Conversations on Flight – Chapter XII
All his life, Will had been a disappointment.
Girlfriends, at first enthusiastic lovers, would drift away from him like clockwork, the moment they caught a glimpse of the fool beneath his nimble charm. Caro followed suit, despite the tie that bound them in little Gus. The centrist faction of his coalition despised him for being too progressive, the left for not being progressive enough.
In truth, he never really questioned why his father never reached out to him. He was a dull letdown. An uninspired compromise that people could put up with until they found someone better. What father would lay claim to that?
Will adjusted his hold on the flimsy gloss wrapping paper as it stuck to his skin, watched as his heavy footsteps crushed the green blades of grass in his path, and gave his course curls a nervous scruff before stuffing his hand back deep into his trouser pocket.
To coast through life.
That's how he survived. That's how, in the shallow opinion of outside eyes, he succeeded.
To never try, thus never fail.
Mediocrity was his insurance. Because when disappointment was his fate, at least it would lessen the blow.
It was about time Victoria learned that.
He wasn't so blind not to notice the way she looked at him recently. The way she edged forever closer to him, the way she found ever increasing excuses to initiate touch.
But it wasn't as if he was a neutral party in all this. He'd been right there with her, giddy with calculated ignorance as he let himself flow with the mercy of his inhibitions.
He could have touched her. When she stepped out in that uniform, their bodies close, he could see her chest rise and fall – the curve of her breast, the smooth crook of her neck, lips unfolding like soft petals, the heat of her radiating through him – she would have been laid bare, undressed and open, just a few seconds before.
He wondered -
He want-
No.
He had gone too far. He had relinquished control of his reason, taken advantage of her mesmerizing trust and intoxicating adoration.
He was done. Needed to be the mature one in all this. Needed to separate himself from her. Needed to disappoint.
The day was warm, unseasonably warm for London in spring, which was quickly becoming the new norm. The sun permeated the dark fabric of his jacket, stifling him with its tight heat, as he passed briefly under the tree's scattered shadows – never long enough – as he followed the stoic leader through the garden, the man seemingly unaffected by anything, only powered by the fervent desire to serve.
Will locked his eyes on the clusters of flowers and rows of lush hedges as they passed by, tried to recall their genus, tried to busy himself with questions about their health in relation to light, location and mulch quality, tried to distract himself with particulars from thoughts about what he was about to face, and what he had already done.
It needed to be done.
The heavy weight of guilt hung in his chest. He looked closely as a fan of oak leaves hanging in his path, hollowed out by a black mass of larvae.
Liloceris Lilli.
It needed to be done.
But that didn't make it any easier.
"The Prime Minister, William Melbourne."
Will thought he heard a note of distaste in the butler's announcement, but then again he could have just been projecting it onto him, as Will caught sight of Victoria - back turned to them in the shade of the clearing, peering slightly over her shoulder, strands of her brown her covering a glimpse of her blue eyes - he considered that it was thoroughly deserved.
"Thank you Stevens." Her delicate voice crossed the clearing.
The butler gave a bow and stepped lightly away, leaving with a brief look up at Will as Victoria slowly turned on her spot, arms wrapped around her middle, the hem of her light summer dress barely rustling in the faint breeze, her eyes just avoiding his.
"Good morning, Mr Melbourne."
"Your Majesty." Will strode straight across the manicured grass and took up her hand as quickly and gently as he could. Best to dive in headfirst. "Once again my apologies for not being able to make it last night I – " Her hand drifted away from his as her eyes looked at his shoulder. "There was a standoff in the Strait of Hormuz, an unidentified boat that – "
"It's ok, I understand." Victoria found her voice, and finally looked at him straight, a tight smile on her lips. "I… I could tell from your message it was something serious. How is the situation now?"
"The situation?" Will's found his voice rising to a higher pitch than he intended. "Good. Stable. For now."
"I am glad to hear it." She replied simply.
Will felt like crap.
"Happy birthday." His rough voice pushed out as he held up the thin present between them, the loose red bow hanging limp.
"Oh." Victoria did not look like the picture of joy. Instead, her expression was much more unreadable, her forced smile still stamped on, while her eyes looked hopelessly tired. "Thank you, that's very kind of you." She took the garishly coloured package from his hands, when her gaze immediately skipped past him. "Dash – off!"
Victoria disappeared behind him as Will turned around to find her lightly chastising the little dog for leaping up on the leg of the garden tea table, trying to nuzzle up at the small corner of the biscuit tray that lay enticingly over the edge. He watched as she pushed the temptation safely into the centre of the table, and unceremoniously dropped his unopened present on one of the chairs as she scooped Dash up in her arms.
