Conversations on Flight – Chapter XI
It lay like a corpse.
Limp. Drooping into the curves of the lounge.
A sharp slash across the paper. A definitive line in graphite, dedicating her attention to her work, to the inexhaustible fascination of how everything can be reduced to proportion, to a dash, a curve, a series of dots.
But it remained.
She trapped her eyes to the page. Mustn't pay it any heed. It didn't mean much.
And yet there it was, her unwanted companion for the past three days. Wherever she would settle, whenever she thought she had escaped it, sure enough within a few expectant moments of solitude, there would come the polite taps on the door, a whisper of respectful apologies, and the return of her new shadow.
A body bag in red.
An instruction from the grown ups. A silent reminder to do as she's told.
She scratched into the paper.
It never seems to stop, does it?
Four knocks stilled her pencil in the air as Dash shot his head up, disturbed from his slumber against her.
"Come in." Victoria tucked her pencil within the pages of her sketchbook and quickly closed it as the door opened.
"The Prime Minister, William Melbourne." The butler recited her favourite mantra, the same emphasis and cadence that she could now mimic on cue.
Victoria breathed again. Mr M stood beyond the doorway, eyes still tired, the same ghost of a smirk on his lips, but unexpectedly balancing their dainty tray of morning tea between his hands.
"Thank you Stevens." He nodded to the butler, then strode past him into the room with a smile, as Dash leapt off the lounge to dance around his feet. "Thought I'd spare Wendy the trip up." Mr M lifted the tray higher as he peered down to his steps, careful not to cross paths with his excited friend.
"Any Penguins?" She slid her sketchbook off to the side and stood up, trying to shake off her bleak veil of thoughts as she attempted to gain a peek of the buttery bounty.
"No luck today I'm afraid." M rounded the other chairs and set the tray down on the coffee table, revealing the disappointing circle of beige biscuits. The door behind them closed with a quiet click as he peered up to her, smiling at her pout. "You know, you could always just ask Wendy to keep them as a fixture."
"No but then I'd eat them." She stated as if it were the most obvious thing, to which M just smiled.
"Then settle for the occasional surprise." He reasoned kindly as he stood up to his full height.
"But they're so good!" She whined playfully, causing M to hide a smile with a feigned look of solemnity.
"Ah! A true puzzle for the ages then, ma'am." He gave a thoughtful sigh and caught her with an amused twinkle in his eye as he offered his hand out for the customary greeting. "What shall one do?"
"This one shall give in to the chocolate and blow up into some big fat penguin." She replied haughtily as she laid her hand lightly atop his, the slight callous of his fingertips sending a shiver along her arm as they skimmed the soft underbelly of her fingers.
"A most regal penguin, to be sure." M bowed from the neck, then dropped his hand from beneath hers, and she tried not to ache from the loss of his warmth. "I can see you rocking the top hat and tails." He quipped jovially as he tucked his hands into his pockets, but his words carried an unintended companion with them, a reminder of her shadow. Victoria felt the heaviness grow once again within her stomach.
Not now.
"Well then, any news?" She abruptly redirected as she tried for a smile but let it fall, then sat back down on the lounge to force her attention to Dash.
"Ah…" She heard his husky voice waver slightly in confusion. "…yes, ma'am." From the corner of her eye she saw him sit down as she continued to scruff her hands through Dash's silky coat. "Al Udeid."
She let out a small, tired sigh and looked over to M, who watched her from the opposite chair. "Of course." She frowned. "Five days left now. How are negotiations with the royal family?"
"Chilly." M said carefully. "We're not going to get another extension."
Victoria felt an anxious flutter of realization in her chest. "So this is it then. What does the President say?"
"Not much. Being standoffish as always. She will not yield." He said wearily as he rested his head against his hand. "Not that I can blame her, really - doesn't want to go through another Benghazi. The little she's told me about the evacuation plan is that they have one, but still does not intend to use it."
"What about our guys?" Her voice was quiet. She remembers the nine bright, rugged faces smiling at her from the tablet screen, occasionally melting into pixelated forms, as she called to send her support. She felt like a fraud. What kind of support could she give them?
"We'll get them out." M reassured her. "Special Forces have a plan, should the Americans fall through."
"Good." Victoria said quietly, as she returned her attention to Dash.
A careful silence fell between them, as she could feel his eyes upon her.
"I passed the Grenadiers on the way in, saw them drilling for the Colour." He slid in softly through her thoughts, causing her to glance back at him as he offered her a kindly smile. "They're looking pretty sharp."
"Yes they've been rehearsing for weeks." Victoria nodded along. "It's an incredible sight when they're all in a row, how they even tilt their feet at the same angle. Me, I'm still struggling to salute right."
