by Mark Stanley
As we came into land, I could see Danny & Melissa standing next to one of three golf buggies. I hadn't been here since last year when there had been three days of parties to end all parties to celebrate Danny's sixtieth birthday. I hadn't seen them since they had arranged for my brother James to be beaten up for my cheek in questioning Danny's power and now they stood waving as though everything was lovely.
On the main helicopter there's an internal staircase which gets deployed when it lands, but on this smaller version there's nothing, just a step down and for me it was a step too far. I looked at it, Victoria looked at it and then at me while Tom got behind me and lowered me down, not elegant but a practical solution, something that I was used to with Tom. This was Tom's second visit to the house; he had been here last week to check on various things and to ensure our safety when we arrived.
"Mark, Victoria hello!" Danny and Melissa came forward ducking under the slowing rotors and embracing us both. I was used to their effusive welcomes and they no longer fooled me, they were a pair of prize shits and I could deal with them now I understood exactly what low life they are.
"The weathers been lovely since we arrived back, a bit chillier than Antigua mind!"
They spend the winter, cruising the Caribbean on the good ship 'Melissa' all five hundred foot of her and had returned, a week earlier than normal to open up the house for our arrival today. I took Victoria's proffered hand and limped my way across to the buggy which didn't go unnoticed.
"How's the recovery coming on Mark?"
"Good and bad days, today's okay."
"Looks painful."
"Don't make crass comments Daddy; of course it's fucking painful he had to have three bullets removed after saving my life!"
"And we are both eternally grateful to Mark for acting so selflessly for had we lost you..."
"OH PLEASE! Save the tears for someone that might actually believe they're real!"
"Victoria..."
"At least you remember who I still am! Three missed calls, one flowery note and a bunch of flowers doesn't say much about your caring sharing world does it? Couldn't afford the aviation fuel to fly back or were you afraid of catching a chill?"
"That's unfair and uncalled for. Your Mother rang the hospital on a daily basis to get updates on Mark's condition."
"And did they tell you how I was? No point looking sheepish now, the damage is done; I know exactly what you think of both of us!"
Thankfully the buggy's reached the house and this latest explosion was at a merciful end. I was no longer sure of when they would occur, the duration or indeed the fallout, but this last one was at best...inadvisable.
On arrival I twisted and got myself set before pushing up onto my stick. Despite my best endeavours, a walking stick did help and I felt a little bit more confident. The limp was still there but I didn't drag my leg anymore although it still felt detached from my body and David had advised that the femoral nerve had suffered some superficial damage and would recover 'in time'. Everything in my life seems to be caveat with 'in time' but I was a little more accepting now then I had been two weeks ago. Before leaving this morning, we had gone via the hospital and he had injected a 'pain block' which apparently would help in about 24 hours time. For now I struggled to get up the stairs. There was, unlike Victoria's house, no lift and the staircase was long and for me very difficult. All I could hope was that the pain block would kick in soon as if it didn't, I couldn't face these stairs more than once a day.
"Did you not think of moving a bedroom down to the ground floor? Can you see the pain he's in trying to negotiate these?"
"Victoria, stop, please..." I felt unease at her continuing with this verbal battering. "...I can manage." I tried to give the appearance that I could indeed manage but I felt myself bathed in sweat, a regular occurrence and feeling decidedly...unwell, but I had to keep...
"Mark, Mark, open your eyes my darling, please open them."
I did as requested and found myself lying on her bed, in her bedroom.
"Thank God. Sit up and drink this water."
Tom helped me sit up as I spied Danny and Melissa looking ashen, which I felt probably reflected my own colour.
"I've called for the doctor."
"There's no need."
"There's every need. Now lay back down and rest."
I didn't have any option, because I felt dreadful.
"He'll be fine tomorrow. He's had an adverse reaction to the pain block; it sometimes happens but if he doesn't feel right then speak to me tomorrow."
"Doctor, may I have a word in private please?" This didn't sit well with Victoria who nevertheless complied, nor did it sit well with the Doctor and he insisted that he needed to speak with David Richards, which was all a little embarrassing, however after assuring me that it was a temporary setback he agreed to my request and authorised the Doctor, although I wouldn't be taking this particular medicine tonight.
"So Billy, what did you need to speak to the Doctor about?"
"It was private."
"I'm not in the mood for games Billy."
"Piles."
"What?"
"Piles, haemorrhoids, I have haemorrhoids!"
The next day I awoke feeling...better. The sun was coming through the shutters and after a decent night’s sleep I felt as good as I hoped to feel and miraculously the pain that had nagged me in my leg was much reduced. Victoria re-emerged from the bathroom naked and looking gorgeous but...nothing, not even a flicker.
"Morning Billy, how are you feeling?"
"Much, much better and the pain blocks working."
"I pleased, but I've still not forgiven you for scaring the shit out of me. Thank God Tom caught you or crash helmet or no crash helmet, you'd have been back in hospital with a fractured skull!"
"But I'm not and I'll thank Tom later on, but for now, as I can't ravish you, let’s go for a swim?"