"Always got his eyes on those Digestives." Will limply quipped, unable to think of anything else to say. Pathetic.
"Yes." She responded with a polite note of a laugh, then quickly dropped into silence.
Well, that was a failure.
The clearing in the garden only seemed to grow larger, the still air turning stale.
"How was the party?" He dared.
"It was nice." She said simply, briefly looking up at him from her dog.
"Was Hermione everything you'd hope she'd be?" Will edged in, trying to lessen the wide gap between them.
"Oh Emma? Yes. She was nice." She repeated, scratching Dash's little head. "But what did you need to see me about today, are the any updates with Al Udeid?"
"Al Udeid? No, no changes – " He stopped in his tracks, feeling caught. "I just thought – I wanted to apologise, also I had this present for you – so I thought I should just, stop by in person."
"Ok. Well… thank you." She smiled professionally.
Will got caught in excruciating silence. He hated this. Hated this unexpected distance. It felt so horrifically unnatural.
This is how it should be.
He gathered his hands behind him, knowing this was his cue to leave. He had done everything he needed to do, now he just needed to accept it for the both of them, and step away.
But.
But.
Her formality with him. Her silence, her distance – it clawed his insides and twisted sharply, the longer she looked back at him like that. Like a stranger. He couldn't stand it.
But he knew it couldn't go on the way they had been. That way led to something far more dangerous than either of them could consider. However, to completely detach all connection with her, all friendship – at that moment, it seemed almost worse.
How much had she brought light into his world, when he had accepted the dark? How much had she given him a purpose, when he had surrendered into nihilism?
He could give that up. It was natural for him to give that up.
But there, in the clearing of the garden, the sun's rays dancing through the trees, illuminating Victoria in a soft dappled light, he felt as if his feet had sprouted roots and had fixed him firmly to his spot.
"I should have come." He spoke softly into the silence, eyes down. "I know I should have. I made a mistake."
"It's fine. Really." She breezed off, but the tightness of her voice betrayed the strain. "You had that standoff, that was important."
"Your Majesty I…"
"Would you like a coffee?" She quickly turned her back to him and dropped her dog to the ground as she busied herself with the tea tray.
"I'm fine."
The tinkle of fine china continued to fill the clearing. "We should probably get stuck into the biscuits before Dash gives it another go – "
"Listen I – "
" – although I suppose it's ok as long as they're not chocolate but still – "
"Can you – "
" – I doubt all that sugar's good for him especially when he's – "
"Vic, please – "
"What?" She finally broke, turning her head over her shoulder, her eyes shining straight at him.
Will felt utterly exposed under her gaze, the heat of his tight jacket unbearable. What, indeed?
"I…" He started awkwardly. "I only wanted to apologise – "
"And you have. I forgive you." She said with a forced composure, then turned back around.
"No but you don't understand I – "
"What don't I understand?" There was a sharp hit of a teaspoon dropping on china as she turned back round to him fully, standing her ground.
"That I let you down." He could only reply plainly, honestly.
Victoria stood alone by the table in silence, her eyes on him as she digested his words, looking like she was holding something in, when she gave a heavy shrug. "So does everyone." Her voice was small, the admission coming out with painful simplicity. "I've gotten used to it now."
"No - but see - this is different – I'm your friend." Will stepped closer to her, energised, determined shake her out from her resignation.
"So?"
"So it's worse."
"So it is! What do you want me to say?" She looked up at him, utterly fatigued.
"I don't know – yell, curse! Get angry!" He threw up his hand in defeat, the tight cut of his jacket restricting its arc. "I made a promise to you and I broke it. Bloody… slap me across the face!"
She only looked away from him.
"How long into the party were you when you got my message?" He moved towards her, trying a different tactic.
Victoria's gaze remained low, as she crossed her arms across her body. "I don't know… like… maybe forty five minutes in."
"How did you feel when you read the message?" He edged closer.
"…Not good."
"Did you feel alone?"
"…yes."
"Did you feel abandoned?"
"Yes."
"Then let me have it." He took a long step back, taking the chance to shed himself of the frustrating confines of his dark jacket and threw it carelessly to the ground, relishing in the cool rush of air that finally crossed his back, and barred himself willingly for her attack.
"I'm not going to yell at you." Will could hear the quiver in her control.
"Why not? You're Victoria Alexandra Hanover, you were born ferocious! Are you honestly just going to stand there let me get away with it?"
"These things happen all the time and there's no use – " She recited back to him, her voice hollow.