"Ah yes! Is it the old…" M brought a casual outstretched palm and leant it against his forehead.
"Yes up, and then straight fist down." She gave an uncommitted wave in the air then returned her hand to play absentmindedly through Dash's hair. "It's the down bit I struggle with. I'm supposed to do it like I'm punching the air, but I think I end up looking like one of those Chinese lucky cats, much to the frustration of the military advisor."
"The man should cheer up, you're just trying to bless him with good fortune." M quipped sweetly, drawing out a smile from Victoria. "Is that your uniform over there then?" She felt like a cold wave had broken over her as M nodded his head over to the red silk garment bag waiting for her in the corner of the room.
"Ah…yes." She attempted casually. "Got it a while ago, Alfie still wants the tailor to do final tweaks though."
"How does it look?" He encouraged.
"…Good." Victoria threw out, uncommitted.
"Good?" M raised a brow, an amused glint in his eye.
She tried not to look caught out. "Yeah, I mean it's…fine. It looks…like a uniform."
"Well that's a promising start at least, being a uniform and all."
"No I mean it's…well I haven't actually tried it on. Yet." Her breathing was starting to get shorter as a heat began to rise in her chest, but she at least managed to keep contact with his eyes.
"How come?" M's demeanor shifted as he asked carefully, his deep green eyes seeming to burrow through her.
"No reason." She replied quickly on instinct.
Her friend nodded along, mouthing a silent 'oh' - but she could tell from the way his brow lowered in thought that he didn't believe her one bit.
A disappointment.
She was always the disappointment.
"I guess…" She tried, her lungs getting tighter. "I mean it's so silly, because it's just an outfit. It's just pieces of fabric slapped together that don't mean anything, you know? Except it does. It does to me. And I'm just not ready to wear it. Not yet."
"That's alright." He said simply. Softly.
"Trooping The Colour is in two days." She argued.
"Then you'll wear it in two days."
"It won't fit."
"I'm sure it'll fit just fine."
"It won't though - Alfie keeps going on about making it look perfect. That the fit, the shoulders, the whole… that it's important. And he's right! I know he's right, because the world will be watching and this is my first time doing the Colour and I don't want to be an insult to the soldiers but it's just - " Her words came faster as the heat within her spiralled upwards and upwards, rising to her eyes where she could feel the first shimmer of tears begin to develop.
"I don't…" She couldn't say the words. Couldn't find them. Couldn't make sense of the mess that had been growing in her mind for days, weeks. But she had to try. One word in front of the next. Slower. "I don't know if I want it. War. I want the Emir to pay. He killed my little cousins - I want him to die. But I also… I look out to the Mall, and suddenly there's all these soldiers with guns everywhere. Like… big…black ants. Everywhere. I read the news and I see the Tories trying to pull over the Lib Dems, see them trying to tear your coalition apart with hate and fear and then this, this uniform arrives and I'm scared. I'm honestly just…scared."
M sprang from his chair and in an instant was beside her, bringing her hand across, cocooning it softy within his palms. She could feel his breathing along with hers, as she stared down at their entangled hands as they sat for a moment in shared silence.
"I'm scared too."
"What?" Her eyes shot across to his.
"I am." He admitted quietly. "Saudi troops are amassing at the border, the Persian Gulf's all but shut down, which means it's likely some idiot's going to start a war just to get oil flowing again – We are in dangerous times, and I'm entrusting everything to the UN – who, let's be honest, don't have the greatest track record with this sort of thing. I am terrified."
"How do you keep going?"
"Habit?" He responded quickly, giving one of his typical wan smiles. But then something behind his eyes seemed to change, and he looked down, deep in thought. "No it's… it's something else I suppose. Maybe hope?" He shifted his gaze back to her, with an expression that almost looked surprised. "Blind, stupid hope. And confidence that this is the only path there is anyway. That every other option leads assuredly to destruction, so I may as well keep going down this one. Qatar is a country reliant on trade and international investment. Sanctions affect them worse than most. All we need is one opportunistic prince to hand his uncle over to The Hague. It could happen. The older I get, the more I realize that just as there are moments of sudden catastrophe, there are also moments – precious, bright, and wholly unexpected – when things go right. Never forget that."
Victoria nodded slowly, ingesting his words when she looked down to their hands, still intertwined.
"Kind of like us." She said brightly, turning back to him as she gave a little squeeze of his hand. "Our friendship. That's unexpected."
M let out a genuine, boyish grin. "To say the least."
