“Is that why you’re here today? To tell me that?”
He shakes his head. “No. I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Then why are you here? Why have you told me?”
He looks up. His eyes are dark; deep pits that I can’t see the bottom of.
“Because I like you. I’m not allowed to, but I do.”
I take the glass of white wine and sip at it, aware that Franklyn has entered the room and it’s time to leave.
There can be no more questions. For now there will be no more lies.
* * *
The expectations are that the princess will wear a dress. When I was a little girl, the newspapers and media would comment on what I was wearing. Fashion companies and designers used me as a billboard and at nine years old, I was an influencer, even though I had no idea what that word meant.
A benefactors’ dinner in an exclusive hotel required me to wear a dress, but instead I’m in trousers and a shirt that’s slashed to my waist at the front. My hair is long and straight, hanging past my breasts and I when I sit down I can spread my legs as wide as I want.
“You’re happy with your choice of clothing?” Franklyn says.
Translated: you should be wearing the black dress as per decorum.
“Very. I can actually eat in this, sit down and move.”
“Very well, Blair.” He picks up the dress from the chaise and hangs it up, smoothing the material. “Ben asked me to brief you on the plan in case of emergency tonight. Your exit point is through the swimming pool which will lead you to a staff car park where we have security stationed. It’s a twenty-five second walk from the function room, if you ditch the shoes.” He glares at the black heels I’m wearing.
“I can use them as a weapon.”
“I have no doubt you could.” He frowns. “There’s a lot of security here tonight. Have you spoken to Ben about why?”
“I haven’t seen Ben for three days. And he hasn’t called.” I don’t allow myself to dwell on it. Ben has made me no promises. I won’t let my heart bleed for him.
Franklyn shakes his head. “He owes you more than just nights in your bed.”
“I know. But I’m not sure what else I want.”
There’s nothing more said. Franklyn picks up a brush and attacks my hair, even though it needs nothing more doing to it. This is his way of showing me he cares, that as much as he berates and chastises me, he’s here for me. Not his paycheck – I’m fully aware of how much he has in savings because he never spends and all his expenses are taken care of.
“You look sophisticated.”
He’s never called me that before.
“Thank you.”
“Be careful tonight.”
I freeze. There have been too many warnings today. “What makes you say that?”
“Something’s unsettled. Just watch your back.”
* * *
The reception room is crowded when I arrive and I slip in relatively unnoticed. The psychiatrist from the ward is there, as are the doctors. They see me and wave, seemingly immersed in their conversations. The hospital’s other patrons are there, some members of our Scottish parliament and I’m reminded that I’m here because my father can’t be and Lennox is abroad. With Elise.
The evening blurs. I talk to people I’ve never met and people I should remember meeting before, repeating the same pattern of language. How wonderful the hospital is, the vision of the specialists, the generosity of the donations for the auction that was being held after dinner.
I see Isaac, talking with some of the other politicians and councilors. He’s here as William’s representative and I keep seeing him glance at me, at the exposed skin of my chest. I’ve no idea what to do. Where do I go with him besides nowhere?
