Conversations on Flight – Chapter VIII

I got something for you

And don't say I don't do

you any favours – I could

just as easily send this off

to print without you.

Honey, I told you no more

dick pics until you sort out

your yeast issue

Malc, this is serious. I'll

warn you about the story

but I'm not going to reveal

my source. Also I want

an official comment from

Will.

Such a demanding lover

alright you show me yours

and I'll show you mine

Can't say over messenger

No, in fact you type it

It's not encrypted.

Well fuck me fucking

Swordfish on VHS you going

to put out or you just here

for a fucking tease?

I'm going back to bed

Fine.

Hypothetically -

hypothetically

What if I knew who owned

the BUK system?

Meet me at Whitehall.

Now.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Did you know that Rooks mate for life?"

Victoria was about to take a sip of the cold bubbles of champagne when her lips formed a smile along the thin edge of the glass.

"They do?" She looked up to the kindly man before her, but was answered by the young lady beside him.

"Yes ma'am, they practice what we call long-term bonding." The bespeckled woman clarified over the hubbub of the pre-dinner reception.

"Well that's wonderful, isn't it? Then of course they must be protected." Victoria couldn't help but feel a little buoyed. This was good. She was going good. It wasn't like she had ever been an antisocial person, but she was definitely unpractised. In the last couple of weeks she had hosted more soirees and receptions than she could throw a cucumber sandwich at, stuffed so full of secret rules and hidden faux pas, that for a while there she felt as if it were all an exercise in self-immolation. But that evening, finally, as three intelligent bird people, from the royal society or whatever they called it, stood around her willingly, and had engaged in a proper conversation with her for over five minutes, she felt that maybe she was starting to get a hang of this. That maybe she could do this.

"Ma'am?" The lady spoke again, drawing Victoria away from her musings.

"And how nice to know that love is not just some made up thing by us humans, but is out there in the natural world." She couldn't help but smile as a thought came to her. "You know, that it really is all about the birds and the bees."

"Bees are actually highly polygamous." The woman replied matter-of-factly, to which Victoria let out a laugh that was quickly echoed by the other two scientists.

"Yes, well that's one queen I'm not looking to emulate." She countered cheerfully as the other two gave an affirming chuckle. "But surely it must be a comfort to you, to study these Rooks, to know they can fly around and be free, yet they still decide to remain with one partner for their whole life?"

"Well actually – "

"Here we go – " The woman was cut off by a knowing sigh from the older scientist next to her, when the kindly man interjected.

"Don't mind her, Your Majesty – she's a professional contrarian."

"No please – continue." Victoria encouraged with a smile, as the lady flicked a quick look over at the older man.

"Actually, ma'am, it's a little more complicated than that. I mean first of all, it's doubtful whether Rooks have any free will at all when it comes to the choice of their mate, they could just be conditioned by the increased volume of vasopressin receptors in their brain to be biologically forced to pair with the first single, genetically healthy Rook of the opposite sex that comes along. And that's not even touching on the fact that most long-term pair bonding species are not strictly monogamous. They can have relations with other partners, it's just that they always return to their original mate, possibly just for the upbringing of their offspring. Add to that the fact that only around 5 to 7 percent of animals form long-term bonds, and I think, with all due respect ma'am, that your hypothesis is ungrounded."

"So you're saying there is no emotional connection between the Rooks?" Victoria's brow furrowed.

"I… ma'am… that's an impossible question to answer as I am not a bird. None of us are. We scientists can only deal with objective observations. No matter how comprehensive the study, there must always be an element of doubt to any hypothesis, including yours."

Victoria's stomach tightened at bit, but she tried to put on a carefree air in front of her audience. "I wouldn't call it a 'hypothesis', per-se; more a comforting belief. Love is proof enough for me."

"Well that's all very well and good for you, Your Majesty, but it's that sort of practice of anthropomorphising the actions of animals that is quite corrosive to our mission here at the RSPB, because we are not out there protecting creatures because they share human traits, we protect them because they are simply birds in their own right."

Victoria's felt as if her feet were beginning to sink slowly into the wooden floor. "Well, I am not going to stop you in your belief, as long as you do not stop me in mine."

"It's not a question of belie-"

"Please forgive Letitia, ma'am." The older man quickly cut the woman off just as her frustration began to bubble out of her. "She means well, but I think is not too practiced in the art of debating royalty."