"Most surprising." She matched his smile - the heaviness that once immobilized her starting slowly, carefully, to lift. "Illogical even… Preposterous…" Victoria continued, tiptoeing into playfulness she caught the decent of M's reaction, and wondered how far she could take it. "Outrageous. Ridiculou-"
"Alright, steady on there – " Mr M halted her in her tracks with friendly admonishment as his hands slipped away from hers to be held up in front of her in surrender. "I'm not that far in the grave yet."
"That's cause you're a lot slower when you're using a walker." She shot back cheekily.
"Does Generation Z even walk anymore? Or do they use an app for that?" M parried, scrunching his face in pretend contemplation.
"Going to need that app to carry you up to my party, old man." She teased.
"Hmm." He lowered his brow dramatically. "How many stairs?"
"Five flights."
"Oof. Well just throw the occasional canapé out the window for me then, I'll be happy. But no devilled eggs." He held out a stern finger.
"Just some prunes?"
"And a few boiled sweets – but only ones that are have been hidden away in some handbag for three years. They must age like fine wine, amongst old tissues and at least four pairs of cheap reading glasses."
Victoria beamed, letting out a quiet breath of a giggle at their antics as M shared her conspiratorial smile, both grateful for the relief of levity within the ever-encroaching dark.
But then Dash nuzzled at her side, drawing her out from the moment and into a stream of memories of when her life was nothing but that, of quiet days of confinement with her canine companion, folding into each other, repeating, endless, stifling.
"I've never really been one for hope." She found herself saying, breaking the silence as her fingers ghosted through the soft hair of Dash's head.
"Nor have I." M shrugged. "But at least we can give it a beginner's try together."
A warmth rose up within her as she mirrored his weary smile.
Together.
Ok.
Nothing for it then.
With a new lease of energy, Victoria sprang up from the lounge, and before her doubts could stop her, she marched to the red satin garment bag, grabbed by the seam, tugged it up from its chair and strode straight to the hidden antechamber door, and left Mr M in silence.
The door slammed behind her, she threw the bag across the mahogany desk, then continuing her momentum, slipped off her heels, one foot then the other, descending two inches then another two, to the hard wooden floor. Deft fingers unclipped the side of her skirt then it slipped down her thighs and fell into a soft heap at her feet. She moved on to the buttons of her blouse, undoing them one by one, the reality of the situation growing within her as she exposed her bra, the curve of her breasts, her soft stomach, until she was standing alone in the small dark room, in just her underwear and a pair of sheer tights - Mr M was on the other side of that door.
Her breath tightened.
William Melbourne was sitting in the other room, just a flimsy piece of wood between them, oblivious to the fact she was standing so close, practically naked.
She felt a pulse below and a heat start to flush through her body as two fingers skimmed across the soft skin of her hip, and hooked themselves around the band of her stockings.
What if she walked out there?
She stilled.
What if.
What if she opened the door, right then, and walked into the other room in just her underwear. What would Mr M do?
Will.
Would he touch her? Put his wide, strong hand against her hip just so, pull her up against him? Would he cup the soft weight of her breast and gently run his thumb along the lacy edge of her bra?
Stop.
Would he bend down, the smell of soap, coffee, and old cigarettes sweeping over her as his lips brushed against the hollow of her neck and –
Stop.
Would he kiss –
Stop.
Would he –
Stop.
A hand lay atop the brass knob of the door, the other splayed across her stomach.
She needed to stop. Needed to get a handle on herself.
Because that was never going to happen. She was just letting her imagination run wild, as always. He was the Prime Minister, he was her friend, and he would never think of her that way.
Never.
Oh.
The small room started to feel cold, as she was overcome with the awkwardness of her body. She folded her arms across her chest tight, stepped away from the door, and peered over to her red shadow.
Always waiting. She was so bloody tired of it.
She she couldn't let it win.
She stepped over and unzipped the bag.
It looked just like the one her uncle used to wear. Same colour, same cut. She remembered Alfie talking about how it was a better visual if she wore trousers rather than sitting side-saddle with a skirt - something about the perception of power.
She didn't feel powerful.
But maybe he was right, maybe the uniform would help.
Untying her arms from across her body, she carefully exhumed the uniform from within the silk bag, and slowly dressed herself into the deep red fabric. Trousers, shirt, jacket, countless small bronze buttons, until she stood complete, yet inadequate. She ran a hand down a sleeve, as it continued past the wrist and stopped at her thumb.
Needed the adjustment, then.
She also needed some cufflinks, as the shirtsleeves jutted out comically on her other arm. In the garment bag she spied a pocket hidden on the inside, which she delved into to discover a little pouch containing a lanyard, and two small wooden boxes. The first one she flicked open to find two golden shining cufflinks, glowing with the insignia of the Royal Family. And the second…
She looked at it with curiosity. It was a lot longer than the first box, but thin. It had a strange weight to it too, which she attributed to the dark solid wood that it was made from. The pad of her thumb found the small brass latch, and she flicked it up, unveiling the treasure inside.
