Page 164 of The Unlikely Pair
“Thank you,” I say stiffly.
As I turn to leave, I can’t help but contemplate what Toby would say if he were here. And that’s my biggest problem at the moment. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to remove him from my head or heart.
Amanda’s voice reaches me when I’m at the door. “Since your ordeal, you seem to have become much more easily rattled, Harry. I don’t believe David Grantham’s comments would have flustered you previously. Maybe you should take some time out. You’re still recovering from a major ordeal, after all. Rupert is happy to step up if he needs to.”
“I assure you I’m perfectly fine,” I say through gritted teeth.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Toby
Things To Do Today:
Reply to constituents’ email about the UFO they spotted landing in the local park (suggest that perhaps it was the council trialing their Christmas lights, and unfortunately, I am unable to put in a good word for them with the alien overlords)
Read briefing notes to prepare for meeting with the renewable energy investment sector
Give feedback to media team on slogans for new green infrastructure initiative (surely we can come up with something better than ‘Green is the new black’?)
Visit Oliver at Clarence House
Try to get over Harry (investigate counseling, hypnotism, meditation…anything that will help me to stop thinking about him every minute)
It’s for the best. I know that, yet somehow, no matter how many times I say it, I can’t make myself believe it.
No Harry, ever again. No Harry to talk to. No Harry to wrap his arms around me. No Harry to annoy by needling him. No Harry to watch break into a smile, to hear him laugh.
Instead, I will watch him as prime minister from across the Commons Chamber. I will watch Prunella standing by his side as his wife.
Harry believes it’s his destiny to be the prime minister.
Which means it’s my destiny to watch him from afar.
I remind myself of this as I travel from the Houses of Parliament to Clarence House.
Using a car for this purpose always seems ridiculous, given there is only one and a half miles between the two. It’s a beautiful winter’s day and St. James’s Park is showcased out the window, yet I feel like the weak sunshine is unable to reach me.
My car pulls up to the gates of Clarence House, and I lower the window to present my ID to the police officer. After a brief check, the gates swing open, and the car proceeds up the drive to drop me off at the door.