"That's alright!" Victoria tried to remain chirpy. "I guess we'll just have to call it a draw."

Letitia did not look impressed.

The two men smiled, but silence had taken over the circle.

She had to get out of there. Now. Before she made an even bigger fool of herself. Victoria scanned the crowd in the grand hall, looking for any excuse to pull her away from the suffocating awkwardness. But she could only find her mother, effortlessly entertaining a captivated audience on the other side of the room. Victoria froze as her mother's eyes suddenly flicked over to catch her gaze, and felt instantly disarmed.

She knew.

She knew how much she was failing.

Victoria tore away from her mother's gaze as quick as she could and tried to scramble an excuse to get away before her mother swept in like an all-encompassing wave.

"But ah… if you will please excuse me I…" She started hopelessly, the right words unable to form in her mind as she felt the pressure of the three scientists looking at her curiously. This shouldn't be so hard. She was the Queen. She had the power. She didn't need an excuse.

"…I have a…" Victoria tried again, but again the words fell short from her breath, as her whole body began to tense up, when in the corner of her eye she could see her mother begin to move on from her own group and start to head towards her.

"I must go." She gave a quick, congenial smile and turned around as the scientists were still bowing at her exit. Victoria felt a flush of heat come over her and tried to step away as calmly as possible as her mind swarmed with frustration at her utter imbecility, when over the storm of thoughts she could hear behind her one of the scientists angrily whispering "what the bloody hell were you thinking?".

Victoria took a swig of champagne then put on a smile to the other guests as she walked through them, wishing none of them would talk to her, but also wishing she had a clue as to where to go now.

Anywhere her mother wasn't.

And yet she still had a dinner to get through.

Victoria felt her heart drop, when from behind her came a familiar voice.

"Your Majesty? Might I have a word?"

Victoria whipped round to see the blessed face of her Private Secretary. "Lehzen! God, you couldn't have come like a minute earlier?" She berated her in a hushed voice.

"I'm sorry ma'am?" Lehzen looked at her with confusion.

"Nothing, nothing." Victoria waved off. "What is it?"

"The Prime Minister has arrived."

A bolt of joy jumped through Victoria.
"Mr M? Where is he?" She asked, already scanning the heads in the crowd for his short dark curls.

"I have placed him in the study, ma'am."

"What, and made him wait?" She snapped back to her secretary. "You should have told him to come down and say Hi."

"He seemed quite content where he was." Lehzen replied calmly.

"Well we'll see about that." Victoria said with a smile as she had already started to walk through the party and towards the door.

Of course Mr M was here. He always knew when she was in trouble.

She tried hopelessly to temper the thrill bubbling within her as the doorman let her exit and she almost skipped to the stairs, Lehzen shuffling behind her in a hurried attempt to keep up.

As she reached the landing and approached the large oak doors of the study, she couldn't help but double check that she didn't look like a frantic mess, when she realised she was still holding onto the dainty champagne glass, a small puddle of drink left at the bottom. Without a second thought, she thrust it out to Lehzen then wiped down her hands and turned back to the door, leaving her Private Secretary no time to be confused as Victoria grabbed the handle and confidently swung the door open.

She froze in the doorway.

Mr M was in the study, but was standing in close conversation with a woman she had never seen before. She was old. Not very old, but older than Victoria. More around Mr M's age. And she looked beautiful. Slim, dark hair, high cheekbones. Victoria didn't like her one bit.

"Mr Melbourne." Victoria exclaimed quickly at the threshold as the pair halted their conversation and looked up to the new addition. "What brings you to the palace?"

The prime minister immediately took a step away from the woman and folded his hands together behind his back. "I…" He began to speak as he looked to the woman in doubt, then turned back to Victoria and began to stride slowly towards her. "Please forgive the late intrusion ma'am, but I'm afraid it couldn't wait." He softly took up Victoria's hand and gave the customary bow, but Victoria couldn't help but look past him to his quiet companion, which Mr M must have noticed.

"Allow me to introduce my Chief of Staff, Emma Portman." He said politely as he stepped away from her.

"Your Majesty." The newly identified Emma gave a civil smile and approached Victoria for the official greeting.

"Mrs Portman." Victoria accepted her hand then quickly drew it away when she finished her curtsey. She looked to Mr M, expecting him to take command of the meeting, but for some reason he couldn't meet her eye. Instead they stood awkwardly at the doorway, no one willing to break the silence as the smell of cigarette smoke surrounded him like a dark aura. It disconcerted her greatly.

