Clarisse woke early; still drowsy she turned onto her left side and reached for Joseph. She was alone, she'd forgotten that.
For a while she was torn between lying there and cursing the man and going and making up with him. This trip afterall was meant to be something romantic, something important to both of them, a relaxation together after two months of sheer madness. In the end sensibility won over and she collected her robe heading for the lounge where they'd parted last night.
Joseph of course wasn't there; sleep had been hard to come by for him. The couch was comfortable enough, he expected nothing less from a suite like the one they had, but he couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on between the two of them. What had happened to that negotiation they'd silently agreed to on their honeymoon? It seemed so long ago now, that person she'd been there, the fun they'd had, the time she'd spent laughing and singing and quizzing him on unimportant matters. He thought he understood perfectly, he was well aware that she wouldn't be there like that every day but once in a while might be nice.
England was damp and cool in November; he sat on a bench by the Thames and watched the city begin to wake. This wasn't particularly the best end of London; he'd walked for quite a while. He'd seen lowly people sleeping under make-shift cardboard beds, tramps who didn't look like they knew what year it was or where the hell they were as they lurched from person to person begging for money. He'd given what he could to an old woman; it broke his heart to think that she couldn't have been more than five years older than he and Clarisse. There the similarity ended.
What did they see when they looked out at the world? When they sat on this bench and saw the city lights fade and the sunlight begin to break the dawn did they notice the striking of Big Ben ringing out across the frosty air or was it dampened by the fact that same frosty air had been their blanket for the night. Could they stop to memorise the beauty of the autumn leaves as they crowded up the streets with their fallen burnt-red beauty.
He wanted to buy them all breakfast, get them all on a open red-topped bus and ship them over to where he was staying and fill that extravagant restaurant with the people society would like to forget. Order Champagne breakfasts all round and give them The Times and Guardian to read and do the crossword.
What would Clarisse think to that? That he'd gone crazy no doubt. Perhaps he had, perhaps it was age catching up on him and the fact he had too much time on his hands and he needed something more, he'd hoped they would travel together, he could think of nothing better than seeing the beauty spots of the world with her there at his side as his wife, not visiting the Taj Mahal and standing a step behind her, ready to pounce if anybody dare to step too close to her. What was his role now, to offer support, to be Mr. Queen? He couldn't accept that, he hadn't been raised on a diet of duty, role and responsibility and he wanted his wife to be his wife. Not a woman he passed occasionally in the long halls of the palace.
He folded his hands and sighed deeply, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees and staring at his wet shoes.
"50p for a coffee mate." A low voice said.
Joe looked up to the young face staring back at him, dark circles lined the boy's eyes and his skinny body was barely hidden beneath a thin jacket. Somehow he managed to smile warmly at him. "Here. Take this." Joseph took a note out of his wallet and offered it to him.
"You want somethink from me?" The boy asked, every trace of innocence disappearing from his face.
"What could I want..." Joe stopped as realisation hit him.
"Men hanging around here usually lookin' for boys."
"Well I'm not one of those men, take this."
"No strings?"
"No strings."
The boy snatched the money from him eagerly stuffing it in his pocket. "Thanks mister." He said as he walked away.
"You will spend it on a good breakfast won't you." Joe called after him.
The boy eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah, what's it to you?"
"I want to help."
"Weirdo." The boy ran off down the lane, Joe watched him as far as he could before the boy disappeared into the trees.
He'd seen poverty before closer to home; though his family wasn't poor they weren't exactly flush neither. Yet families on his street had been, that's where he'd learnt to fight, in the schoolyard, in the parks, you had to, it's what the boys did. His Mother had encouraged him to strive for more, what would she think of him now, married to a Queen and living a life of complete luxury and decadence? There was something demeaning about being here and meeting that boy that brought it all home to him, he had so much and he so little and there was probably little escape from this world for that young man. For although Joe would never hurt him many out there would, and it scared him to think a boy as young as that was not only living on the streets but possibly part of the drugs and crime culture, and had most probably had sexual experience of some kind or another, it disgusted him.
He felt sick as he dragged himself up from the bench and tightened the scarf around his neck against the cold wind that was blowing in. He didn't really feel like walking back but he had no money left on him and besides he couldn't see any signs of a Cab... sorry Taxi anywhere. It would be a long walk back, he hoped Clarisse wasn't awake yet; he didn't need another argument with her this morning.