"Yes that's absolute bollocks and you know it." He stopped her before she could finish. "You've got a right to be angry, and I know you're angry - I can see it in your eyes. Come on, let it out. Hit me, I can take it."
Her gaze finally squared solely on him, her chin up, breathing strong, her body straight.
"Damn you."
"Again."
"Damn. You." She repeated, getting stronger.
"That all you got?" Will couldn't help but raise a playful eyebrow
"Fuck you." Victoria shot back, her own brow lowering in growing anger and frustration.
"That's better."
"Go fuck yourself."
"Louder."
"Go fuck yourself!"
"Brilliant st-"
"Shut up! Just, shut up!" Her strong voice slapped him as her eyes glowed and she started to move from her fixed spot, the release of her thoughts taking over control. "Don't patronise me! Don't - You were my friend, and you left me alone! And what – all you thought to do was send me some stupid text? All because of some boat? Fuck that! You've seen me when worse has happened! It was my birthday and you were only just down road – you could have come in for even ten minutes just to say Hi, but you didn't even think to do that, you just left me waiting, all alone, with all these other people I don't even know! You knew how hard that would be for me! You knew! And you did it anyway! So fuck you! Fuck. You!" She pinned him with a hard finger, eyes burrowing a fierce hole into him, her breath like fire, but she kept going, the momentum spilling out the words. "Go fuck yourself! Go fuck yourself! Go fuck – go fucking fuck yourself you fucking fuck-face fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" She bellowed from her toes, the curse exploding through the garden clearing, cutting through the trees, and leaving them in the silent aftermath - just the sound of a frightened bird skittering away punctuating her thunderous outburst.
They stood frozen in the grass circle, two exposed nerves, her wrath and the truth in her accusation settling with him in an oddly satisfying discomfort, when he dared a look in her eye, their gazes catching each others in a moment of wordless understanding.
Ok…
They both erupted in laughter.
A giddy exorcism, a joyful manifestation of relief that filled the circle of trees with an unexpected buoyancy.
Her sweet blue eyes shined as they scrunched up with her decaying giggles. He thought it one of the most precious things he had ever seen.
Slowly, they found themselves settling back from their explosion, standing close, Dash circling around their feet in confusion, as Will smiled down at Victoria.
"I'm sorry." He tried once more.
"Oi!" Victoria gave a playful jab at his arm. "Don't start that again!"
"Yes ma'am." He submitted immediately, though his words were drowned out by Dash's complaining yaps.
"Oh shush up!" She gently reprimanded her dog as she caught him in her arms. "We're not really fighting." Little Dash continued to wiggle excitedly in his owner's grasp, unappeased. "Oh you silly thing, come on." Victoria headed back to the tea table, leaving Will in a strange glow, as she posited herself on one of the chairs and picked up a single Digestive from the platter with an outstretched arm. Dash immediately tried to jump for it.
"Dash no! Down!" She kept the biscuit far from her other arm, which gently lowered Dash to the ground. "Calm down, and you'll have a bickie, ok? Now sit. Sit."
The dog sniffed around the hem of her dress, then at the legs of the table, when he finally, tentatively, stopped in his place, and sat down on the grass, his wet nose pointed high.
"Good boy." Victoria grinned and gave him the much-desired biscuit. "That's better, isn't it? No need to get so worked up now, is there?" She scruffled her dogs head, who seemed completely oblivious to anything else but his Digestive. "Well, unless you have to. Then it's better to let it out. Isn't that right, Mr M?" She looked back up at him as she sat up in her chair.
"Exactly right, ma'am." Will smiled and walked towards her.
"I feel almost…floaty." Her brow scrunched up in thought, then rose up high, while a strange smile pulled at her lips.
"That happens sometimes." He encouraged, reaching the opposite chair as he rested a hand atop the back of it.
Victoria looked away for a moment in quiet reflection, then back up at him. "We're still friends though, even though – ?"
"Firm friends." He vowed instantly.
"Good." She returned his smile.
"In fact – " Will started, as the idea popped to his head. "Let's give this another go." He picked up the present from the chair beside him, and handed it out to Victoria with a kind smile. "Happy birthday, ma'am."
"Thank you, Mr M." She said sweetly, her face bright as she collected the wide thin square and lowered it to her lap to begin unwrapping.
Will tried to keep his excitement down as her careful fingers revealed the cream cover underneath, then drew out the full present and stared at it for a moment in utter silence.
"What?" The question dropped from her mouth, almost like a breath.
Her hand hovered across the hardback cover, almost afraid to touch, when it dared to find the edge, then open it up, slowly, deferentially, the pages unfurling before her with colours and shapes he knew would be so familiar to her.
