I don’t pander to his bait. “There are rumours she’s going to abdicate.”
“She isn’t even crowned yet. But yes, I imagine she will. She can’t run a country. The lack of agreement to William’s proposal showed that.”
This time my laugh is louder. “You didn’t want that to go through. Your advice – that he followed – made sure of that. We both know you’re playing a game, so cut the bullshit. Blair isn’t going to abdicate. You might want to pass that bit of information on.”
My father won’t come out with it directly and say that Blair needs to be careful, or issue anything that sounds like a threat.
“Has she chosen a successor?”
I smile, although my heart’s pounding enough to be heard by all of London. “I think one’s being chosen for her. She’s pregnant.”
His eyes flash and his mouth gapes open.
“Early days.”
“Is it yours?”
I don’t say anything, hoping to fuck Blair never hears about this rumour, unless it’s me telling her and explaining why it started.
“Or is it that traitor who was her security?” he shakes his head. “You don’t want this getting out and being known. That’s where things can become problematic for her.”
My father has always had a soft spot for small children and pregnant women. It’s the one aspect of humanity that shows in him. Sometimes. Not at his own expense though; not if he’ll be the loser.
There’s a realisation that hits me like a bullet. This rumour will not stay with my father. And I may have just put Blair in more danger.
“She has good security.”
I’m wishing I could take back the words.
“That’s good. Does her cousin know?”
“No. Not even her mother. Now isn’t the time. Not with the funeral coming up.”
“Sensible. Back to your question about oil. I’m not involved in it. What else do you want to discuss?”
“Your son.”
“My other son? You realise that you too classify as my son?”
“I’d rather not think about that. Why are you setting him up? He takes your advice above anyone else’s and what you’re telling him is misleading.” I don’t drink my coffee.
“I’m sorry that you disagree with my suggestions for him. But it’s up to him what he chooses to do. He isn’t as stupid as you think, Isaac. Now tell me about you. How’s life as a Member of Parliament?”
I stand up, having no interest in small talk. My job is done, although I now have doubts about how I’ve set this rumour free. “I need to get home. Things to do. I’m sure you understand.”
He shrugs, his hands coming up in the air and the look on his face tells me he thinks he’s won this battle.
He hasn’t. He’s told me more than he thinks.
It’s starts to rain as I leave and I pull up the collar of my coat, wishing for summer days when there was at least the chance for the sky to be a colour other than grey. As I look up I see a familiar figure, a tall, slender man wearing a hat and dressing in a formal coat, carrying an umbrella.
I pause and watch him as he heads towards my father’s house, struggling to believe what I’m seeing.
He knocks on the door and heads straight in, the door slamming behind him and I’m left wondering what Franklyn is doing here.
Ben
The café I’m in is full enough that there’s no one in here to pay any attention to what I’m doing or who I am, which is nowhere at present on the scale of importance. It’s Glasgow and in an area where you stay out of other people’s business and don’t ask questions, which is fine and dandy, especially when you’re meeting someone who isn’t the type of person you’d want your daughter – or son – to marry.
