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There was a certain something lacking, yes, that’s for sure.
Bel loved The Hour still, of course; it was her baby. She felt the same maternal instincts for it as one would for a child, her need to protect it from its critics fiercer than any yearnings she might have for motherhood ever could be. To help create something as influential and controversial as The Hour is to demand loyalty and love and unquestionable leadership.
That’s why she fought like a lioness for it. She would not yield, would not accept dismissal, no- she’d worked too damn hard for too damn long. A fatally wounded Prime Minister would not wrestle this victory from her. And it was good. That was everyone seemed to forget, in the mess of it all, because who remembers the good times when the bad times roll in? But Bel fought. And she won.
A year had passed since she’d decided to stay, and all the fight was gone from her. She didn’t have to break the rules, she ran the whole operation. The challenge just wasn’t there. Too slick, Randall thought, and he was right. That was just her problem. Bel had forgotten the appeal of a rough diamond.
He interrupted her, naturally. He couldn’t have announced himself any other way. There he was, that boy she’d missed so much, that stupid, stupid man. Because that’s what Freddie had become, that’s how he seemed. It had been so long since she’d seen his face, adolescent and peculiar, speaking truths so plainly and without fear that Bel’s breath caught in her throat just to think of it. His face had changed, matured. He’d grown into those old eyes that shifted and darted around the room, and what had once seemed singularly curious now felt… felt something else entirely. Stupid, wonderful, rough-hewn Freddie.
When they spoke in her office, his eyes weren’t darting, they were fixed on hers. She’d forgotten how he teased her, suddenly soft after all, and how she’d do the same. She’d forgotten a lot of things, clearly. She’d forgotten how close they’d been. Bel had kept all the letters, but she couldn’t read them. He didn’t stay. Freddie, the boy with so much fight, had not remained by her side. Was it a betrayal? Even if that were true, she felt guilt when he mentioned it, unable to meet that infernally penetrating gaze. What was it that he evoked in her? Something sweetly undefinable, a prick of the hair on the back of the neck, something like fear. The fear Bel felt of nuclear war, despite herself. It was increasingly hard to hide. War was just like anything else these days, shrouded and undeclared and infinitely more dangerous for being so.
Slick was not what she wanted, it seemed. Sure, there was a certain appeal to the smooth charm of men like Hector, even Bill Kendall. What she craved now was something coarse. Sharp. Abrasive. Oh, how Freddie could create such friction, the sod. Bel needed that, The Hour needed that. When he looked at her, she felt… rearranged. Feelings that were once murky and hidden were clearer, brighter. And she realised what she wanted. That tingle from the top of the head to the balls of the feet. That tick.
So she would yield, slowly. The home visit was a peace offering of sorts, a sign that things were back as they always should have been. Bel and Freddie. Freddie and Bel. That’s why it bit when she saw her, Camille, beautiful friendly Camille. His wife. His wife.
Bel was certain he noticed her anguish flit across her face, Freddie knew her too well not to. But then again, they had been apart. And they had changed. It should not have hurt as much as it did, it stung too much for her to dismiss the feelings she had only just admitted to herself. It was not like she had any claim to Freddie.
But still, she smiled, eyes wild and on edge.