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There was no point quibbling or reminding Clem that she and Akil had spent far more time together because she knew it had taken just a few weeks for her sister and friend to fall firmly and irrevocably in love. To forge the kind of partnership Arrosa had only ever dreamed of.
‘I can’t.’
‘Rosy. This last week and a half you’ve been lit up with happiness and I know it’s not because you’re finally addressing the Senate in two days’ time! It’s thanks to Jack, and he deserves to know the truth.’
‘I’ve seen him every day and he’s made no attempt to even touch me. He likes Asturia and he has ideas, good ones, but he hasn’t offered any more than those thoughts. It’s obvious he doesn’t see a future here. And, even if he did, there’s the girls. Who knows, maybe we can try again when they are grown up, maybe in ten years or so.’ The thought was bleak indeed and her chest constricted at the thought of spending those years alone.
‘In a decade? Come on, Rosy, listen to yourself.’
‘Clem, you don’t understand. If I told him how I feel then I am forcing him to make a choice. His marriage was hard, Lily manipulative at best, I think. It wasn’t a happy marriage, Clem. She used him. I won’t do that to him.’
Clem sighed. ‘Rosy, have you ever thought that by not being honest with him maybe you’re the one doing the manipulating? That maybe you’re the one depriving him of agency. He should know how you feel. Tell him.’
Jack had enjoyed the last twelve days almost too much, and the more time he spent with Rosy, seeing Asturia through her eyes, the more he could see her hopes and dreams. More, in every project and plan he saw ways he could contribute, how he could be an integral part of her world. But still he hesitated. This was no more real life than Cornwall had been, their friendship still kept firmly under wraps.
If friendship was what this was. The air between them was still charged although there was no intimacy, but he was still more relaxed with Rosy than with anyone else, than he had ever been with another person.
There were still some intrepid photographers hanging around the Palais walls, trying to photograph every car that left the house, but Henri was an old hand at shaking off unwanted attention and some days Jack and the girls were completely free to wander around and explore with nobody giving them more than a quick half amused sideways look.
And the more he explored, the more he fell in love with the small country. He loved the crispness of the mountain air as early autumn which felt more like an English late summer softened and cooled. The actual autumn was short, with snow usually expected by December. This, of course, sent the girls into spirals of excitement and they begged to be able to stay until the snow came. Every day he had to remind himself as much as them that this was just a visit, that they were establishing their lives in Polhallow. Somehow his plans didn’t feel certain as they had before, that sense of rightness that had driven the move eluding him.
And, of course, there was Rosy. His tour guide, filled with infectious excitement about her country and the plans she had to improve it. She seemed to know every hidden corner and selflessly shared them with him.
They had successfully renegotiated their relationship from lovers into friends, and that, he knew, was rare and precious. But he still felt an almost overwhelming sense of loss when he stood next to her but couldn’t hold her, when he said goodbye but didn’t kiss her, alone in his huge luxury bed.
‘Look, Daddy!’ Clover pointed at the TV. ‘There’s Rosy.’
He’d found a cable channel of English language children’s programmes and Clover and Alice had been curled up in front of a film while he packed for an afternoon on the beach, but somehow the channel had switched to a local news one. The anchor was speaking about this historic day in the fast-paced Spanish-accented French dialect he was slowly starting to understand. This was the day Arrosa was finally presented to Parliament as the Crown Princess and heir to the throne.
Jack had learnt a lot about Asturian customs and politics over the last few days and knew that, unlike the UK, the Asturian monarch sat in the Senate, their Upper Chamber, and was very much engaged in Parliamentary procedure. When he chose, the King could deputise his heir to step in for him—and now she was officially the heir that meant Rosy, who today was taking her place as the Royal representative. Custom dictated that a new member of the Senate would need to be presented, approved and welcomed by the House before giving their first speech.
Jack knew how nervous Rosy felt. She was no stranger to politics or public speaking, but this was her first formal step into her country’s political arena. It was a relief to see Akil, a prominent member of the opposition and a fellow member of the Senate, was there, looking strong and supportive, and to hear the whole chamber burst into applause as she entered.
Jack stared at the screen, his heart hammering, mouth dry. This was not Rosy, this was all Arrosa. Her hair was up in a complicated knot and she wore a calf-length blue silk dress with a short matching jacket, diamonds at her throat and in her ears, a crown perched on the top of her head. She could almost have come straight out of the fairy tales Clover adored.
‘She looks beautiful,’ Clover said breathlessly.
‘Yes, but she looks scared too,’ Tansy said.
‘No, she doesn’t,’ Alice chimed in and Sally laid a hand on her daughter’s head.
‘Why do you think that, Tansy?’
Tansy studied the screen. ‘Her hands are pressed together, and she bit her bottom lip just then. She does that when she’s nervous, have you noticed?’
Jackhadnoticed, but he was surprised his daughter had. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘But she hides it well. That’s very astute of you, Tansy.’
His oldest daughter tossed her hair. ‘I’m an actress,’ she told him. ‘Studying people is what I do.’
He laughed but quickly quietened as Rosy started to speak. There was no trace of any nervousness in her voice as she spoke, her voice rich and melodious. Her father beamed proudly from behind her.
The family had plans for the day. With their time in Asturia nearing its end there was plenty they still wanted to pack in, but Jack forgot to hurry the girls up or to gather his own things together. Instead, he stood transfixed as he watched the woman he loved address the country she was born to rule.
The chasm between them had never felt bigger and yet in some ways he felt that he should and could almost step into the TV to stand beside her and support her just with his presence. Jack had been telling himself over the last twelve days that Rosy needed a man like Akil. She needed someone versed in Asturia’s culture and politics, someone with a background similar to hers. But as he stood watching her speak that certainty escaped him.
Culture and nationality and birthright were all important and all things he lacked, but he did have qualities he knew she needed. He could provide her with the reassurance that she could do the immense job that lay ahead of her, he could be the person she bounced ideas off—after all, she had run every word of her speech past him, practised it on him until he could probably recite it himself in Asturian and English, could have cited her sources as she focused on education, equality and the need for a sustainable future.
But, at the same time, although they had spent a great deal of time together there was a consciousness between them that hadn’t been there before. Rosy was her usual thoughtful, enthusiastic self, unfailingly courteous, great with the girls as always, funny and sweet, but he knew he wasn’t imagining the distance between them, and he wasn’t sure who was responsible for it. In some ways he welcomed it. After all, there was no future for them.
