We both sit there in silence and when our eyes finally meet the look isn’t one of comrades anymore.
“Ben, if you need me to step away from you and Blair…”
He shakes his head. “You can’t. I can never be the person in her public life. You can.”
“You’re saying we continue as we were.”
His eyes have changed. The hardness that was there has been eradicated and I think I see hope softening.
“I’m not saying you get her pregnant. I’m saying a rumour. And we sort this fucking mess out so we all stand half a chance of us all being happy.” His voice is gruff and I want badly to clasp him to me until he knows that he isn’t alone in this, that we’re more than just three people with our own demons.
“Who don’t you trust?” I don’t carry on the thread; that can wait. Those plans for the future can be shards of hope that keep us going over the next few weeks.
“It’s easier to tell you who I do.” His hand now brushes my arm.
“Hit me with it.”
“Me, you and Blair. Micky. The cook. High up on the shit list are Elise, Lachlan – although I don’t think he’s close enough. And anyone with that day to day knowledge of her movements or insider info.”
Our hands are now touching each other. I look at him and it’s not to ask any more about the people around her. It’s to see him. To read him.
“Ben…”
“You can’t. You can’t come here smelling of her and making my fucking heart bleed and then take what I can give you and leave. It can’t work like that, Isaac. It isn’t fair on any of us, because tell me you’re not wrecked with guilt right now because she thinks you’re somewhere else.”
“I can’t tell you that. If I did I’d be lying.”
He gives one nod and slowly moves his body away. It’s a loss as great as oxygen.
“’Zac, I heard your name is being put forward as Prime Minister.”
I look away. I’ve heard it mentioned; colleagues have spoken to me about it. The political party to which I’m affiliated is becoming split. One more sully against William’s name and his career would be buried. Our father would not be losing sleep.
And there it was. The man who had cast a shadow over everything from day one. The man who donated the necessary sperm to forge my life. The man who’s absence meant my mother’s reputation glowed red and my school days were spent with the undercurrent of being a bastard, because that term could still be used, especially when you didn’t have a name for the man who fathered you.
Somewhere in this he was key. It wasn’t about politics or position, it was money. It always had been. The ways in which he could twist policy to ensure he paid little tax and earned more than anyone else. My grandfather had told me in not so many words why he was leaving his estate to me.
I didn’t need policy or trade deals to live any life I wanted. The money was there, the investments old and solid and I was used to only needing the ocean and my surf board and my family.
“It may be.”
Ben stands up, watches me as he steps away. “Are you interested?”
“Yes.” It was a new revelation. “I can make a change. Get rid of the self-serving dickheads who’s only interest is in themselves.”
His mouth breaks out into a broad smile. “You’d leave Scotland alone?”
“No. I’d work with them. We’d work with them.”
“You’d need security. Intelligence.”
“I know the right man for the job.”
His eyes drop to the floor and I wish we hadn’t agreed that this was hands off until Blair knew.
“I’d best go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“If you can.”
