie in the sun.
“Why’ve you picked the same place?”
It was a fair question. This was my second time and given I could pretty much go anywhere, it was reasonable. “Familiarity. It’s secluded. I liked it two years ago.”
“Not last year?”
We’ve slowed to little more than a trot.
“Not last year. There was too much going on with my father’s birthday.” Twenty-five percent more events as we worked to raise the profile of the royals during my father’s sixtieth year. “I always hate leaving here though.”
“You always did. When you went back to school it was like you were in mourning.”
It’s the first time he’s properly referenced what I was like.
“I had to leave here. And my parents.” I watch him. “And you.”
He doesn’t succeed in hiding his smile. “Me.”
“Yes you. From being a kid, I hated going back to school and you weren’t there. I asked my mum once if you could come with us.”
He laughs. “My father wouldn’t have been able to afford a week of the fees, never mind a year.”
I don’t tell him that I asked if we could pay for him but my father had subtly suggested that Ben wasn’t the type of child to enjoy my school, meaning that he wasn’t right for it.
“I’m not sure it would’ve been your scene.”
I see his jaw clench; some internal war being fought.
“It would’ve, if you were there.”
The words surprise me.
“I didn’t think you missed me.”
“I never said I did. Once you went back to school, I went back home.”
“Where was home, Ben? I never knew.”Because you never talked about it.
He says nothing, slowing his horse even further. We’re about forty-five minutes from home and we should be heading back, finishing packing before the car to the airport arrives. I should be finding Lennox and warning him to behave and think in the week before he comes out to join me, taking a break from his own schedule.
“You knew so much about my family. You never told me about yours. What about your mother?” Because no one had ever said anything about his father’s wife either.
“My mother died when I was a kid. During term time I lived with my aunt in Lewis and went to the local school. Holidays I stayed with my dad.”
“How old were you when she died?” I know I shouldn’t ask the question, but I do anyway. He can only refuse to answer.
There’s silence, unspoken words hanging in the air.
“I don’t mean to pry.”I do.“I just never knew that much about you.”