The rest of the day was taken up with proving to everyone that I was alright and yesterday was just a temporary blip. Of course it helped that the cold of London had been replaced by the warmth of Southern France. It wasn't hot, well it wouldn't be in mid-March, but it was really pleasant, the temperature hovering in the high teens and warm enough to lie outside and to do my exercises. I didn't want an audience but that was a small price to pay to see Victoria relaxing. There hadn't been much of that and I think the stress of the last few months had boiled over, firstly taking it out on the security bosses and then her parents, who had kept a very low profile. In fact we had only seen them for breakfast because they had taken lunch in their room.
"Can we go out tonight?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"This is really boring; can you please enter into some form of dialogue with me?"
"No."
"Victoria!"
She rather dramatically sighed. "Why Billy?"
"Because I've not been out for a meal since last year, please?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"Somewhere where you can dress up and stop looking so...plain."
She pulled her sunglasses down to the end of her nose before she responded. "Did you just say I was plain?"
"Yes."
"I don't think you're well enough to go out, you're clearly delirious."
'Le Girelier' was packed, it always is, but when the Brompton's want a table...In fact we had two as I insisted that Tom and his on-duty team ate as well. It was a little chilly and they manoeuvred heaters into position to keep us warm but just to be out in a restaurant again was sublime and the food was good as well. Victoria's outburst yesterday had left her parents a little raw and so I needed to smooth her and them to try to restore the normal equilibrium.
"...thank you for the offer of moving us down to the ground floor but I'm much better. I see that we've had most of the responses in to the wedding invitations and no-one has declined, which must be some kind of record..."
Christ it was hard-work. No-one wanted t
o speak out of turn and so there were smiles, raised eyebrows in acknowledgement and bugger all else. Something had to change. "Enough! Look I understand that things were said yesterday that upset everyone and whilst I think that Victoria had every right to express herself, I think the words chosen could have been better thought-out. Now, you either all put it behind you and we move on or we allow the rift to enlarge and we go our separate ways? I won't stay here, as pleasant as it is and I won't allow the children to join us, whilst this atmosphere exists, now we all move on or I go home? What's it to be? Kiss and make up or...war?"
At that I excused myself and stood up before looking at the tables’ occupants.
"Sort it out, because when I comeback it will be resolved or I'll be off home." At that, accompanied by Tom and John I made my way to the lavatories, up some more fucking stairs.
Going upstairs is, in my condition, challenging but coming down them, well that's something much more terrifying as they were decorated in marble and if there was even a trace of moisture, I'd be down. Sure I knew plenty were watching and a fair few of them knew who I was, even without the bright yellow crash helmet that I was forced to wear, but I had to forget about them and their cameras. Tom had devised a plan to get me downstairs and this was only the second time that it had been implemented, because I wasn't going to condone a fireman's lift. Tom stood at the top of the right-hand side of the stairs and I put my right hand onto his right shoulder, John carried my stick and walked the side of me to stop any sideways slippage and step by step, with the slowest progress ever seen, we descended, but we made it. At the bottom a dozen people stood up and applauded and I got really confused that they should be applauding me, but the few were swiftly joined by the many, as I made progress back to the table, where Victoria and her parents were also applauding. In celebration and to give thanks I removed the helmet and extravagantly bowed much to the delight of all, before Victoria chided me and made me put the helmet back on. That seemed to help heal the hurt and we returned back to the house with normal conversations restored.
Friday, we were all gathered in the sitting room in front of an enormous television, for today was not only Friday, it was also the Cheltenham Gold Cup and 'Verbier' was the favourite to win this famous race. Simon and Lucia my partners in the horse and very good friends to both of us had been up a number of times to see us, both at the hospital and at home and they knew that I wouldn't be well enough to join them today but that wouldn't stop me supporting them and the horse. Danny insisted that we have champagne on tap as it was that sort of occasion and so we all sat with glasses in hand as the horses were bought into the Parade Ring. Victoria spotted Lucia and then Simon's big ugly face appeared right in the middle of the screen as they wanted to interview him, I edged a little closer as this might be fun, they didn't know about Simon's colourful language but I did and looking across at Victoria she was shaking as she tried, unsuccessfully to contain her laughter.
"Simon Burns one of the co-owners of the favourite Verbier, are you confident?"
"Hopeful. The trainer says that he's well and so it's fingers crossed."
"Since Boxing Day a lot has happened, your co-owner, now Lord Mark Stanley, was shot and lucky to survive three gunshot wounds and you've moved the horse to a new trainer but there's never been an explanation, would you like to expand on the reasons why?"
"Yeah, it was Mark who devised the new tactics that were employed so successfully on Boxing Day but the trainer took all the fucking credit and he's a total cunt for..."
At that they cut the interview, panned out to the horses and then apologised profusely for the 'excitable language that a very pumped up owner used'. We were all in hysterics and were joined by the security detail who never utters profanities of course!