"Well." Victoria decided to plunge in. "Shall we take a seat then?"

Mr M gave a nod then motioned to the circle of chairs for her to lead the way. She stepped past him and took her place on the largest lounge, but he set himself down on the armchair next to it, which she tried not to let bother her too much.

Emma gave them a wide berth and sat by the dormant fireplace, and Lehzen closed the door behind her and stood at the doorway like a silent sentinel.

Victoria didn't know how to sit. It felt surprisingly strange, having an audience to her talking with Mr M. Usually they fell into such a comfortable dynamic without even thinking about it. But now under the watchful gaze of the two women, she found herself questioning her posture, wondering what to do with her hands.

She clasped them tightly together.

"Would you like some tea or…"

"No, thank you ma'am we – " Mr M finally began to speak, then sat himself up on the edge of his chair and leaned towards her a little. "About two hours ago the editor of the Guardian newspaper contacted our Director of Communications. They have received some classified documents from a credible source, and wanted an official comment from my office before they publish tomorrow morning." He fell silent again, and looked down to his hands, which began to worry Victoria.

"What kind of documents?"

"Transaction statements, private correspondence… Records, ma'am, of a purchase of six BUK missile systems from the Russian Armed Forces, by the Qatari Ministry of Defence."

"What?" She let out in a sudden laugh, his words hitting her with absolute disbelief.

Mr M's sad green eyes fixed on hers, drawing her back in. "It seems the BUK system used in the attack on your family was owned by the Qatari government."

"No but that's - that can't be right. It's not." Victoria looked to the others for reinforcement, but their faces remained unchanged.

"Ma'am… " Mr M tried but she turned back to him in rebuttal.

"I told you before – I did the research remember, there's no way they would – "

" … I'm sorry – "

"No. The documents must be false. I mean, who is their source? What if they're lying?"

"The editor won't reveal their source, so I've got my legal team right now trying to find a way to work around that." Mr M spoke calmly, though his voice seemed like a ghost of its former self. "But even then, the Guardian is a reputable newspaper, they wouldn't publish something as momentous as this if they didn't have proof of the documents' authenticity."

Victoria felt an awful stillness come over her as the realisation finally began to take root in her mind.

"So…" She started quietly, her eyes starting to warm. "…do you mean they did it?"

Mr M shot a quick look over to Emma.

"Please excuse me ma'am." The Chief of Staff's suddenly spoke out. "I need to make a call."

She stood up from her chair and made her way firmly to the door, where Lehzen was left unsure, still holding the empty champagne glass.

"Yes." She said quietly, gathering her thoughts, as Emma opened the door and walked out of the room. "Yes I should… I need to call off the dinner." Lehzen took hold of the handle with her free hand and was about to disappear when she quickly turned back with a short bow. "Your Majesty." She muttered, then closed the door with a hard clack.

They were alone.

Victoria held her breath and looked straight into the pair of kind green eyes that had been watching her so carefully.

"Mr M. Please. Do you believe the editor?"

"I do."

She felt like she was going to vomit.

Her hand shot to her mouth as her stomach plunged to the floor and her mind drowned under the torrent repercussions from his answer.

He did this.

He…

"I shook his hand." Victoria said quietly, the realisation hitting her as she spoke the words. "Oh my god I shook his hand." She jumped up from the couch, as if in an attempt to escape her past. "He looked me in the eye… looked me in the eye and smiled in front of all those people and I shook his hand."

"You had to." Mr M's tired voice replied sadly.

"Why?" She whipped back to face him, as he remained resigned in the armchair. "Why did I have to? Because of diplomacy? Bloody… bollocks to that! He killed my uncle!" She shot at Mr M as the confusion foaming her mind had now morphed into a flame of rage, demanding to be let free. "My nephews, he killed my nephews! They were kids! And he just, he just went out and ordered them killed, thinking he'd get away with it all!"

"Ma'am…"

"No doubt laughed at his luck to get me as Queen! Some…silly girl who knows nothing and no-one!"

"Victoria I…"

"And of course he'd get away with it!" She felt her breath became shallow as her eyes stung in anger. "They all get away with it! All of them, every time, and they never stop! They take everything from me! Take my uncle, my nephews, my dad –" The word came out in a sob as the grief overwhelmed her. "- they… I wish they'd all just die!"