The tea in England was first class; she couldn't surpass it wherever she went. Many might disagree but she was adamant in her assumption, it was without doubt her favourite way to start the day. Only this morning not even that could shake the feeling of dread settling in her stomach. Joseph's absence coupled with yesterday's shocks had left her a little wobbly to say the least.
She couldn't eat breakfast, had no interest in the papers that had been sent up for her or in reading the many letters that had somehow collected for her – already after only three days of being there. She'd called home in an attempt to speak to Mia and ease her mind, forgetting the time difference of course, Mia was still asleep. Charlotte had offered to wake her but Clarisse had insisted it wasn't urgent, she would call later.
Frustrated she decided to take a long shower and then perhaps the world would seem a brighter place. Part of her was angry that in deciding to extend their trip here she'd been foolish enough to leave the majority of her staff home. They weren't required for a private marital getaway, or so she'd thought.
The heat of the water was a blessing to her aching muscles, she closed her eyes and leant back against the cool tiled surface allowing all thought and worries to disappear from her mind. Once her hair was fully soaked she rubbed the water from her eyes and opened the cubicle door reaching out to grab her shampoo that she'd carelessly left on the side, in the steam of the room she made out a figure standing in the doorway. Screaming she fell back against the wall and clutched at her chest.
It hadn't taken him as long as he thought to reach the hotel, his pace had increased though and he had direction unlike earlier in the morning when he simply wandered along. He stopped to say hello to the doorman who had been so helpful to him the previous day before entering the lobby and checking on any messages.
He tapped the face of his watch, it had stopped, that was the third watch to stop in a week – must be some kind of curse. He dug the key from his pocket before he exited the lift and walked towards their suite. Finding nobody outside the room he quickly called Toby and instructed him in no uncertain terms that if he didn't get his ass in gear and report for duty he would be lucky to see another day in service. Clarisse may have been right, last night he overreacted – badly – but that didn't excuse the boy from his duties.
He dropped his coat and scarf when he entered the room and shuffled absently through the messages in his hand. Clarisse must be up because her untouched breakfast sat on the dining table, he went to the bedroom but it was empty as was the dressing room. As he was about to panic he noticed the steam coming from beneath the bathroom door and, dropping the papers on the bed, gently opened the door.
He could make out her form through the frosted glass and he felt a rush of giddiness, he leant back against the door and watched as she held her neck back and allowed the water to slide down her body. He was so engrossed in the scene he never even moved when she reached out to grab something, it was her scream that brought him back to life.
"Clarisse, sweetheart it's me." He jumped forward taking her hand.
"Joseph you scared me!" She shouted. "You scared me," she was angry as hell and shaking violently to his touch.
"Come on, it's alright, it's alright." He attempted to hold her to him but she resisted pulling back. "Darling do you really think I'd let anybody get in here to you." He offered the words as comfort, now wasn't the time to mention the boy they had guarding her door was incompetent. "I wouldn't, nobody is ever going to hurt you."
"You did." She blurted out.
He had no response for that.
"Where were you?"
It was the first time he stopped to think how terrified she might be after yesterday's events. "I went for a walk."
"For a walk, I was alone, you left me alone and who knows what..." Tears spilled from her eyes as she uncharacteristically lost control of her emotions.
"Shhh, come on..." This time he managed to hold her to him; she wrapped her soaking arms around his neck and sobbed on his shoulder.
When she'd calmed enough Joseph left her to finish her shower and dress whilst he checked Toby was in his place outside the door, he wasn't in the mood for giving him a dressing down then and there but when they got home he was certainly in for a reality check.
He rang room service and ordered more breakfast for the both of them then made use of the bar in the room and poured Clarisse a small Brandy, she needed something to calm her nerves. At that precise moment he didn't think he could feel more guilty or lousy than he already did. If he came across that bastard who'd spooked her yesterday he would take great pleasure in torturing him, Clarisse wouldn't approve but he needed revenge.
He looked up as she entered the room. "Hi, feeling any better?"
"A little." She said gruffly.
"Here, drink this, it will calm you."
"A little early don't you think." She sat down on the couch.
"Take my advice for once and drink it."
