“How are you finding Chequers?”
“It’s been beautifully re-decorated. The designer has had a real eye for its history.” Chequers is the holiday home for the English prime minister. It’s in Scotland, but we allowed – as a gesture of friendship – the English leader to continue to use it.
It’s here where William is having his dinner and dancing, and I am here as bait.
“We seem to meet often at occasions like this.”
Isaac offers me his arm and I take it, linking in so he can lead me to the library which is where the small gathering is having pre-dinner drinks.
Compared to the castle and the celebrations there, this is tame. The cocktails are too poised, too many ingredients and too much smoke. William has been beaming at everyone since I arrived downstairs and I don’t know whether to feel sorry for him or tan his hide for being so ignorant.
Alcohol loosens the tongue and the morals. Business is best done over a bottle of wine or a Long Island Iced Tea, with a pen ready. Not through smoke and mirrors that you can see.
“I don’t know when else I would meet you.” I pause, drop his arm, and look at the eyes that I once saw. And not somewhere like this. Not somewhere we can see faces.
Isaac shrugs. “There’s nowhere else I’d have known you from. How was the rest of your holiday?”
“Restful. I enjoyed it a lot.” If you interpret ‘restful’ as filled with sex and orgasms.
He smiles and we enter the library. As usual, it’s man heavy, the lack of females who aren’t married to a politician noticeable and it grates on me.
For the first time since I was old enough to be at these events I want to speak out, saying something. Highlight my stance, one which is different from my brother’s.
I am my father’s daughter, but more importantly, I am also my mother’s.
“Blair! I’m so glad you could make it!” William strides towards us. He’s wearing a charcoal suit that looks more appropriate for a funeral and I glance at Isaac, because he, as advisor, should be giving him ideas on what to wear.
Isaac shakes his head, subtly, as he should.
Here we are bound by rules and conventions as old as time and we dare not breach them. We pretend we have not breached them. Whatever we know does not exist here, but on a secret plane where masks and darkness and shadows and demons are real.
“Thank you for asking me.”
He bows slightly, just with his head and I smile, graciously.
“It’s good to see Chequers in such good shape. You’re looking after it.”
He nods and gestures for me to follow him to the bar. I leave Isaac, knowing he’s watching where I go.
Knowing that somewhere, Ben is doing the same.
“Heritage and history are important. Making sure this place is looked after is one of our priorities.”
They’re pretty words, designed to make a point and it shows me what he thinks of me. I’m just a pretty thing concerned with other pretty things. A chandelier, designed to throw a harsh light in different directions and conceal hard truths.
Then you have a strange list of priorities. Tell me, where does this lie in terms of finding peace between our countries?I don’t say the words. The truth is sometimes best left to raise its own head.
“How’s your summer been so far?”
William smiles. “Busy. No time to relax. How was Antigua?”
I’m not surprised he knows; his chief advisor was there with me. “Restful. Private. Warm.”
“I wished I could’ve joined you myself, but circumstances wouldn’t allow it.”
He hands me a cocktail, one that is steaming with dry ice and looks decidedly feminine and sweet.
I’d rather have a whisky.
