“To get richer. To be untouchable. He owns shares in various companies which would be worth more with a better trade deal with the Scandinavian countries.”
“So why’s he pushing for more between England and Scotland?”
“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”
“Consider me dead.”
He laughs, but there’s an undercurrent to it.
“It puts him in the clear when William doesn’t get what he’s pressing for. And because of how William’s presented himself, it makes a reunion less likely. It’s not just you and Blair who think that William’s a dick. Most of his country do too. Except the extremists.” He takes the strings of gold that I’ve bought to decorate Blair’s present and wraps them expertly around the book, using scissors to make a bow.
I look at him like he’s just landed from another planet.
“Did they have special lessons for that at your posh school?”
This time the laugh is genuine. “My mother wrapped presents and did crafty stuff to earn extra money. I had to help.”
“Good skills to have.”
“Have you wrapped the rest of what you’ve got her?”
“How do you know there’s more?”
He shakes his head and smiles. “Because I know you better than you think. Pass the jewellery.”
I shake my head and do as I’m told. For once.
* * *
We take a walk around the loch on Christmas Eve, up on the path that cuts through the forests of pines towards the start of the mountains. The skies clear and the snow has paused, the glint of light on the snow telling of a hard frost and a cold night to come.
Ivy walks behind us with her pirate, holding his hand and laughing. In a few days they’re off across the seas, heading for a warmer climate where he can be based while he does whatever it is he does. Blair walks with Isaac, talking politics, discussing people I know of, know their backgrounds and levels of security clearance but nothing about them as people, unless they’re a threat.
And what Blair tells me.
It’s a world I’ll never be part of. My school was nothing like the one where Isaac went; I had no rich father or influential grandfather to hinder or help me. I don’t feel sorry for myself because there’s no fucking point. My dad did his best.
But Blair and Isaac have more to discuss than I will with either of them.
Ivy laughs and I feel her tap my shoulder. She’s all wild red hair and wicked green eyes, her laughter carrying across the still air.
“What are you getting for Christmas?”
I look at her as if she’s speaking a different language.
“Ben, what’s Santa bringing you?”
Isaac and Blair stop walking and turn round. We’re at a point where we can see across the loch and on a clear evening when the moon is unsheathed, the tips of the mountains look like they’ve been set alight.
“Santa doesn’t usually bring me presents.” My dad tried. But it was hard. Money wasn’t plentiful. It never grew on trees, even with him tending them.
Ivy’s eyes grow wide. “What do you mean? It’s Christmas!”
I feel awkward, like I did when I was a kid at school and had trousers that were too short.
“You mean you don’t usually get presents?” Blair steps closer to me, threads her hand around my arm.
“Christmas is just another day usually.” Sometimes with added bullets or the odd bomb or fight. But even before I was in the army, it was still another day.