Looking up at his serious face she took his warning and snatched the glass from him, downing it in one and then instantly regretting it as it burned its way down her throat. She coughed and spluttered and he handed her a glass of water.
"You didn't have to swallow it in one."
She ignored him and picked up the paper flicking through it, he knew there was no way she could read it without her glasses, she was being obnoxious.
"Are you going to be like this all day?"
"Like what?" She shook her head. "If you mean annoyed then yes."
"I told you I was sorry, I couldn't sleep I went for a walk – I should have left a message for you."
"You slept on the couch," she suddenly shouted. "How do you think that made me feel?"
He stepped back to the window and turned his back on her, looking out over the city.
She slid her glasses off and dangled them on the end of her fingers. "Well that's fine, if you want to sleep on the couch and disappear in the early hours of the morning fine," she walked towards him. "But don't make me feel guilty over it all."
"Guilty!" he spun round to face her, "For gods sake Clarisse, I would never expect you to feel guilty that would require something called feelings."
It was instinct that made her slap him; she knew she'd heard hurt him because her hand stung with the force of it. Shaking she took a step back, unsure what he would do, she couldn't read his expression.
"I shouldn't have married you." Was all he said before grabbing his coat and disappearing out the door. Again.
Soon after he'd gone breakfast arrived, she instructed it to be taken away again and then with nothing else to do she quickly consulted her diary and rang Charlotte. She couldn't face a day sitting in that room dwelling on what had happened, on what he'd said... she would arrange meetings, dinner with those who had clambered to book her time when it was known she would be visiting London. If he wasn't going to be around, if he didn't want to spend time with her then she might aswell use the time productively.
It was too cold for the London eye but Joseph took himself on it anyway, sitting there at the top of the wheel he was sure he felt ice forming on his ears. Still it cooled the burning sensation still evident on his cheek. Did he deserve it, he wondered, did she deserve what he said – no probably not. He loathed to think what she was doing now, but to him the facts seemed plain and simple, he'd married a woman who was never going to be able to share with him, somebody who was so devoted to their country they couldn't recognise that he needed something too. So yes he shouldn't have married her because he knew when he did just who she was and what she believed in. He stupidly believed that once she was no longer Queen her sense of duty would lessen, it hadn't.
He walked for hours after he left her, returning to the same spot he'd been that morning, hoping that he might spot the skinny boy - but what would he do if he saw him? Offer more money, offer help, no that boy wouldn't take his help anyway. They were worlds apart.
Once the ride was over he took a cab to the other side of the city and went to see a show, matinee performance, some arty thing he didn't particularly enjoy but it passed the time. It was dark when he emerged and he realised just how long he'd been gone, and how hungry he was. Finding a bar he went in and ordered some food, there was a television in the corner and he chose a seat by it so he could hear the news. To his utter surprise there was a two-minute article on Clarisse, she'd had dinner with some politician. Her face came onto the screen briefly and she seemed to him like another person, somebody he once knew but no longer did. She looked terrible, he wondered if he looked the same.
He ate alone in silence, despite the landlady's attempts to get him to talk. She may have been nice enough but he was in no mood for conversation. It wasn't until after his meal when he'd gone to pay that she convinced him to stay and have a beer at the bar. Lucy, as she turned out to be called, was actually a very intelligent woman, it seemed she was making a killing from the small 'pub', she kept him talking for a couple of hours, mid-week and business was slow she told him when he'd asked about the quietness. He'd even stayed when she closed up, helping her to collect glasses and lock the doors; he never spoke about whom he was or what he did. He was just Joe, just a guy having a drink and a chat with a lovely lady.
She must have been in her thirties, pretty though, dark hair, dark eyes a nicely rounded figure. For a second he was overcome with desire when she leant forward over the bar and kissed him, but he pulled back almost instantly.
"I'm sorry." He whispered as he backed to the door.
"There's no need to be." She shrugged and moved around the bar to unlock the door for him. "Thought you liked me too that's all."
"I didn't mean..."
He never finished his sentence because she kissed him again, harder this time, more forceful and he found himself grabbing for her body, pressing her up against him in a vain attempt to forget who she was and where they were and that this was as seedy as he'd ever felt.
