Page 167 of The Unlikely Pair
“Well, I always do like to set the bar higher,” I say, rubbing my face.
“Harry Matheson.” Oliver’s lip curls up in distaste as he says the words.
“I know. He’s pompous and opinionated and the last person I ever thought I’d have feelings for.” I give a raw, brutal laugh. “He’s the fucking leader of the Conservative Party, for God’s sake. We can never be together. But he’s also…he’s…” I trail off.
“He’s what?” Oliver asks.
“He’s Harry,” I say helplessly.
“Do you love him?” Oliver asks, his voice gentle now.
And I manage to raise my eyes to meet his.
“Do you remember what you said when I asked if you had feelings for Callum?”
I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone.
I see Oliver replaying those words in his head, his eyes widening, mouth dropping open.
“Fucking hell, Toby,” he says finally, and I’m not sure if he’s done it deliberately or not, but he has echoed exactly what I said to him in reply.
Sometimes, there is nothing else to say.
I need to leave Harry alone. I vowed to do it, and I know it’s for the best despite the loneliness engulfing me.
But my resolve is being tested tonight when I see the footage of the Tory candidate for Kingswell and Norbridge, David Grantham, in a speech he gave at the British Family Values Coalition conference.
David’s face reminds me of a pit bull as he spews his diabolical rhetoric, claiming that the LGBTQ+ agenda is a direct threat to the moral fabric of society, and God intended for marriage to be between a man and a woman, and we need to protect our children from exposure to LGBTQ+ propaganda in schools and media.
It’s the same recycled bullshit I’ve heard so many times before. These guys don’t even bother to come up with anything original, they’re like a broken record player stuck on theIntolerance’s Greatest Hitsalbum.
After I shut down the video of him in disgust, I look to see if Harry has issued a statement in response to his candidate’s remarks, but there’s nothing.
And inside me swells a new emotion I’ve never had towards Harry.
Disappointment.
Because the Harry I know is fundamentally a good person. I might disagree with his politics, but I can’t deny he’s doing what he thinks is right.
But I can’t imagine he’s happy with his candidate’s rhetoric. He knows this is wrong, that if the Tories allow this to pass unchallenged, they’ll start a slide into intolerance and bigotry that we’ve seen happen to right-wing parties in other Western democracies. It’s a slippery slope, and once a party starts down that path, it becomes increasingly difficult to turn back. It’s a cancer that spreads quickly, poisoning the very foundation of a party until it becomes unrecognizable.
And it emboldens those pockets of society who view anyone different from themselves as a threat. If those people see their bigotry validated by the words of those in power, they become even more brazen and determined to roll back the progress we’ve found so hard to achieve.
I can’t help wondering what went through Harry’s mind when he watched David Grantham’s comments.
I mean, I’m a seasoned politician. I’m realistic enough to know sometimes you have to compromise to achieve what you want.
But at what point does compromise become complicity?
Chapter Forty-Nine
Harry
The crunch of gravel beneath the car’s tires is muffled by the freshly fallen snow as we wind our way up the long driveway. As the car rounds the final bend, Ashbury Hall comes into view, its grand facade illuminated by the warm glow of the lights within.
I found myself desperately in need of respite from London, from the incessant reminders of the looming election and the forces gathering to cement a future that increasingly feels more akin to a prison sentence than a path to happiness.
So I decided to come here.