Her fingers began to shake.
"What…" Her voice floated up to him as her head remained lowered, locked onto the book. "How?"
"My Head of Communications, his sister is a publisher at HarperCollins." Will started, trying to keep his voice measured. "I hope you don't mind, but when you were getting changed the other day, I took some snaps of your sketch book. You're an incredible artist, Victoria, you've got real talent – even Katherine - she's the publisher - she remarked how beautiful the drawing were – but – anyway – I called her up for a favour - kept it all strictly confidential, of course - she was lovely and got it sped through the printers for me – and then this morning, I got this." She remained frozen, all expect her trembling fingers, looking down at her own drawings in print. His heart swelled. "Congratulations." He smiled. "You're a published illustrator."
Victoria finally started to move, her face rising up to reveal red lined eyes shining with tears.
Will felt something stick in his throat.
"I'm sorry your drawings aren't printed in the greatest quality…" He continued, transfixed by the way she looked at him. "…my phone's a little rubbish so it was – "
In an instant, she was in his arms.
Her small arms wrapped tight around his middle, bare skin pressing through the thin blue cotton of his shirt to his ribs, her round face pushing against the muscles of his chest, her hair tickling the underside of his chin, her soft belly ghosting across his own soft middle.
Will stood in absolute stillness.
She was hugging him. She had leapt up from the chair and bundled him into her arms, book still in hand as the hardcover pressed flat against his spine.
And before he could stop himself, he hugged her back.
His arms snaked across her small frame, able to reach across the full curve of her back. He pushed her even closer, their breaths falling into a complementary rhythm as they felt each others chests rise, then fall. He lowered his head on to hers, sheltering her, allowing himself to notice the smell of her hair, the press of her breasts, to enjoy the feel of her hot breath blowing through the thin cotton of his shirt, warming a small circle of his chest in a steady, slowing rhythm.
He wanted to stand there forever. Wanted to memorise every single detail, every feeling, every touch, every warmth.
"Thank you." She whispered into his chest.
"You're very welcome." He whispered back, his breath barely moving the strands of her dark hair, as he drew her into him once more, tried to gather her even further into his arms – but reality slowly dripped back into their consciousness.
He knew he had to let her go.
But just one second.
One moment more.
He felt her fingers slightly loosen their grip on a bundle of his shirt.
That was it.
Slowly, achingly, they drew their arms back across the others back, Will splaying out his palms, just to feel that one last piece of her, when Victoria stopped, her small hand at his side, book resting against the other, a slight gap between them, and looked up at him.
He knew that look.
He couldn't.
God he wanted –
He couldn't.
Her body moved up, anchoring herself by resting a hand on his chest, as her hot breath flowed up, along his neck, onto his jawline, which he automatically let fall into her, and he felt her two soft lips press delicately into his cheek.
Then, letting her own cheek brush against his, she lowered herself back down to the ground, stepped back ever so slightly from him, and left Will utterly flummoxed.
His mind swarmed with an unwelcome inundation of carnal desires and base delusions. He really needed to stop. He was acting like some pervy old man, not the friend she needed.
He stepped back, took in a breath, tried to clear his mind, but she held his gaze, and gave him a wide smile.
"It's the best present I've ever received." She hugged the book in her arms, as Will slowly slotted back the parts of his mental faculty.
"Well I hope it isn't the last." He responded awkwardly, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. "You've got a real talent, ma'am – you should keep at it, draw more stories, and maybe one day you could be properly published. Under a pseudonym, of course."
"Of course." She echoed softly, the smile falling from her lips as he berated himself for adding that. Victoria glanced at her book again, then stepped back down to the chair and opened her present wide on her lap to more carefully study the contents, the smile growing once more as she moved slowly from page to page.
Will her watched in silence, heartened by her reaction, but wary of his own thoughts.
At least he identified the line. That he could manage.
And that he would uphold, for her sake.
But to completely sever himself from her, that was off the table.
A breeze finally appeared, blessing the garden with a fresh coolness that ran a shiver beneath Will's clinging shirt.
He let his eyes close for a moment, and breathed in the new air. Listened to the gentle turning of the pages in front of him, the soft chitter of birds above, the faint crinkle of dry mulch behind.
Peace.
No. He couldn't give this up. Not completely. He knew he was being utterly selfish - but then as he opened his eyes again and looked back down at Victoria, still absorbed in her present, he allowed himself to wonder if maybe she felt that peace too?
And if she did, who was he to take that away from her?
A disappointment.