No. Wait.

The admission burned her throat.

She couldn't bear to look at Mr M, couldn't let him see how pathetic she was. She covered her tear-streaked eyes with her palms, fell back onto the couch, and tried to steady her rapid breathing.

Too emotional. Always too emotional.

Stupid.

Weak.

"I'm sorry." She whispered into the silence from under her hands. "I don't mean it. I mean I do… but I don't… I just… I don't know. I don't know."

Eyes fixed shut, her senses focused on the pounding of her heart and her short ragged breathes, when she could have sworn she felt a weight settle down beside her.

"It's ok." Mr M's deep voice hummed through her chest. "I understand. I do."

She took in a deep breath, then risked letting down one of her hands and peering beside her, to see him sitting close, mirroring her hunched form, his face as kind and nonjudgmental as ever.

Her rock.

"Why is it all so hard?"

He let out a heavy sigh at her question, and looked down to his hands in hesitation as he left a long pause of silence.

"When ah… when my mother died. The newspapers reported it was a stroke." His voice was unsteady, but then he looked back to her with a small, sad smile. "A classic case of a charmed life finally succumbing to the consequence of her vices. That's what they wrote. Because that's what they were told to write. But it… it wasn't true." He let his words hang for a moment, when Victoria was startled to see that his green eyes suddenly seemed tinged with a faint red.

"You see a week before she… she was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's. She'd been getting a little forgetful and confused, which… it wasn't like her at all, so we got her checked. And then a week later I found her. Asleep in bed. But not asleep just… lying under the covers. And there next to her was an empty bottle of sleeping pills, a half empty glass of water…and a note."

She felt as if she was frozen as he looked up to her, his eyes shining with moisture.

"I threw it out." He gave a pitiful shrug. "Didn't even read it. Didn't need to, because she'd given up. And I just became numb, numb for months afterwards…until the accident."

A pain shot through Victoria's heart. The accident. She didn't need to be told what he meant. She remembered it. Remembered the weeks of headlines, the unremittent updates of where Caroline was, who she was with, what she was doing, who she was wearing – an inescapable stream of gossip that suddenly erupted to tragic stop. She found herself resting her hand atop his knee. Anything for comfort. Anyway she could help.

"Caro was gone." His hollow voice filled the room. "My boy… he was gone. And my mother wasn't there. Because she chose not to be. And I was livid. I was… it was only four months later. Four. She could have been there for me. She should have! But she gave up. She always claimed to be a fighter but when the real challenge came, she folded in an instant. Gave up when I needed her the most and left me utterly alone. I was so angry, I wanted to stop it all, go back in time and bloody knock those pills out of her hand, reason with her, beg her, anything to keep her going for just a little while longer. But then the more I thought about it, the more lost I became. Because I didn't know if I could do it. Could I have really stopped her? If she had lived – what if she deteriorated faster than expected? She was always the sharpest woman in any room she was in – for her to be conscious of her own mental unraveling, that's an existential torture I could never put her through. But then, what if it was slow? What if she was still herself five, six months down the line? What if we had more time?"

More time.

If she could have had that with her dad. Just a little bit. So he could see what kind of girl she grew up to be, so he could be proud of her.

So she could remember him.

Her hand squeezed Mr M's knee just slightly as she looked into his eyes in understanding.

"I've never been able to figure it out." He let out a small sigh, as a weight seemed to drop from him. "Never know what I'd do if I had the chance to go back. The two sides of the argument are just suspended within me in perpetual conflict. But I think, ma'am, that's how it should be. A question like that cannot be answered properly when there are so many unknowns. All you're left with is your emotions…" His eyes dropped from her gaze, down to her small hand resting on his knee. "…and that is a very dangerous basis for decision making."

The air became thick between them. She shouldn't have touched him. But it was too late now, she couldn't move her hand back without an excuse - he would just think she's rude. Or worse.

Her hand began to throb with a heavy pulse as she became terrified that he could feel how nervous she was, and yet she didn't want to let go of him. There was something between them now, a delicate invisible tether that drew them together, that she was absolutely terrified to break.

Mr M just gave a wry smile. "Plus I don't have a time machine."

A sudden breath of a laugh escaped her lips that burst through the tension with quiet relief. She took the chance to pull her hand away and pressed her fingers to her eyes, wiping the slate clean. Mr M looked her, the soft smile still present in the corner of his lips, to which she couldn't help but mirror, when their faces turned towards each other, eyes locked, and they found themselves sharing a silent breath.