The weather at Cheltenham was cloudy and they had had rain earlier, coupled with that it was cold and windy but not here as I sat in my shorts, awaiting the start. The race was the normal high class affair with a lot of fancied runners. The change in tactics that had been employed so successfully at Christmas was once more to the fore. The new trainer had decided that he didn't want to risk him again on bad winter ground and so he had been getting him fit at home, thankfully he had a great reputation for bringing horses to their peak at the right time and we were hopeful, as Simon had rightfully said.
As they went out onto the second circuit, Verbier slowly got himself into contention and as the leaders slowly fell away he was left in a close up fourth as they entered the straight, three fences to jump. We were all excited as he made inexhaustible progress; third, second and the jockey reined him back to ensure that he didn't reach the front until he had jumped the last fence, which he executed faultlessly, before sprinting up the hill for a great victory.
As he was being led in, the interviewer had no option but to speak with the "winning connections." firstly she warned Simon about his language and then spoke to Lucia!
"What does this mean to you?"
"Everything. After what's happened to Mark and poor Victoria, to be able to let them cheer on a Gold Cup winner is just magical and we're so delighted for them and hope this will be a real pick-me-up for Mark."
"We've all seen the photographs of the aftermath of Boxing Day and of him when he was discharged, how is he now?"
"His recovering, but it's a slow process and he isn't a very patient man."
"Bloody cheek."
"But oh so true Billy."
"He owns 'Royal Quest' the winter favourite for the 2000 Guineas in May? Do you think he'll be fit enough to be there to cheer the horse on?"
I answered the question before Lucia. "Bloody right I'll be there!"
The next few days were taken up with relaxation, well it was for Victoria, me? I was waiting for the ambush. I knew it was coming and it was just a matter of when it arrived. It did so the morning that, after supervising my exercises, Victoria went for a horse ride accompanied by two security guys. The children were due to arrive the following day and so realistically it would be difficult to find a better opportunity.
"Things seem to be improving Mark, albeit slowly?"
"I think I'm a fair way in front of where they expected me to be and so if I can maintain the progress then I hope that I'll be back at work, sometime in May?"
"The General Elections in May and obviously you won't be, even if you're back at work, sufficiently recovered to take on an Office of State. This..." Danny pointed at my leg and head as he pulled a face to show his, displeasure. "...Has all been very inconvenient."
I didn't speak, what could I say that wouldn't spark an argument and anyway I didn't much feel like it, so I sat back listening to him drone on about his and eventually, my future plans.
"But we have to regroup. We live in hope that there will be a Conservative majority but despite throwing millions at the problem, the great British public seem determined to return us with yet another confounded Coalition. We can't work with that Nick Clegg anymore, his policies are nonsensical and don't even get me started on Ed Miliband, he's unelectable with his loony left cronies. No, we'll fight the good fight and hope beyond hope that sense will prevail. What all of this means is that you won't be in the Cabinet as we hoped, not immediately at any rate? I've spoken to a lot of people and my own people are very active but realistically, even if the Conservatives do get in and form a majority Government, the first opportunity of getting you into position will be the first reshuffle but that will be at least a year away. In the meantime we need to look at alternative avenues, but we can't explore those fully until we know that you're going to be fully fit."
"As I've said I hope to be back at work in May. After that, my target is to be a hundred percent by the wedding. That leads us to the honeymoon and then a holiday with the children and so I don't expect to be back full-time until September."
"We can live with that. Your stay in hospital has had a large number of upsides."
"I'm pleased that you've been able to make capital out of my injuries." I shoul
dn't have said it but the words just escaped. Danny gave me a very cold stare and Melissa was for once the one to offer a claw of friendship.
"Your profile is very high, you only needed to be in the restaurant the other night to see that, admiration and yes love that you seem to be able to generate. You're a hero to not only Victoria but to many, many people and that will pay huge dividends in the time ahead. We employed a media agency to ensure that updates were well managed and we want you to do some interviews when you get back to London, we'll manage these from a distance of course and we have connections at most of the broadsheets and I think I can promise you that these will be sympathetic. It would be very helpful if you could ensure your horse wins a big race or two as that will generate more publicity, then we have the wedding and if you feel well enough beforehand, your Maiden speech in the House of Lords, preceded of course by your Investiture. I think Danny has asked for it to be done the week immediately before this year’s Royal Ascot which should offer some glorious photo opportunities and then the pièces de résistance will be the trial of the terrorist, which I believe is scheduled for the autumn, which will catapult you back into the limelight."
There was no point in me speaking they had it all arranged for I was but a child being directed by these megalomaniacs for I had always known that everything that Lord & Lady Brompton did for me came at a price.
The children's arrival was very welcome. They too had had a wretched time since Christmas. The disruption to their lives had been immense and I was determined that they needed to have a good Easter holidays and a return to the normal order, which led me to an awkward conversation that I had been trying to summon the strength to have for a little while.
"Victoria, what's happening with the Surrey house?" I smiled to try and convey interest rather than a scolding for she had been pointedly avoided mentioning the house.