Victoria's breath stopped.
She knew them. She remembered them.
Her fingertips hovered over them, scared even to touch, but the pull was too strong – her fingers drew across the line of silk ribbons, and along the embossed silver and gold as the sensation of it drowned her in the strongest memory.
Being in his arms. Resting against his strong chest. Her little fingers playing with the shiny medals hanging from his jacket. Lifting them up, letting them fall. Feeling the weight in her hand.
Her eyes burned with fresh tears.
They were her dad's medals. And now she was supposed to wear them.
She swiped away her tears and took in a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. She was in an absolute mess of emotions, she couldn't handle that just now – so with a resolute snap, she shut the box and placed it back on the desk.
Breathe in slowly. Hold. Breathe out slowly. Hold.
Looking for a distraction, she drew the yellow lanyard out from the small pouch, then looped it around her arm and tried to figure out what to do with the end of it, but gave up in frustration and let it fall limply at her side.
In slowly. Hold. Out slowly. Hold.
She placed her hand atop the medal box, felt the soft cool wood against her fingertips.
Mr M would be waiting. She couldn't stay in there forever.
In slowly. Hold. Out slowly. Hold.
It was now or never. Bolstering herself, she stood up straight, lanyard still dangling uselessly from her arm, then stepped to the door and opened it up to bright light of the drawing room.
Mr M was standing by the lounge, and slipped his phone into his jacket pocket as he looked up to her entrance.
"Well then!" He gave her an encouraging smile as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Looking sharp, ma'am!"
Victoria just jerked her hands up beside her face to present the mess of the cuffs.
"Though…could be sharper." He acquiesced. "Good thing you tried it on then."
"I feel like I'm wearing a potato sack." She flopped her hands back down.
"Best looking potato sack I've ever seen." He teased playfully. "Must be from Waitrose."
"Ha." Was her only reply, her voice monotone as she looked down to her baggy form, Dash now sniffing cautiously at the hem of her trousers.
"Just needs a little taking in, is all." M stepped towards her. "Doesn't help you've got this yellow tentacle dangling down…" He caught the end of the lanyard and brought it up between them.
"Yeah I'm supposed to hook it in to something, but can't figure out where." Victoria tried not to pay attention to how close he was to her, as his eyes started to move across her in thought.
"Well first off let's fix this up…" He murmured to himself as he shifted slightly to her side, and brought his fingers to her right shoulder, unbuttoning the tab and anchoring the lanyard beneath it, as Victoria tried to keep her breathing back under control. She could smell him. Soap, coffee and old cigarettes… just as she thought…
"There you go." His voice was rough as he laid his hand atop her shoulder, causing it to burn with an irresistible heat, then let it slip down her side.
"Just need to figure out…" She found her voice as he held up the loose end of the yellow rope once more.
Mr M towered over her, his green eyes moving across her chest as it rose then fell. "Yes, where…"
She knew he could tell she was breathing hard. She knew he couldn't have missed it. But for some reason she didn't feel embarrassed. She thought she'd feel embarrassed. But no, she felt something else. She felt almost…powerful.
M floated the end of the lanyard above her breast, then froze. "I think there."
"Oh."
He didn't move.
She took the small rope from his grip, making sure to run her hand across his as she did, then with nimble fingers, secured loop to one of her centre buttons.
"Good." M muttered, his breath ghosting across the top of her hairline, sending a shiver down her spine. But then suddenly he stepped back – just a foot – but enough to send light spilling back into her eyes, and a cold draught to rush across her. "Looks good, ma'am."
Victoria tried to collect herself again. From their proximity, from his touch, from the stupid uniform, from her uncle, from the medals. She closed her eyes, only for a moment, and shook away the world.
"Yes." She opened her eyes, and looked up to her friend. "It looks much better. Thank you, Mr M." She said slowly as the pieces of their walls slotted back into place.
"You're very welcome, ma'am." He gave a polite nod, hands clasped behind his back, and took another step backwards.
"Are there any other items to go over?"
"No that should be it for now." He gave a quick genial smile. "But if there are any updates, I'll be sure to keep you abre… updated."
"Thank you." She rose her hand up in offering. "I'll see you at the party, then."
"Yes of course." He moved in quickly to take her hand and give a sharp bow of the neck, then just as quickly stepped back away. "Till then."
"Till then." She echoed, then watched as he turned and strode out the door, leaving her with Dash at her feet, alone again with her thoughts.
But now, for the first time, she had hope.