"I don't know why the Emir did it." Victoria murmured, her brow beginning to lower in thought. "What has he got against us? Why does he hate us? I know so little and it's… absolutely infuriating." He raised a knowing eyebrow. "How did you do it? How did you keep going when you lost everything?"

"Well to be perfectly honest I'm not sure I did. I was a mess. A vacant shell of a man. Just… floating down the path of least resistance. Work was all I had, so I kept doing it. My constituents kept me elected, so I stayed in office. The party offered me leadership, so I accepted."

"You didn't think to say no?"

"No. I should have. A better man would have." He looked away in thought. "No, despite my youthful rebellion barricading against it, it seems I have always been a product of my class."

Something stung inside Victoria. "No one asked me if I wanted to be Queen. Sometimes I feel…I feel like there had to be someone better to choose."

"I don't know ma'am, I think you've got the makings of an incredible Queen." He looked back at her with a kind smile.

She avoided his eyes, her cheeks beginning to redden in a clash of pride and shame. "I don't feel like it."

"Give it time."

A small ember of comfort began to warm her chest, but still the fire of confidence was not there. She turned to study Mr M's face, so seemingly sure in his words of support.

But how?

What did he even see in her?

She found him utterly perplexing. Did he still feel like he was drifting? The thought of it made no sense to her – he always seemed so rooted, always so stable and always knowing exactly what to say at exactly the right time. How could he be lost?

"What are you going to do now?" Victoria asked with a quietly.

"Now?" He replied vaguely, his voice deep as his eyes skipped over the small details of face, and Victoria became suddenly aware of how close they sitting. Her cheeks began to flush with heat.

"With the transaction records."

"Oh. Um…" He quickly looked away adjusted himself on the seat, sitting up and edging slightly away from her. "…I'll give MI6 a few more hours to gather as much intel as they can, then give the Emir a rude wake up call. After that comes damage control. Depending on the Emir's reaction, we could call for a UN investigation, but it will be hard to keep parliament from braying for blood."

A dark thought sank into her mind.

"Will there be war?"

He looked at her curiously.

"Do you want war?"

She tried to wrestle with the question, but didn't even know where to begin. She wanted revenge, wanted retribution and justice for all the pain - but war had taken away her father. And for what?

"I don't know." She answered quietly, as the young scientist's words began to rush back through her memory like a dark plume.

What if there is never a real answer?

What if there is only doubt?

"Did you know that Rooks mate for life?" She found herself asking in an attempt to pull herself out of her thoughts.

Mr M looked at her in surprise. "Ah yes… I do actually ma'am. They form long-term pair bonds."

It was Victoria's turn to look surprised now, her brow rising up at his reply, to which he could only give a self-conscious smile.

"I like birds." He conceded.

She smiled to herself and lightly shook her head. Of course he did.

"There's a woman down at the reception who…" She began to explain when she remembered how embarrassing her exit had been with them. "God they're probably all still waiting down there."

"Lehzen said she was going to cancel the dinner."

"She did? Oh." She sat stuck in the fog of her memory, when all of a sudden the realization hit her. "Oh no. Oh god my mother's going to want to know why." Victoria cringed in pain and leaned her forehead in her hand. Mother wasn't going to let this down. She was going to stay and harass with all her talk about 'fighting back' – she couldn't take it. She wanted to hide in this study forever.

"Lehzen could ask her to leave too?" Mr M attempted.

"No god that would be even worse." Victoria let out a small groan, and was starting to resign herself to her familial hell, when an idea stuck her like a saving grace. She sat up straight and fixed on Mr M. "But what if you stayed? Have dinner with us, I mean? It's all set up for the bird protection party thing, at least some of it won't go to waste."

His expression was inscrutable, as he opened up his mouth in a failed attempt to reply, then gave a second attempt. "It would be my honour, ma'am, but I'm not sure if Emma would – "

"She's invited too. Of course." Victoria jumped in too quickly. "Please Mr M? Just one hour while MI6 work. Anyway, you look like you haven't had a proper meal in weeks. It'll do you good."

"Well I suppose…" Mr M let out a sigh in defeat with a smile. "What's on the menu then?"

"Chicken, I think!" She pulsed with joy, when her face instantly fell. "Oh…wait."

Mr M just laughed.