It wasn't until she moaned his name that his senses returned, it wasn't Clarisse, it wasn't her smell or touch or voice or warmth. For the second time that day he felt disgusted, he dropped his hold on her and fled the pub attempting not to wretch as the cold night air hit his face.
For Clarisse the day had been exhausting, so much had happened and she hadn't a second to stop and think it through. She only knew she couldn't sit there and feel sorry for herself, she needed to get out. She needed to escape.
Two meetings in the morning, that fool of a bodyguard following her around. A private lunch at Westminster, another meeting afterwards and then she bought three new dresses, four pairs of shoes, two suits and several pieces of jewellery before she even contemplated returning to the hotel. Her buys were packed up for her and would be sent to join her luggage for the return trip to Genovia. Whenever that might be.
She ate alone in the apartment, took another shower and changed into her nightclothes. Settling on the couch with a book she attempted to read a little.
Less than twenty minutes later she heard the door to the apartment open and forced herself to remain calm and impassive as Joseph entered the room. He looked like hell and her heart went out to him, it took some restraint to remain in her seat and not hold him.
"Hi." He said, leaning on the back of the couch across from her.
"Hi." She replied quickly removing her glasses. "I didn't think you'd come back." She whispered hesitantly.
His head dropped for a second, guilt tugging at his coherent mind. He removed his jacket and sat down on the couch. "I saw you on T.V."
"I didn't know what to do with myself." She offered as way of explanation. "I'm sorry I... I've never done anything like that before, I don't know what happened."
"I think I deserved it."
"Did you mean it?" She was nervous, god was she nervous.
"There are a hell of a lot of things I regret Clarisse, marrying you isn't one of them."
"But you are unhappy."
"Are you?"
"I've never been happier. You make me feel," she gulped back her tears. "You make me feel these feelings I never even knew I had."
"God Clarisse then why do you do it? Why do you push me away?"
She stood up abruptly, her book slipping from her knee and hitting the coffee table. Stung by his comment she turned from him and headed for the bedroom but he caught her arm.
"Don't do that, don't walk away like you always do."
"I don't"
"Yes you do, do you remember how you were on our honeymoon?"
"Joseph." She struggled in his grasp.
"Do you?" His usually calm even voice took on a harder edge.
"Yes, I remember. But I can't be like that each and everyday."
"I don't expect it all the time, just every now and then. I need that part of you Clarisse, I need your affection."
"You have it, damn you Joe you have it." She shook herself free from his hold. "Don't you think I think about you every second of every day, whoever I'm with, whatever I'm doing you're in my thoughts. Last night I couldn't sleep, I couldn't settle, all it's taken is a few months and I can't bear to go to bed without you. Can't bear to wake without you being there so I can reach out and hold you. I need you with me."
Tears spilled down his face and it shocked her, she'd never seen him cry.
"Joseph," she laid a hand on his face. "Joseph..."
His shoulders slumped and he virtually shrunk in front of her. She wrapped him in her arms and for once it was the usually strong willed Joe who cried.
It hadn't been her fault, not really. And it was only a silly thing, a trivial silly romantic thing he'd done. Filled the gazebo with candles, flowers, chilled the finest champagne and finally – finally – he'd chosen an engagement ring. They were supposed to do it together, he'd promised her they would, but she was still so busy one day he'd just gone off and it caught his eye. And it was perfect. Not some huge glaring rock that she used to wear, not the crown jewels, but it cost him near enough his entire life savings and it was beautiful. Sapphire in the centre, diamonds circling it, the blue reminded him of her eyes, and she knew how he felt about her eyes...
So it was a months celebration, they'd made it through a month as husband and wife. True one week had been coronation madness and the next honeymoon bliss but it was a milestone to him, an important one too. And he'd 'booked' time, made sure she was free, organised dinner in the garden, heaters surrounding them to fend off the chilly autumn air. And he'd waited, and waited and when she didn't make it he worried.
When he found her she was deep in conversation with a man Joseph had never laid eyes on before. Some 'new' politician from Germany who was interested in opening up trade links with Genovia and had begged for an audience with Clarisse, and she'd agreed. Of course she would, it was her job, her role. He'd backed out of the office unseen and cancelled dinner and blown out the candles and hid the ring – and they never spoke of it. She didn't remember, he didn't prompt and the staff hid their discomfort as he retired to their suite for the night.